I began writing this story when I was around eleven or twelve. I rustled up the courage to post on this platform a few years later. I am nineteen now, and after going back and reading my old stories, I can't help but want to do these ideas justice. Consequently, I am in the process of rewriting and reworking this story, based off of critical reviews and my own personal preference. The prompt is the same, but I have no promises about whether or not the story will follow the same trajectory. Perhaps, I will post the old version of the story with my more amateur writing at a later date (let me know if you desperately desire this). But, as of this moment, I am back to square one. (Note: I changed POV from first to third-person limited, and present tense to past tense in my rewrite. Hope that doesn't throw you all off too much). Expect some grammar errors, I didn't have a proofreader haha.

"Doctor Temperance Brennan, dictating the findings and personal examinations of case number four-thousand and ninety-two. The deceased is male, approximately thirty-five years of age and Caucasian of descent. Case file states that the deceased is a soldier, and stress indicators on the distal and middle phalanges, are congruent with that assumption. Case file also states that the deceased was fatally injured during the Battle of Henderson. From preliminary examination, I believe the cause of death was a small caliber gunshot, likely fired from a Japanese pistol with 8x22 Nambu rounds. Confirmed by a comminuted fracture of the fourth cervical vertebrae. The location of the trauma was likely to cause the victim's lungs to fill with blood, but was not fired at a close enough range to completely penetrate any of the cervical vertebrae. Death was… not quick. While the skull of the victim is intact, approximately thirty-three percent of the bones are not present. I do not believe this will be an issue when it comes to identification."

Click.

Brennan's latex-gloved hands palmed the vertebrae, pausing only to feel the minute circular indentation the bullet left. Returning it to its place, Brennan's eyes ran along the length of the spine, noting the mild curvature. With the recorder off, she began to quietly muse.

"Over a third of your body is missing, yet the only trauma without remodeling is here. What happened to you? Did they leave you behind? How did this happen?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She placed her hands firmly on the clean, stainless steel bars. Her eyes drifted to the orbital bones, almost as if she was looking in the eyes of this man.

"Dr. Brennan?" Cam's heels tapped quietly on the grey concrete floors. But any noise in this room, the endless maze of silent souls and bones, echoed strongly.

"Dr. Saroyan… How may I help you?" Brennan's light smile faded quickly, a mere attempt at feigning kindness and interest in Cam's presence. While she usually would provide Cam with a more friendly and open demeanor, it was after hours, and all Brennan wanted to do was stare at the set of bones in front of her until they told her what she wanted to know. But alas, her friend and boss paused in front of her, drawing her attention away from the man on the table.

"Nothing you can help me with right now, it's just late. I was wondering if perhaps you needed a ride home." Cam bowed slightly as she waited for a response.

Brennan's mouth opened for a moment, pondering the correct response to her offer. "I appreciate the offer Cam. Thank you for thinking of me. I think I will be staying though. This is still what the university pays me for. And besides, my car is here today. Thank you, but I will not be needing transportation tonight." She smiled warmly at Cam, to which Cam returned her own.

"Have a good evening, Dr. Brennan. Will we be seeing you at The Founding Fathers later?" Cam probed. Brennan looked down at the remains on the table, closing her eyes in frustration. While she wished to stay in the Lab for the entirety of the night, Brennan knew that even if she had forgotten about the soiree, she had agreed to be there earlier.

"Yes, of course. See you at nine o'clock," Brennan said with a small nod.

"See you at nine." Then, with a small clap of her hands, Cam was smoothly striding out of Limbo, leaving her alone with the bones once again.

Brennan had arrived at the bar early, taking her old spot on the corner of the rectangular bar. She motioned the bartender over with a wag of her finger, ordering a shot. She quickly downed it, relishing in the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. As she began to call the bartender over for another one, a single finger tapped on her shoulder. "Hiya, Bones. Merry Christmas."

"Booth, it isn't Christmas. It's not even Christmas Eve yet," Brennan blinked. Quite honestly, she had no desire to celebrate Christmas this year. Just unlike the years prior, Christmas was once again going to be a solitary holiday.

"Ah, c'mon! Christmas is here Bones! Don't be the grinch!" Booth's eyes lit up as he heartily laughed at Brennan. She smiled at him, unaware of the character to which he was referring.

"Pardon? The what?" She laughed, smiling as he giggled at her. With a deep sigh and shake of his head, Booth resigned in defeat. His hand went to his head, his thumb rubbing the center of forehead out of frustration.

"God. You know what never mind," he said defeatedly. Brennan felt an almost uncomfortable air around him. Usually, her failed attempts at understanding his references would make him giddy. But more recently, Booth's responses felt more tired and short.

"Alright. Oh, there they are!" Brennan's hand moved to Booth's forearm, waking him from his dramatized agony. Glad for the distraction, Brennan breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling the pressure start to ease off of herself. Post-case drinks and dinners were always the highlight of her weeks. Sitting at the diner, stealing french fries, and refusing Booth's repeated attempts at selling her on the idea of pie. But now, a large part of her just wanted to retreat into the lab, or simply just go home after cases.

Seeing the group walk in, Booth stood up to greet them, exchanging hugs and hellos before finally taking their places around the small circular table. As their drinks arrived, Brennan observed the bustling crowd at The Founding Fathers. She watched the men and women circle each other with skirting glances, like each other's prey. Before anybody else had noticed the arrival, Brennan had been waiting for the glass doors at the front to open. And although they opened many times on her watch, this time, upon the sight of a more than attractive, blond, curly-haired woman walking in, Brennan forced her eyes away from the tall glass door. A few men turned their heads in her direction as she started striding over to the table, ending up at Booth's side. Seeing her suddenly next to him, he smiled widely and then kissed her gently on the lips.

Brennan's mouth grew to an evidently fake grin, watching her partner and her friend trapped in each other's gazes. Logically, she knew that the dull ache spreading through her chest was a physiological reaction caused by chemicals in her limbic system. But, she was more interested in the 'why' of the reaction, not the 'how'.

Barely following their conversation, Brennan listened to the group chatter. Christmas plans, family arrivals, dinners to be made. The topic of travel plans had begun to surface, and Brennan's mind checked back into focus, shaking herself out of the trance she had been in.

"Well, all I know is that while you and Hodgins are freezing your little Parisian butts off and kissing on the top of the Eiffel Tower, Hannah, Pops and I will be chillaxin' on a beach in Aruba. Woooshhh, wooshhh." Booth pursed his lips together, mimicking the sounds of waves crashing along a shore.

"You and Hodgins are returning to Paris?" Brennan questioned. The surprise in her voice seemed to strike a nerve with Angela, who's face contorted slightly upon hearing the surprise and faint sound of hurt in Brennan's voice.

"Yeah, sweetie. It was a last-minute decision, and we only have so many chances before we become mommy and daddy. I would've let you know sooner, but we just bought the tickets yesterday. Let me tell you, those things we're not cheap," Angela smiled, resulting in polite smiles from the rest of the group.

"And you, Cam. Where will you be going?" Brennan turned towards her boss.

"Well, last year I might have stopped Michele from going to a resort with her friend. So this year, I decided to make it up to her. I know going to a resort with Mom isn't exactly the same as going with somebody her own age, but I figured it was the least I could do," Cam said with a slight shrug in her shoulders.

On that note, the conversation seemed to halt. Each of the six friends took a moment to examine the last gulp of liquid left in their glasses and bottles. The night was nearing its inevitable end, and each individual's desire to end the evening was palpable.

"You know guys, I think Ang and I should be heading out. We're gonna wake up early tomorrow to grab the last few gifts we need. I wish all of you a Merry Christmas " Hodgins began to stand up, grabbing Angela's long tan jacket. As she stood, he opened the jacket for her, and she slid her arms in. With a soft kiss to her temple, Hodgins whispered, "I'm gonna go warm up the car. See you outside?"

"Alright, babe," Angela replied. Her eyes twinkled and met Hodgins' as he strode out of the bar.

Angela asks Booth a few questions about their vacation, and Brennan passively began to re-enter her dazed state. Booth's excited tone fills the space warmly, and Hannah occasionally pipes in, only to note small things, like how excited she is to meet Booth's grandfather. And with the topic of the conversation turning this direction, Brennan felt the desire to leave growing within her even more than before. As Angela gathered her things, Brennan stood with her. After saying her goodbyes and a placating "Merry Christmas," Brennan and Angela were out the door.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Paris. We just haven't seen each other the last few days and I wasn't quite sure just what you were doing for the holidays-"

"Angela, it's okay. I couldn't possibly mad that you are taking a few days away during Christmas. Send me pictures, alright?" Brennan laughed warmly at Angela, reassuring her worried friend. Angela grasped Brennan's forearm, returning her gesture of reassurance.

"Send me pictures too, alright?" Angela stepped into the tiny, red car. As they drove off, the couple grinned and waved goodbye to her. As the car sped off, Brennan's eyes fell towards the ground, her feet impacting the once untouched, fluffy white snow. With a swift raise of her hand, Brennan hailed the yellow Cab 5260, opened the door and stepped in.

'I'm the only one living the life they expected to live.'

Brennan's liquored brain grasped onto her own words. The words bounced around in her brain, triggering various thoughts and conclusions. Mouthing the words again, she considered what that phrase truly meant to her. This was the life she expected to live. Accomplished in her field, famous for her writing, every professional goal she wished to have achieved, she had. But even with those extrinsic goals accomplished, Brennan knew that what she hadn't said about her expectations had started to reach the forefront of her thoughts, the forefront of her desires. It seemed that Brennan's alcoholic state also fancied the light refracting on the windows. The small droplets of former snow separated the small glow of Christmas lights into murky, salt-laden rainbows. Suddenly, Brennan felt the brakes locking up beneath her, the panic of the cabbie, and the inertia hit her stomach as the car slid uncontrollably along a thin sheet of ice. As the tires gained traction, the cabbie pumped the brakes, sending her head forward, into the not-so-soft headrest ahead of her.

"You are going to die loveless and alone."

This time, Angela's cynical words took their turn bouncing around the inebriated Brennan. Although her life had not flashed before her eyes when the car had lost control, Brennan began to assess the current state of her life. If she was honest with herself, her life was in a state of disarray, that she was unsure of what to do about it. Being alone had always been part of her expectations. Anthropologically speaking, it was a statistical fact that the majority of individuals in the western world felt some quantifiable, tangible feeling of loneliness, which generally only subsides in momentary togetherness. But for Brennan, the moments of togetherness that should have, at least temporarily, numbed the ever-present loneliness she felt, only seemed to further cement the feeling in her mind.

To be fair, if she looked at her situation as a whole, she knew that her loneliness was illogical; her father was in Maui, her brother was dutifully at the side of his sick daughter. She wasn't alone. She no longer had family here. That was the reality she faced. Over the recent months, Brennan began to understand that her notorious decision made her lose the other type of family she had. She shut her eyes, her thoughts occasionally drifting to her partner and his vacation plans. She would be lying if she said she hadn't, momentarily, succumbed to the alcohol, and let herself imagine just what that vacation would be like.

The driver breathily apologized, and she forgave him. It was almost as if Brennan felt the pain of losing a family all over again.

And once again, she felt within her the desire to run. The irrational choice to flee is one she wasn't proud of. Her brother had told her once before that she was the one to abandon him, and she never wished to do that to anybody again. So, she settled herself on staying, staying for Angela, staying for Hodgins, staying for Cam, for Booth. For once in her life, she felt as if her walls were down, her emotions exposed to the world. And she expected that one she reached this point, she would have her family right beside her. But this was her fault, her regret. And she knew that.

As the cab neared closer and closer to the Jeffersonian, the lights continued to play with the droplets. With admiration, her intoxicated fascination with them thankfully became the forefront of her thoughts.

The Lauren Eames case had been one of the worst cases Brennan had ever worked. Genocide, war, serial killers; none of those compared to the turmoil she had gone through during the accidental manslaughter of Dr. Eames.

Brennan glanced at her silver watch, squinting to read the small numbers. The city would just be waking up. Knowing that it was way past time for her to be working, Brennan began to repackage and store the remains of the soldier. Normally, she would follow protocol and return the white plastic box to its resting place in the endless sea of white plastic boxes, but after a second of mulling her options, she grasped the edges and began walking with him back to her office.

When her world turned right side up again, she set herself on readjusting to a life of solitude. Just like Booth had. Booth would always be her friend. She wanted to continue to be partners with him for as long as she possibly could, even if he did cause her pain. A cup of coffee, occasionally. That was what they agreed to if they were no longer partners. And although seeing him happy made her happy, it also made her miserable. The only time she ever felt like herself was when she was working. The only time when her mind didn't wander, didn't rehash and relive the not only painful but embarrassing confrontations of the past month.

While she had identified several other remains this Christmas morning, the identification of this particular soldier still eluded her. Checking her phone, she silently calculated the amount of time she had been in the lab. Almost three days and she had no plans of heading home anytime soon. Reaching her desk, she placed the white box amongst the haphazardly strewn files, papers, and notes. She felt the exhaustion wash over her, the all familiar feeling of overtiredness began to nauseate her, incapacitate her, weaken her resolve. Her determination to work faded slightly, deciding that the need to bathe outweighed the desire to rest. She reached into one of the cabinets behind her desk, grabbed a towel and her 'emergency' hygiene kit. Lately, she had restocked this kit quite frequently, not to mention she had stopped purchasing the trial size toiletries, instead deciding to be more practical by purchasing the full-sizes. The decontamination shower was not meant to be used for general purposes, and typically, Brennan would not have used it. But, she had no desire to go home to her empty, near decoration-less apartment. Objectively, she knew that the celebration of this particular holiday was ludicrous. The anthropological side of her consoled her objective side. Holiday traditions are a fundamental part of cultures across the world, so the desire within her to conform and participate was valid.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, as it would do several times in the next few hours. Brennan ignored it for the moment, foolishly shutting her eyes as she meandered to the shower. The relief she felt as she closed her eyes was immense and she resisted the urge to fall asleep on the spot, shaking herself. Finally at her destination, she drew the curtains around the shower. It was a poor excuse for privacy, but knowing nobody, not even the security guards, would be walking the lab floor on Christmas Day, she confidently disrobed and stepped into the metal basin. She faced the nozzle and turned on the warm water, closing her eyes once again.

"I found out about you and Seeley. Your talk? How you... feel?"

"Booth told you? He shouldn't have done that."

Brennan felt a soft ache spread from her chest to her abdomen. She sighed angrily, displeased with her body's physiological response to emotional issues. The concept that emotions like love originate from the heart never made much sense to her, but the way her heart seemed to ache… the erroneous assumption seemed, felt, factual to her.

"What goes on between us, that should just be ours… Isn't that what you said?"

What they had, was no longer theirs. She lost that privilege, and rationally she understood that Booth had to tell Hannah. But a part of her wanted what they had to stay as hers, as his.

"Look, I want to give this a shot."

Their unspoken desire for more was gone. No clarification was needed, no further explanation. They had danced around each other for years, waiting, wanting, hoping. Sweets was aggravating, but he had been correct about many things between the partners.

"You mean us? No, the FBI won't let us work together as a couple"

She had never been happier than when she was with Booth. He made her laugh; he made her feel safe. Something about the way he looked at her made her want to lose herself in him, and she had never risked that before. Five years of happiness, of laughter, of metaphorically dancing around each other. She was too scared to lose that.

"No, don't do that, that is no reason."

Panic, anxiety, disbelief all crowded into one moment- she hadn't ever felt so scared. Scared to break his heart and scared to break her own. Scared to open herself up to suffering, scared to lose him, and scared to lose control over her personal happiness. It was unbearable. So she did what she always did when confronting things she feared. She allowed her head to win out over her heart.

She loved him. And she couldn't risk losing him.

But she did. The suffering she felt over the past year had been evidence of that. As the warm water cascaded around her, she bowed her head, letting the water mix with her own tears. She lost him.

That was her burden.

This was her regret.

The moment that she missed.

And now she had to be fine. Alone.

She remained in the shower until the warm water ran cold. The cool water sobered her, waking her from her thoughts. She shut the water off, redressed and made her way back to her office. Sitting in the hard metal chair, Temperance Brennan allowed the strain she felt on her back to fade away, appreciating just how comfortable it felt to be sitting. Her phone buzzed once more, and she decided to respond to the messages.

One from Max, one from Hannah, two from Angela, one from Russ, and one from Cam. Opening her Father's message, she blinked to force her eyes to focus.

'Merry Christmas, Honey. We should try to meet up for New Year's. How's your Christmas going? Off to another dig?'

Her delicate fingers slowly and deliberately typed out her response, focused on her wording.

'Merry Christmas, Dad. This year I have declined all invitations to digs even, though I received quite a few of them. I might go off to one at the start of the new year though, so I will have to wait to see on your request to meet up.'

She looked at the other notifications, begging for her attention. She half-wished she had taken her car and driven to Russ's house. It had been ages since she had seen her brother, and she wanted nothing more than to hug him and give him his gift in person. She tapped on his message, smiling at seeing him call her 'Tempe'.

'Merry X-mas Tempe.'

'Merry Christmas. Tell Amy and the girls that I wish them a Merry Christmas. Love you,' she replied.

'Love you too, and will do. Talk to you later,' His almost immediate reply made her smile happily, and her eyes teared up just a bit.

After replying to Cam and having a brief but cheery conversation with Angela on the phone, Brennan stared at the last message left. It stared back at her, daring her to open it. She placed the phone on her desk, desperately trying to convince herself to stand up and walk away from it. Her eyes wandered around her desk. The case files, the bones- any of them could have been a perfectly good distraction.

The last message. Hannah's.

It was a picture message. Opening the attachment, Brennan's felt the twinge in her chest. Booth's head was buried in Hannah's neck, holding her from behind, hugging her. Hannah held a small, gold flower pendant between her thumb and index finger.

'Look at the beautiful necklace Seeley got for me! I hope you're enjoying your x-mas Temperance!'

Brennan softly smiled, happy to see her partner happy. That did not stop her mind, or more technically, the amygdala portion of her brain, from triggering the same physiological responses she couldn't seem to avoid.

Powering down her phone, Brennan grabbed her keys and made her way out of the building. While going home was the last thing Brennan wanted to do, she needed to. Even with the shower, Brennan was highly aware that the lack of fresh clothing was doing very little for her hygiene.

She reached her apartment. She hadn't remembered the drive. Her eyes scanned the emptiness of her apartment, acutely aware of the silence that surrounded her and just how depressingly dinky the short little tree tucked away in the corner of her apartment was without the shiny lights and baubles. She changed clothes, packed a few extra outfits and drove back as quickly as she could.

Reviews are greatly appreciated and cherished. To the followers and favoriters of this story: if you have decided that you no longer wish to read, I want to thank you for helping and supporting me when I was a dumb lil kid that I barely knew how to write. Without your encouragement, I would have never come back and tried again.