A/N: So if you're reading Bonding through Secrets, this is kind of the hours after "Hard Case" (Chapter 11). Got this stuck in my head, but I couldn't make it fit in that story. If you're not reading Bonding through Secrets, this takes place about 8 months after the series finale.

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Brennan woke and looked at the clock, 7:30. Without looking, she knew that the space behind her was empty. She sighed, she'd been hoping now that the case was over he could sleep again, it had been elusive for him since they had taken the call 8 days ago. When she did roll over, the concern grew when she realize that not only was she alone, his side had not been slept in. Booth had gone back to the Hoover after dinner to catch up on other work that had been neglected during the last week or so. She had dozed fitfully until he'd returned home shortly after midnight. He had kissed her and said he'd been in soon. The reassurance had been enough to allow her to give into her exhaustion and sleep through the night.

She put on her robe and headed to the kitchen. Subconsciously taking notes - his car keys were in the dish on the dresser, his running shoes in the corner, his jacket on the hook. So, he had to be home somewhere. Probably the man cave. She could at least hope that he was sleeping in the recliner. She hit the button to start the coffee brewing and listened for sound of life in the house. There was still probably a half hour before the kids woke up, but the aroma would call him to the kitchen.

As the coffee was brewing she pondered her next move. She was worried about him. The case had been as Angela called it "the trinity from hell" for Booth - a child, 2 combat veterans, all the victims of addiction fueled betrayal. With each revelation of the evidence she had watched him retreat further into the dark place that sometimes overwhelmed him, forced to watch as he battled the demons. That was the hardest thing, knowing that there was nothing she could do but to wait and be there for him when he finally claimed victory. She KNEW he would, he just needed time, but she could also see the panic and doubt beginning to form in those brown eyes as he did everything he could and it wasn't enough, not yet.

Irrationally she fumed at his god and the universe. They had finally gotten back into a good space after months of chaos. The lab had been fully up and running for the last six weeks and they were starting to slip into a routine that was working for them all. Cam and Arastoo and their three boys were happy - Cam, wanting to cut back on her workload had left the administration of the lab to Hodgins. Dr. Wells, seeing a void and declaring himself bored with anthropology was now studying entomology and geology and working as Hodgins assistant. He still had a tendency to irritate those around him, but Angela, as a condition of him being hired was requiring "anti douche" lessons. Angela was working part time while training an assistant - baby William Zachary had been born in perfect health in September and she was enjoying spending time with him and pursuing her photography. There had been enough donations to rebuild the Jeffersonian that there was budget for another forensic anthropologist. So Brennan and Arastoo were finding a balance that would allow them both to enjoy work and family life. While she was recovering neurologically, Booth had been grooming Aubrey and Agent Shaw and a couple of other FBI agents to handle more of the field work. While he still wasn't doing his job as the head of Major Crimes exactly as his superiors had defined it, they were happy with the success of the department and Booth had discovered that he really enjoyed teaching. And then the case had disrupted their carefully constructed equilibrium.

Her mental inventory was interrupted by the coffee maker gurgling the completion of it's task. She was surprised that Booth still hadn't made it into the kitchen, maybe he was out? Or really sleeping? She poured a cup and added honey. If he was around and wanted it, the sweetener would appeal, if he wasn't she would drink it. She started her search. He wasn't in the man cave. He hadn't crashed in Parker's room or the guest room. She headed to Christine's room where the kids were having a slumber party, and stopped in the doorway.

Hank in the trundle was starting to wake up, she could see the signs. Christine was awake and reading. The beanbag chair in the corner held Booth, snoring softly. Brennan watched with a measure of relief and exasperation. He was safe, but she wondered how long he had been there and how much his back would make him pay. Christine held her finger to her lips, "Shhh. Daddy is sleeping." Brennan nodded, taking in the scene. The whisper woke Hank up and he looked around the room drowsily. He looked at his mom and sister and caught the signal. He smiled as he looked where they had pointed and saw his Daddy and then carefully crawled out of bed and headed towards his momma. Brennan placed the coffee mug on the bookcase and gathered him up for a hug and kiss and a soft, "did you have a good sleep?" He nodded into her shoulder. Booth stopped snoring and started to stir, Brennan motioned for Christine to come to the doorway. In the hallway Brennan said to her daughter, "Christine, can you take Hank to the bathroom, and then you two can go watch cartoons. I need to talk to Daddy for a minute, then we'll have breakfast okay?" The kids trotted off down the hallway.

By now Booth was blinking sleepily and gingerly moving, testing how much his body was going to punish him this morning. He had put it through a lot since the case had opened, working out furiously in the hopes that he could physically wear down the ghosts. "Hey, " he said softly and gave her a tentative smile, and in that instant she knew that he had won the battle. The war might night be over yet, but somewhere in the night he had found his faith again and he would now allow her to fight by his side.

"Hey yourself," she grabbed the coffee mug and crossed the room to him, reaching down, "let me help you." He grabbed her hand and she pulled him to a sitting position, handed him the mug and then straddled the chair behind him and gently started kneading the tension out of his neck and shoulders. He submitted to her ministrations, while sipping, occasionally letting out a moan as she worked a kink out of really tender spot. By the time she made it to his lower back, the coffee was gone and he was feeling he could at least function. She kissed his temple as he murmured, "Thank you."

She felt him tense as if to start to stand and quickly wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him back to her. She whispered in his ear, "Stay." He nodded, put the mug aside and then leaned back into her, unclasping her hands to intertwine his fingers with hers. They sat in silence, each feeling the reassuring heartbeat of the other. Finally he angled his head back to look at her and she dropped a kiss on his forehead, "How long did you sleep?"

He looked at his watch "Only about four hours, " he admitted, "but they were solid."

"Well, that's about an hour more than you have been getting, so that's good. But, why here?"

He leaned back some more, his head now resting on her thigh, causing her to move throw her other leg almost over his shoulder. "Parker called about 3:30. He reminded me that after a tough case I used to watch him sleep. I came in here, to see if it would help. It did. But I got tired of standing and well, " he shrugged.

She smiled, and brushed her fingers over the bags under his eyes. He caught her hand and kissed her palm, "Look, I'm sor". The rest of the sentence was cut off by her hand over his mouth. "If you are going to apologize for having a tough time, I don't want to hear it."

"But," he protested, "I've been gone a lot, and when I've been here I've been a distracted, moody ass. I've left you to take up the slack the last week. I should have done better."

"Booth, you were gone because you were working a case and doing everything you're supposed to do when the PTSD flares up - exercising, attending meetings, going to church, abstaining from alcohol. And yes, you may have been a little distracted, but you've been here every night for dinner and bedtime with the kids. They haven't suffered. And I may have been doing more than usual around the house, but that's what partners do. And I don't resent that any more than you resented doing more than your fair share all summer while I was recovering from the blast. " She narrowed her gaze at him, "Or did I get that wrong and you DID resent taking care of me?"

"What? Of course not Bones!" He was indignant at the suggestion.

"Then why should this be any different?"

"Because damn it! " He glared at her, "It's been 2 years since I last gambled, 3 since I got out of prison, 6 since I was last in a war zone. You and the kids still shouldn't be dealing with my crap." He couldn't look at her any more, turning his head.

She touched his cheek and forced him to look at her, "You know that's not how it works."

He sighed, "I know." Catching her glare he did his best imitation of her, "PTSD is no different than your broken feet, or your damaged inner transcontinental ligament."

"Inter-transverse." She corrected automatically, "and if you know I'm right, why do you beat yourself up?"

"I just remember dealing with my parents." He held up his hand, stopping her interruption, "I know, I know. I'm not my father, I'd never hurt the kids, but I still think of them twenty years from now sitting in some therapists office talking about how they had to walk on egg shells around their daddy because he had issues. It's just got to be frustrating for you."

"Yes." She admitted, "it's frustrating. But not because you have 'issues' as you put it, it's frustrating, because you're hurting and we can't fix it. And I see you fighting so hard and I can't make it any easier. THATs what makes it so difficult. "

"Stop!" He ordered sharply, and reached up to brush back her tears. "You do help. Just by being there. "

"But I don't DO anything!"

"It may not feel like it Bones, but its everything to me. "

She sniffed, "Well, if I'm supposed to accept that, why can't you accept what I've told you?"

He smiled. "Okay, I give up. You win. "

Glad he was at least temporarily going to let it go she teased, "It's about time you recognized my intellectual superiority Booth."

"Hey if you're going to brag, you can at least kiss me first."

She bent down and complied with his request. They sat for a moment, he wasn't quite at peace yet, and he was still tired but he recognized that he was on the way back up from rock bottom and he would soon climb out of his hole. He sent a brief thanks up that he had been blessed with family that was so understanding and accepting. He knew that he should get up and get moving, it had been at least a half an hour and the kids would want breakfast soon. No sooner had he processed the thought when they appeared in the room. Booth opened his arms signalling a need for a hug. Hank launched himself into his daddy's arms while Christine approached in a more controlled, but just as enthusiastic manner. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and there was some maneuvering as they all tried to make themselves comfortable in a bean bag chair that was most definitely not designed for four. After some giggling due to "accidental" tickling, Christine looked at her Daddy and asked, "Can we have French toast for breakfast?"

"Hungry!" Hank chimed in.

"Coming right up. And then what do you want to do with the day?" It was a rare Saturday when no one had anything on the schedule. Having been somewhat absentee for the past week, Booth was willing to do whatever the kids wanted, but he was hoping it wouldn't be too strenuous. He could use the break.

Christine pondered it for a minute. And then said in a voice that sounded remarkably like her mother's, "Well, it's raining out, so I don't think the park or the carousel is a very good idea. We could go the museum, but it will be crowded. We just went to the library last Thursday so we don't need any new books yet. We went to the mall with Aunt Angela last weekend." Booth hid a smile as we watched the wrinkle form between her eyebrows, just like her mom when she was thinking hard. Finally she brightened, "I think we need a pajama day!"

A day where no one got dressed and left the house. Where they played games, watched movies, colored, read, ate and napped as needed. Perfect. He looked at his wife for confirmation, "I think that's an excellent idea sweetheart. Now let's go make some breakfast."