Let's pay a visit now, to some of our favorite Squints; let's see what they've decided to do with their holiday. It's a tour, you see, and much like the Ghosts of Christmas past, you'll be flying over the houses of Washington, observing, laughing, smiling, and perhaps shedding a tear or two.

The first house you come to has only two people. A middle-aged woman sits at a small but tasteful table in her dining room with her teenage daughter. A radio plays in the background, Christmas carols flowing out and filling the empty cracks that are so often seen in this house. For once, all stress about boyfriends and college applications is forgotten, and Michelle and her almost-stepmother can simply spend the day together and enjoy what they have; a bond that, no matter how fragile it may seem, is strong as the love between any mother and daughter.

Next comes a decent-sized apartment. You step through the rooms but turn around quickly when you see a normally-composed young psychologist and his not-so-composed girlfriend… erm… letting their hormones rage.

You quietly step out and zoom through the ice-cold skies, arriving at a place that can't be described as a house – honestly, it's more like a McMansion. A movie is up on the giant plasma TV in the den, but neither of the two inhabitants of the house are doing much watching. Instead, they're making out like a couple of teenagers on the couch. Occasionally they're interrupted by a kick coming from inside the artist's womb.

She laughs, and it sounds like a tinkling bell, like a the happiness that comes with the holidays, with becoming a mom. "She kicks like a linebacker," she whispers to her husband.

He smirks. "What makes you so sure it's a girl?" he asks slyly.

"Do you really think I could deal with mini-Hodgins?" she asks, deadpan. His face falls for a second before he realizes the comment for what it is.

"You're joking," he realizes, and he gives her now obviously pregnant belly a gentle kiss and, despite their difference in height, moves her and Elmo (as they've named the bun in the oven) to sit in his lap and actually enjoy the Christmas movie playing on the screen.

The next destination is a surprise to you, and provides you with the most perspective on this holiday season. A man sits in a small room that contains only a twin bed, desk, and chair. With his shaggy hair, inpatient's uniform, and gloves covering his forever scarred hands, Zack Addy looks worse for wear but is fully enjoying the gifts that managed to get smuggled in to him by Sweets. Between the card from Angela asking for an opinion on her baby's name, a Sudoku book from Cam, a new reading on non-threatening conspiracy theories from Hodgins, and the visits he'd gotten from the remainder of his friends, he's been left feeling happy but very confused. Especially when you learn what his favorite person in the world had said to him.

Because, of course, you can read minds, you vaguely realize.

"Zack," Dr. Brennan (he will always think of her as Dr. Brennan) said, "there are people in this word that care about you very, very much. I know that sometimes, your extensive scientific vocabulary and exemplary reasoning skills in the world of inanimate objects prevent you from fully articulating your affection for those you've shown some affection towards in the past, but do not let this prevent you from letting them know the full scale of your appreciation for them."

He sat there, confused. "But I thought that love and affection were just caused by chemicals, which therefore prevent us from being in our right mind."

To his dread, it seemed to trigger an emotional and bodily response in Dr. Brennan. She quivered a little, tears coming to her eyes. "I've learned that that isn't always the case, Zack. I was wrong. About everything."

He frowned slightly. "I don't know what that means."

"I messed up my chance to be happy," she said, touching his gloved hand tenderly as she reached across the table. "I missed my chance with Booth."

Now she had his attention. "To be romantically involved with Agent Booth?"

She sighed. It was silent for a few minutes. She mumbled something under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

She mouthed silently, "I love him." To Zack, however, she said, "Never mind, Zack. It doesn't matter. I just want to make sure that the hospital is providing you adequate care that suits your needs." She stood up and did a very strange thing, walking around the table and giving her intern a quick kiss on the forehead. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Addy."

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Brennan," he now says to himself. And though he can't see the emptiness in her eyes as she sits numbly on the couch, with only her father there to stroke her face, though he cannot comprehend the look in Booth's eyes as he watches his girlfriend and his son try to get along, he suddenly has an epiphany, an odd moment of insight, a moment of clarity for the first time in three years.

And so this is the Christmas card that is meant for Seeley Booth, but that Hannah has had the pleasure of opening:

Dear Agent Booth,

You are a far bigger idiot than I ever thought was possible. You let Dr. Brennan escape from you (I'm not sure I have the phrasing correct, but my body is experiencing too much anger to care), and you have reduced the reliability of her empirical thinking. Most importantly, you hurt her, and I simply do not understand why anyone would do that to her.

I know that religion is obsolete and there is no such thing as Santa Claus, but a juvenile part of me still hopes that you receive a piece of coal in your proverbial stocking this season.

Merry Christmas from your "best buddy".

Zack