A time to keep and a time to throw away.

"What about this?" Seeley Booth held up a ratty sweatshirt that, at one point at least, had read 'Northwestern'.

"I suppose we should throw it away," Temperance Brennan-Booth replied, "It is a bit worn."

A week ago, their youngest daughter Hope had gotten married. Now that they were both retired- and now that it was just the two of them at the house- they had decided it was time to get rid of the clutter that had built up over the last three decades. It was a much larger undertaking than Booth had originally assumed.

"Did you realize we had so much junk?" he asked when they stopped for lunch, handing her a cold glass of lemonade.

She shook her head, "I knew that some areas had become more cluttered than others, but not to this extent," she pointed to the two bulging bags of trash that they had collected.

The doorbell rang.

"Hello," a tall, skinny man whose face resembled a mouse peered in at them, "I have a delivery for a Mr. Seeley Booth," he squinted at his delivery sheet to make sure he had the name correct.

"That's me," Booth said, "Though I don't remember ordering anything."

"Oh," the man shrugged, "Well, I just handle the delivery part. Where do you want me to put this?"

"Put what?" Bones was at his side, hands on hips.

Two men emerged from the back of the mousey man's delivery truck carrying a large piece of furniture.

"Booth," he could hear in her tone that she was not pleased, "We are supposed to be getting rid of things, not getting more. And what is that thing?"

Booth grinned as the men came nearer and he shook his head, "Camille!"

"What?"

"Cam," he said, stepping aside so that the men could come through, "I had heard she was leaving the Jeffersonian. Guess this confirms it."

"Is that the couch from my office?"

"Yep," he confirmed, "Cam said she would save it for me if she could. Apparently they are updating all of the furniture at the lab. I couldn't let them just throw the couch away, could I?"

"That would have been the prudent thing, to be sure," she shook her head at him, "However, if she was able to secure your couch then I wonder…"

She motioned to the delivery man, "Do you have an order there for Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth, as well?"

"Hmm," the mouse-man furrowed his brow, studying his sheet, "Well, no doctors here, but there is something here for a Temperance Booth."

"That's me," she assured him.

He motioned his men to get the doctor's delivery as she signed for it.

"What'd Cam save for you?" Booth was curious.

The men emerged, lugging a large glass case.

"Please be careful," she entreated, "That mummy is very fragile."

"Ugh, Bones," Booth complained, "I don't want some dead guy in our house! Where exactly were you thinking of putting it may I ask?"

"The basement, of course," she answered him.

"No way!" he protested, "I am not sharing my man room with that thing!"

"Booth," she said, "You get your couch. I get my mummy."

"Couches are meant for basements, though, Bones," he argued, "Mummies are for museums."

"It's a replica, Booth, not actual human remains."

"Still creepy," he muttered.

The delivery men deposited their load, waved to the couple and sped off.

"You realize they probably think we are nuts," Booth commented, placing his hand on the small of her back as he ushered her back in the house.

"Most likely," she smiled, "After all, it's not every day one delivers a couch and a full-sized replica mummy."

They went back to their cleaning. By seven, they had finished cleaning out all of the bedrooms and had decided to call it a night.

"Ah," Booth said, settling down into the couch, "Now, this feels like coming home!"

His wife laughed, "It certainly is broken in already."

"Shh," he put a finger to his lips, "You'll hurt the couch's feelings talking like that."

She collapsed on the couch beside him and shot him a sidelong look, "The couch has feelings now?"

"Yep," he collected her into his arms, "Like the Velveteen Rabbit- we've used it so much it's become real."

She shook her head, but relaxed into his embrace. Memories of all the time that she and Booth had spent on the couch flooded her mind. How many nights had she spent on it? How many times had she awakened to find Booth, coffee and doughnuts in hand waiting for her?

He had taken his share of naps here too- especially once they had married. He would come to her office after he was done at the Hoover Building, waiting patiently for her to complete the day's work. Most nights he would fall asleep- comic book splayed across his chest- before she was ready to go home. He almost never had complained.

She had conversed with many people on this couch as well- Angela, Booth, her father. Everyone seemed to gravitate to it when they entered the room. She remembered the little boy grin that had spread across her husband's face on her first day back at the Jeffersonian after nearly two decades of absence. She was pleased to be back at work. He was pleased to see the couch. She was thankful that Cam had sent it to them rather than allowed it to be discarded. Booth deserved to have the couch as his own after all that they had been through together.

Booth watched his wife's eyes glaze over as she slipped into the past. He smiled, and glanced over at the mummy that now kept watch on the room from the far corner. Even though Bones claimed it was a replica, it still gave him the creeps. He wondered how much the old fellow had observed over the years standing in the corner of Bones' office.

So much of his and Bones' history was tied to that office. They had fought, chatted, cried, hugged and kissed there. Some years, he thought, they had logged more hours in the office than at their own house. She had seemed so happy when she got the opportunity to go back to work there. It had been her haven when he first met her- her sanctuary in which she was the one who called all of the shots. Once they had married and purchased this house, he had determined to make it every bit as much her sanctuary as her office. Looking down at her content face, he had to believe he had been successful.

Her eyes refocused and met him, "What are you thinking, Booth?"

"Just remembering; how about you?"

"The same."

"Good times, eh, Bones?"

"Yes."

"You know what else I was thinking?" he grinned.

"What, Booth?"

"I think it's time to break in our new couch!"

"Well," she turned around so that she was lying in his lap, "Since we're not in the lab, I suppose we could finally do that."

"It'd be a dream come true, Bones."

"Booth."

"Yes, Bones?"

"Shut up."

They christened the old couch like Booth had always wanted to. And the mummy saw it all.