Brennan felt a little like Scrooge as she headed out on her own shopping expedition. It wasn't that she didn't like to give gifts. It was that the personal connections others seemed to form didn't come as easily to her. So buying gifts that were meaningful just created frustration. Avoiding a holiday that had been nothing but painful since her teen years had been easier. There was always a dig to go on or a lecture to give in some far away country.

Then Booth came along. And her father. Suddenly Russ and Amy were in her life. The next thing she knew, she was giving up trips to spend Christmas with them. Spending a holiday in a trailer at the jail, earned with a kiss under the mistletoe.

She felt the blush travel up her cheeks and Brennan was glad no one else was there to see it. Booth would have demanded an explanation and that would have been awkward. Of course, maybe she would have gone with an honest answer, just to see his response.

Honesty with Booth was becoming a lot more natural and she planned on keeping it that way.

Turning into the parking lot of an antique store she'd researched earlier in the day, Brennan reached for her bag and excited the vehicle.

The only truly personal connection she'd ever managed successfully had been with Booth. So it should mean she was able to purchase several gifts he would enjoy.

A bell over the door rang as she entered the shop. Immediately she was surrounded by the scents of dust and old books. And while she knew the reason old books smelled the way they did, she still enjoyed the scent.

Brennan had an item in mind. But she wandered through displays looking for anything else that would fit her partner.

"Looking for something particular?"

Turning to look, Brennan gave what she hoped was a friendly smile. "I need a record player."

Bushy white eyebrows came down over blue eyes. "You don't want one of those cheap ones you can buy in a store?"

There was annoyance in the voice and Brennan knew it was a response he'd heard more than once. "No. I want something solid. My…" her voice trailed off. My partner? There was no way she was calling him her boyfriend. "My friend," she decided on, "likes things that are solid. Old. That have a history."

"Hmmm." There was approval in the sound. "Your friend sounds like someone who appreciates things that last."

Relieved that she'd explained it in a way that was understood, Brennan nodded. "Exactly. I need one that he can use. Not one only for decoration. But that has history too."

"I have something over here." A wrinkled hand motioned for her to follow as he led her across the store. "I don't show these to many people. And the few I have shown it to have not been impressed. But I think you might be different."

He led her toward a display of what appeared to be several different styles of players. "This one," he said, placing his hand on the edge of an old gramophone, "is the oldest one I have. But, it won't play any of the more modern records. If you're looking for something that works."

"Now this one," he said, drawing her attention to something that while old, looked slightly more modern. "Will play the newer vinyl records. I have some of those as well, if you'd like to add them in with your purchase."

Stepping up next to the gentleman, Brennan reached out and brushed her fingers across the wood. There was history here, in the obviously handmade case and the care that had gone into the construction. She'd already cast the gramophone aside, wanting something that actually worked.

Booth had a record player. She'd taken the needle off the record that evening in his bathroom. When she'd used a key to enter his apartment and yell at him for faking his death. It had worked well the nights she'd used it. When she snuck in and tried to figure out how she was supposed to live in a world he wasn't in.

It didn't work the next time she tried to play one of his records on it. She'd used the key from the fake rock he'd never changed and tried to figure out a different problem. What if he was still in the world, but never actually participated in it? Waiting for him to wake up after his surgery had been almost as bad as thinking he was dead.

Chasing away the morbid thoughts, Brennan returned to the comment the elderly gentleman had made. It was Christmas and Brennan was hopeful for the first time in a long time. "You don't have a record with Kiss by a Rose?" she threw out as a joke, not expecting him to have it.

The low chuckle surprised her and she looked at the gentleman curiously. He shook his head in apology. "That is a classic love song," he explained. "Is this a gift?"

A hand came up to rest possessively on the player she was going to purchase. "So you have the record?" she asked, not understanding what he found humorous. It was one she knew Booth didn't have in his collection and would have meaning for both of them.

The prom she didn't get to go to. With the man she hadn't been ready for. Dancing close was a memory she looked back on with some regret. And with fondness. Though he'd been uncomfortable, he'd done it for her.

There would be other reunions and other dances. The next one she was going to make sure she was as close as she could get. And she wouldn't have to worry about hidden meanings or whether or not they were only partners.

If Secret Santa was supposed to be secret, she was going to fail miserably. Booth would know exactly who'd given him such a gift. But Brennan found that she didn't care. She wanted him to know it was her.

"My name is Christopher," he said to introduce himself. "If we are talking about music, we should at least be on a first name basis." Christopher's eyes glanced down where her hand rested. "Let me carry that up to the register for you and we can go back and look through the vinyl."

As he carefully picked up the player, Brennan glanced around the store. "Temperance," she said, realizing she'd never shared her own name. "My name is Temperance."

"An interesting name," Christopher commented, carrying the player toward the counter. "Something tells me that you also have an interesting job."

From anyone else, Brennan might have been uncomfortable. But something about the man put her at ease. Put a red hat on him, and Booth might have claimed he was Santa Claus himself. He certainly looked like he could play the part.

"I work with the FBI," Brennan answered, being purposefully vague. She'd learned over the years that most people didn't want to hear about the gorier aspects of her job.

The player now resting next to the cash register, Christopher led her in a different direction. "See, I was right. Definitely an interesting job. Is this gift for a colleague? You mentioned a friend?"

"My partner," Brennan said, momentarily distracted by a replica of a human skull. This was an unusual antique store. She hadn't even been aware of its existence until she'd done a search for one.

"Here is your record," Christopher said, drawing her attention back.

For a brief second, Brennan disagreed. The album didn't look anything like the one she asked for. But she blinked and the album cover appeared to change in that split second. "Yes," she agreed, looking up into blue eyes that seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

Brennan shook her head slightly, ignoring what she thought happened. Clearly she'd been mistaken about the cover. "I'll take this, the player," she cast a glance over her shoulder, "and the skull."

It was smaller than the average human skull. Clearly a decorative piece designed to sit on a shelf and not as a medical specimen. Nothing about it screamed Christmas or anything that Booth would want.

She didn't care. She was going to give it to him. A representation of her inside his apartment. An explanation of what it meant, what she was trying to tell him would have to go with it. Not the first gift then, so she had time to think about what she wanted to say.

It was ridiculous. It wouldn't fit with the decor at all. But he would think of her every time he looked at it. Just what she wanted.

Christopher's eyes twinkled. "Another unusual piece. I hope you come back to my shop someday, Temperance. If you ever need an unusual Christmas gift again."

"Has your shop been here long?" Brennan asked, reaching for a credit card to pay with.

"It's here when people need it," Christopher said. "I'm glad I could help you find what you were looking for."

Brennan met his eyes. "Everything is perfect. Thank you."

With the packages safely in her car, Brennan looked back at the store window. The thoughts running through her head were silly. Album covers that changed and the first antique shop she stopped at selling the perfect gifts. There was no such thing as magic and miracles.

Shaking her head, Brennan put the car into gear and headed home with Booth's presents.