Note: I really need more ideas. Especially happy ones. Or outlandish ones.

What if: Brennan decided Booth's rejection meant it was time to move on?

AU? Yes

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Her thumb was sore.

Brennan stopped typing and examined her thumb. It was red and inflamed, and as she squinted at it, she could see a tiny splinter embedded in the wound. She poked at it, then pulled open the drawer of her desk, rummaging through the contents hoping to find something that would help her extract the sliver of wood.

"You'd better be looking for chocolate."

"No", Brennan responded absently.

Angela walked in and flopped down in an empty chair. "Then I fail to understand what you're looking for so frantically."

"I have a splinter", Brennan answered. "I didn't notice it earlier, and it's infected."

"There's a first aid kit in the lounge", Angela answered. "I'll walk with you."

They left Brennan's office, chatting about their latest case on the way. When they reached the lounge, Brennan made quick work of her splinter, cleaning the wound and wrapping it in a protective bandage.

"It's funny", she said. "It's a tiny piece of wood – I didn't even notice it until it got infected – but it really hurts. It's the body's way of protecting us, of getting the foreign object out. Now that it's out, I should heal quickly."

"Yes", Angela agreed. "That's how it works." There was a question in her voice.

"But sometimes", Brennan/ continued, "It doesn't work. Infection can kill as well."

"I've never heard of someone dying from a splinter", Angela commented.

"I'm thinking of leaving Booth", Brennan replied, as if that had been the subject all along.

"What?", Angela answered, grabbing Brennan's hand and pulling her over to one of the couches. "OK, sweetie, spill. What's going on?"

Brennan raised her head to meet her friend's eyes. "I'm not happy. No, more than that, I'm unhappy. I feel … uncomfortable around Booth, like I'm waiting for him to hurt me again. It's not good for me, or for him, or for Christine. She's been moody and anxious lately – the tension is affecting her, even though she's so small. That's not right, Angela. She shouldn't have to pay for my mistakes."

"Have you talked to Booth?" Angela asked.

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"Hey, big guy."

Booth grunted in reply as Cam slid onto the bar stool next to him.

"You want to talk about why Dr. Brennan is off looking at real estate?"

Booth glared at her, and she retreated. "OK, let's talk about something else. Why did you call of the wedding again?"

Booth slammed his glass onto the bar. "Why. Are. You. Here."

Cam smiled as the bartender slid her beer across the bar. "I'm here because I'm your friend, Seeley, and I don't know what happened, but I know this has to be killing you."

"I can't believe she doesn't trust me", Booth mused.

"A long time ago", Cam answered, "I told you that if you told Dr. Brennan you loved her and you changed your mind, she'd never trust anyone again. And then? You told her you loved her, you told her you wanted to marry her, and then you decided you … didn't. And now she doesn't trust you. I hate to say I told you so, but what did you think was going to happen?"

"I don't know." Booth's voice was broken, defeated.

Cam covered his hand with hers. "What's going on, Seeley?"

"Nothing", Booth answered, unconvincingly.

She swiveled on her stool so that she could look him in the eye. "When you're ready to stop pretending nothing is wrong? You know you can talk to me."

He nodded, and she tossed a bill onto the bar and walked out of the bar.

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The real estate agent waved as she drove off. Brennan stood for a moment, looking at the exterior of the house, the well-kept yard, imagining what life would be like if this were the place she came home to every night.

It was a beautiful house, just three blocks from the house she shared with Booth. Christine would be able to go back and forth between their houses without having to live far from her friends or her school. The house had everything she wanted.

Except Booth.

Max came up beside her, following her gaze to the house. "It's nice."

"Yes", she agreed.

"You know", Max said, "Once I thought it was easier to run. And it was, for me. But it hurt you, and Russ. And your mother … she never got over leaving you behind."

They stood in silence for a moment, then he added, "I still believe it was the right thing to do."

"I understand. You were trying to protect us."

"I was", Max replied. "And I'd do it again, if I had to. So I guess my question to you is … do you have to leave? Or do you have choices that I didn't have?"

"Dad ..." There was a warning in her voice.

"Just think about it." He kissed her cheek, then walked away, whistling.

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I know, it's vague and doesn't end happily. I'm not kidding about needing happy ideas.