Thanks to everyone who have read my one shots and a bigger thank you to everyone who reviewed.

Bonesology fic challenge. The story must start with, "This might burn a little." And must end with "And that's why the monkey was covered in peanut butter."

I saw this week's challenge and remembered that I was halfway through a one-shot that could work with the challenge, so here goes.

Shadow

"This might burn a little." Brennan said softly as she dabbed the antiseptic on Booth's badly bruised and abraded knuckles on both his hands.

Booth gave a slight hiss of pain as she applied the cream as gently as she could, then with the same gentleness and care, wrapped his hands in a bandage.

"Thanks Bones. I don't know how I got so lucky." He offered her a smile which she reciprocated. He couldn't help but thank God for how things turned out because earlier that evening, he was sure he had screwed up everything he had.

"We've left the kids for long enough, we'd better get back to the kitchen." Brennan said as she took his hand in hers, leading him out of their bathroom.

… …

Six hours earlier…

The shooting range at the Hoover Building was empty at this unearthly hour of night, save for a single FBI agent. The seasoned agent emptied his gun's magazine into the target with deadly accuracy. The magazine from his standard issue 9mm spent, Booth reloaded his gun with one smooth motion, then taking aim at the next target, proceeded to empty his gun a second time with the same precision and accuracy. Still furious at himself, he pulled out his ear plugs and slammed his gun onto the counter next to him.

Brennan and him had a fight earlier that night. They were discussing their present case after the kids had been tucked into bed. What started out as a small disagreement escalated. Their exchange before he had stormed out of the house replayed itself in loops in his head like a broken record.

"You know I'm sick of you always needing to prove everything with facts!"

"If you're sick of me then why don't you just leave?!" Brennan, equally angry jabbed her index finger repeatedly into Booth's chest. "You have no obligation to stay!"

She was twisting his words, he never said he was sick of her. And she was telling him to leave?! The thought angered him even more and without thinking he swiped her hand that was at his chest away from him with more force than necessary, the sound of his hand hitting hers resounding through the kitchen.

"You want me to leave?! Fine!"

The couple were so engrossed in their argument that they had failed to notice their daughter, who had been woken by the commotion, standing in the hallway watching her parents.

Booth had stormed to the front door, yanking it open.

"Daddy! Where are you going?" The small girl's voice echoed down the hall.

Booth turned to see Christine looking terrified. He glanced at Brennan, whose jaw was still set in anger.

"Ask your mother!" He growled, before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

That was a couple of hours ago. The scared look on Christine's face was still etched in his mind. He could hardly believe he had snapped at her and walked out. The realisation hit him. He had become the very person he hated for the most part of his life. He blew out a frustrated sigh. Wanting to punish himself, he reloaded his gun, made sure the safety was on then threw it into his gym bag before heading to the gym. Thankfully the gym was also empty. He found a punching bag and set to work, punching with both hands with as much force as he could muster. After some time, his bare knuckles started to hurt, the skin now scraped raw and his knuckles visibly bruised. The pain felt good, he deserved every bit of it. Masochistically he continued punching.

… …

Back home Brennan sat on her couch in the darkened living room, her anger now abated somewhat. She had gotten over the anger from their argument about the case and now regretted that she had pushed him, both physically and mentally. The case had involved an abusive, alcoholic father and a dead teenager. Cases like this got under their skin, especially Booth's, and they both had been working hard to bring the man to justice. Lack of sleep and the pressure to catch a killer meant that tempers were bound to flare.

Booth was certain the father did it, but they lacked evidence for an arrest. Even Caroline had agreed with Brennan on this. Booth had wanted the man in custody, for fear that with his older son now dead, the man's younger son would have to bear the brunt of his father's abuse. Brennan wanted to be sure they had enough to convict, especially since she knew Booth might not be entirely objective in this particular case. She wanted to be sure that the victim's father would not be spooked into lawyering up or attempting to run which would make convicting him even harder given their lack of evidence. Their differences in opinion had led to their argument.

She knew she shouldn't have told Booth to leave, but she was still angry that he had chosen to walk out at the very moment when Christine had called for him. She had managed to convince their daughter that her father was not angry with her and that he would come back. With Christine now back in bed, Brennan felt exhausted. Physically she was tired but knew she was still too emotionally charged to fall asleep. She didn't doubt that Booth would be back, she just didn't know when.

… …

It was three in the morning when Booth pulled up into their driveway. His knuckles throbbed and dried blood had crusted over where the skin had been broken. His right hand seemed to have swelled up but he didn't care. He killed the engine as he blew out a breath. He had considered trying to buy some flowers as a sign of apology, but figured flowers wouldn't be enough. He wasn't even sure if he was welcome home, especially after what he had done to Christine. I'm not him! He tried futilely to convince himself. He desperately wanted to make things right.

He flung open the car door. The cold night air hit him and he shivered. He had left the house in such a hurry that he had not bothered to grab a jacket. He looked at his house and noticed a dim light coming from the living room. Suddenly glad that she was up waiting for him, he grabbed his gym bag and closed the door to his SUV as quietly as possible. His fingers hurt as he turned the keys to open his front door. Unsure of what to expect from his wife, he stepped into the dim light of the living room.

"Bones." His face was ridden with guilt.

Brennan got up from the couch, her anger still evident on her face.

Booth was unsure what to do next. The couple were merely separated by the coffee table, but to him the distance felt like a deep chasm. I'm sorry didn't seem to be enough. And he wasn't sure what to say to convey how remorseful he was or how much of a loser he felt like. He dropped his gym bag onto the floor at his feet before rounding the coffee table.

"I know no matter what I say, it's not gonna excuse what I did."

Brennan folded her arms across her chest in a defensive pose. "You're right."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." he offered.

Brennan closed her eyes, her anger at him for scaring Christine still at the back of her mind. Booth nervously tried to make amends.

"I just – I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I screwed up I know that. I shouldn't have raised my hand at you, shouldn't have yelled at Christine, I'm…" Booth began to tear. He sucked in a deep breath as the realisation hit him. "I'm a really really bad husband and father. I'm worse than my old man! I mean, at least he used to be drunk before he started on mom and me. I was sober."

The words hung heavily in the stillness of the night. It suddenly dawned on him what he had to do. It felt as if his heart was physically being ripped from his chest. He had worked hard to keep his gambling addiction in check. He was also mindful that he should not have too much to drink. He had too much to lose. However, he hadn't counted on his temper being the worst of his vices and bringing his downfall. Maybe Sweets had been right all those years ago. His deep reservoir of rage wasn't as controlled as he liked. He couldn't risk hurting the people he loved the most. If anything happened to Brennan, Christine or Hank because of his anger he wouldn't have been able to live with himself. He had to protect them. A stray tear fell as he spoke.

"Tonight, I became the very person I hated. I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I came back. You guys are better off without me. I better get outta here before I do something stupid again."

As he turned, Brennan called after him. "Booth!"

He turned to face her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm him. I'm my Dad. It's not safe to be around me. I'm not in control of my actions, I don't want to hurt you or the kids any more than I have."

The anger in Brennan subsided and she mentally chided herself for not seeing it earlier. "Booth you're not your father."

"I did what he did."

"No, you didn't."

"I hit you. And I scared Christine."

"I'm fairly certain you didn't hit me Booth."

"When you poked your finger at me, I- " Booth stopped, ashamed. His job was to protect her, not hurt her.

"You merely pushed my hand away with more force than necessary."

"That's a nice way of sugar-coating what I did."

Brennan closed the distance between them, the intensity of her emotions reflected in her eyes.

"You did not strike me. You know that I'm skilled enough to hold my own against you should you become physically abusive, which I know you won't, so you're no danger to me. We're both very passionate people and sometimes I think we let our passions get the better of us, this time to our disadvantage. In all our years that we've know each other, you have not lifted a hand against me. In fact, I was the one who had slapped you before."

Under normal circumstances, Booth would have smiled at the memory of their first case but he was still angry and ashamed of himself.

"Still doesn't make what I did right."

"It doesn't. But it pales in comparison to when you succumbed to your gambling addiction and lied to me about it. At least this time you're remorseful."

Booth gave a bitter laugh. "It seems I'm always screwing up. I'm not sure why you still keep me around for."

"You're not perfect but neither am I."

Booth did a double-take. She was admitting that she wasn't perfect?

"We're married and that means we don't give up on each other. And even if we weren't married, I love you. I'm not letting you leave. You need to be reminded that you're not your father. I have faith in you and unlike him, you're an excellent husband and father."

Booth felt a little relieved that she still wanted him. "I should have better control of my temper."

"Yes. You should work on that. And I'm not excusing you from what you did to Christine."

"Yeah. I owe her an apology. How is she?"

"I told her that you're not mad at her and that you'll be back. That was all she needed to be comforted."

Booth nodded, the guilt still eating relentlessly at him. "I don't deserve you Bones, or this family we've built together. After what happened tonight, I'm just scared I'll turn into my old man one day and throw it all away."

"I know you live in constant fear of that."

"Keeps me honest I guess."

"You can't live in his shadow forever Booth. You don't drink, you are loyal and responsible. You have a big heart. You're aware of your short-comings and you work to improve them, I don't see how you can ever become your father. I certainly know I won't suffer the same fate as your mother."

"I'll work on keeping a lid on my temper, I promise."

"It's this case. It's hard on you because it has too much similarities to your situation growing up."

"That's not an excuse."

"You're right it's not but I should have been more mindful of the fact and lent you more support."

Booth shook his head. "No Temperance, you didn't do anything wrong. This was all my fault."

"I think what needs to be said has been said and there's no need for any more apologies except to Christine tomorrow morning."

"I'll talk to her when she wakes up." Booth promised.

"And one last thing, you're not your father. You need to remember that." Brennan's voice was now gentle, conveying her sincerity, repeating what she knew he needed to hear.

"And if I forget, you'll remind me?"

Brennan smiled. "Of course."

"I love you too Bones."

She took his hands in hers, the contact of her fingers on his abraded skin causing him to wince and pull his hands away.

"What happened?" Brennan asked as she took his hands again, carefully examining them in the low light of the table lamp.

"I was mad, wanted to punish myself. I took it out on a punching bag at the FBI gym."

"Oh Booth." Brennan sighed, pulling him to sit on the couch. "I'll get some antiseptic and ice."

"It's no big deal you should've seen the punching bag."

Brennan returned swiftly with the items. "This would hurt but I'd like to make sure you didn't fracture any bones in your hand." She prodded at his carpals, metacarpals and phalanges as he winced and bit on his lower lip.

"I don't think anything's broken."

"What's broken?" A small cautious voice called from the hallway.

Brennan and Booth turned. Brennan rose form the couch. "Christine? What are you doing out of bed, it's very late."

"I'm sorry Mommy, I couldn't sleep. I thought I heard Daddy's voice."

Booth motioned to his daughter. "Come here sweetheart."

Christine took small uncertain steps towards her father until she was standing in front of him. He lifted her onto his lap.

"Listen Christine, I want you to know, about just now… you didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not mad at you or Mommy okay? I – I messed up. I didn't control my temper. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry sweetheart."

"Mommy told me that too. And now you're home and telling me all that again. I know it must be true."

"You betcha' pumpkin. Mom doesn't lie." Booth pulled his little girl to him for a hug. He kissed her head and rubbed her back even as his bruised hands protested his actions.

A cry could be heard coming from Hank's room.

"I'll get him." Brennan returned shortly with Hank on her hip. The small boy was hugging his stuffed toy monkey tightly. It was a present from Max and he went to bed with it nightly. "Apparently Hank was feeling left out."

Booth chuckled. He stood with Christine in his arms as he walked towards Brennan, pressing a kiss to Hank's head.

"Well since we're all up, what say we all have a midnight snack?"

"Normally, I'll say it's very unhealthy but I'll relent this time. We can let the kids sleep in tomorrow."

"It's already tomorrow Bones."

"You know what I mean." Brennan rolled her eyes at him in mock annoyance.

As the adults settled both kids at the kitchen counter, Booth turned to Brennan, speaking quietly so that the children would not hear. "Thanks Bones, for loving me and believing in me."

"Don't thank me yet. I still have to clean and disinfect your knuckles before I bandage them."

"Do you really have to Bones?"

"Yes, you don't want them infected, do you?"

"But it'll hurt!" Booth whined.

"What'll hurt Daddy?" Christine asked.

Booth held up his hands.

"What happened?" she asked, concerned for her father's well-being.

"Daddy was naughty. He scraped his hands at the FBI gym. And now he doesn't want Mommy to clean them." Brennan said as she poured milked for her two children.

"Mommy says we should always clean our cuts so they don't get infected." Christine added.

"Fine." It wouldn't be the first time Booth was tag-teamed by the two women in his life. He sighed, holding his swollen hands out to Brennan. "Let's get it over with."

Brennan laid out the ingredients for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the kitchen counter.

"Don't touch anything," she instructed her children. "I'm going to clean Daddy's hands then we can all have something to eat."

"Hungry!" Hank said, waving his stuffed monkey about.

"We'll get you somethin' to eat soon Tiger." Booth replied as he followed Brennan to the medicine cabinet in their bathroom.

… …

As the couple returned to the kitchen, Christine was trying to pull the stuffed monkey from her brother's grasp. The toy appeared to be smothered in peanut butter, along with Hank's hands that were covered in generous amounts of the creamy spread too.

"What happened?" Brennan asked as she picked up the almost empty jar of peanut butter from the floor.

"Why's the monkey covered in peanut butter?" Booth asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Hungry!" Hank said.

Christine tried to explain. "Hank kept saying he was hungry, so I opened the peanut butter to make him a sandwich. But he took the jar from me and started feeding his toy monkey. I tried to stop him, but couldn't. And that's why the monkey was covered in peanut butter."

This turned out to be a very long one-shot.