Brennan, weighed down by a bag and dragging a suitcase behind her, walked into a disaster.

Using the key to the apartment Booth had given her years ago, she tiptoed into the room and locked the door behind her. She'd lost track of what time it was, but the sun was beginning to rise and bathe the apartment in light.

It was Christmas morning.

And what the light illuminated had Brennan's brow furrowing in confusion and concern. A copy of the book Booth had given her rested on the floor, open to an x-ray she recognized. It was surrounded by broken glass which had clearly come from the bookshelf above it. A quick study of the evidence told her the book had been the cause of the mess, making her wonder what had happened.

But of even more concern to her was the fact that the Christmas tree was not decorated. Had she been so caught up in her own misery that she'd missed something going on with her partner? What had been happening in his life that he hadn't taken the time to decorate his tree?

She might have wondered why Booth didn't talk to her, except she recognized the fact they hadn't been as close as they used to be. But surely he'd have shared something as monumental as this? Unless the issue had been Hannah and Booth didn't want to hurt her.

Emotions and feelings were troublesome things.

The door to Booth's bedroom was cracked and Brennan walked toward it, throwing her coat and purse on the couch as she passed. Pushing lightly, the door swung open enough to allow her to enter the room.

He was in bed, and from the look of the blankets around him, his sleep had been restless. Reaching forward, she rested a hand over his forehead without actually touching him fully. Startling him awake was a bad idea, something she had learned the hard way.

Even without the contact of her skin to his, she could feel the fever heat radiating from his skin. Drawing back, she looked for evidence that he had taken anything to treat it and found none. Figured.

But, she let out the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding since Booth answered her call. A fever indicated it was most likely a virus and not a reoccurrence of the tumor. Brennan hadn't wanted to dwell on that possibility, but it had been in the back of her mind the entire flight home.

Backing up to what she considered a safe distance, she called out to him.

Groaning, he rolled, but didn't wake.

"Booth," she said again, her voice sharper than the first time. She needed him to know she was in the apartment.

"Bones?" he grumbled. His eyes opened a slit and looked around the room before noticing her standing in the door. "You're in Arizona."

"And you're sick. Have you taken anything?"

"Go away, Bones," he ordered. His hand waved weakly around his head, before falling back to his side. "You don't get to bother me from Arizona."

Brennan sighed, unsure if he was actually delirious or just not awake. "You have a fever, Booth. I'm going to get you some medicine."

Not waiting for a response that probably wouldn't make sense anyway, Brennan rummaged around in his medicine cabinet, returning to his side with caplets designed to reduce a fever and a glass of water.

"You need to sit up and take this," she said.

He pulled himself up slowly, the actions clearly uncomfortable. Taking the medicine from her, he swallowed it without a word before slumping back down again. "Hannah left me," he said, not really believing Brennan was in the room with him.

"I know, " she said, going to the chest in his room to get another blanket for him. "I called her earlier, after I talked to you."

"You left, too, imaginary Bones," he said, chuckling a little. "Because my Bones is in Arizona."

"Then who am I?" she asked, covering him from his toes to his shoulders. Concerned, but not yet ready to rush him to the emergency room, Brennan waited for his answer.

"Don't know," Booth said. His words were slurred as he started to fall back asleep again. "But you can't be my Bones 'cause she is not here. She has to come back to me this time and I don't think she will."

"I did," Brennan said, but he was already asleep.

Two hours, she thought to herself. She'd give him two hours before waking him again to see if he was more lucid. If he wasn't, she'd have to call someone. Maybe Cam. She'd help her decide whether or not Booth needed more advanced care.

In the meantime, it gave her time to work on the various problems she'd encountered when she'd first entered the apartment.

The glass was a safety concern, but as the only one moving around the apartment, Brennan could easily avoid it for the moment. She did, however, reach into the mess and remove the book from the pile. Wondering what it meant that Booth had purchased an identical copy, Brennan shook the broken glass loose and returned it to the table where it belonged.

The reminder of Booth's injury had caused her a momentary twinge of panic, but she pushed it away as easily as she'd closed the book. There were other things for her to take care of. She'd deal with the fear that memory caused when she had time.

Because there was one thing she wouldn't put aside for later: the undecorated tree. In previous years, she'd helped Booth decorate it, and while she found the ritual silly at first, she'd come to look forward to the tradition.

It appeared she'd made a mistake in assuming Hannah would take over that job. She should have asked more probing questions of her partner.

Her experience with the process gave her knowledge of where Booth stored his ornaments and the lights required to complete the job. She pulled out boxes and totes until she found all the items she'd need.

In the living room, she turned the radio on low to Christmas music and pulled out the first set of lights. Tired, but more hopeful for the future than she'd been in a while, Brennan plugged them in to test them before stringing them on the tree.

Booth would have a good Christmas if she had to work until she collapsed.