Author's Note: Hooray for quick updates! Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed (and favorited and alerted) so far! You guys keep me going, seriously. So I started writing this chapter, and it turned out a little differently than I had outlined it, but that's okay. I actually think it works better this way. Anyway, the tension between our favorite couple in the show on top of the tension I'm writing for them in my story was just starting to get to me, so we have a little ... not really fluff, but "betterness" in this chapter. I just hate how they are now. Anyway, they have a long way to go, but stick with me! They're on their way to recovery, lol. And if anyone is starting to get worried, I PROMISE that this is a B/B story ... Hannah won't be in the whole story. So, on with the reading!

P.S. Love it? Hate it? Hit that little button down there in the corner and leave me some love! Thanks - I knew I liked you. ;)


This is my december

This is my snow covered home

This is my december

This is me alone

And I

Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed

And I

Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.

~My December, Linkin Park


Sunday morning found her curled comfortably in the corner of her couch, a warm mug of Chai tea on her coffee table and a well worn copy of Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo in her hand. She'd been up early, cleaned her house from top to bottom and showered and gotten ready for the day. The clock had barely reached nine a.m.; she hadn't slept well, and finally gave up trying sometime around six.

The phone rang again, but she ignored it and let it go to voicemail. She heard her own voice asking callers to leave a message, the long beep, and then Angela's voice carried through her kitchen. This was the second time today her friend had called her, and the fourth time since Friday night. Brennan had not answered any phone calls, including hers. She knew she was hiding, and that eventually she was going to have to answer her friends' calls, but she just didn't feel up to it yet. Her expectation that everything that happened would make sense in the light of day had not been met; rather, sleeping on it and then being able to think clearly the next day only made it more confusing. Without emotional stressors and physical responses to cloud her judgment, Brennan found that she was not only deeply hurt by Booth's senseless request, but she was still angry with him over it. He had apologized several times for the event, and she knew that he was truly sorry for everything that happened, but that didn't assuage her anger.

Her answering machine kicked off, after a final warning from Angela that if she didn't call her sometime today then she was physically coming over to talk to her. She smiled at the message, being almost exactly the same message she'd already left. Her mind trailed over messages then, and she thought of the one message from Booth that he'd left yesterday. He had called to tell her that Brian Perdue's alibi had checked out, and that he was no longer a suspect. The message had been short, and he'd made no mention of anything outside the case. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or irritated. She wondered at the way her life had apparently turned in to a strange pull of opposites: she didn't want to talk to Booth, but she was disappointed if he didn't call; she didn't really mind Hannah, but she didn't want anything to do with her. Everything was confusing.

She sighed and set down her book. Now that she'd started thinking about it all, there was no way she was going to be able to concentrate. She needed a distraction, something that did not require a lot of thought or concentration. She rose and headed into the kitchen to retrieve her phone. She dialed the number from memory.

"Hello?" A male voice answered

"Morning, Hodgins," Brennan greeted, "Is Ange there?"

"Sure, Dr. B, hold on."

She heard him set down the phone, and it wasn't even a full thirty seconds later that Angela was on the other line.

"Sweetie, thank God," Angela gushed, "I thought you'd never call. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," She replied automatically, although she didn't really feel it

"Uh huh," Angela replied, the doubt in her voice evident

"Do you and Hodgins have plans today?" Brennan asked

"Not really, we were just gonna sit around the house and relax. Why?"

"I find that I need a distraction."

"Which means what, exactly?" Her friend asked

"Well, I thought maybe you and I could go shopping or something. Do some of that female stuff you're always talking about."

"You mean 'girly' stuff, Sweetie, and I think that's a great idea! Shopping sounds like a perfect past time. I'll come pick you up – how does half an hour sound?"

"Good. Thanks, Ange," Brennan said, smiling

"No problem, Bren. I just hope you're ready – I have a degree in shopping."

Brennan hung up with Angela and headed into her room. She checked her appearance in the full length mirror on her closet door: blue jeans and a pale green scoop neck shirt that banded around her ribs and then flared out ever so slightly. She slid on a pair of black boots and grabbed a light jacket, just in case it was chilly out. She glanced at herself a final time in the mirror, then headed back to her living room.

She picked up her tea and finished the last little bit, carrying it into the kitchen and setting it in the sink to be washed later. Her iPod was still playing in the living room, but she was going to let it play right up until the time she walked out the door. Angela had made a good choice in getting her the small music player- she never would have imagined just how much use she would get out of it.

There was a light knock on her door. She glanced at her watch – Angela had never been very patient when it came to doing something like shopping. She suppressed a grin and headed for the door, pulling it open easily.

Angela was not on the other side of the door.

Instead, Booth stood before her in a faded grey t-shirt and jeans, his black leather jacket unzipped over the ensemble.

"Hey," He said softly, and his voice gave her butterflies

"Hi," She replied simply, too surprised to say more

She stood there dumbfounded for a minute, then stepped aside to let him in. He said nothing as he passed her on his way to the living room; she closed the door and followed him. He'd stopped in the middle of the room and turned so that he was facing her. He watched her walk toward him silently, searching her face for the tell-tale signs of anger or irritation.

"I would've called," He started, when she was standing in front of him, "But you wouldn't have answered."

Brennan appraised her partner. Years of friendship and hundreds of hours logged in each other's company helped her see the uneasiness in his stance and catch the undercurrent of guilt in his somber baritone voice.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, a knot of worry settling in her stomach

"Not really," He said honestly

He sat down heavily on her couch, then motioned with his head for her to take a seat next to him. She hesitated only a moment, then crossed the gap and sat close enough that their knees were touching. She had missed the easy closeness they shared.

"Did something happen in the case?" She queried

"No, it's not about the case." He stalled, unsure of what to say and how to broach the subject without upsetting or offending her. "It's about us, Bones. You and me."

"What about us?" She asked, suddenly on guard

"We're not working anymore, Bones. At least, not the way we used to."

Warning bells and red flags sounded alarms in her head. Her heart plummeted wildly into her stomach. This was the end she'd started to expect – he was here to tell her that he didn't want to work with her anymore. She started to rise, but he was quicker: his hand shot out and grasped her wrist before she could. Unfortunately, he grabbed the same wrist he'd grabbed the other night, iron fingers digging into the purple-blue bruise that had blossomed there. She flinched at the sudden pain and he let go as if he'd been burned. The mixture of the elements kept her rooted to her spot next to him.

Gingerly, as if she might break under the slightest pressure from him, Booth pulled her hand into his lap so that he could get a clear look at her wrist. One large, livid bruise had blossomed against her pale skin; it extended across the back of her wrist and onto the side. The sight of it nearly made him sick with guilt; an ache that had plagued his heart for longer than he could guess doubled in on itself and gnawed at him with renewed vigor. Unable to speak right then, he wound his fingers into hers and brought her wrist to his mouth.

The feeling of her partner's soft, warm lips brushing the already tender skin at her wrist almost made her shudder. He kissed the bruise tenderly, then lowered her arm so that it was resting easily on his leg. He did not release her hand.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and she could see the dark circles under his eyes.

"We're not working, Bones, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving," He said quietly, "You didn't let me finish."

"Then you're not here to tell me you don't want to work with me anymore?" She asked, and her voice sounded softer than she'd intended

"Not even close."

She released a breath she had no recollection of holding.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. With us, with everything. All I know is that this isn't working, and we need to figure out what's wrong and how to fix it before it's too broke to fix."

"I'll admit that things have been … different, since we've come back," She agreed, licking lips that she hadn't known were dry

"Different? Not just different, Bones, but horrible. We never talk anymore, and when we do it just feels …"

"Artificial," Brennan ended for him

"Yeah. I just never know what to say to you anymore, and you've been so distant … I miss us, Bones. The us before we left for seven months."

She had no reply. He was right, about everything. Their partnership – their friendship – seemed to be nothing more than the hulled out shell of what it was before. The absence of it, the loss of something that had been so steady and constant throughout some of the worst times of her adult life left her feeling … abandoned, almost. She felt the same way she had that day she'd watched her father and Russ drive off in her brother's bronco, leaving her alone and handcuffed to a bench. Except that even in that moment, she had not been alone – Booth had been right there with her.

She glanced at the man next to her. So much had changed, and she felt so confused and alone most days that she just buried herself in her work. Despite all that, despite the horrid mess that it had all become, here he was. Booth was here, right beside her just like before, asking her to help him fix whatever it was that had gone wrong. She had expected him to leave, to walk away as she had always feared that he would, and now she was finding her expectations disappointed. No matter how messy things got, no matter how much it had changed, Booth was still there with her.

"I don't know how to fix it," She admitted in a whisper

"I don't expect you to," He assured her, "I don't know how to fix it either. But I want to try – I want to know that you want to fix it."

"Of course I want to fix it," She retorted, indignant that he would suggest otherwise

"Good.

He smiled and squeezed her hand encouragingly. His hand felt warm and rough against her own; she'd almost forgotten how much his touch reassured her.

"What are we going to do?" She inquired

"Well, first of all, we're going to stop shutting each other out. We need to start communicating again, even if what we want to say doesn't make sense."

"That didn't make sense," She retorted

He laughed, the first time she'd heard him do so in what felt like ages.

"I just mean that we have to stop pulling away from each other," He clarified, "We'll start there, and work our way up."

"What about Hannah?"

"What about her?"

"Well, isn't it going to bother her if we start talking as often as we used to?"

"You let me worry about Hannah," He said, squeezing her hand again, "But there's one more thing I need you to do for me, Bones."

"What?"

"I need you to forgive me. I mean really forgive me, in your heart."

She started to say something, but he silenced her by putting a finger to her lips and shaking his head.

"I've been an asshole, Bones, and what happened Friday was just … unacceptable. I know you are still angry with me, and you have every right to be. I don't know what I was thinking. So I need you to forgive me, because I swore I'd never hurt you like you that. I don't expect it to happen overnight, or even anytime soon really, but promise me that you'll at least try."

She searched his face, a face that she had memorized and thought of nearly every day she'd been gone. This man, so sincere and concerned about how he'd hurt her, this was the Booth she missed. Brennan rarely ever made promises, but this was one she knew she could keep.

"I promise," She said simply

"Thank you."

Whatever he could have said next was cut short by the sound of an excited knock on her door.

"Angela and I are going shopping," She explained

"Now that is something I just can't get excited over," He joked, releasing her hand and standing with her

She smiled and headed for the door, opening it to find a positively beaming Angela waiting on the other side.

"This is going to be so great, Sweetie!" Her friend exclaimed, breezing by her, "You've been promising me that we would go shopping for … well, forever really."

"Hi, Ange," Booth greeted, chuckling

"Hey, G-man, I didn't see you there. Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," Booth said easily, "I just stopped by to check on Bones. I was just leaving."

He headed for the door, and when he reached Brennan he reached out and put a hand on her arm.

"Breakfast tomorrow?" He asked

"You're buying," She answered with a smile

"Deal."


Booth closed the door to his apartment and threw his keys onto the small table in the entryway. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner; he was a little tired, but he felt better than he had in days – maybe even weeks.

"Hannah?" He called

"In the kitchen," Came the reply

He padded in to the kitchen and found her putting the finishing touches on a sandwich. He came up behind her and put his hands on her hips, leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, "I can make you something to eat."

"No, I'm okay," He replied, "I think I might try and catch a game on TV or something."

He let go of her and headed in to the living room, plopping himself down onto the cushions without ceremony. Hannah followed seconds later, but he noticed when she sat down that she had not brought her sandwich. He was about to ask her about it when she beat him to the punch.

"Can we talk, Seeley?" She asked, positioning herself next to him in such a way that she was facing him

"Sure," He answered, but her tone worried him, "What's up?"

"Well, it's just that … we never really talked about what happened the other night," She started

"Hannah," He interjected

"No, Seeley, let me finish. I know you and Temperance are close, and you told me that you've been through a lot together, but I'm starting to see that there's a lot more to it than you're saying."

"We've been together for six years," He retorted, "You can't just outline everything that's happened in six years all at once."

"I know that."

"But?" He asked, sensing the other half of her statement

"You could have at least given me a heads up," She said softly

"I did!" He exclaimed, trying not to get defensive, "I told you that we'd been through a lot of rough stuff."

"You missed the part about dying," She shot back

"Right, because that's such a great conversation starter: 'I took a bullet for my partner, and, oh yeah, I died. Nice talk'."

"Okay, so it's not the easiest thing to talk about," She agreed, "But I'd say it's a pretty important one, since it obviously still bothers her."

"So, what? You're upset with me for not telling you our life's story, or upset with Bones because she's still upset over it?" He asked, and the defensiveness was rising

"Neither. I just think that maybe your version of 'close' and my version may not be the same thing," She answered, her voice rising

"Oh so now you're accusing us of, what, exactly? Sleeping together?"

He had sat up straighter as the conversation progressed, and it was now escalating quickly into an argument. He was so tired of arguing, and he'd only just barely made any sort of progress with Bones … he had come home from the desert, but he'd apparently never stopped fighting.

"Now you're putting words in my mouth," Hannah argued

"Well that's what it sounded like to me."

"I just feel like there's a lot I'm missing."

"Because there is, Hannah. You haven't been around us that long."

"Well can't you just … I don't know, explain it to me, or something?" She asked

"No," He resisted

"Why not?"

"I'm not going to sit here and rehash everything that's happened to us, Hannah. What's done is done, and we deal with it the best we can. Why do you need to know so badly?"

"I'm a journalist, it's what I do."

"Bones and I are not some story for you to uncover," He said firmly, and they were fighting now, "We're not here for you to investigate and dissect!"

"I never said I wanted to!" She yelled back, blushing at his accusations, "I just wish I didn't always feel like you were protecting her from me."

"She's my partner – protecting her is what I do!"

"Not from me, Seeley, I'm not attacking her!"

"You just did!"

"No I didn't! You're just being overprotective and jumping the gun because that's what you expect me to do!"

She was hurt, and it showed plainly on her face. For what felt like the hundredth time that weekend, he had managed to hurt someone close to him. She got up from the couch and started to walk away, and he stood to stop her.

"Wait, Bones …"

The shock that flooded him rooted him to the spot where he stood. He had no idea what had happened: he'd meant to say Hannah, he'd been actively thinking her name, but he'd called out for Bones instead. He was so surprised that he couldn't think of anything to say, he couldn't think of a way to mollify the situation. Hannah, who'd stopped dead at the other woman's name, turned to face him slowly. Her expression was almost unreadable, but he thought he could see hurt there.

"I'm going for a drive," She said in a tightly controlled voice, "I think we both need time to cool off."

He listened as she grabbed a coat and her keys, followed moments later by the sound of the front door closing. The sound seemed to bring him back to himself and he fell onto the couch once more, shaken. Letting out a ragged sigh, Booth dropped his head in hands and closed his eyes. Would things never be normal again?