Author's Note: And here we enter the 3rd act...alot of fun stuff happening now, and where the story takes a left turn compared to the movie.
~MC~MC~MC~
Summer had given way to Fall, Fall has given way to Early Winter, and Kevin Allen had yet to give away the Pope's hat.
Temperance Brennan was sitting in her lab, examining a human skull, when her phone began to ring, breaking her out of her daydreaming.
"We are in trouble."
Temperance blinked at the greeting. "What's wrong Booth?"
"Bones...I just got the list."
"I don't follow," Temperance said.
"Bones...the list. As in who has been naughty and who has been nice..."
The anthropologist frowned. "I don't understand."
"Santa...Claus'...list. Bernard sent it to me."
"Booth...Bernard was merely a creation of our dreams-"
Booth cut her off. "Bones, it was real." Before she could protest, Booth began to speak quickly. "Don't you get it? People don't gain 100 pounds and go gray over night! They don't suddenly know who was naughty or nice overnight!"
"Booth, are not making any sense-"
"I AM SANTA CLAUS!"
"...Booth, if you are going to suffer from a meltdown..."
"I am not having a meltdown. I am simply stating that I have magically become an immortal being that gives out presents even though we also know that parents buy presents."
Temperance frowned. "Booth...do you want me to come over and bake you some cookies?"
"No I...well...yes, yes I would. But-"
"But nothing, Booth. Just because we each have put on a few extra pounds and begun to show our ages doesn't mean something magical has happened. If you don't like it, then do something about it."
Booth remained silent for a moment. "Bones, I am asking you...as someone that loves you...to believe me when I tell you this...I am Santa."
"Booth...I... can't."
"Then I guess we have nothing else to say, do we?"
"Booth?"
CLICK
Temperance stared at the phone, not believing what had just happened, then looking down at the skull she had been fiddling with...and had apparently gift wrapped during the conversation.
"...logical reason for that too." She muttered.
~MC~MC~MC~MC~
(Later that day...)
"Can you believe her Sweets?" Booth asked, waving his hands about in frustration. "She thinks I'm crazy!"
"Because you believe you are Santa Claus."
"Because I AM Santa Claus."
Sweets nodded. "Right...my mistake. Agent Booth-"
"Agent Santa." Booth fell back into his chair. "We might as well begin calling me that."
"Oooohhhh, I'd rather not..."
Booth cut his shrink off. "It's not like I chose this...its not my fault I happened to kill the last Santa."
"Of course not..." Sweets muttered.
"But you'd think she'd at least go along with this, for my sake. I go along with all her weird stuff like looking at skeletons and watching documentaries and calling her Elita-1 when we have sex."
"All rational...wait, what?"
"But does she listen Sweets? Nooooooo! If it doesn't fit in her little bubble, it must be wrong."
"Right, about that Elita-1 thing-"
"I just...I would be there for her, if she thought she was Mrs. Claus. Which she is. I mean, it's obvious."
"Right, right. Listen, Agent Booth, I think that you and I need to have a more intense discussion about this."
Booth frowned, stroking his beard. "I'm not sure if I'll have the time. I mean, I have the list and feeding the reindeer and renew the plates on the sleigh...I mean, this is my busy season."
"Of course...but I am afraid that I must insist." Sweets motioned for two more FBI agents to enter.
"Sweets, what is-" Booth didn't get to say another word before one of the silent agents knocked him out with the butt of his gun.
"WHOA!" Sweets shouted. "I never agreed to that."
"We took da liber-ty. A perk of da job."
Sweets shook his head. "I agreed to this under the condition that Agent Booth be treated with dignity and care. Now, failing that, I am afraid..."
The more violent of the agents pointed his gun at Sweets. "Doc...the FBI don't need an agent thinkin' he's Santie Claus. Don't need our shrinks mouthin' off, neither."
"It's...actually either...but neither works too..." Sweets held up his hands as the man approached him.
The violent men smirked. "Agent Santie Claus is makin' da FBI look bad...first Hacker quits ta be Batman, now dis? Cullen don't like that and asked us to...take care of dis. And you gonna go along, ok?"
"Uh...sure." Sweet shook his head, wondering when the FBI had begun hiring from New Jersey.
The quiet agent pulled out his phone as the violent one lugged Booth away, forcing Sweets to follow. "This is Agent Clark...we have Agent Booth...you are clear to go after Mrs. Dr. Booth."
