A/N: Merry Christmas! Okay...I am a day late on that but holidays were meant to be seasons, right? Not just one day. Our family is having a quiet holiday - well, as quiet as we get. We have had two near ER visits (a cut finger and a literal brush with a hall thermostat LOL) Hope your holidays, not matter what you celebrate, are merry and bright - full of love and joy!

ooooo0ooooo

Misery Needs Company

Sweets hesitated before bringing the beer all the way up to his lips and taking a long drink. What a hellish day. What a hellish session, quite possibly the worst he'd ever had with any of his patients. He would have to fix it. He knew that, he just didn't know how, but he knew he had to fix it. Taking another long drink he decided first he just needed to relax a bit, relax and think, process everything that had just happened.

Settling back he turned the bottle as he wiped the condensation off of it in long thin strips. He'd headed into the session with a purpose, a plan. He did that every week but this week all he could think about was how afraid of going to the hospital Dr. Brennan had been. Something about her absolute panic had triggered his own memories. He remembered fear like that though it had been years since he'd felt it. And he wondered how he had moved past it and she so obviously hadn't. There was a freedom in leaving the past behind. It didn't have control. He was so fortunate. When he was adopted his parents made sure he received the best care, all the help he needed to move past all that stuff. They made sure he could have the future he deserved with as few strings binding him to the past as possible.

He theorized that this was the fundamental difference between his experience (or Agent Booth's for that matter) and Dr. Brennan's. They had suffered great trauma as children, at least he had, and he knew that Booth had even though he basically refused to talk about it. But their trauma was followed by equally great if not greater love. Dr. Brennan's experience had been the opposite. Although certainly not the typical childhood she had experienced love from her parents but that love was destroyed by abandonment and terrible abuse. Love and security proved untrustworthy. In her life, unlike his or Booth's, there was no loving home to fix things. It was his theory that in that crucible of abandonment and abuse she developed a complicated system of self protection. Distancing, compartmentalizing, her hyper-logical approach to everything, they all stemmed from that period of her life. It led him straight back to her crazy intense fear of hospitals.

All he wanted to do was help her past that fear, that paralyzing, controlling fear.

That's how it started. Good intentions, right? It was quite possible one beer was not going to be enough. Lifting the bottle to the light he looked to see how much was left before taking another long swig. The problem was he was so focused on helping her that he just pushed too hard. And before he knew it she was standing, shaking her finger at him, speaking in half thoughts and making little to no sense. Booth, man, he was pretty sure he'd never seen Agent Booth that angry. Then they were gone, just like that, and he wasn't even sure he could explain what had just happened except to say that they were gone and he was left alone in his office with possibly the sickest feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had ever experienced.

Sweets pulled out some cash and dropped it on the bar motioning to the bartender that he was done and left. Just thinking about it brought that feeling back, turning his stomach all over again. He swallowed hard. It was time, he needed to fix it, for them, for her, but mostly for himself. He couldn't leave it the way it was, not even overnight.

The locking mechanism clicked smoothly into place and released with ease. Booth took a deep breath and opened her apartment door. It was nothing like the lock to his apartment, that lock took all kinds of maneuvering to get it to open. Push the key all the way in, pull back just a little, wiggle until you got it just in the right place, then turn, sometimes forcing it to move. He chuckled to himself, most of the time he had to kick the bottom of the door where it had swollen some years ago and still stuck. Not hers. Her lock turned easily, the door swung open and a burst of cool climate controlled air hit them in the face.

Before he could gather back up the groceries he'd set down to unlock the door she'd grabbed them while still holding the dry cleaning, her messenger bag, and purse.

"Bones." He fought the exasperation in his voice. "Let me get those for you." Forced to let her go ahead with the extra load when she kept turning away and dodging his attempts to take the bags back.

"I'm fine, Booth, I've got it under control." Forcing his shoulders to relax and drop he nodded in acknowledgement sure the statement was more about her emotions and thoughts after a long therapy session than bags of groceries. They finished the session with Sweets, hit the grocery store and dry cleaner all while bickering over whether to make the switch to her apartment tonight as planned or go back to his.

It was late and they were both emotionally and physically exhausted. Booth thought it would be easier to just make the switch on the weekend. Venturing into her mindset he argued it was logical to wait, pointing out how much more rational waiting would be but it was one too many surrenderings for the day. She needed something to be concrete. She needed this to be concrete. They picked up dry cleaning so he would have a clean suit and shirts if he needed them. He grabbed his go bag from the truck and he already had a few items hanging around her house to make up the difference for one or two nights. If this is what she needed they would make it work.

Looking around her apartment he saw perfection, symmetry, order, it was how she found balance and safety. It was her way, he understood that about her, had for a very long time. Her walls were comprised of artifacts, culture, history, books, music all in order, all exact in their placement. His place was cluttered, full of artifacts of a different kind. There was a history behind everything there too but not this kind of order or symmetry or display. She was exact, it worked for her. He wasn't, it worked for him. Somewhere in the middle they met, overlapped, and gave balance to each other.

"Booth." He turned from putting away groceries to give her his attention. "Do you want to share a bathroom or do you want to use the guest bathroom?" She stood gripping his ditty bag with both hands.

"It doesn't matter." He turned his attention back to the groceries but she wasn't done.

"If we share a bathroom, that is more intimate and considered appropriate given our relationship."

"That works."

"But if you had the guest bathroom to yourself it would facilitate both of our regular morning routines without having to juggle for time and space." Her voice was strong and sure but he watched as fingers fiddled nervously with the trim of the bag.

"Do you want me take the guest bathroom? I'll do whatever is comfortable for you, Bones." Booth's hands came to rest softly on her arms.

"I'm comfortable with either, Booth, I just want to make sure you wer-" Her eyes were fixed on the bag still gripped tightly in her hands.

"Bones." Pulling her attention with a tender nudge to her chin he opted to skip words and laid a simple kiss on her lips. "We don't have to decide right now. It can wait." He took the ditty bag from her and set it on the table.

He'd noticed something the other day, when he sat holding her in his arms, waiting for the ambulance. As soon as she heard the sirens and the footsteps on the stairs she composed herself. It was startling, instantaneous. Her control had barely cracked since. She refused to talk about what had happened. Any time he asked if she was okay or if she wanted to talk about it she declined, promising that she was fine.

Days passed and life had returned to an even routine until tonight, until the session with Sweets. He was sure this was evidence of a crack in her armour. Gently he suggested she relax while he cooked some dinner for them. Maybe she could take a shower or lay down for a bit or read, she loved reading.

She nodded silently and laid a soft kiss on his cheek before leaving for her bedroom. "Thanks, Booth." She slipped in softly as she turned back for just a moment and looked at him.

Those eyes, those beautiful stormy eyes, had held his devotion from the moment he first saw them. How could anyone hurt her? How could anyone leave her with such terrible and haunting memories, such pain? So much pain that she was forced to construct such high, thick walls of protection as an act of self preservation, just to survive. He took in a long deep breath. Never again, he told himself, not as long as he could help it.

He watched for a moment before turning his attention back to the kitchen. Finishing putting away the groceries he was anxious to take his frustrations out with a cutting board, a knife, and some vegetables. He fell into an easy rhythm that allowed his mind to wander.

Hospitals. Booth cringed. Only Sweets would bypass the now obvious change in their relationship and zero in on Bones' frantic refusal to go to the hospital. Sweets had engaged in a long relentless full court press until she snapped, he snapped. Booth found himself chopping harder, faster as his mind raced back and forth through the session. Even now he couldn't think of any other way, any better way to handle it. He did what he had to do, he got her out of there, damn Sweets, damn the consequences, she needed to get out of there and he made that happen for her.

Scooping the last of the cut vegetables off into the soup he turned the temperature down, washed and dried his hands, and set off to check on Bones. Over an hour had passed and she hadn't come out. His concern grew. She would hide it, consider it all, until she was tied in knots, and not say anything about it.

Leaning against the doorframe he took a minute to just look at her. He could do that, sneak up on her, watch her, at least until she felt his gaze. Pushing off Booth took a couple steps closer. She was wrapped in a towel still from the shower. The pillowcase beneath her hair darkened in blotchy spots where it absorbed water from her wet hair. She wasn't asleep, though at first he thought she was, just deep in thought, staring out the bedroom windows as the curtains blew in the breeze.

Silently he made his way to the bed and lay down beside her wrapping himself protectively around her. She'd talk when she was ready, he knew this about her. Pushing her would only stretch the process out, in defiance she would hold onto her secrets, her hurt, her pain, whatever was bothering her just a little longer to prove she was in control. Making her feel safe, however, would bring the trouble to the surface faster. He let his hand drift, finding its way between layers of thick damp towel until it found her soft smooth skin.

Finally breaking the silence she spoke. "I don't like hospitals." Her words hung in the air awaiting his response.

"Me either."

It takes one to know one. A childhood taunt that held some truth. He'd grown up in and out of emergency rooms himself. Half his time making up lies to cover the brutal actions of an angry drunk. The other half of the time for some stupid youthful injury from playing sports or being a "boy" as Pops used to say. The real injuries kept the suspicions of concerned doctors and nurses just this side of calling Child Protective Services. He had his reasons for hating hospitals and the constant threat of hiding his father's secrets wasn't the only one. He pulled her just a little tighter, holding on for himself as much as her.

"Then why did you make me go?"

"You needed to."

"Because I'm carrying your progeny."

"No. Not just because you're carrying my baby." She was silent but scooted back into him just a little more. "I wanted you to go because you got hurt, you passed out, Bones, you were bleeding, and needed stitches. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Because you love me?" She squeaked out.

"Yes, because I love you." He let his hand drift over the very beginnings of her baby bump in slow circular motions. "Don't get me wrong, Temperance, I love this baby. More than anything in this world I love you and this baby. But before I ever loved this baby, I loved you. When I insisted you go to the hospital, I was worried about you."

She nodded her acceptance of his explanation as she took a deep breath and settled deeper into his arms.

"I find myself having a hard time containing my feelings of umbrage and enmity towards Sweets." Frustrated with her own inability to control her emotions she sounded pouty, like a petulant child.

"I know." He answered softly.

"At least for tonight." It was a quick qualifier added with the full knowledge that her anger would subside. Her mind would rationalize it all away. What was a clear offense tonight would be carefully maneuvered into an act of misguided professional obligation borne out of concern. Sweets said he was just concerned about her, she remembered that, he said it more than once. Shaking her head slightly against Booth's chest she fought the flood of Sweets' assault.

"Why, Dr. Brennan, why didn't you want to go to the hospital?"

"Why?" She didn't miss a beat. Straightening her posture and squaring her shoulders she went straight into teaching mode. "Hospitals are breeding grounds for infection. Emergency rooms are often the worst. So many people being treated, an over abundance of bodily fluids, not enough time to adequately clean or disinfect before one patient is moved out and another one in. More often than not unskilled workers merely spread bacteria by pushing it around rather than killing it. If I took my black light to even one trauma room you'd understand exactly why I didn't want to go to the emergency room. Have you heard of Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus? That is only one of the dangers that ler-"

"Dr. Brennan." He got this tone with her, one she heard from him when he didn't agree with her answer or thought she wasn't being as honest or open as she should be. It sounded condescending, heavy with disbelief. "I want to know why, no sciency answers, remember? I don't want your rational excuse for not wanting to go. I want to know what experiences in your life have made it so you have a fear of going to the hospital."

It had been so hard to sit there and watch her as Sweets began to push her. He remembered looking back and forth between them rapidly, as his mind raced for a solution, a way to protect her.

Booth held her closely now to make up for what seemed like a terribly long forced distance then.

"Yeah, Bones, I kinda hate him right now too." Booth let out a long sigh as he moved his hand to her shoulder. "You're cold, baby." Reaching far across her he grabbed the edge of the comforter dragging it over them. She hummed a sweet acceptance as the weight of his body fell on her and grumbled when he pulled back wrapping them in the blanket missing the pressure and feel of him.

"Hospitals are a breeding ground for germs and bacteria." She reasserted herself.

"Bones." He didn't want to relive the whole appointment and he certainly didn't want to agree to something now that she could use as a reason to never go to a hospital again later, like her rather elaborate germ theory. She was going to have a baby and if he had anything to say about it she was going to have it in the hospital. He could already hear her arguments against that forming.

Sweets hadn't bought the germ thing either only he hadn't been quite so diplomatic about it. Booth had watched as the two locked gazes, caught in a fierce battle of wills, she wasn't going to give in easily. Holding eye contact she continued.

"Sweets, that is my reason."

"No. Dr. Brennan, I was there. I saw your emotional reaction. There's no way that you were that worked up over the possibility of catching a cold from the ER. You've confided in me in the past. Remember, the broken dishes and two days in the trunk of a car?"

"That was different." With each push from Sweets her voice became more confident and controlled a sure sign to Booth that she was coming undone underneath. "I shared that experience specifically to... I chose to share with you in..." She couldn't explain it. It was an act of counterbalance, of equalization. Sweets had unwittingly shared. Both Angela and Booth had long ago taught her that when people shared with her it was appropriate to share some of herself in return. She had unitentionally seen his scars, making their relationship unbalanced. In her mind, her confession put them back on equal footing, which, at the time, seemed important. In addition she was sure it was their directive from Gordon Gordon.

A few sharp toned arguments vollied between the two and then Sweets deftly switched directions. "How many times did you visit the hospital as a kid, Dr. Brennan?" It was a slight of hand, a question requiring a simple factual answer.

"Five."

"Hospitalizations?"

"Two."

"So, three ER visits."

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"For each visit?" Sweets only nodded. "Emergency Room visits, two when I was fifteen and one when I was sixteen." She took a deep breath. "Hospitalizations fifteen and seventeen."

"None before you were fifteen?"

"No."

"Did you get hurt before then, when you were younger?" The implication was clear though unstated.

She cleared her throat as she considered her answer. Max had never taken her to an emergency room or urgent care. Now she understood his reluctance to compromise the life they'd built under assumed identities. The few minor accidents she had that required stitches or medical attention he took her to a close family friend. "I suppose I wasn't hurt bad enough to require such measures."

"So all of your experiences with hospitals revolved around your time in the system?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about them." Her heart raced, her mouth went dry as she turned to Booth with eyes that pleaded for help. He tried to divert the topic but Sweets wouldn't have it.

Resigned to the intrusion she began a calculated rehearsal of the specifics of each visit and what led up to them starting with the least intrusive. Jumbled in thick scientific lingo Booth struggled to decipher it as fast as she was dishing it out. A laceration that needed stitches, two of them. One was when she was first helping that freaky weird janitor Buxley at her high school dissect animals. The other remained undeciphered, buried in big words and double speak. A dislocated shoulder that he was sure was from abuse in one of her foster homes. It sounded like they'd pushed her to lie and blame it on a gym class accident. He knew how that worked. All the big words and verbal maneuverings couldn't hide that from him. Too many lies fueled her need to be completely honest and straightforward, he was sure of it. She stopped at the hospitalizations, volunteered nothing. Sweets pushed and pushed and pushed.

She couldn't stop her mind from reliving the session with Sweets. She'd tried for what seemed like hours. Here she was home, safe, in Booth's arms and still it felt like she was fifteen again reliving every terrible moment over and over. Locked in a trunk for two days she'd gotten severely dehydrated. All she remembered was how bright the light had been when the trunk finally opened. Too bright to open her eyes. The rest was flashes of partial memories too vague to hold as solid truth. There were loud voices yelling, accusing. It was confusing. And then it was quiet, with the exception of monitors beeping both close, in her hospital room and far off, down the halls. It was dark again and lonely, devastatingly lonely.

"I felt so alone in the hospital. I was so alone. My parents had left. Russ had left. My foster parents, the case workers, nurses, doctors, all gone. It was just me."

In those moments she truly felt unloved, uncared for. In that dimly lit hospital room she decided no one could be relied on to take care of her, she had to take care of herself. Hospitals became evidence that she was not important to anyone. She was nothing, inconsequential. She spent her life, her career, fighting to prove her experience and feelings in the hospital were wrong. She was important.

Trying to shake off the past, the haunting memories that tugged at her, she adjusted her cool damp body so her head was laying on Booth's bicep. Placing his arm across her chest he let his hand fall softly on her shoulder and pressed a long solid kiss onto the back of her head.

"I'm not alone anymore." It seemed like a random thought but he knew what she meant, he followed easily her silent thoughts.

"No, you're not alone and you never will be again. We're family, Bones." He had laid in bed many nights as a kid perfecting the art of crying silently. He recognized the signs in her now. The stiffness of her body, the way she held her breath, the measured release of it in shuddered increments. "It's okay to cry, Temperance. I'm right here. I always will be."

"Tighter, hold me tighter." And he did. Closing his eyes he knew it was his turn. She gave him a part of herself, he would give too.

"My mother left me. Well, me and Jared." There was a deep pain in his tone that she connected with easily.

"Booth." She was trying to tell him he didn't have to tell her but he knew he needed to. He knew she needed to hear it.

"We were just kids, you know, and the abuse had been going on for years, as long as I can remember. One night my father had beat the crap out of her, worse than normal, ya know? She'd threatened to leave and ran upstairs to pack. She'd done it before, said she was leaving but she never followed through. This night just felt different. I think he felt it too, my dad. I think he knew she was done with him. He chased her and they argued some more. Somewhere in that mess he pushed her down the stairs. It was bad, Bones, worse than it had ever been."

Booth's whole body jerked as he remembered the sounds of the fight, the sound of her body hitting the stairs as she tumbled down, the screams and cries and then worse, the silence. She ran her hands gently across his arm in an attempt to comfort and sooth his obvious pain.

"She went to the hospital, she had to, you know, because of the injuries…" His thoughts and words drifted off. "She just never came home. I never saw her again." In his mind the hospital had taken her away.

"Booth." She felt inadequate, unable to find the right words to comfort him. Floored by the realization that Booth had been abandoned just like her.

"It's okay, you know, I just, I understand. I don't really like hospitals either, Bones, I guess that's my point." Many times he'd considered their similarities in this respect. Both abandoned by people that were supposed to love them. Maybe that was why he'd been so insistent she give Max a chance. Because Max sought her out, watched over her, tried, even in his misguided way, to make things right. It had been years, decades, and he'd never heard anything from his mother, nothing. "Anyways, it wasn't long before my dad left us too and Pops took us in. He saved us, saved me."

That was the difference. He had Pops. She had no one for all those years. A fact that Sweets seemed intent on dragging out of her, wanting her to admit the weakness and fear that reached far beyond the borders of her childhood.

Sweets had pushed for the emotions, the I feel statements. She'd resisted. Each push, each response escalated things. Somewhere in the middle Booth had reached over grabbed her hand. His thumb ran almost frantically across her small delicate hand completely usurped in his. He remembered looking up to find Sweets' gaze fixed on their hands wrapped tightly together. It was the perfect opportunity to switch the subject to their change in relationship but he didn't. He stayed focused.

"I'm just trying to help, Dr. Brennan." Sweets had implored her to keep going.

"You're pushing it, Sweets. You need to stop." Booth asserted himself.

Sweets ignored him. "You know, I understand, Dr. Brennan, from experience, I understand." Three people who'd suffered through their youth stared each other down.

"Not like her." Booth hadn't intended to say it out loud. But He and Sweets, they'd both been saved in their own way. Not her, she hadn't been spared at all.

"I care, Agent Booth, I care and that's why I'm pushing her. I'm pushing her towards something better." Booth rolled his eyes. She wasn't broken, there was nothing wrong with her. In fact, she was amazing having found a way to stay strong and function all these years. It was only a brief break, taking the pressure off just a bit. then letting it mount back up.

Sweets took her back and forth from factual to a push for her feelings until she snapped. Her body shook. Booth tried to pull her into his arms but she resisted. Instead she stood up abruptly. A long jumbled string of seemingly unrelated words and thoughts poured out until she couldn't speak. That's when Booth cut it all off. Standing he positioned himself between them. One arm reached back towards her, his hand splayed in a silent act of protection. It didn't matter that Sweets was trying desperately to console her, that he was talking over her and Agent Booth trying to walk her through processing those experiences into healthy emotions, into a healthy place.

It was too late for that. In hindsight maybe Booth should have waited, let him take her to that place but he couldn't. His need to protect her was in overdrive. He pulled her up into his arms, whispered to her, told her they were leaving, it was over, they were done. She didn't have to go any farther with this, not today. By the time they were at Sweets' door she was composed. Booth looked back over his shoulder at Sweets who looked away, staring out his office window, his jaw pulsing in an open expression of frustration. They parted annoyed and unhappy, all of them defeated in one way or the other.

Booth closed his eyes forcing the day out of his mind while he let his hand drift up and down along the smooth curve of her bare hip. Wanting more than anything to get lost in her, wanting to drag her with him into a peaceful oblivion. She leaned back into him letting out a soft murmur of acceptance and encouragement as his hand made its way to the front of her thigh pulling her closer with every stroke. If she had to feel, if she had to get lost in emotion this was the emotion she wanted to feel. No words, no need for them, there had already been too many spoken for one day.

She wiggled and turned until she faced him. The pounding on the door came just as their lips brushed, finally connecting. Pulling back they let their foreheads bump as they groaned heavily in disbelief. It seemed this day would never end. He went to answer the door, she went to get dressed.

Booth shuffled to the door answering before thinking his mind elsewhere. There stood Sweets a couple of boxes of pizza in one hand beer in the other looking sheepish.

"Booth." She called out as she came from the back of her apartment. "Who is it?" He didn't even have time to answer before she was close enough to see. She stopped a few feet behind Booth.

"Sorry." Sweets' boyish looks, his repentant eyes, made it hard to turn him away. He thrust forward the pizza and beer. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I was wrong."

Booth looked to her. Taking a moment to breathe she closed her eyes for just a second then opened them and nodded her approval. Booth stepped back and motioned Sweets in. An overall sense of relief eased its way into the room as they settled around the table. Plates of pizza, beers, and one glass of ice water with lemon in it. It didn't take long before Sweets' attention settled on that glass of water.

Damn it, he'd missed this too. He'd been kicking himself all week for missing the now obvious signs of the change in their relationship. In hindsight he'd totally missed this, hadn't even considered this.

"Oh boy." He stuttered. "Oh, you should have told me." The partners glanced back and forth between each other.

Setting his pizza down Booth licked the tips of his fingers before answering. "Cullen knows, it's all been handled." He tried to control it but his jaw pulsed with frustration.

"Yeah, I get that but, dude, you should have told me." Realizing he was about to get blasted again and possibly kicked out of their lives forever Sweets jumped to explain. "If I had known that Dr. Brennan was pregnant I never would have pushed her to talk like I did. Pregnancy is not a good time to tackle deeply emotional traumas it can trigger flashbacks and all kinds of problems. Pregnancy is a time to just deal with things as they come up and maintain coping mechanisms. No deep therapy. If I had known." They didn't respond directly to Sweets, just nodded at first.

"No one knows." Booth defended their choice to keep this a secret. "And it needs to stay that way, got it?"

"Got it." It was the least Sweets could do. "And congratulations, by the way, that's wicked cool. I always knew you two would get together eventually. It's like it was fate." He looked satisfied and genuinely happy for them as he stuffed his mouth with another huge bite of pizza. "My parents were that way. They had this special kind of love that was just meant to be."

"No, no, there is no such thing as fate, Sweets." Dr. Brennan protested. Booth smiled. Wrapping his arm around her as he pulled her in and kissed her temple. Looking over at Sweets, Booth winked, a knowing look and sparkle in his eyes.

ooooo0ooooo

A/N: I am truly sorry that this chapter took so very long - I had a little writers crisis and by the time I recovered I was anxious to finish my secret santa piece for this year Truth or Dare (Special thanks to SarahinPrint for organizing that)

Well, this may not be the cheeriest chapter...for that I apologize...As always I am anxious to hear from you. Happy New Year!