A/N: I swear, I am going to finish this list.

Smile

There wasn't anything unusual about the knock on the door, aside from the simple fact that the man on the other side shouldn't have to knock on his own door. The sound made the pit of Brennan's stomach ache. Not because she was worried about Booth coming over to spend time with Christine, but because this whole scenario was even necessary.

She felt guilty. Even knowing she was right to do what she had done, even when Aubrey and Cam and even Angela told her she had done what needed to be done…it ate at her. And then she got angry all over again, blaming him for her guilt. And then she would feel bad for feeling angry and the cycle would start again and she was just so damn tired of the entire thing.

When Christine raced by her, her cry of "Daddy!" following the creak of the door and her husband's greeting of "Hey, sweetheart." Brennan had the irrational urge to turn and hide in their bedroom. They had barely spoken at work and the constant phone calls between them during the day had all but stopped unless they were case-related, so she worried that they were going to be uncomfortable and odd in front of their daughter.

But, despite the situation, despite everything, he was still Booth and she found immeasurable comfort in that fact as he lifted Christine into his arms and smiled at Brennan. "Hey, Bones."

"Hi, Booth." She stepped forward and accepted his kiss on her cheek. "Christine missed you, very much." She swallowed reflexively. "We- we've missed you."

Booth pulled his daughter closer into his body with one arm and reached, almost plaintively, for his wife with the other. She leaned into him, reveling in his clean, uncomplicated scent and easy strength. Strength she knew he had been missing since long before his relapse, at least as long as Sweets had been gone.

Christine broke the moment, chattering about something she had made at school that she wanted to show her father. Booth set her down and sent her to get whatever it was she was so excited about, taking the little girl's enthusiasm in with a small grin. When she was out of sight, he turned and took Brennan's hands in his, sudden tears in his eyes shocking Brennan into silence.

"Thank you, Bones." His breath hitched a bit on her name, and the tightness that spread from her chest to her throat was hard to fight as she struggled to answer him.

"Booth…you know I would never keep you from Christine."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "No. I mean, yes. I know that. But, what I needed to thank you for was…" He pulled her into his arms suddenly, and her arms locked around his body automatically, fisting his shirt in her hands. He leaned into her shoulder, his warm breath so damp and comforting on her neck. "I need to thank you for kicking me out."

Brennan pulled back in surprise, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "Booth, I-"

"No. No, Bones. You did the right thing. I was messed up, and I lied to you. Right to your face." His breath shuddered a bit as he paused, almost painfully. "And I wasn't even concerned about that asshole Jimmy showing up here, threatening you and Christine. I was only worried about covering my own ass. But…you did the right thing, the hard thing. And it was the kick in the butt I needed." He reached up and swiped at the tear that slid down her face with his thumb. "I'm so sorry, Bones. But you need to know, I'm getting straightened out. I realize that you have no reason to believe me, and that you always need proof, so I'm working on giving you that. Okay?" She nodded. "I don't expect anything resembling faith and trust from you, I don't deserve that. But you do deserve to know that what you did…it…"

Brennan mirrored Booth's earlier action, reaching up to wipe his own tears away.

"What you did, Bones…you saved me." He pulled her into his embrace one more time. "And I just wanted you to know that."

They both pulled back when Christine ran back into the room, waving a picture she had painted earlier in the week, and Booth crouched down to shower praise on their daughter as Brennan watched. She took the short opportunity to observe her husband objectively. Before, when he was fully in the grip of his addiction, he had been unshaven, tired-looking and often distant. But now, he looked…calmer. More centered. Relaxed, engaged, and as close to happy as she had ever seen him. That was the beginning of the proof that he insisted she needed.

And the ache in the pit of her stomach began to ease, just a little. And she smiled.