Anne Morrow Lindbergh once spoke: "I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable."

Let's face the facts. Life without suffering is utterly pointless. Each person walking the earth at this very moment has suffered. Some have simply experienced a break-up or a lost dog. Others have dealt with miscarriages, murder, and terminal illnesses. Those that are weak commit suicide or fall into a state of denial. Those that have the strength embrace the torture of suffering are the wisest of all.

It was an early Friday afternoon in November when everything began. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary; it was just like every other day. Temperance Brennan's alarm went off at six a.m.; Seeley Booth's at six thirty. Temperance climbed out of bed effortlessly while Booth unplugged his clock from the wall. Two people. Two hearts. Two lives. Two apartments. Two minds.

Three months ago to the day, Temperance and Booth reunited at the reflecting pool on the National Mall after a year of separation. Temperance had been studying ancient bones in Indonesia and Booth had been training snipers in the army. Even after a complete twelve months of absence, the dynamic duo remained unstoppable. It was as though the full year of disunion didn't even exist. They were completely and entirely back to normal; so much, in fact, that it was quite eerie.

Temperance brushed her teeth with her organic Toms toothpaste. Booth stuck to Crest ProHealth. Temperance preferred nightly showers and Booth aimed for the morning. Most would say that they couldn't be more different. They were the clear epitome of polar opposites! Well, hiding behind every subtle nuance creating their personal preferences and strongly held opinions, behind their religion, skin, organs, muscles, and bones, they shared an undeniable affection for each other. Their souls were fighting to eternally connect. Fate, chance, kismet, serendipity, whatever the Hell you want to call it, they have it. They just refuse to embrace the fact. The more they inhabit within their concurrent states of denial, the more their souls are bruised. They're like Yin and Yang. Without each other, they can't function properly. They can't improve. They can't learn.

So. Welcome to Temperance Brennan's apartment. Time? Seven thirty a.m. Weather? Overcast with a chance of freezing rain. Location? DuPont Circle, Washington D.C.

There was a hearty, rhythmic knock on the door. "Bones! Company's awaiting!" The voice was overly familiar, but to this day never managed to bring a bit of a smirk to Temperance's face. Just as she was approaching her door, the voice was disguised into a deeper, more radio broadcaster-esque tone. "This is your wake up call!" She rolled her eyes as she opened the door and needless to say, she wasn't at all surprised to see Booth standing before her. "I hope you like bagels," he said as he held up paper bag. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Temperance stepped aside and allowed her partner to enter her apartment. "Why are you so cheery?" she questioned somewhat suspiciously. "Did you 'get lucky' last night?"

"Why do you always ask me that? Can't a guy be jolly because, I don't know, he just so happened to wake up in a good mood?"

"'Guy' is a sexually non-specific urban colloquialism or in reference to the gender normally associated with penis." Temperance failed to acknowledge Booth's disgruntled expression at her affirmation. "You didn't comment on my appropriate use of slang."

"That's because I was a little put off by you asking me if you had sex!"

"I did not ask if you had sex, I asked if you 'got lucky', hence my proper slang usage!"

"They mean the same thing, Bones."

As they were engaging in their inevitable squabble, Bones was busy removing the assortment of bagels onto her kitchen counter. "What made you decide to bring me bagels?" she asked.

"Because," he simply replied with a casual shrug.

"That isn't a proper answer."

"I don't get why you're always so skeptical when I do something nice for you." He snatched a blueberry bagel from the counter and spun it around his pointer finger. "Do you have any Skippy?"

"What?"

"Peanut butter, Bones, peanut butter."

"No, but I have Almond Butter. It's significantly healthier for you." This caused Booth to make a face of pure repulsion. "I prefer human food," he replied before tossing the bagel in the air and catching it. He would just settle for cream cheese.

"There's orange juice in the fridge. I could make coffee, too, if you'd like," she suggested. Immediately, he opened the refrigerator door and began to scan her beverage selections. "Almond Milk? Seriously? Remind me never to come here after I've been left starving in the desert for forty days and forty nights."

"You wouldn't survive if you were stranded without food for that long," she smartly retorted. Booth didn't bother arguing. He poured them each a cup of orange juice before beginning to spread his cream cheese on his bagel. Temperance was already taking a bite into her plain bagel (with raspberry preserves, of course). As she was rummaging through a cabinet for her daily vitamins, Booth hopped onto the kitchen counter with his legs dangling. "Almond butter. Sick," he scoffed to himself while his mouth was full with his bagel.

As they ate their breakfasts, they spoke casually of their previous evening. Temperance had spent the night working on her newest novel. Her deadline was approaching rapidly and she was nowhere near where she needed to be. Booth's pal had set him up on a blind date which turned out to be an absolute failure.

"And then she asked me to come inside, and I mean, how could I refuse? I had to see where this crazy lady lives. Turns out she's a hoarder, and I'm not talking about the kind that keeps all that material crap. Bones, she was a cat hoarder!"

"So she accumulated felines?"

"There had to be at least forty-five!"

"How did you escape?"

"I lied. I said I had severe allergies to cats."

"I wonder what Sweets would say about her."

"Since when are you interested in Sweets' opinions?"

"I'm just curious, Booth. I still believe that psychology is a soft science composed merely of conjecture." She put their glasses in the sink. "We're going to be late to work if we don't leave right now." Booth hopped up the counter and re-zipped his coat. "We can just take my car," he suggested.

"Can I drive?"

"Absolutely not."