Note: I've never received so many messages containing the word "pummel". A sequel to Written in the Scars. (Also, for some reason I invented a character named Curt and my brain insists on remembering his name as Colin, so if I use the wrong name, please let me know.)

What if: Booth & Brennan ended up in couples counseling again?

AU? No

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She couldn't wait to be home – to hold her daughter close, to sleep in her own bed, to sit in the back yard and watch the wind ruffle the leaves of the tree she and Booth had planted when Christine was born.

When she'd left, they'd been broken, torn apart by her ill-advised decision to ask him to marry her, and by the gentle way he'd turned her down.

She still didn't really understand why. Booth had always wanted marriage. It was an important part of his faith, of his goals for his life, of his ideal vision of what a family should be. They'd have to sort that out before they could move on with their lives together – and, marriage or not, she still wanted to spend her life with him.

She pulled her bag out of the overhead bin and waited impatiently for the flight attendant to open the door.

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Christine shrieked when she saw her, then shyly burrowed her head into Booth's neck when Brennan tried to take her.

They made small talk in the car, talking about traffic and weather, her flights and the minor changes around the house. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she had to tell him, but she didn't want to talk about it with their daughter in the car.

They picked up dinner on the way home, and by the end of the meal, Christine had warmed up to her again. Brennan spent the evening with her daughter, marveling at how much Christine had grown and learned while she'd been gone. By the time she gave Christine her bath, read her a story, and tucked her into bed, she was exhausted. She took a quick shower and fell into bed.

When she woke, it was still dark – her internal clock was completely messed up from traveling – and he was asleep beside her. She lay there, breathing in the scent that was so uniquely him, and watched him sleep. Before long, she was asleep again.

When she woke again, he was gone, and Christine was yelling her displeasure at being stuck in her crib.

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They settled back into a routine, without ever talking about the things she'd planned to say when she got back. She'd wanted to tell him about her trip, to ask him why he'd decided he didn't want to marry her, to figure out whether they had a future together, but it was too awkward to bring up, the stakes too high. She said nothing.

Their relationship wasn't as good as it at once been, but it also wasn't as bad as it had been before she left. It wasn't the life she'd wanted, but it still more than she was willing to lose.

Besides, her days were busy with work, consulting with the team from China, and writing the pile of intern evaluations that were due, and her evenings were split between time with her daughter and struggling with the novel that just refused to come together. She knew they needed to talk things out, probably with a counselor of some sort, but she didn't know where she'd find the time. That is, if Booth agreed to see a counselor. He was still distant, and it felt like a year since he'd touched her.

She had a lucrative career as an author, but she couldn't find the words to ask him to try.

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Seven weeks after she returned home, the team in China sent her some x-rays she just couldn't make sense of. She needed to see the bones.

She briefly considered making a quick trip back, but it was a bad time to leave, both at work and at home, so she asked them to courier the remains to her. Two days later, the doorbell rang while she was tucking Christine into bed. Booth was working late, so she kissed her daughter goodnight and hurried to the door.

When she saw it was Curt, she started laughing. "I thought you were going to courier the bones."

He grinned back. "I am the courier."

"You have three doctorates", she replied.

"It's good to see you, too", he said. "Are you going to invite me in?"

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The tentative peace they'd been living with was shattered when Booth got home. She was sitting on the couch with Curt, a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of them. Booth took one look at them and stormed out of the house. She followed, and they ended up in a hushed but intense argument on the driveway,. Booth was angrier than she could ever remember seeing him, and apparently had taken an instantaneous dislike to Curt. She was embarrassed that he'd pick a fight in front of her friend and somewhat stunned by his anger.

When he drove away, she sank onto the front step, her head in her hands. A few minutes later, Curt came out and pulled her to her feet. He held her while she cried and then bundled her into the house.

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She woke Sweets up the next morning to ask him for a recommendation for a couples counselor – a real one, not some FBI profiler. It was a testament to how terrible she must have sounded that he gave her a couple of names without arguing or asking any questions.

She waited impatiently for the office to open, then made an appointment.

And then she called Booth.

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They had their first session that afternoon. It didn't go well – Booth was still angry, and she didn't understand why. By the time the session was over, they had agreed that they needed some time apart, and worked out a basic visitation schedule so that Christine would still have both of her parents in her life.

It was exhausting, and when they walked out of the office, they were both ready for a break. She went home to their daughter, and he went … well, she wasn't really sure where he was staying.

It was strange, living in their house without him there. She'd never noticed the odd creaks in the middle of the night, or the way headlights on the neighbours' car made strange shadows on the living room wall when they pulled out of their driveway.

She'd expected to miss him – she always did, when they were apart – but she was surprised by how much she'd come to depend on him to take care of some of the chores of daily life – making sure the trash went out on time, changing the furnace filter, making dinner on Sunday night. She was quite capable of doing those things, but it had been nice not to have to.

The hard work started in their second session. Booth refused to talk about his refusal to marry her, which made the therapist scribble furiously on her note pad. That still didn't make sense, but then again, Booth had been acting strangely lately.

Since that topic was off the table, she asked the other question that they'd never discussed – why he'd been so angry when he saw her with Curt.

When he told her, it was her turn to walk out.

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He should have trusted her, should have known that she loved him.

She was angry.

She was hurt.

But the worst part was that he wasn't entirely wrong.

She took a few days to think about what she wanted. By their third session, she was ready to talk about it.

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Booth walked into the room like a man going to his execution.

She knew how he felt.

She took a deep breath and started to talk. She told him how hurt she was that he didn't want to marry her, how much she'd needed some time to work through it. She talked about how lonely it was to be away from him, from Christine, and about how she'd clicked with Curt almost immediately. She told him how much she'd come to rely on their daily calls, about the respite they gave her from examining the bones of children and teenagers who'd died horrible deaths so long ago. She'd stockpiled amusing stories to share with him on those calls, hoping to bridge the the literal and figurative distance between them. It had worked, a little, but they were still so far apart, and in between their calls, it had been Curt who'd made her laugh, who helped her get through the day.

And then, one day, Curt had kissed her, and she'd kissed him back. She liked him, and she wasn't sure she and Booth would ever be able to get past their differences, and she'd wondered what it would be like.

And then she'd called a halt, apologized to Curt, and gone back to her tent to sort out what she really wanted.

By the next morning, she knew she wanted to be with Booth, married or not.

She watched his face as she talked, noticing the guilt, the pain, and then, finally, the hope. She finished talking and waited quietly for his response.

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Three weeks later, he asked to move back home.

Things between them had been steadily getting better. They'd started having lunch together a few times a week, and were practicing the techniques they'd learned in therapy. They'd even gone on a couple of excursions to the park or the playground as a family.

He thought it was time to live together again, to work on being a family full time.

She said no.

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Knowing she'd made the right decision didn't make sleeping alone any easier.

And it was the right decision. He knew how much she'd been hurt when he'd rejected her, but he still wouldn't discuss it. She'd thought he wanted to marry her, that he was just waiting for her to catch up, so it just didn't make sense that he would turn her down.

Maybe she'd never really known him at all.

Or maybe he'd told the truth. Maybe it was just bad timing, with the Pelant case ….

She sat upright in bed.

Pelant.

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I considered taking them a little further, but I think this is a good end point.

Next chapter will be something completely different, possibly involving Max.

And it will probably be a couple of weeks for the next update, because next weekend is crazy. Unless I get super motivated tomorrow, since I have the day off. Feel free to leave a review to motivate me. :)