Booth's hair was cut shorter than it had been. He wore fatigues. Held his hat in his hands. Once she'd established that he was actually there, she didn't think twice. He met her halfway and she threw herself into his arms so hard she nearly knocked him – and them – over. She had no idea when she started crying, but she was, Booth's arms holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, his lips at her ear.

"Easy, baby. I'm here." She heard him say something to Eli, then Eli's voice raised in protest before Booth responded. "Scram, kid." The tent door opened. The tent door closed.

Gradually, she regained her composure. Once she felt she had herself fully in hand again, she took a few steps back, brushing away her tears. Booth grinned at her.

"Merry Christmas, Bones," he said.

She shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I thought…"

"It wouldn't have been much of a surprise then, would it?" His brow furrowed as he bridged the distance between them once more. "I got your letter – I was worried about you. And they gave me this week, so… I took a few days, went back stateside and got some quality time with Parks. I just cut that a little short, so I could make the stop here before I go back."

"You cut quality time with Parker short to come here? But – "

His eyes held on hers as he tipped her face to the side, checking the healing scar on her cheek. He brushed his finger over it gently, his hands so light that they were more sensation than touch.

"I was worried about you, okay? I talked to Angela. Apparently, you left out a pretty big part of the story about that night in your letter."

She wavered for a moment. "It wasn't important."

"What the hell were you thinkin', Bones? You don't just throw yourself into surf like that, I don't care how much you like the other person. You could've been killed."

"I'm trained in life saving procedures. I'm a very strong swimmer."

He took her hands. Looked her in the eye. "You could've been killed, Bones. Don't pull that shit anymore, okay? You take a dive like that, it just makes me look bad, staying safe and dry in the desert for a whole year."

She rolled her eyes, which made him smile.

"You got a counter-argument, Bones?"

"You can't protect me all the time. And you can hardly expect me to – " he tipped an eyebrow at her, a smirk on his lips. She stopped short. "And now you're making fun of me."

"What? Me? Never."

Silence fell between. His eyes fell to her lips and lingered there. He stepped closer; his left hand fell to her waist, pulling her in. She realized that somewhere along the line, she'd stopped breathing.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"Planes, trains, automobiles, Bones. Not necessarily in that order." His voice was low, rough. His right hand traced the line of her jaw, his fingers twining in her hair.

"How long can you stay?"

She thought she saw a flicker of regret. "I go back tomorrow morning. They'll pick me up at seven. It was supposed to be longer, but…"

"You got called back?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

They were so close that Brennan found it difficult to get a full breath. Her hands rested on his chest, fisting in the cloth of his jacket. Holding him there. Their gaze held for a long moment. It was nothing she'd experienced before, that gaze between them – a combination of longing and understanding and something else, something more. Something she wasn't prepared to name, just yet.

When they kissed, it wasn't like the other times. Not like the first time, when he was a virtual stranger whom she thought might be amazing in bed. Not like the second time, when five steamboats was all she would get. Nothing like the last time, when everything felt broken. His lips were soft, sure, his hand in her hair as he held her close. It was a kiss she never wanted to end.

Unfortunately, however, it ended all too soon, when Daisy came crashing through the tent door.

"Oh my gosh! Look at you guys. This is soooo great. I have to call Lancelot. Agent Booth, are you – wait, should I call you Agent Booth, or should I call you Sergeant Booth? Or do you have some other title now? Because I guess as long as you've been in the Army, and all the heroic things you've done and the places you've been, not to mention killing, like, a hundred people over the years – not that I'm judging, because I know your heart's in the right place, and you're only trying to protect the country, which is, well, great. Oh my gosh. You guys are so cute."

Booth stepped away from Brennan slowly, and turned to face Daisy. "Hey, Daisy." He winced when he said it, as though the mere presence of the girl was physically painful. Daisy launched herself at Booth, hugging him soundly. Brennan raised an eyebrow at him; Booth rolled his eyes.

The moment Daisy disengaged, she began talking again.

"I have missed you guys sooo much. Not Dr. Brennan, of course, because she's been right here, but the two of you together – there's just something so comforting about the two of you together. It's like when I go home – not home to my house because, well, my parents are kind of crazy, and I'm the first person to say, 'Don't cast stones,' you know, but I spent a lot of time in therapy over the years, working on some issues that probably would not have arisen if – "

"DAISY!" Brennan shouted.

Daisy pulled up short. "Yes? I'm sorry – was I talking too much? I just – "

The door to the tent opened again, and Dr. Landry let himself in. He gave Brennan what appeared to be a somewhat awkward smile, before directing his attention to Booth.

"So, it's true, then. We have a guest. Sergeant Booth, it's so nice to meet you." He extended his hand. Booth stared at it for a moment, before directing his gaze upward, to meet Landry's eye.

"And – I'm sorry, who are you?"

"This is Dr. Mombatu Landry, Booth. Remember, I told you about him?"

Booth's eyes widened. "You're Landry? The anthropologist Bones – uh, Dr. Brennan – has been staying with for the past seven months?"

"One and the same. I wanted to invite you to join us all for dinner. I'm sure you have a great deal of catching up to do, but perhaps you could spare some time to meet the rest of the crew. Dr. Brennan and I have prepared quite a feast for the holiday."

Brennan stared at Booth, who nodded numbly. "Yeah, of course. I'd love to."

The instant Landry turned to go, Daisy started in again. "So, Agent – Sergeant Booth, how long – "

Dr. Landry stopped mid-step, and turned. "Ms. Wick, perhaps you could walk with me? I'd love to discuss the findings uncovered on the north shore last afternoon."

Daisy hurried off, leaving the two of them alone again. Booth shook his head.

"That's Landry?"

"Yes."

"The Landry you're always talking about, the guy who's looking at half-naked pictures of you and hanging out at dig sites in the middle of the night and bringing you beers while everybody else is asleep?"

"That only happened once, actually," Brennan pointed out. "But, yes – he's the only Landry here." She hesitated at the look on Booth's face. "Is there a problem?"

His eyebrows shot high up his forehead. He lowered his voice. "The guy's like 6'4", Bones. I mean, I'm off in the desert thinking you're holed up with some shriveled guy in his sixties with glasses and a bad prostate. Mombatu Landry? Where the hell's he from?"

"Kenya. His adoptive father was from England, but he spent the first fourteen years of his life in Africa – hence the accent. He's really quite brilliant. And he's led a remarkable life."

"Yeah, well, I think he's got a thing for you."

"Please don't start that. You barely spoke to the man."

"I didn't need to – a guy can tell. Is he married?"

She shook her head.

"Gay?"

"Booth."

"I didn't think so. He's got a thing for you. Great. Why the hell isn't he jumping into killer waves to rescue people, instead of tossing you overboard?"

Brennan crossed her arms over her chest. Set her jaw. Tilted her head. Waited. When he was silent for another moment or two, she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Are you through?"

He rolled his eyes. "I guess so. You know I'm a war hero now, right?"

She took a step toward him. He took a step toward her.

"We should join the others for dinner," she said.

He nodded. Took another step toward her; their bodies touched. He rested his hands on her waist.

"I'm sorry about your friend," he said quietly.

Her eyes filled. She nodded. "Thank you."

The radio crackled nearby. Booth tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek afterward.

"I wish I was gonna be here longer. I just got word this afternoon, on the flight over here. I thought I'd be able to stay for a couple of days."

"But you're here now," she said softly.

He nodded. Tipped his forehead to hers, pulling her closer. "Yeah, babe. I'm here now."

When they got back to the camp, everyone else was already seated at a series of picnic tables situated on the white sand of the island's western shore. Landry had saved space for both Brennan and Booth at his customary table, along with the other faculty and the more highly regarded professionals on the team.

A somewhat awkward silence fell between them as Booth piled his plate. Brennan took her time – not really because she couldn't decide what to eat, but more because she found herself thinking more and more about what Booth's presence meant. How the others would view it. By the time she got to the table, Booth was already there, waiting for her.

"Why aren't you sitting?" she asked.

There were five others at the table – all of whom turned their attention to the military man at Brennan's question. Booth looked uncomfortable.

"I was just waiting for you, Bones."

She stared at him blankly. "Why?"

"Chivalry is never dead in the armed forces, Temperance," Landry said, with a kind smile.

"It's nice to know they're teaching our boys something useful over there." This from Dr. Melville – a singularly unpleasant woman with whom Brennan had been clashing since first arriving on-site. "I mean," she continued, "besides how to invade someone else's native land, kill their families, and rape their natural resources."

Booth sighed. "Yeah. Maybe I'll sit," he said quietly. Brennan noticed that he didn't even meet Melville's eye.

Brennan joined him a moment later. There was little space at the table for everyone, so they were crowded in quite closely. Booth jostled her elbow once. Then again. After a moment, she realized he was doing it purposely.

"Booth – you're going to make me spill my beer."

"Sorry, Bones. Didn't see you there."

She rolled her eyes. When his knee bumped against hers under the table, however, she found herself warming to his close proximity.

"So, Sergeant Booth," Melville began again, effectively ending their light exchange. "It's not often we break bread with a military man. Perhaps you could share some of your philosophies on how this conflict came to be – and why, precisely, we continue to send our men over there."

Booth wet his lips. He looked at Brennan, then back at his plate.

"This food's great," he said. "Not exactly what I'm used to for Christmas Eve, but it's delicious. You guys eat like this all the time?"

Brennan squelched a smile at the look of frustration on Melville's face.

"Sergeant, I asked you a question," the woman persisted.

Silence settled over the table. Brennan noticed a tensing in Booth's jaw, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around his fork.

"We actually don't," Landry said. Everyone turned to him in confusion. "Eat like this all the time," he clarified, looking directly at Booth. Booth smiled. "But we thought this would be a nice time for everyone to come together, have a good meal. Enjoy one another's company in an amazing setting. Temperance actually helped with quite a bit of the preparation this afternoon."

Booth bumped her shoulder, giving her a slick grin. "Nice, Bones. You've always been a good cook."

Dr. Jensen, one of the oldest and most highly regarded professionals in the field of forensic anthropology, was seated to the right of Brennan, while Booth was on her right. He raised an eyebrow at the comment.

"So, Tempe's a domestic back in D.C.? That's hard to picture."

"Makes the best mac n' cheese on the planet," Booth said without hesitation. "And she can open a take-out box like nobody's business." The others laughed.

With the exception of Dr. Melville.

"Perhaps we could – " the woman began.

"So, Dr. Landry," Booth interrupted, never even looking at the woman. "You said something about a discovery on the north shore? I'd love to hear a little about that."

Brennan stared at him. "You would?"

"Sure, Bones. I was reading that book by what's-his-name…" Brennan waited, completely at a loss as to where he might be going with the conversation. "By that guy Wallace – pretty interesting stuff."

"Alfred Wallace?" she asked.

Booth nodded. "Alfred Wallace – yeah, that's the guy. The geology of the islands got my attention."

She set down her fork, and stared at him openly. "The geology of these islands got your attention? So you read 'The Malay Archipelago?'"

"I can actually read, Bones."

The others were watching their exchange with what appeared to be great interest, but Brennan found she couldn't quite let it go.

"But you always make fun of me when I talk about my work."

"That's 'cause I know it bugs you." He leaned closer. Lowered his voice slightly. "You're kinda cute when you're bugged, Bones." He shrugged. Speared the last sliver of crab on his plate and popped it in his mouth. Chewed for a moment, then met her eye. "Doesn't mean I'm not interested in what you do."

She held his gaze in silence for a long few seconds. She could feel the length of his leg pressed against hers through the sheer skirt she wore. Was conscious of the heat of his body, the familiar smell of him, but the look in his eye was something she had not experienced before. She swallowed.

"Excuse me," Dr. Melville interrupted, with considerably more vehemence now. "I don't appreciate being ignored."

"And yet it happens so often," Jensen said, the comment directed at Booth. Booth kept his focus on his beer, but Brennan thought she saw him hiding a smile.

"I'd like to know, Sergeant Booth, how you justify teaching young men – "

"Cheryl," Brennan said quietly, her voice tinged with steel.

Dr. Melville looked at her. She had short, dark hair and a short, thick body, her eyebrows too bushy and her eyes a neutral shade that was not quite green, not quite blue. Brennan realized, sitting there, just how much she honestly disliked the woman.

"I'm just asking a question," Melville said innocently. "Spirited discussions are never out of place among intelligent people, are they?"

Booth took another drink of his beer, and set it down. He appeared to be debating something.

"Would you like seconds, Sergeant?" Jensen asked. "There's plenty."

"Excuse me," Melville said, more loudly this time. "I would like an answer to my question. I'd honestly like to know how a woman like Temperance became involved with a man who makes his living killing innocent – "

"Lady," Booth said suddenly. His voice was low – a tone Brennan had learned long ago meant nothing favorable could result. Nevertheless, she made no move to stop him.

"I'm trying to have the only Christmas dinner I'm gonna get, before I go back to the desert. Have I killed people? Yeah, I have. Before my tour's up, I'll probably kill more. You wanna know how I sleep at night? I sleep just fine, thanks. Why I do it? I do it so know-it-alls like you can drive around Jersey in your Prius's, live in paradise digging in the dirt six months a year for fun, and spend the rest of your life locked up in academia, bitching about the Neanderthals who get gunned down defending your country. I do it because I love my country, and I love my kid, and I'd do anything – including putting my life on the line every fucking day – to keep them both free. You wanna get into a political debate with me, do it on your own time. I'm on vacation."

Silence fell over the table for a moment. Brennan cleared her throat. She looked directly at Melville. "That's why I'm with Booth," she said simply.

Color rose in the woman's cheeks, her mouth tensed in a straight line. Landry looked at her thoughtfully.

"Cheryl, I was hoping someone could check those specimens in the western grid before sunset. Could you perhaps…?"

Her bushy eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Now? You can't just – "

"Perhaps he can't," Jensen interrupted with a smile, "but I can. Hurry along now, Dr. Melville. I'm sure we'll talk about all of this ad nauseam tomorrow."

When she had gone, Booth was quiet for some time before he gradually began to participate in the conversation once more. Landry and Jensen discussed the details of some of the work the team had done thus far. The smells of wood smoke from the fire and sea salt were strong in the air. Brennan tried without success not to pay attention to passing time, but found herself glancing periodically at her watch. It was seven o'clock - the day's heat had passed, a cool breeze taking its place. The sun would not set for another three hours.

Finally, after Booth had told a few of the stories of their work back in Washington, and even fewer stories of his time in Afghanistan, Jensen looked pointedly at the two of them.

"So, Sergeant, what time did you say you'd be heading back tomorrow?"

The same shadow fell over Booth's face that she'd seen earlier. "O-seven-hundred, sir. A chopper'll pick me up."

"Not much time."

Booth shook his head. His eyes fell to Brennan's. The crowd had cleared out, so it was only the two of them, plus Jensen and Landry and a few graduate students scattered on the ground and in lawn chairs around the table.

"No, sir. Not much at all."

Jensen scratched his chin. He had thick white hair that hadn't been cut in too long; it had a tendency to stand straight on end on the more humid days, and waved like a live thing when the man was excited.

"Tempe, why don't you take the volcano house tonight?"

Booth looked at her as her eyes widened. "The – but that's… Jasper, we couldn't."

The man waved his hand dismissively. "The hell you couldn't."

"What the hell's the volcano house?" Booth asked quietly, leaning in to Brennan.

"Full kitchen, stocked fridge," Jensen began, "balcony with the best view of the island this side of heaven."

Booth looked at her.

"That's your home," Brennan said to Jensen. "We couldn't…"

"I haven't been up there in five years," he said. "I've got a maid who keeps the place clean and stocked for the times my boys want to make the trip out here. Otherwise, it stays empty. The key's under the mat. Go."

"Where is it?" Booth asked.

Brennan looked to the left, directing her gaze skyward. Barely visible from this vantage was a tiny house on stilts, built on the side of a long dormant volcano.

"That's the volcano house," she said.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "That – the shack on the top of the mountain?"

"Hot tub, full bar. No grad students…" Jensen continued. He paused. Looked at Booth for a moment. "Queen-sized bed with fresh, 400 thread-count sheets."

Booth looked at her. His eyes seemed just a shade darker than they'd been a moment before.

"It's up to you, Bones."

It took her less than a minute of thought before she was up from the table and headed down the path. When she realized Booth was still seated, she called back over her shoulder.

"The hike will take at least two hours."

Booth was at her side within seconds. HIs hand found hers a moment later; she found she could not quite contain her smile. Any trepidation she might have felt was quickly replaced with anticipation at the thought of the trek - and the destination - that awaited. They set out.