A/N: My contribution to the Bones Fanfic Secret Santa! This is for Bailey, who I hope enjoys this little fic. I know it's a little late for Christmas, but I hope you still enjoy. I originally intended for this to be humorous, but the angst-monster blindsided me.

(P.S. I know how long it's been since I've updated my other stories, and for that, I'm truly sorry. Please accept this as a peace offering?)

Cam has known Booth for years, longer than anyone else at the lab has known him. Doctor Brennan unarguably knows him the best, but Cam has known him the longest, which gives her some unique insights into what exactly makes Booth tick. She knows his moods, his feelings, what each of his narrow-eyed looks mean. She knows what he likes and what he doesn't, what he's afraid of and what he loves.

She knows that when his voice is flat and curt, when he sounds as if he's feeling nothing at all, something is very, very wrong.

"It's Bones," is all he says, his voice echoing through the speakerphone. "Hospital."

Cam, who's been trying to help Angela create a schedule of the victim's last hours, freezes. Angela's eyes go wide, and Hodgins, who is on the opposite end of the room fiddling with a baby stroller, stares at both of them.

When the phone line goes dead, they snap into action. Angela drops everything and shouts, "Jack!", Hodgins grabs his keys, and Cam retains the presence of mind to assign one of the interns to make sure the remains are properly cared for. Then they run.

Neither Angela nor Hodgins comment as Cam leaps into their car right after them; it would take far too long to get to her car on the other side of the parking lot, and Hodgins' vehicle is definitely large enough for all of them. It takes Hodgins all of five seconds to fire up the engine and peel out of the parking lot.

Angela is hysterical and trying to seem calm. "What do you think—Booth sounded—oh God, Brennan—"

"Calm down, Ange," Hodgins advises, though it's a moot point since Angela always worries about her friend, and Hodgins sounds a little less than tranquil himself. His hands are clenched tight around the steering wheel, and he's speeding fifteen miles over the limit. It's pure luck that they don't streak past any waiting patrol cars.

Cam, for her part, sits in the back seat and tries very hard not to worry. She's the composed one. She's the boss, the one who is never unruffled. Whatever has happened, she needs to be calm to keep the team together.

At least, that's what she tells herself. Professionally, she can be all that, no problem. Privately, she's scared. Booth would never call them like that if it were a small matter, and he never sounds like that unless it's serious. The last time he sounded so emotionless…no, Cam doesn't even want to think about that time. She only prays that this time won't be anything half as bad.

They narrowly avoid a head-on collision with an incoming ambulance, and Hodgins pulls to a sharp stop in front of the hospital. "Go on," he urges them. "I'll find a parking space."

Angela needs no more encouragement; she's out of the car and in through the doors in half a second. Cam follows on her heels, a certain dread gnawing away at her stomach even as she keeps her expression calm and collected.

They find Booth sitting in a hallway on the fifth floor, his head in his hands. He hears Angela rushing towards him and raises his head.

His expression is blank and unreadable.

"Oh God," Angela pants, glancing up and down the corridor as if she's expecting Doctor Brennan to walk out at any moment. "What happened? Where is she? Is she all right?"

Booth nods to the room beside him. "In there, getting stitches." His voice is as impassive as his face, which is off-putting, since Booth is a man of a thousand emotions.

Angela seems thrown by Booth's quiet. "I thought you'd be in there, fussing over her as usual," she says in obvious confusion, her worry somewhat dampened by Booth's reaction (they both know it would be much, much worse if Brennan were gravely injured; they've seen it). "What's up?"

"I'm tired of policing what Bones thinks she can and can't do," Booth answers, standing. "That's what's up." He doesn't sound angry or bitter, just world-weary. He gestures to the door and says, "You can go in if you want. It's just a cut on her arm, nothing life-threatening. The doctor said she could leave after they closed the wound."

It's very telling that he isn't in there himself, berating Doctor Brennan for whatever she's done now. On any regular day, he'd be holding Brennan's hand, standing as close to her as possible, as if he could protect her with sheer physical proximity. On any regular day, he'd be heckling the doctors and agonizing over every x-ray and counting every stitch. But today, he's in the hallway, and Cam knows that something isn't right. Something isn't right at all.

"I'll see if she needs anything," Angela offers, laying a comforting hand on Booth's arm before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The instant the door closes again, Cam turns to Booth and asks, "What's wrong?"

He takes one look at her and sighs heavily. "Bones is in the hospital. Isn't that explanation enough?"

"You said it wasn't serious," Cam points out, "but you look like someone just died."

Booth rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. "I'm just tired."

She doesn't buy it. As his oldest friend, she believes she can tell when he's acting off with relative accuracy. Pursing her lips, she says, "Don't lie to me, Seeley. I can tell when something's wrong with you, give me that much credit at least."

He stares at her for a long moment before resignation flashes across his face, and he sinks down into the chair again. "I don't want to talk about it."

Cam slides into the seat next to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'm here for you, and for Doctor Brennan too. I can help."

"Can you?" Booth looks down at his hands and heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry, Cam, this is a matter between me and Bones. I don't think there's much you can do."

Typical, self-sacrificing Booth who thinks that he needs to shoulder the weight of the world, that there is no one he can lean on. Cam understands this mood too, and it almost makes her smile in fond exasperation.

"You're not alone," she reminds him, squeezing his arm gently. "Whatever it is, you can talk it out with me if you want."

He pats her hand and manages a small, sad smile. "I know. Thank you." He glances at the closed door and shuts his eyes for a moment. Having offered her support, Cam is content to let the silence settle, but after a minute, Booth says quietly, "She never listens."

It takes Cam a moment to realize that he's talking about Doctor Brennan. With a light grin, she answers, "You should know that we women never like to listen. Especially Doctor Brennan."

"Yes," he sighs, his shoulders slumping, "I know."

She has never seen him so defeated. Concerned, Cam turns to meet his eyes and asks, "Seeley, really, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's nothing you need to worry about, I mean." He tries to smile and fails miserably, and the sight tugs at Cam's heart.

"Talk to her," she suggests. "Whatever this is, you can work it out if you just talk to her."

Frustration blankets Booth's expression. "You don't think I've tried that? What did you think I meant when I said that she never listens?"

"Every woman listens," Cam insists, "even if it seems like she doesn't. Doctor Brennan may be more…stubborn…than most, but you know she hears logic."

"Only her own," Booth mutters. "I can't win with her. I can never win with her." He exhales slowly and leans back in the chair, looking distinctly exhausted. "Sometimes I don't even know why I try."

That's truly alarming. In regards to Doctor Brennan, Cam has seen Booth angry, she has seen him heartbroken, she has seen him blindingly happy, but she has never seen him question their relationship. Booth has the biggest heart of any man she has ever known, and from the moment he gave it to Doctor Brennan, he has been steadfast, dogged, and as devoted as any woman can ask for. He's had his missteps, but he has always, always found his way back to Brennan, and not once has he questioned whether it was all worth it. Cam has been here through all of it, and she has never seen him so downtrodden.

"I'm just tired," he says, sounding very small all of a sudden, like the insecure boy she used to know. "I'm very tired."

No. No, she has seen what Booth and Brennan are, she has watched them grow, and she knows with absolute certainty that they are better together than they could ever be apart. In the fifteen years she's known him, she has seen Booth pass through relationships and never latch onto any of them, not like he's latched onto Brennan. With Doctor Brennan, she has seen him happier than he's ever been, and she knows that that's the way it should always be. Booth and Brennan against anything the world throws at them, together and happy and inseparable.

She won't let him throw that away in a moment of uncertainty.

Sliding out of her seat, she takes his face between her hands and says very seriously, "Look at me, Seeley. Listen to me very carefully. You try because you love her. You try because she's everything to you, I've seen it, and without her, you wouldn't know what to do. Don't give me this defeatist attitude. I know you, Seeley, and I know you're capable of working this out. Get your head back into the game, and get back to Doctor Brennan. She needs you more than you know."

He stares at her for a moment, some life stirring behind his listless eyes. But still, he looks doubtful. "She won't listen to me, Cam."

"Believe me," she replies, "she listens. If she doesn't, I'll buy you lunch for a week."

At that, Booth finally quirks his lips up in something resembling a smile, and he stands. "Thank you."

She slaps him on the shoulder and pushes him toward the door. "Go get 'em, tiger."

He's still tired when they get home from the hospital, Bones with new bandages on her arm. Some of the energy Cam's speech gave him has dissipated, and he's equal parts frustrated, angry, and simply ready to wash his hands of the whole thing. Bones seems to catch onto his mood, acting quiet and subdued as she gets ready for bed. She's probably confused by his reaction, although she really shouldn't be. How many times has this happened, and when has he ever reacted any other way? She shoots him puzzled looks from time to time, but he's too tired to explain, too tired to do more than fall into bed.

It's only when he rolls away from her, turning to stare at the wall, that Bones touches his shoulder gently and asks, "Booth, what's wrong?"

He shuts his eyes and tries to banish the memory of Agent Johnson calling him that afternoon with news that Bones was on her way to the hospital. She'd ended up with thirteen stitches up her arm, and she has the gall to ask him what's wrong.

"You're angry."

Bones sounds perfectly matter-of-fact, like she sounds when she examines a victim. Except this isn't a victim, damn it, it's their relationship. He wishes she'd understand that.

"Yes," he says through gritted teeth, refusing to turn to look at her.

Her fingers are a soft pressure on his arm, light and uncertain. "Booth, do you want to talk?"

"No." No, he most certainly does not want to talk. What good has talking ever done? He's done with talking.

Except Bones doesn't let the matter drop, of course she doesn't. She struggles into a seated position, supporting her pregnant belly with both hands. Booth hears the creak of the mattress next to him, but still doesn't move. After a moment, Bones deduces, "You're angry with me because I went into the field today with Agent Johnson after you told me to stay at home."

"Brilliant, Bones," he replies, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Really, brilliant."

"I don't appreciate your tone," she says, and he can hear the frown in her voice. "Please, Booth, just talk to me. I want to understand."

She listens, Cam's voice says in his head. Believe me, she listens.

He sits up abruptly, furious and scared and reproachful all at once. "Bones, did you even think today? Did you even think about the fact that you're putting yourself in danger—that you're putting our child in danger? How could you do that?"

Her expression shutters, and she gets that superior look in her eyes, the one she gets when she thinks she knows the truth and anyone else is simply wrong. "Booth, we talked about this. You're being overprotective."

For a second, he can't even speak, he's so choked with rage and incredulousness. When he finally finds his voice, it comes out flat and cold. "You walked into a suspect's hideout, fully knowing that he could be in there and armed. You engaged in an altercation with a man who had a hundred and fifty pounds on you. You would've been killed if Johnson hadn't been there. And you're telling me that I'm being overprotective."

"It wasn't that bad," she insists. "I had the situation under control—"

He grabs her arms tightly and has to resist the urge to shake her. "Bones! He had a knife. He could have killed you. He could so easily have slit your throat or stabbed you, damn it, why can't you see that?"

At last, at last, some realization suffuses her expression. Her brows draw together, and she stares at him in silent understanding, her eyes so very wide and so very dark. Booth can scarcely breathe with the force of all his emotions bearing down on him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers finally, looking up at him, seeking reconciliation. "I never thought…when you say it like that…"

He exhales shakily and forces the rest of his anger away, focusing instead on the sharp relief. "Do you see what I'm saying? Bones, it would've been so easy, I could have lost you…"

She slips her arms awkwardly around his waist, burying her face into his chest. "Yes, I'm sorry. I never meant to worry you like that. At the time, it seemed logical for me to accompany Agent Johnson since you were gone, but I'll concede that it was foolish of me to confront the suspect unarmed and unprotected."

"And pregnant," he reminds her. "That's the most important part."

"And pregnant," she agrees.

"From now on, you stay home when I tell you to, all right?" He hugs her tightly, breathes in her familiar, warm scent. "Please, just listen to me from now on."

Bones' voice is muffled in his shirt. "I can't promise that, Booth. You say illogical things all the time, and it would be irrational to listen to them."

He manages an actual chuckle at that, and it seems like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Cam was right; miracle of miracles, Bones had listened. He doesn't know what he said, he doesn't know what made Bones see, but he's glad for it. Maybe it'll bring him some measure of peace of mind in the future.

"I'll keep myself and our child safe," Bones says into his chest. "I can promise that."

"Good," he answers softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"But," she adds, pulling back slightly, "I still go out into the field."

He stares at her, wondering what they've discussing these past five minutes. "Didn't you just—"

"I agreed to keep myself safe," she interrupts. "So I agree not to willingly put myself in danger again. But I still get to go out to the crime scenes. I won't have anyone contaminating my remains, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise."

"But—"

"Haven't I conceded enough tonight?" she asks snippily. "I think it's your turn to concede now. Besides, it's perfectly safe for me to visit crime scenes. The crimes have already occurred, and the police presence is increased. Logically, crime scenes are the safest place for me to be—barring police stations, the Hoover building, and the Jeffersonian, of course."

"Logically," he sighs resignedly. "Fine."

"Good." Bones lays back down and draws the covers up to her chin. "Now we should get some sleep. I want to come in early tomorrow to look at the case files. Mr. Fischer's notes, though detailed, didn't highlight the parts of the body I was interested in."

"Of course."

Booth looks down at her for a moment, studying the curve of her cheek, the line of her nose. She's beautiful. She is headstrong and oblivious and sometimes incredibly stupid for someone so brilliant, and he loves her. He loves every bit of her, even the parts that make him want to bang his head against the wall. No matter what happens, he'll always feel this beautiful ache in his chest when he looks at her.

This, he thinks as he lays down and reaches over to draw her into his arms, this is why he tries.

Thoughts?