Author's Note: They can't always live happily. Things bend and they break. I felt that they needed a little push. I still think that is really the point of Hart Hanson's direction with the show. He wants to push them. We know that they are perfect for each other; he is letting us know that he agrees. They just still have work to do. Thanks to all of you who reviewed and set as a favorite. I really do write this to try and comfort myself as I wait for things to come. I am a school teacher wishing away her summer with hopes for Brennan and Booth. I wish you can all find a little solace here too.

Crying Over Spilt Milk

Three months to the day since his surgery and life was just about perfect as far as Booth was concerned. He had finally gotten back into the swing of things at work, and found that he really enjoyed interrogating suspects. Things in his life felt familiar, even if he still had mostly blank space for a past. His son was spending nearly every weekend with him and he never thought he could love a child more. And of course there was Brennan. How many men got to say that their lovers were also their best friend? It was a perfect sunny day, the kind that comes at the end of summer, still hot but there is a hint of cooler things to come.

He sat with his two favorite people in the world at the stadium for the Baltimore Orioles. It was a big game, and had been a gift from Brennan. She knew that this was a big day for them. It was in their mind an anniversary of starting a life together. He couldn't imagine that his life had been any better before the surgery, but he had finally gotten to the point where he really didn't care if he ever regained his past. As he put one arm around his son and the other around his girl, he knew the present was more than enough.

They were a family. He felt it, each time he stared deeply into her crystal blue eyes. Yet no matter how close they got, and sometimes they got VERY close, he knew that there were things she kept hidden. Once he had tried to ask Angela to shed a little light on the woman he had come to depend on. She had quietly told him that it wasn't her place to tell him, and maybe he should just ask Brennan. Somehow he doubted that to be a good idea. So instead he waited, waited for her to feel that she could be open to him. He actually began to wonder how much he would know about her even with his memories intact, if she hadn't shared these things with her lover, would she really have shared them with a friend? Somehow he knew that the secret to their relationship was bundled up in her own personal demons.

The next week was particularly rough on both of them. For some reason an unexpected late summer heat wave sent the city into chaos. Brennan was working two different murders with Perotta. One was found in an abandoned ice cream truck and the other was apparently fed to the bears at the National Zoo. His desk was also beginning to amass a decent caseload, and needing to look up FBI protocol for everything was time consuming. They both worked late every night, traffic awful, the heat was unbearable and everyone in town seemed to be crankier than a starving two year old without a nap. Tempers everywhere were at an all time high.

Booth found himself stalking up the stairs late, with a dark mood after arguing with Cullen at the office. He was getting tired of being treated like there was something wrong with him. He was doing a good job, a damn good job, but the older man stared over his shoulder constantly. When he arrived at the apartment he discovered that she wasn't home yet, so he went over the fridge to grab a beer. At a second thought he grabbed two as he took off his dress shirt and went to watch the end of a game.

Two hours later she came in the door much the same way he did, tired and irritable. She looked at them empty couch, his shirt hanging of the back of the chair and the empty beer bottles on her coffee table. Walking into the kitchen she saw that there were breakfast dishes still in the sink. Without a word she started washing up and loading the dishwasher. He heard her banging from the bedroom and went out to see her, but could feel her intensity the second he entered to room. "Hey, Bren I am sorry I left a mess, leave it and come to bed." He went to put his arm around her, but she moved away busying herself with the dishes.

"No, I want to clean the kitchen first."

"I am sorry. I should have taken care of it this morning." He once again reached to her but she pulled away.

"It's fine. I don't mind. It's late. Go to bed." Her words said fine, her tone did not. Then she stopped, just froze for a second, standing there with dirty frying pan in her hand. "No. Booth wait. I'm sorry I shouldn't be so short. It was a long day. It's not your fault."

"Thanks, but I really should have done it. I promised and I was home first. So why don't you let me do it now?" He gave her that warm chocolate stare that usually curled her toes. Today he got nothing.

"No, I am almost done. Go to bed." At that moment she turned to open the fridge and a carton of milk fell out. Booth had moved it to the door when he was trying to reach the beer. Milk seeped across the floor as Brennan cursed. "Damn!"

Once again Booth felt guilty. "God, I'm sorry I don't know what I was thinking. I know it shouldn't be there, let me get a paper towel."

"I got it, its fine, just go." Her voice was short as she leaned down to pick up the now empty carton.

Something about her stance annoyed him. She was mad, but wouldn't say anything. She NEVER said anything. She would never fight with him. Somehow that royally pissed him off. "If you're mad just say so. I did something stupid. I can take it!" He realized too late that he was yelling.

"I am fine Booth. I said I am fine and I am fine!" Now he wasn't the only one yelling. It was their first fight, and it was literally over spilt milk.

"No you're not fine. Fine people don't yell!" He was starting to get very upset. I feeling he didn't remember having before. "Besides just because you said it, doesn't make it the truth!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Now he had hit a nerve.

"All I am saying is that you are not always forthcoming about how you feel, or what you're really thinking. You push everything down. You never let anything out." His voice had gotten quiet but his words still were cutting.

Once again someone was saying that she was closed off. She didn't want to upset him. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect herself. She wanted things to stay just as they were.

The silence finally got to Booth. "FINE" he over emphasized her new favorite word. "I am going to bed!"