A/N: One more day until the season premier! (I'm kind of excited--can you tell?) Here's a little more slightly angsty fluff to hold you over until then, with many more chapter still to come :-)

----------

Brennan sat in the morning sun, gazing out at the quiet waters of the Potomac River Tidal Basin, lost in thought. Or, at least, trying to be. Her day had not begun smoothly, with her car refusing to start. The taxi she called arrived thirty minutes later than promised, making her arrival at the lab even more delayed. When she finally did make it to work, her computer crashed—twice—erasing the three most recent reports she had written but not yet printed off.

Then Booth had called. He had a suspect in custody, he told her, and thought she might like to be present for the interrogation. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that, but his tone had seemed so condescending to her this time, particularly the way he drew out her nickname: "Booones". Something about it rubbed her the wrong way, and she had slammed the phone down and bolted from the lab.

Her cell phone rang, and she dragged her eyes away from the calm scenery long enough to squint at the Caller ID display.

"Booth," she frowned, turning off the ringer. "He's just going to have to wait."

She sat for a few minutes more, consciously monitoring her breathing, continuing her efforts to relax before plunging back into her day. When finally her mind was settled and her heartbeat sufficiently slowed, she stood and began making her way back toward civilization. Crossing the National Mall, she pulled out her phone and dialed Booth.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

"Hello to you, too," she responded. "You have a suspect in custody?"

"Yes," he answered curtly.

"Have you questioned him yet?"

"No."

Monosyllabic replies, she thought. He's really mad at me. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

She clicked off and pocketed the phone, striding quickly down the street to FBI Headquarters where Booth was waiting for her at the front entrance.

"Where have you been?" he asked again.

Brennan brushed him off. "That's not important. We have a suspect…"

"It is important," he interrupted. "You were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago! I called your office, your cell phone, your boss, your staff…I even called your house, but you didn't answer anywhere and no one knew where you were! Do you know how worried I was about you?"

"You were worried?" Her voice was noticeably softer this time.

Booth detected the difference in tone and ratcheted his temper down a notch. "Yeah I was worried. You said you were going to be here, then you didn't show up. That isn't like you and I didn't know what happened."

"I'm sorry, Booth," she told him sincerely. "It won't happen again."

"That's it? You're not going to tell me where you were?"

"Not now," she insisted. "We have work to do."

She started off down the hall, leaving him shaking his head and hurrying after her.



The next day, after a good night's sleep and a much better morning, Brennan called Booth from her office.

"Hey, do you have some free time today?" she asked.

On the other end of the line he flipped his wrist into view and checked his watch. "I have an hour before I'm due at a meeting, but I was on my way to have another run at our suspect. Why?"

"Can you meet me at Washington Monument?"

"What's this all about, Bones?"

She pressed her lips together. "Just trust me, okay?"

Something's up, and it's obviously important to her. "Okay. I can meet you there."

True to his word, Booth stood at the base of the tall, pointed monument in the heart of the National Mall when Brennan arrived.

"Thanks for coming," she greeted him.

"Now will you tell me what's going on?" he returned.

She brushed a hand quickly over his arm and gestured toward the river. "This way."

They walked along in silence, watching runners jogging along the gravely pedestrian road, men and women in business suits hurrying from building to building, a group of schoolchildren being led into one of the museums. Rounding a curve in the sidewalk, Booth kept pace with Brennan, realizing where it was she was taking him.

"The Jefferson Memorial?" he wondered aloud as the structure came into view.

She covered the last few yards and climbed the white steps, nodding her head as she moved around to the back of the landmark. Coming to a halt, she turned her eyes on the blue-green water, careful not to look at her partner beside her.

"Sometimes my life becomes a little…"

She took a breath in the middle of the sentence, as she so often did, and Booth recognized the action. She does that when she's trying to say something big.

"…overwhelming," she continued. "And I need a place to be alone—away from people and work and all the distractions that keep popping up."

"And this is where you were yesterday."

She nodded again, aware that he was studying her face but still not meeting his gaze. He's going to think you're weak! a part of her brain screamed. But he deserves to know what happened, another part countered. Brennan sighed. "My car wouldn't start, the taxi was late, my computer kept crashing, the coffee machine broke, I tore my favorite blouse… Then you called, and you sounded so patronizing…the way you called me Bones… I just wasn't able to deal with anything else until I had a moment to myself."

"Because of me?" He felt a pang of regret. Boy, I really screwed up this time.

"Well, you on top of everything else. I know that you don't really think of my work as stupid and worthless, and I don't even mind the nickname anymore. It was just the way you said it yesterday…I snapped."

"Hey…" He laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her, trying to get her to look at him. "I know how important your work is. I couldn't do my job half as well without you. I was having a bad day myself yesterday, and it must have show in my voice more than I realized."

"It's okay."

"And you know why I call you Bones, don't you?" he persisted.

Her eyes met his and she smirked at him. "To torture me and remind me that you're the cop and I'm not?"

He shook his head and gestured for her to sit down, his hand sliding down her arm as he settled himself on the stone steps. "No. I mean, it may have started out that way, but that isn't why I keep doing it."

"It's not?"

"No," he repeated firmly. "I call you that because you're good at your job—the best, in fact. I'm proud to have you as a partner and a friend, and the nickname is just my juvenile way of showing it."

"Really?"

He reached for her shoulder again and squeezed it affectionately. "Yeah."

"Well then, can I give you a nickname?"

He laughed, sliding his arm around her back and pulling her right up next to him. "We'll see."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Brennan spoke again. "Hey Booth?"

"Yeah?"

She leaned over and rested her head against his. "I'm proud of you, too."

He smiled contentedly, his heart swelling at her words. "Thanks Bones."