Note: Everyone's trying to make things better after the finale. Except me. I'm making it worse.

What if: Booth thought Brennan was cheating on him?

AU? No

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They weren't OK.

How could they be? He'd told her he couldn't marry her. Sure, he'd couched it in words that made it seem like it was just the timing, but let's face it – the woman you love, the one who has spent her entire adult life claiming she sees no point in marriage, changes her mind and says she wants to marry you – and you say "no, thanks"? There's no way that didn't hurt.

Sometimes he couldn't believe he'd actually done it, but he hadn't seen any other option. He'd thought it through – even made a list of pros and cons, long since shredded, that she would have been proud of if he could tell her about it.

In the end, he hadn't seen any other option. He had enough deaths on his conscience, and he couldn't be responsible for 5 more, so he sat down and said the hardest thing he'd had to say in his life. He'd broken her heart, he'd broken his own heart, and, based on how things had been since then, he might have cost both of them the best relationship of their lives.

There was a distance between them that had never been there before. Not when they'd just met, not when she refused to take his calls for a year, not when he was trying his best to be in love with someone else. There'd always been an attraction between them, a rubber band that snapped them back together just when they thought they'd break apart. But now … now she looked at him like she was afraid he was going to hurt her again.

And he couldn't promise he wouldn't.

Since he'd turned her down, they'd both starting finding excuses to avoid each other – working late, taking Christine on an outing with friends or family, going on a run or to the gym, working on a new project – whatever it took to have a reason not to be at home together. She'd started taking her own vehicle to crime scenes – something she hadn't done since the months he was with Hannah. Before long, it seemed like the only time they were in the same place was when one of them was asleep.

Someone had to make the first move.

It had to be him. After all, he was the one who put the distance between them. It was up to him to bridge it.

It took him a few days to work out what to do. Finally he settled on a lunch invitation – issued in person, so that it would be harder to say no.

The medico-legal lab went silent when he walked in at 11:25. He shouldn't have been surprised; he already knew rumours spread like wildfire in that place. He could see Daisy open her mouth to say something, and heard Hodgins's hissed, "No". He breezed past the platform while Daisy stared at Hodgins in confusion.

He could see Bones's office was empty, so he continued down the hall. He could hear Bones's voice as he neared Angela's office, and he slowed his pace, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Just as he was about to walk through the door, Angela asked, "What does Booth think?" He stopped short.

"I'm a free agent", Bones replied dismissively.

There was a tone in her voice – a little hurt, a little stubborness – that spurred him into motion again and propelled him through the door. "Bones?"

Angela looked at him, then at Bones, and pulled her purse out of her desk drawer. "I'll leave you two alone."

He barely noticed her leave, his attention focused on his partner. "What's going on, Bones?" he asked, his tone deliberately calm.

She turned, leaning back against Angela's desk, and met his eyes for the first time in weeks. "I'm going on a dig. Rural China. Six weeks. I leave next Friday."

He nodded, afraid that if he tried to talk, he'd start shouting. She continued, "I was hoping you could handle Christine. Dad will help. But if it's too much for you, I can bring her with me. I have a couple of recommendations for nannies."

"She stays with me", he rasped.

"That's the ideal situation", she answered. "I'll be working long days, and it would be better for her to stay with you. I'll call her every day."

He stared at her, wondering how things between them had gotten so bad, so fast. "Your dad knows. Angela knows. Cam must know. The damned nanny agency knows you're going. It seems like the only one who didn't know that you're leaving is me."

"I was going to tell you", she said quietly.

"When?" His voice raised, as he started to lose the tight hold he was keeping on his temper. "Were you going to call me from the airport? When were you going to tell me you were leaving me?"

"I don't know", she answered. "I just … I need some space. Things have been … we're broken, Booth, and I need to figure out what comes next."

"We work through this", he answered, desperate to convince her.

"I don't know if we can", she answered. "Look, Booth, I have a lot to wrap up. Can we discuss this tonight?"

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He drove her to the airport.

Nothing was really resolved – the chasm between them wasn't getting any smaller – but they'd agreed to take the time apart to think about what they wanted.

He already knew what he wanted, and they had to work out. They'd come through so much already, they could survive this, too. If she needed time, he'd give it to her, but the end game was the two of them together. He clung to that thought as he hugged her and watched her walk away.

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That first call was awkward. She had just landed, and he put her on speaker-phone so that she could hear Christine babble away as she ate breakfast. She told him how the three hour delay of her first flight had messed up the rest of her connections and described the camp where she'd be staying. He told her about their trip to the playground and the picture Christine had painted at daycare. When Christine started calling "Mommy?", he could hear the tears in her voice.

After a few days, they got into a routine. She'd call as he was getting ready for the day, they'd chat for a couple of minutes, then she'd listen to Christine talk or eat or sing.

One day, she mentioned that she was doing some sightseeing, taking the morning off to see some of the countryside with some colleagues. He was glad to hear it – she always worked too hard on those digs, coming home exhausted and drawn.

The next morning, he remembered to ask if she'd enjoyed it. She laughed and said she had, her voice warming as she told a story about someone named Curt trying to barter for a trinket. It was the longest conversation they'd had since she'd left.

That morning, he googled the other members of her team, finally locating a picture of Curt – who not only wasn't elderly, but apparently was some fancy doctor of archeology from the UK.

He probably had a stupid accent and everything.

Booth tried to tell himself that he had nothing to worry about, that he'd imagined the warmth in her voice, that they just worked together. Somehow he didn't find that thought reassuring.

At least Curt's name didn't come up in conversation again the next day. They fell back into their usual pattern, trading a story or two about their day before Brennan tried to talk with Christine.

By the time she called two days later, he'd convinced himself that he had overreacted. They chatted as usual, and she was listening to Christine sing a repetitive song that would probably be stuck in his head for the rest of the day when he heard someone say, "Hey, Tempe" in a smarmy accent. The call went silent as she muted her phone, then she came back and cut the call short.

She apologized the next day, telling him some story about a situation that had required her immediate attention, but ...those bones had been there for thousands of years – surely they could have waited until she was off the phone.

Over the next few weeks, Booth found himself tensing every time she mentioned an amusing story she'd heard, or a trip for supplies, or … anything, really, that reminded him that he was half a word away and she was spending her days with Curt.

The worst part was that there was nothing he could do about it. She was, as she'd said, a free agent.

On day 36, Christine was tired and lethargic, obviously coming down with something. Max was babysitting, so he gave him strict instructions to call if it got worse and went to work.

By ten, her fever had risen to a point where Max was worried. He called Cam and followed the instructions she gave him, but Christine's fever kept rising. By noon, they were sitting in the ER, and it was close to one when he realized he had to call Bones. He briefly debated waiting until morning her time, but she needed to know, to prepare herself in case it got worse. He called.

When a sleepy British voice answered the phone, he considered hanging up. Instead, he pushed back the rage and asked for Brennan. She came on the line seconds later, sounding awake and concerned. He told her the situation and promised to update her as soon as something changed, then hung up the phone and slumped into the uncomfortable hospital chair.

Two hours later they were given a prescription for antibiotics and sent home. He held Christine close as she fussed, walking the floor and murmuring soothing nonsense to comfort her, grappling with thought of Bones with Curt – sitting under a tree, heads bent together, laughing over an inside joke; bickering over a set of ancient remains; naked, bodies fused together.

By the time Christine finally fell asleep, they were both exhausted.

Christine started to recover quickly, and the next day he left her with Max and went back to work, trying to decide what to do. They had a life together, a child – surely she wouldn't throw that all away for some anthropology squint.

Except … the squint made her laugh, and he made her cry.

If she wanted to go, to be with someone who made her happy, could he really stand in her way?

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Luckily, I already have a hiding place picked out.