(The Man in the Fallout Shelter)

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I don't own Bones.

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Oddly enough, the Christmas holiday had shown her that even though she counted Booth and Angela as friends they kept things from her. Angela had a famous father and Booth had a son.

Angela had told her more than once that friends didn't have secrets between them and yet there was Billy Gibbons standing behind glass doors talking to her friend. A famous rock musician for a father and no one knew it at the Lab. It seemed that friends did have secrets after all.

She had also been surprised to find out that Booth had a young son and that made her realize that she didn't know very much about Booth's private life either.

Uncertain why the secrets existed, she thought that they might reflect on her friendship with Angela and Booth. She thought friends knew everything about each other, but apparently not. Perhaps they didn't trust her with their secrets.

When she thought about it, she realized that Booth rarely volunteered any information about his past and she began to wonder why. Oddly, he knew more about her past and childhood than she knew about his. Was it a matter of trust? Did Booth really trust her or did she just misunderstand their relationship? Why did he expect her to talk about her childhood, but not be forthcoming about his own?

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They met for lunch at the Royal Diner the day after Christmas and Booth seemed to be in high spirits. As Brennan sat down at their table, he pushed a wrapped box towards her and grinned. "Merry Christmas Bones."

Wary, Brennan didn't move to pick up the box. "Why are you giving me a present? I don't celebrate Christmas. I don't believe in God."

Not to be deterred, Booth moved the box closer towards his partner. "Hey I get it. You don't celebrate Christmas and that's okay, but I do. I'm celebrating and that means you get a gift. I bought you a present and I don't expect anything in return. It's really all about the giving not the receiving." Booth nudged the present over further. "Besides I bought this two weeks ago . . . Come on. Make me happy and open it."

Feeling a little tense, Brennan picked up the box and stared at it. "It would have been better if you had just saved your money. I don't wish to disparage your . . . "

"Then don't." Booth refused to get mad at his friend. "Just open it. It's no big deal. It's just something I found in an antique store. I really didn't pay much for it, so don't worry about it. Just open it and let me know if you like it . . . please?"

Brennan didn't want to spoil his fun, so she unwrapped the paper, placed the box on the table and opened it. Surprised, she found a cast iron partial skeleton in the box. Puzzled, she took it out of the box and placed it on the table.

"It's not really an antique, but it was with a collection of mechanical banks." Eagerly, Booth unfolded a piece of paper in his hand and read what it contained. "This is a Bugged-Out Hungry Skeleton Cast Iron Mechanical Coin Bank. You put a coin on his hand and you push the lever behind his arm and his eyes bug out and his hand raises up and he eats the coin." He jammed the piece of paper in his jacket pocket and placed a quarter on the skeleton's hand. "Go ahead push the lever."

Booth's excitement contagious, Brennan pushed the lever down, watched the mouth on the skeleton open, the hand rose and the quarter popped into the mouth. Amused, she chuckled and shook her head. "This is a terrible rendition of a skeleton Booth."

Not sure if she hated his gift and was making fun of it, Booth lost his smile. "I thought you'd like it."

Though she had difficulty interpreting emotional responses in most people, she knew her partner well enough to realize that his feelings seemed to be hurt. "I do like it, Booth. I do. Thank you."

His smile back, Booth placed a dime on the toy's hand and moved the lever to watch the coin disappear. "I saw that in the store and I immediately thought of you and I bet myself that you didn't have anything like this and you should."

"I like it, Booth. Thank you." This was the first Christmas present she had received since she was fifteen years old and she suddenly felt a little overwhelmed. Her eyes on the bank, she struggled to control her emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. It would be humiliating to cry over a toy.

Her face filled with sadness, Booth began to wonder if he'd done something wrong. "Bones if you really don't like it's okay to tell me. It's just a toy and really, I can take it back and maybe get you something better. I just . . . I just wanted to get you something fun. You deserve to have some fun."

Quickly dashing her finger under right eye, Brennan looked up at her partner and smiled. "No, of course not. I really do love it, Booth. I do. It's just . . . I haven't celebrated Christmas since I was fourteen years old and this is the first present I've received since then. Well, that's not entirely true. Russ found some presents that my parents bought before they disappeared, but I didn't open them."

A little shocked that no one had given her a present for the last fifteen years, Booth grimly shook his head. "Well that stops right now. I'm your partner and your friend and from now on you get presents every Christmas. It doesn't matter that you don't celebrate the holiday, so don't worry about buying me anything. I love to give presents, so it will make me very happy when I do."

A warm feeling spreading across her chest and face, Brennan realized that Booth was probably the best friend she'd ever had. "You don't have to do that Booth."

"I don't have to do anything, Bones." Booth placed his hand on her hand. "I want to do it. Hey we're friends and that's what friends do. We make each other happy."

Not sure if this was the right time to broach the subject, Brennan searched Booth's face and decided that she might as well ask while he was in a good mood. "Why don't you talk about your past with me, Booth? You rarely say anything about it. You know so much about me, but I don't really know anything about you."

His smile disappeared and in its place was a blank expression. "There really isn't anything interesting about my past, Bones. I was in the Army before I joined the FBI. You know I was a sniper and I guess I still am if the FBI needs me to be. I have a son, you met him. His mother and I lived together for a while, but she . . . I asked her to marry me when we found out she was expecting and she turned me down. She broke up with me right after that. I'm just an ordinary guy. Nothing exciting to tell, really."

"Did you have a happy childhood?" Brennan noticed that he hadn't mentioned his childhood and wondered why.

Sick with worry, Booth didn't want to divulge anything about his childhood. The last thing he wanted to do was let his partner know that he had been an abused child. It would be too embarrassing and too risky. "I had a normal childhood. It wasn't anything special."

The sudden change in his demeanor made Brennan realize that Booth didn't want to talk about his childhood with her. She didn't know why, but if it was that upsetting to him, she wouldn't push him. "Alright." Brennan picked up the present. "Thank you for the present. It's a wonderful gift."

Grateful that she hadn't pushed him, Booth gave her a sad smile. "Sure. I'm glad you like it."

"I do."

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Her coin bank now resting on her dresser in her bedroom, Brennan stared at it and thought about her partner. Booth seemed to be upset when I asked him about his childhood. I wonder why? Maybe I misconstrued the situation. I'm not very good at reading emotional responses. Perhaps he wasn't trying to hide anything from me . . . I wish I was better at non-verbal communication. Booth says I stink at it and I really do. Still, he never talks about what it was like for him as a child. Perhaps he was poor. That shouldn't be embarrassing, but I don't know him very well and being born in a lower social strata may make him feel uncomfortable. Of course this is mere speculation on my part and I may not be hitting the nail on the flat part.

A few miles away from Brennan's apartment, Booth sat in his apartment staring at his Christmas tree. Would it really be so bad if you she knew about my past? She didn't exactly have the best childhood either and if anyone would understand it would be Bones. I just hate the idea of her losing what respect she does have for me because of the abuse I went through. I don't want her to think that I'm a loser. I mean I know her childhood was bad, but it wasn't her fault. Her parents disappeared and her brother dumped her in Foster Care. It wasn't her fault at all. Yeah. Maybe I'll tell her someday, when we've known each other longer, when our friendship is stronger and . . . yeah, not now. I can't do it.

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