Angela found her before lunch.

Brennan, knowing the conversation was coming, was ready. She'd carefully placed wrapping paper on her desk next to the pens and cards from Booth, making sure they were in view. Not wanting her friend to realize she was waiting for her, Brennan distracted herself with various reports from her time spent in Bone Storage.

"Hey, Sweetie," Angela said. Coming into the office, she took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. And feigned surprise when she saw the colorful paper. "Did you get a gift?"

Hoping she was projecting the right amount of curiosity, Angela relaxed in her seat. Booth had promised he wouldn't mess this up. She assumed, since Brennan hadn't said anything, that her friend had no idea what had happened.

"Yes. I was accidentally signed up for the Secret Santa exchange this year." Brennan gave Angela a slightly annoyed look. "I considered backing out, but thought I could use the experience as the basis of a future paper. This was from my first gift." Her voice was smooth as she stared at Angela. "Did you sign up this year? Perhaps I can also use your gifts as further evidence for the conclusions I come to."

Her face giving away nothing, Angela nodded. But on the inside, she was starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"You can't turn Secret Santa into some sort of anthropological thing," Angela said. "You are missing the whole point." When she received nothing but a blank stare in return, Angela sighed and continued. "I received a dinosaur magnet. I'm sure I can expect similar gifts all week. And you?" she asked, expecting Brennan to show her something special.

"Oh, I received some pens and notecards," Brennan said, holding up the gifts, almost giving the whole thing away as she watched the emotions go across Angela's face. "They'll come in very handy. Secret Santa isn't as terrible as I always assumed it was. I sent a candle as my gift. The recipient should enjoy the scent." Her head tilted. "After the identities are revealed, I will have to conduct an interview on their response to the gift."

"Pens," Angela said dully, ignoring Brennan's continued focus on using Secret Santa as research. "And a candle?" Booth had been matched with Brennan. Something wasn't right here. Had she been matched with someone else? "Do you have any idea who your Santa is?"

"Of course not. Isn't the point of this game to keep it a secret until the party?"

It certainly seemed like Brennan was telling the truth. But, there was no way Booth was this dense. "Well, it is. Unless you're me. Because it's pretty clear who I am matched with." Angela studied the random supplies Brennan claimed were her gifts. "You're sure those are the only gifts you got?" Booth, with his romantic heart, wouldn't have gifted her with office supplies.

"Yes." Brennan pushed them toward the front of her desk. Her brow furrowed in what appeared to be genuine concern. "Should I have received something else?"

Disgusted, Angela rose. Her friends were ridiculous. She was going to kill the man. Hodgins would tell her to leave it alone, but she'd been sure this plan of hers was perfect. Why did they make everything so difficult? "I'll see you later, Bren. Let me know what you get tomorrow."

Her steps sharp as she left the office, Angela struggled to decide what to believe. She was sure they were playing her, but they'd been so stubborn for years. And Brennan took the rules of games seriously. Booth, knowing that, may have gone along with the ruse of small gifts so Brennan wouldn't be uncomfortable. Maybe, hopefully, the office supplies led up to some deep, meaningful gift.

She was going to have to bide her time and wait, not something she was good at. Unsure of how she'd lost control of the situation, Angela stormed into Hodgins office and closed the door to vent.

Watching her go, Brennan tried not to smile. Booth had been right. That was fun. And maybe it bought them a little time before Angela tried to interfere again.

~OOOOOOO~

"Why do people think fruitcake is some sort of great Christmas present?" Booth asked. With a pencil he poked at the wrapped package in the center of the conference table. "I think I've thrown more of this out than I've ever eaten."

It was an ugly, misshapen lump. The person who'd placed it there hadn't even taken the time to unwrap it. "Pops claims he loves the stuff. But I've never actually seen him eat it."

He was back at the Jeffersonian after returning to his own office to work on paperwork. For the rest of the morning, he'd managed to put in enough effort to clear several reports from his desk. Then, deciding he missed her, packed up and went back to the place he'd been avoiding for months.

The Jeffersonian would never be a place he truly felt comfortable. It would always smell too clinical and be home to scientists that spoke in a language he didn't understand. But as long as Bones was in it, he would tolerate the rest.

They'd laughed about Angela's visit, keeping their voices low so they weren't overheard. And planned more ridiculous gifts to give the next day. Now, they were upstairs at a conference table, looking at the file he'd used as an excuse to come over.

The longer she studied it, the more obvious it became that the file didn't have much in it. He should have taken the time to at least look at it before showing up to see her. The flimsy excuse was going to fall apart.

Charlie had implied that he was acting like a lovestruck teenager. Booth was starting to think he was right.

"Fruitcake," she said in her - I'm about to tell you something I find fascinating - voice, "may be traced all the way back to the Romans. It is probably more linked to the Middle Ages though, when dried fruit became more popular." She gave the cake between them a cursory glance. "I am not sure that meets the definition however."

Booth groaned from a chair opposite her. "There is no way you knew that off the top of your head."

The look she shot in his direction was smug. "You know I did." Turning her attention back to the file he'd shown up with, she finally shook her head. "Why did you bring me this to look at? According to the file, there isn't even a body. Or the scattered remains of a body." Several papers were flipped over. "This case is older than I am."

There were a few poorly written reports and fuzzy photographs faded with age. She couldn't imagine what dusty cabinet he'd gone through to find this.

Trying to maintain his cover, Booth thought quickly. "We haven't had any cases lately. I pulled a cold case. I need to earn my keep," he said, ticking off the reasons on his fingers.

"I don't know what the last one means. And this case is so cold, it's frozen," she snapped without looking up.

Booth blinked. When had she gotten better at that? "Was that a joke, Bones? What did you eat for breakfast this morning?" Delivered with no hint of her usual awkwardness, Booth wasn't sure what to think. "Earning my keep means doing my job to earn my paycheck."

"An energy bar. Why are you asking me about breakfast?" This conversation was turning into something she was going to struggle to follow. With precise movements that did nothing to conceal her annoyance Brennan stacked the papers back in the folder.

He opened his mouth to explain before waving a hand in the air. "You know what, nevermind." Pulling the file toward him, he flipped through the thin stack of documents. "Nothing here to work with?"

"Booth." His name uttered with a mixture of frustration and confusion, she waited for him to look at her. "You know there isn't. Why are you here? I have work to do."

"Fine," he grumbled, knowing he was going to have to come clean. The file closed with a snap. "I wanted to see you. Work with you. We haven't had a case in forever. I'm sick of doing reports that I can't ask you for help on."

If he thought the explanation would make her less frustrated, he'd made a rare mistake in reading her emotions. "That's hyperbole. It's been less than a month. And you saw me this morning. In addition, if you need help on something, all you have to do is ask. Use my email request as an example." When he did nothing but look guilty, she shook her head. "Go back to your office, Booth. If a relationship means you feel as if you always need to be at my side, we need to have a discussion."

"Bones, wait. Please," he added, when she rose from the table and didn't appear to be stopping. Arms crossed across her chest, she looked less than interested in what he was about to stay. Undeterred by a look he'd received from her more than one, he forged ahead. "This really is a cold case I pulled from a file cabinet. One of several that I've had out on my desk."

"Have you even looked at it? Because if you had, you would have known without a skeleton or evidence or anything to look at, I wouldn't be able to help you. I love a challenge, but this is beyond that. Even for me."

"I looked at it. There are photos and you are brilliant. I've seen you do more with less." He thought she'd agree with the statement about her skills. That she didn't told him how annoyed she was. "You know what, I get it, Bones." Unsure if he was annoyed at her or himself, Booth grabbed the file. "I'll let you get back to work."

Foot on the top step of the stairs to descend the first level, Booth almost didn't hear her voice over his own thoughts. He knew better than to push. His desire to be near her couldn't override her need for independence or she'd run. He supposed he should be happy she'd only wanted to have a discussion about it and not end things before they even started.

"Booth," she said again, raising her voice. "Wait." He turned back toward her and she continued. "I understand that you are trying to...make up for lost time?" she tried, after pausing to search for the phrase. At his hesitant nod, she continued. "I don't want to be bothered with cases that are nothing but excuses. My work is-"

"Important to you. I know that, Bones. I didn't mean to intrude."

"I have missed you too," she reassured him, pleased when some of the tension left his body. Unfolding her arms, her hands came down to rest on the back of a chair. "I like it when you show up to take me to lunch. Or encourage me to go home at a decent hour. Sometimes, I know you slept on my couch when I was in bone storage late."

He stiffened in surprise. Not liking when she was alone late in the Lab, he often came in and hid in her office, trusting security to warn him when she started back upstairs. And assumed, wrongly, that she had no idea. "You weren't supposed to know that."

A smile appeared and disappeared just as quickly. "You aren't the only one security talks to. So maybe you could do those things. Surprising each other might be nice. We can figure it out as we go. As long as it doesn't occur frequently. But I need space, too, Booth."

Booth tapped the file in his hand against his leg. "Fair enough," he agreed, knowing she was right. "If I do something you're not comfortable with, you'll tell me?" he asked, knowing the answer.

Brennan nodded.

"Can we talk about Maluku sometime, Bones?" This Temperance, the one who still didn't know colloquialisms but had learned how to express herself, was a wonderful surprise. Perhaps their painful separation was exactly what she'd needed.

Which meant breaking his heart that night outside the Hoover had also been the right choice at the time. At least for her. Had he ever looked at the situation that way before? Sometimes, emotionally, two people weren't in the same place at the same time.

He hoped that was no longer true. Because the love he'd carried for her previously was nothing compared to what was happening to his heart now.

Her fingers tapped against the chair. "There isn't much to talk about, Booth. We didn't find what we were looking for."

"I disagree, Bones," he said, starting down the stairs again. "I think you found you."