A/N: The reviews, favorites and follows are overwhelming and a little bit terrifying. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to leave your thoughts. I hope I don't disappoint any of you.

It will be a few chapters before Booth and Brennan are together again. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

~OOOOO~

Booth slammed his fingers against the keyboard a little harder than necessary. All he wanted to do was finish this report and go home. Nothing about this day, this month, hell this entire year had gone according to plan. So it was no surprise this was taking longer than it should.

Bones would help, the little voice in his head reminded him. She'd get it done a lot faster. Then she'd stay to watch a movie with you and for once in the last few months, you wouldn't feel quite so alone.

Ruthlessly, he slammed the door on that thought. It wasn't even her case, he couldn't expect her to help. It also wouldn't be a movie, he thought, cursing the fantasy. It would be some documentary that would bore him to tears.

Except she'd be nearby. Knowing she was with him always made the boring more exciting.

What was it about this time of year that brought out both the best and the worst in his life?

His morning had started bright and early when Ben, his neighbor from up the street, woke him up with a song. Not even a whole song, just one line from the same song, sung over and over again.

Exuberantly. With no concern about the hour. And so off key it made Booth sound like a Grammy winner.

He was sure it had something to do with the amount of liquor Ben purchased the previous evening. Booth caught a glimpse of his neighbor in the store below his apartment. And he certainly didn't judge a man for drinking too much. He'd done it a time or two himself during the last few months.

Usually over women. At first, the woman who'd left him. Then, the woman who was still there, but remained unattainable. Everything always circled back to her.

The lyric Ben chose repeated itself in Booth's head the entire day. An annoying earworm that made him think of things best forgotten.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot," Booth hummed under his breath. Then frowned when he realized he'd done it again. Auld Lang Syne wasn't even a song he liked. He slammed his fingers down a little harder, hoping the tapping of the keys would drive the refrain from his head.

Because the song made him think of Bones. The woman he'd tried to forget, only to realize that was going to be impossible. Even more so now that Hannah, the woman he tried to hide behind, decided she'd rather be shot at then spend more time with him.

That wasn't fair and he knew it. A clean break was for the best, and he'd planned to do so before they'd left Afghanistan. But the thought of seeing Bones again and trying to hide his feelings clouded his judgement.

Missing her had been an ache that hadn't faded. Realizing he'd be forced to deal with that every single day upon his return to DC, he made some poor decisions.

Like agreeing when Hannah asked if she could come back to DC with him. Or ignoring the warning signs and the little comments Hannah made about how boring her new job was. She missed the excitement of being a wartime correspondent.

When she left, he wasn't surprised. It hurt, not as much as it should have, but it still hurt. It also removed the one thing he was using to hide his feelings for his partner.

The only thing left was avoidance. Using it ruthlessly the last couple of months, it hadn't made things better between them. Their friendship, their partnership, was stretched thin. So far apart, Booth didn't know how to bridge the gap that he'd forced between them.

They were going to break for the final time if something didn't change. He dreaded every time a courier arrived at his door because he was sure the papers to end their partnership were arriving. Why she stayed, he had no idea.

Except, he thought he might. She stayed because despite everything, their friendship mattered to her. And to him. It was fixable. Christmas seemed like it might be a good time to try.

At some point, he'd stopped typing, his eyes focusing on the screen without seeing the words. Annoyed, knowing his attention for this task wasn't coming back, Booth saved the document and shut down his computer.

When was the last time he'd shown up with take out? So long ago he couldn't remember, and that scared him. With Hannah, there'd been an excuse for his distance, but what reason could he offer now.

That he was afraid Bones would see the truth in his eyes and run to the other side of the world again? That he was still in love with her and missed her desperately, wanting both his partner and their friendship back.

That he wanted a second chance on the speech he made to her that night. And if she wasn't quite ready, if he didn't get the words quite right, he wouldn't be so quick to announce he was moving on.

Because there was no moving on from Temperance Brennan.

Rising, he went to his own window, unknowingly copying the move his partner had made in her own office. Blocked by the architecture of the city, their eyes still looked for each other. Searching for the connection that was strained to the point of breaking.

The rain outside added another layer to the mood he'd been in for weeks. Dark, depressed, and a little desperate for a change. Traffic was crawling and Booth knew it would take him twice as long to get home. Looked like his miserable day was going to last longer.

Not that home was a place he looked forward to going. It was haunted by the ghost of a woman he couldn't escape. Her presence was everywhere. In the pictures next to her books on his shelf. In the drawers filled with FBI t-shirts she no longer had the opportunity to steal.

If he asked, would she consider a relationship with him? Would he get the words right this time? How to make her understand that she was perfect exactly the way she was. He didn't want or need her to change.

He was still in love with her. Had never stopped, though he'd tried hard to.

Reaching for his phone, steady fingers dialed her number, stopping before the final digit was entered. Calling was easy. It was what to say when she answered that always tripped him up. Afraid that whatever he said when he heard her voice would send her running again, he was afraid to say anything at all.

So he let another day pass without finishing that call. Until the days had turned to weeks and now months.

Returning to his chair, he folded his arms on his desk and dropped his forehead on them. Maybe he'd just stay here. Sleep the night away until a cleaner or an agent woke him up the following morning. Better than staring at the ceiling over his bed, memories chasing away sleep for another night.

Instead, he grabbed the suit coat from the back of his chair and left the office. A few agents glanced up as he left, but quickly looked down again. Sighing, he brushed past them and headed toward the stairs, needing the exercise to shake off some of his emotions.

There was the alcohol below his apartment, something to help him forget, but that held no appeal. A dangerous game, hiding your emotions in a bottle. One he refused to play.

There was also gambling and recent difficulties in his life had worried him. Not once during it all, had he been tempted to relapse. And he knew part of that was due to Bones.

He needed to be ready, on the off chance this problem between them could be fixed, for them to be friends again. Gambling would ruin that before it even began. So that wasn't an option.

It seemed the only choice was the same one he'd made for months. Another quiet night at home, watching sports and waiting.

Waiting for something to change. Waiting to finally be brave enough to press that last number on his phone and talk to her again.

He hoped it wouldn't take much longer.