A/N: This is kinda small and weird, but I decided to run it for CBPC's April challenge. I couldn't find out if what I'm proposing at the end is possible or not, so if it isn't, my deepest apologies to the DC area resident for taking some liberties there.

Xxx XXX xxX

It had been a bad day. Hell, it had been a bad week. And she didn't feel like looking back least she discover it had been a bad month, as well.

So yes, she had done her job. Yes, she had helped bring the bad guys to justice. Yes, she had helped give the unknown bodies a name and a place to rest in peace. And she had done it without shooting anyone in the process.

But she still felt funky. Bluesy. Depressed. Unbelievably sad without a real reason. Clinically she knew it wasn't a physical ailment, although it did seem to affect the way her body reacted to certain things, like craving more sleep, or double chocolate ice cream or… Booth.

She felt too overwrought to even go through the motions of pretending to be surprised by acknowledging her feelings towards him. After all that they've been through (Sullies and Cams included), after all that they've learned together (the words of Gordon Gordon Wyatt did come to mind every now and then), she had simply learned to accept the fact that she cared for him in something other than a partnerly fashion... Problem was, she was too tired to even try to do anything about it.

So there she was, sitting on the upstairs planks, dangling her feet like a school kid, overlooking the whole lab without looking at anything in particular… and wondered if this was what people referred to as "the blues". She didn't feel blue, or any other colour for that matter, but she could understand how people came to associate that specific colouring with that undefined sadness. She looked around, half expecting to hear a sax playing the first straining notes of a melancholic jazzy tune. But, alas, as adequate as it seemed, she didn't have such luck.

Her luck, however, did seem to wager towards other areas, and it wasn't long before she felt a body, a large male body, plopping down next to her with a groan. "A tad old to be sitting like this, don't you think? Especially when there's a nice sofa barely 3 feet away from here."

She half smiled at this. "Maybe. But if we sat in the sofas the whole point of sitting up here would be lost."

"Ah. So there is a point. Interesting. Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"There's no rest of the class Booth, it's just you and me."

"The class thing was a metaphor, you know."

"I did. Just thought I'd make you explain things for the sake of old times."

"Old times, huh? It's been barely 2 years and we're already talking old times? I guess time does have an unforgiving quality when it comes to it doing its job…"

They both sat in silence, enjoying each other's company. These rare lazy days in between cases were few and apart, and they could allow themselves to take it easy for the time being.

"I thought you had to do paperwork."

"Believe it or not, the In box is empty. I even managed to print the whole thing and drop it off at Cullen's desk before noon."

"No other cases?"

"Nope. Seems April is too nice a month to be whacking people off."

"I see."

"And you? No bodies in limbo waiting to be identified? No Etruscan mommy warriors in dire need of authentication?" She denied both suggestions using a head gesture. "No bones for Bones, then?"

She smiled again, and batted his shoulder.

"I'll take that as a no."

She sighed. He took a long deep breath that got released very slowly.

"You know, Bones, on the way up…"

"Up? Up where?"

"Up. You know…" he gestured with his hands, "here."

"Oh. This up here."

"Yes, this up here. Very good. Anyway, I saw you from below and I thought you looked kinda… blue." She opened her mouth but he held up a hand in a quieting motion. "I know, I know. The whole concept of "feeling blue" has no scientific bases yadda, yadda, yadda so therefore you don't understand what it means and my gut instinct cannot possibly tell you how you're feeling and…"

"Actually, Booth, I was going to agree with you."

He looked at her, surprised. "You were?"

"Well… yes. I mean, I'm not 100 sure I'm…" she air quoted her next words, "feeling "blue" as you so eloquently put it, but I'm indeed feeling somewhat… melancholic if you know what I mean."



"Hmm." Booth pretended to be deep in thought, "I know. Come on. Get up."

She did as told, but not without certain trepidation. "Up again? Up where now?"

"Well, since you and I are, for all practical effects, work free, I've decided to give us the rest of the day off. We need to work on your blue mood. And I know exactly how to do it."

He grabbed her hand and led her down the stairs, out of the building, and into his SUV. Brennan tried several times to pry on their destination, but Booth merely told her to "wait and see" and proceeded to ignore her, whistling and humming along with the radio. After a 20 minute ride out of the city, he turned off the road and into an unmarked dirt one.

Bones asked once more where they were going. Booth pointed to their right and she followed her gaze. Her eyes opened wide and a child-like smile broke on her face as the sight of huge, colour striped, hot air balloons filled the horizon.

"Are we really…?" she asked breathlessly

"Yes, Bones, we are on our way up."

Xxx XXX xxX

A/N: This is also part of a trilogy of shorts, LOOSELY based on Ryan Cabrera's "On the Way Down". The other two parts are at CSI ("On the Way Out") and CSI NY ("On the Way Down"). You don't need to read them to get this, but I'd really appreciate it if you venture into other fandoms and let me know what you think of my work there. Who knows? You might find something of your liking outside the Jeffersonian…

A/N2: Double chocolate chip cookies (the virtual ones that don't get you fat) to those of you who can catch the "payback wink" to "Just Hear Me Out"