Disclaimer: Trust me, even if I did own them, these scenes would be on the cutting room floor.

"This was a big… huge…gigantic…gargantuan…colossal…enormous…mammoth…humungous…immense mistake!"

As Bones said each word, another piece of clothing fell roughly into her bag. Booth watched her from the chair she had pushed him into, mouth open. Everything was so good. Yesterday. Now on the day before they were supposed to return home to their lives, she was talking about a divorce. They had only been married three weeks! And he had liked those three weeks. They had become the best three weeks of his life.

"WHY?' he wanted to know.

"Isn't it obvious, Booth? You and I got caught up in the fantasy that can never be carried over into the real world. We are partners, nothing else. We cannot go on pretending that this will work anywhere outside this hotel."

"It worked on that submarine tour," he said stupidly. She shot him a look that almost melted his sneakers.

"You know what I mean. We can't be married, Booth. We barely tolerate each other normally. We have a difference in opinion when it comes to every little thing. And I don't want to be married."

Oh, REALLY? "You could have told me that three weeks ago when I asked you, Bones."

"Nobody asked you to ask me. We made a wrong decision under the influence and we need to accept it for what it is."

Accept it for what it is???

He was angry now. What had gone wrong in the twenty minutes that she had stepped out of the room? He got up, turned her to him, kissed the daylight out of her and looked into her eyes, as much to see if any bit of the immense passion he had seen there when they had woken up this morning was left as to look if this was really Dr. Temperance Brennan, the woman he had married and then regretted marrying and then decided he didn't regret marrying and then had a serious talk with and then realized he couldn't live without anyway, so they might as well make it legal. He stared into he pretty eyes, the ones he knew were stars and not normal eyes, and looked to find his Bones.

Her eyebrows knitted together, and she shook out of his embrace.

"I'm going to my room. We can discuss this later at dinner."

She took up her bag and hightailed it out of the room, the Converse sneakers he had lent her to go to the lobby squeaking painfully as she turned the corner.

If the sneakers were crying out in pain, you could imagine how Booth felt.

Well, it obviously was simple logic.

They had made a mistake getting married, but it felt like the thing to do after a bottle of Appleton Jamaica Rum each and a make out session in a movie theatre. He had said 'I love you' so many times, she blurted, "Well, since you love me so much, why don't you just marry me?"

"Yeah, you're right. Why not?" he replied.

And they went and did it.

It was embarrassing to think that that night when he had showed up to dinner in a blue shirt open at the collar, and dress pants that fit him perfectly to ask her if she was willing to give their marriage a try, she actually said yes. She knew it wouldn't work! Of course it wouldn't work. She was terrible at relationships, how much of a difference would a marriage make? She ignored the tears that sprung to her eyes as she remembered pushing him away when he had came too close, invading her personal space like he always did, and her heart had started to hurt. She had to do it, she reminded herself. Just rip it off like a band-aid. Rip it, Temperance! He'll go on, and so will you.

Yes, exactly. He will go on, and when he was back in D.C, he will have some time to think, clear his head. And he'll realize it was a mistake too.

She sighed as she opened the door and looked at the room she hadn't been in for the last three weeks.

She would miss the sex an awful lot though.

"Can I have my sneakers back?"

She looked at him in shock, "That's the first thing you have to say to me?"

He looked at her across the table. Dammit if she didn't look perfect. She had on that light cotton blue spaghetti-strap dress he liked, her hair was in her serious-analyzing-skeletal-remains ponytail tied with a piece of blue ribbon, and the bracelet he had bought her the day they went to the craft market. It had large blue stones on it, interspaced with smaller red ones. Good times. Only two days ago.

"I want them back. You keep wearing them."

"They're comfortable."

"Well, get your own, Bones. I'm taking custody of the sneakers."

"Yeah. This is a divorce negotiation, isn't it?"

He wondered if he imagined the pained look on her face. She didn't speak for a moment.

"Yes. It is."

"Well, you can't keep the communal sneakers. They're mine."

"Okay," she looked down at her Noni Rolls, the one she told him she wanted to carry home the chef to make for her. He had told her he could fill that void, because he would make her anything she wanted when they were back home. Too bad that was all over.

"Well, then since this is a divorce negotiation, I would like to ask you something I feel is important," she said her eyes still on the vegetable wrap.

What like "Don't make me end our marriage by being Little Miss Non-Committal?" "What?"

"We shouldn't tell anyone about this mistake. I hope you feel the same."

He had thought she felt the same when he had asked her to help him make their marriage work, but now…

"About what?"

"About the fact that nobody needs to know about this. We keep it to ourselves until the divorce is final."

"Whatever," he took up his beer and swigged down the feeling of loss that suddenly came over him. He wanted to shout, You're a complete wuss, Temperance Booth! You can't stick out this marriage because you got no BALLS! If you had any you would admit you want to stop this as much as I do, which is not at all! But he didn't say it. Why? Because he had gotten into the habit of giving her every damn thing she wanted. He never ever denied her a thing, except a gun, and if she hadn't gone and gotten herself one (which she couldn't handle) he would have eventually caved. Crap. He really had to reprioritize after this.

"Booth, I've gotten a different plane ticket. I'll be going home a little earlier than you tomorrow. Okay?"

"I want my socks back too."

She looked at him, a little bit peeved that he ignored her, "What socks?"

"My blue and black pair. You have them."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do. They were on the bed and you scooped them up with your stuff."

"I'll return them tomorrow before I leave."

"Don't bother. I'll be asleep." He got up, sick to his stomach that he wanted to kiss her so bad at a time like this, and walked away. He could feel her staring at his back. But he didn't care.

Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back!

He looked back and saw her staring at him, mouth open.

"I bet you'll like paying me alimony. Make you feel powerful, huh?" he said, sounding like a jackass.

"You okay?'

It was the third time Angela had asked her that in the time she took to get from the airport to Brennan's apartment. Honestly it was annoying.

"I'm fine. Why do you keep asking?"

"Because you got teary eyed when I asked whose sneakers are these. That is not normal Temperance Brennan behaviour."

Oh, shut up, Brennan thought rudely. But she had to remember that Angela didn't know anything about her imminent divorce. In her world there were still white clouds and rainbows. She still thought the sky was blue and the grass was green.

She needed to step into Dr. Brennan World. Everything there was an eerie grey.

"I'm just a little off my bearing, that's all. I didn't have a good a time as I hoped to."

"So, no nooky with Booth then?"

Brennan breathed a sigh. Booth. He was even torturing her with his absence.

"No, Ange," she lied.

"Gosh I wish you two would see what I see. You're made for each other! I can't believe it. You went on vacation with a hot guy like Booth and nothing happened? That is what I call self restraint."

What would you call marrying said hot guy and imitating rabbits for the next three weeks? Temperance wanted to know. She didn't ask out loud though. She just continued unpacking.

Memories of her soon-to-be ex-husband hit her from all sides. The damn communal Converse sneakers. The bracelet he bought her. Her last minute wedding dress. That one she threw into the garbage because she could never wear it again. Angela took it out.

"Why are you throwing this away? It's so pretty."

"I don't need it anymore," was the first lie that sprung to her head to tell her. She looked at the bright red cotton dress. It still had the stain of rum that Booth had spilled on her.

"You can give it to me."

"Take it," she said, going to put her folded tops in the drawer. Angela was staring at her back.

"Bren, what's wrong?" she asked, "You can tell me."

Angela would not stop asking until she got an answer, Temperance knew. So she told her the half truth.

"I got involved with somebody. He and I decided to amicably end it, and I'm just feeling some residual grief at the moment. I'll get over it."

"Oh sweetie!" Angela dropped the dress and wrapped her arms around her best friend, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Bother me! Are you kidding? You're heartbroken, you need comfort. I'm your best friend. That's what I'm here for. Now stop unpacking, go lie down on the couch, I'll go take out the chocolate cake from the fridge, and you will tell me everything that happened, okay?"

She had her chin on Angela's shoulder, and a little of her best friend's sunshine and roses came seeping in. It felt good.

"Sure," she replied.

Talking to Angela did actually make her feel better. All through the weekend, she conducted life normally; eating, sleeping, working. She even went to the diner, though in the back of her mind, she was looking for a glimpse of brown hair and chocolate eyes.

Then Monday came.

As she opened her eyes, she immediately squeezed them shut. No! Not Monday! She didn't want to go back to work. She didn't want the opportunity to see him. She didn't want to see the face that had been in her dreams all weekend long. His dark loving eyes filled with disdain at the sight of her, as they would most likely be now that she had asked for a divorce. She sat up, willed herself out of the blankets, put her feet on the floor and immediately started searching for the Converse sneakers. His sneakers. Dammit, they were her sneakers now. He wasn't getting them back.

She went about her morning routine methodically, her brain on Auto Pilot. All the time she was thinking she didn't want to go. What if he came in with a case? What would she do then? Tell him to bring Zach with him to the field? Tell him that their partnership was over in all senses of the phrase? Kiss him brainless and say that she wished it were different, that she was different, but it would never work and he had to understand that? She didn't know. Hopefully he would have the sense to stay away for as long as possible.

She dressed a little fancier than she normally would have in a knee-length grey skirt, white blouse with short sleeves, a black vest that scooped low, her onyx necklace and black pumps that had silver tone heels. She looked like she was going to a book signing instead of work, but it felt important to dress up today, maybe to let her feel a bit better when all she wanted to do was mope.

She walked into the lab, receiving greetings of 'Welcome back' all around. She took them all gracefully.

Hodgins came up to her and placed her in a big bear hug.

"Hey, welcome back, Dr. Brennan. You look great. Do you need anything? I can get it for you. A cup of coffee or maybe some…"

Temperance looked past him at Angela, "You told him?"

Angela held her head down, "He can read me like a book Bren. He knew something was up before I could even say 'Hello'."

"I'm perfectly fine, Hodgins. I don't need anything, especially not your sympathy. All I need is to get back to work. Is that clear?"

"But Bren, you still need to vent. I can tell you wanna cry. But you didn't even drop one tear when we were talking. Honey it's all a part of the healing process." Angela's concern was written all over her face.

"Angela, I assure you, I'm fine. Where's Cam?"

Hodgins pointed, "Over there talking to Booth."

Booth? He was here already? Her dreams of having a nice Booth-free day went down the drain. She sighed.

"Tell her I'm in my office." She walked in the opposite direction to where Hodgins was pointing.

"You're not fooling me, Seely."

"Fooling you that what?" he said with the biggest charm smile he could muster on his face.

"You are never even on a normal basis this jovial. That means you're sad, and are trying to hide it."

"What kind of screwed logic is that?" he asked her. Even if it were true.

The look on her face said, Your face is an open book, jackass.

"Spill. Now." She folded her arms.

Well he couldn't tell her the truth could he? That he and Bones had spent their vacation in wedded bliss and that was now prematurely ended. That he now had a void in his chest as big as the Grand Canyon because he wanted to go into his wife's office and shake some sense into her, then tell the whole damn world that he Agent Seeley Booth had married Dr. Temperance Brennan and he had the documents to prove it. Now he had to keep all that secret.

"I didn't have as good a vacation as I thought I would," he half lied, "It was a little stressful."

"What did you do?"

"Basically, I got myself in a lot of trouble-not with the law," he added when he saw the look on her face, "With…"

"A woman," she finished.

He couldn't deny that, "Yes," he sighed.

She shook her head, "Of course. You okay?"

Yes," he lied again. He didn't want Cam and her form of help, which usually involved telling him in various ways to suck it up. Usually it worked, but this time he didn't want to suck it up. He wanted his wife back.

"Well I'm here if you wanna talk."

"Sure." He walked away, "You know if Bones is here yet?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Gotta talk to her." He went in the direction of his wife's office.

Had she felt him there? She didn't know if that was what it was, but as he came in she raised her head from the computer screen. He stopped and looked at her. And he smiled.


"Bones," he said, "how are you?"

"Um, Booth? I have not changed my mind. You and I are getting a divorce." It was necessary to make sure he didn't think there was any chance of her changing her mind. Even though right now the sight of him in his suit was doing funny things to her belly.

He sighed and his face fell, "You know you're cruel."

"Cruel?" she asked as he locked the door to make sure nobody overheard this particular conversation.

"Yes. You're acting like the last three weeks didn't mean anything to you too. You love me Bones, and you want to stay married. You're just making your little insecurities guide your decisions."

"Are you sure it isn't you who has this wrong Booth? It couldn't possibly be your sense of obligation brought on by your religious conviction that makes you want to stay married to me? Huh? You want to stay married because it was drilled into your head that you must stay in a marriage for as long as possible, even till death? Well, Booth, I don't have the rest of my life to regret this particular mistake."

"You keep calling it a mistake."

"That is what it is."

"Bones, why don't you want to stay married? Tell me. We can try to work it out together, anything…"


"Because it was ridiculous!" she got up, "We were thinking irrationally. We deceived ourselves into believing that we could carry over a silly fantasy into real life. But we cannot. We are in no way compatible. We have different value systems. We work together as well. I've seen studies where married couples who work together often have more problems in their marriage than those who don't."

"You and I have never been in a study Bones," said Booth, "And speaking of being partners, that doesn't change, does it?"

It hadn't even occurred to her, "No. Why, do you want to stop being my partner?"

"I don't want to stop being your partner. I don't want to stop being your husband either."

"But you have to." Her voice quieted as he came closer. He was going to touch her. Hopefully, he'd touch her. Please, please, please…

"I still don't get why all of a sudden you think that you and I are polar opposites."

"We are Booth," she licked her lips in anticipation. He was in her face, like he usually was. She felt her feet move her body instinctively towards his. Actually she didn't realize it until her hands touched chest and she realized what she was doing.

"But we complement each other, Bones. We complete each other. You said that."

"I also said as partners," her hands were going up his chest and his hands were at her waist. He pulled her sharply forward.

"As my son would say, Bones, liar liar, pants on fire. "

"What the hell does that…" she shut up as his lips touched hers.

This changes nothing." Brennan said as she readjusted her skirt. Booth was wiping lipstick off his mouth.


''I'm sure that soon you'll see it the way I do. You're not looking at it logically yet, but you will."

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "We just had sex in your office."

A shiver ran down her spine, "I know that. I was there. What I'm trying to tell you is that we cannot make our impromptu marriage work now that we're back in D.C. We need to get a divorce. That is why I've taken the initiative of contacting my lawyer."

"And that is also why I've called Sweets," he smiled at her, making her heart race, "He is going to counsel us through our divorce."

"You told Sweets!" she exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder, "I asked you not to tell anyone! "

"He wants to meet with us tomorrow," he said as he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She couldn't believe that her tummy fluttered each time he did that over the last three weeks.

"Why would you want to go to counseling after only three weeks of marriage?" she asked him as his mouth travelled along her neck and his hand along her thigh.

"Because you and I have very different opinions as to how this marriage should go. You want to stop something that could be so good. Can't you see how good we could be together, Bones?"

"We have sexual compatibility, that is obvious, but to say we would be compatible in a marriage would be far fetched…Booth, stop."

He ignored her request, continuing his exploration of her thigh.

"You're not keeping my sneakers."

"But I like them."

"Correction, honey, you love them."

"Why can't I keep them?"

"They can't even fit you properly. On you they look like clown shoes."

"Cute clown shoes," she breathed. His hand was still conducting an expedition of under her skirt.

He chuckled, "You just can't admit to yourself that you don't wanna leave me."

"What does that have to do with your sneakers?'

"Everything, Bones. Every single thing."

 Darn it. That didn't come out as planned. But whatever.

Ha ha! Bet nobody has ever done a divorce story about Bones before! I'm the first most likely.

And yes, people, the sneakers are symbolic. They symbolize how Brennan really feels and her emotional attachment to Booth. She wants to be with Booth, but because of the fact that she thinks everyone she loves will eventually leave, she tries to push him away before he does. I'll try to make it a little happier next time. Review now please.