A/N: As this story progresses, I worry some of you may think Brennan is a little out of character. But after her trip to Maluku and desire to finally be with Booth, I want her to be more open about her feelings, at least with him. Hopefully you won't be disappointed in the path this story takes.
To all of you who celebrate, Happy Christmas Eve. To use Booth's words… Christmas Eve Day. Both an eve and a day. It's a Christmas miracle.
~OOOOOO~
Booth took the first sip of coffee and bit back a groan. Ben made another appearance outside his window that morning. He moved on to a new lyric at least, but his sense of time hadn't improved.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne," Booth hummed under his breath before taking a second sip from his cup. Maybe now that Ben was at the end of the song he'd quit feeling the need to sing it outside the liquor store at all hours of the night.
Continuing to hum softly, Booth made his way back to his office. The humming made him seem more cheerful than he was. Mood still dark and Ben's interruptions not helping the situation, Booth wondered if it was time to take a vacation.
On his desk sat several cold cases he'd pulled from various files. WIth nothing new to work on, he needed something to occupy his mind.
Temperance Brennan was still taking up too much of it. It was time to find some sort of balance or he was going to go crazy.
He gave a glance to the files before moving them to the side. He had a job to do, but looking at old cases held no appeal that morning. There wouldn't be any hope of solving them without Bones, and he wondered if he was using them as an excuse to talk to her.
It was time. Time to call her and meet for lunch or dinner. Time to have a conversation about where they were and where they wanted to be. Time to see if she wanted to talk to him at all.
Too bad he still hesitated to pick up the phone. He clung to that last bit of hope that she might want him as more than just a partner and friend. Without it, he wasn't sure what he'd do. And there was a chance she'd sever their ties completely, if they actually spoke.
Wiggling the mouse to his computer, he waited for the screen saver to disappear. When it did, and his email popped up, the coffee cup hit his desk hard enough to splash hot liquid over his hand. Cursing, he pulled his hand back, trying to wipe the scalding liquid from his skin. When he'd recovered enough to work the mouse, he returned to the screen.
There was a message from Bones. And the subject line made every nightmare he'd just imagined come true.
My upcoming travel to Scotland
"Scotland?" he muttered. "She's going to Scotland. Of course, she's leaving. Why would she want to stay? It's not like I'm giving her a reason to." Her subject line didn't even soften the blow. Or give him any hint as to what the hell was in Scotland.
The coffee came up the back of his throat and he swallowed convulsively to fight back the wave of nausea. No way was he letting this happen a second time. This time he'd be honest and tell her that another separation from her was too painful to contemplate.
Even if they'd barely been speaking, she was still in the same city. Only a phone call away, though he hadn't managed to make that happen. She wasn't leaving without a fight. Not when time and distance would finish this partnership permanently.
When it seemed the liquid was going to stay down, Booth forced himself to actually open and read the email. To his surprise, it wasn't an announcement of her departure. Instead, she was asking his opinion. And not of something related to their work together. Something a little more personal.
Breathing hard enough that it alarmed him slightly, he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. What was he doing? If the mere thought of her leaving was enough to send him into a tailspin, it was time to end this space between them. Because the next time she traveled to a foreign country, the visit might be longer and more permanent.
More than a little surprised she'd reached out to him, he printed a copy of what she'd attached. Not as comfortable as she was with technology, he preferred to have the document in front of him so he could make notes in the margins.
Why had she sent it? Was it just to get his thoughts on what she'd written? Not that he felt he had anything to offer. She was more brilliant than he was with these topics.
He'd spend some time going over what was in the document, then call her and schedule lunch. Or dinner at her place. This offer was a chance to rebuild what they'd lost and he was going to take advantage of it.
His mood vastly improved, Booth closed her email and scanned his inbox. When he noted one titled Secret Santa he would have deleted it, except it came from the Jeffersonian and not the FBI.
Reading through the rules on the first page, he tried not to laugh. Suggestions on what gifts to buy and how much money to spend. How something so impersonal was part of his favorite holiday, Booth had no idea. What he knew for sure was that he would never sign up for something like this. Especially if it meant being matched with a squint he didn't know at the Jeffersonian.
It was with growing horror that Booth realized this email wasn't asking him to participate. It sounded like he already had. He'd barely been in that building in months, his visits limited to short conversations with Bones about their cases. Those had been limited as well, further impacting the time they were spending together. There wasn't a chance he signed up for this and not remembered doing so.
Ever so slowly, he scrolled further down the page, dreading what he was going to see. It could be anyone in the entire institution. He wanted to look away and couldn't.
Before the name appeared, he jumped up from his seat and paced the room. No. He wasn't doing this. No way was he sending gifts to some random stranger. He didn't want to talk to anyone over in that place unless it was Bones. And that included the other people in her office.
He wasn't participating in Secret Santa. His favorite holiday was bad enough this year and no one was going to make it worse by forcing him to give impersonal gifts.
Who in their right mind thought putting his name on some stupid list was a good idea?
Alarmed to feel how fast he was breathing again, he collapsed back down in his chair and stared at the screen. He supposed he better look. It didn't matter whose name it was, he wasn't participating.
Peering through eyes almost shut in dread, Booth moved the page up just a little farther.
Temperance Brennan.
"No way," he muttered. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and looked at the screen again. Nope, that was her name in the message. His Secret Santa partner was Bones.
So he was participating in a gift exchange he didn't sign up for and by some miracle his partner was Bones.
Apparently, he was wrong. It did matter whose name was written on that page. Now that he'd seen it, there was no way he wasn't participating. His overreaction only minutes before had been for nothing.
But.
He didn't have to be an FBI agent to know there was something fishy about the whole thing. And his list of suspects in the arrangement was very short. He didn't like being set up.
But.
Bones was going to receive his gifts. The woman he'd been trying to figure out how to get close to again. And the perfect chance had just fallen into his lap.
Moving the page around his screen, Booth reread the rules of this game. Four gifts over the span of a certain number of days. A final gift given at the exchange party. He ignored the part about cost, knowing that wasn't going to factor in what he decided to give her.
Picturing her face when she opened the gifts he hadn't decided on yet, Booth couldn't fight back the smile. She appreciated the personal. The way her eyes softened when she received something meaningful. Hell, he could think of any number of ways her eyes changed, in both happiness and sadness. Ways that haunted him in quiet moments and during long nights spent apart.
Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, unsure if they were happy or melancholy, Booth ignored a pang of concern that raced through him. If he was signed up for this, then so was she. But, if his suspicions were correct, and he was sure they were, then this had been arranged by some well meaning, but nosy friends. Or one friend in particular. Which meant Bones had been assigned his name.
Given one of the rules was secrecy, there was no way for him to ask. She was as competitive as anyone he'd ever met. Which meant she would break none of the rules, especially one that told her to keep her match to herself.
Which was ridiculous. They would know as soon as the first gift was given. He'd recognize her handwriting anywhere. Booth shrugged, unconcerned. Maybe he could convince her to give up the ruse after the first day.
Would she go through with it? She'd refused to exchange names the year they were locked in the Lab together. Though they had barely been friends at that point. He understood now, her reticence to participate. Would she react the same way now?
He rubbed his hands over his face. So he was signed up, through no actions of his own, for an activity that he wasn't sure his partner would enjoy or even complete. He couldn't ask her because it was supposed to be a secret. And if they both agreed, the first gift would give away the whole thing.
Why did this suddenly feel like a colossal mess?
Did it matter? If nothing else, this was a sign that it was time for this separation between them to end. She'd made the first move with the email. It was time for him to reach out as well. This Secret Santa business would sort itself out. Somehow.
Picking up his phone, he tucked it into his pocket. And didn't hesitate when he rose from his desk and left his office.
