[A/N: I had no plans to write a post-"Doctor in the Photo" fic, but this new Natasha Bedingfield song just screams the truth for Bones and Booth to me.

If you haven't heard it yet, go listen to "Try." The lyrics are simple yet absolutely breathtaking. It's eerie the timing of this song's release. It's like it came out to soothe my Doctor-in-the-Photo-wearied soul. This song says so eloquently that no matter how dark it gets, no matter how many times they screw it up, it's never too late.

Not when two people are really in love.

I don't own Bones, and I don't own this song—except the copy I legally downloaded and can't stop playing over and over again.

I owe an incredible debt of gratitude to blindassasin. She took time during her vacation to read what I've written and provided thoroughly helpful suggestions and amazing moral support. She is terrific!]

Try by Natasha Bedingfield

Don't throw it away just because it's broken
'Cause anything can mend
Don't call it a day just because the road's blocked
Doesn't mean we're at the end
If it's something you love, you don't leave it
If it's something you care for, you keep it

It's never too far, it's never too late
To tell someone "you're the only one"
And even if it's hard, it's never goodbye
If you love someone, then you try, try, try, try

Chapter 1

Going back to work and pretending that her world had never shifted had been difficult. But she was so regimented about her daily and case-based routines that Temperance was able to move through her workdays without any undue attention from those around her. The fact that nobody seemed to notice that her heart had been crushed seemed to lessen the burden somehow.

Sure, she'd put an added distance between herself and all of them immediately. She'd done so after Zach left. It seemed only natural that she'd insulate herself further now that she'd done the unthinkable and professed her feelings for her partner. Booth was her rock. The uncomfortable distance between them now reminded her that allowing herself to grow attached to people was dangerous. She still cared for her friends and her co-workers, but it was almost as if they'd gotten close enough. They were already close enough to hurt her. She could interact with them and care for them and be cared for by them as things stood. Why let them move any closer? Look what had happened with Booth...

Just thinking his name reduced her to a silent wistfulness. Despite the fact that it was ingrained in her near-photographic memory, she'd replayed their conversation in his SUV hundreds of times. Her shock when he'd first reminded her that he loved Hannah still sent her reeling every time, but now when she tried to view what had unfolded between them objectively, she saw little things—the tick of Booth's jaw, the way he glanced away and blinked his eyes, his sincere offer to find someone to be there to help her, and the unsteadiness of his voice as he let her know that he couldn't be that person.

On the surface, his response had seemed abrupt and not very heartfelt. But upon reflection, she realized that he'd simply done the best he could given the circumstance. He'd tried to be kind to her while being faithful to the woman he loved. She couldn't be angry with him for that.

She knew now how very badly she'd hurt him the previous year. She now clearly understood his discomfort when she'd gone forward both before and after her return from Maluku pretending that they were the same friends they'd always been. She respected him now for the strength of character she'd underestimated. He'd been her friend despite his wounds, despite the pain it had caused him. He'd tried so hard to be her friend—for her sake and at great personal cost.

She felt weak by comparison. Pretending to be content with only Booth's friendship would certainly be difficult. Once she'd opened her heart wide enough to invite Booth in, she'd been left with too much hollow, empty space and nothing to fill it. Dealing with that emptiness was proving to be even harder than learning to survive without her parents and her brother. Nobody in her family had ever been as close to her heart as her partner had. None of them had impacted her as positively as he had. They'd wounded her with good intentions but by choice, but Booth had never tried to hurt her. He'd opened her eyes to possibilities and hope and love she'd never dreamed existed. He'd helped her make great strides in healing those old wounds. The fact that he did not rush to share those opportunities with her now didn't diminish her gratitude to him.

So she'd try to move on and be happy that at least one of them had found requited love and happiness. Booth certainly deserved both. Perhaps witnessing his success through the lens of her failure would provide some level of comfort to her in her loneliness. Perhaps knowing that Booth, a similarly scarred and imperfect person, had found happiness would bolster her own hopes for future peace and companionship. Perhaps she could learn to accept the fact that she'd experienced the anthropologically significant experiences of loving someone and of being loved in return even though those emotions hadn't been part of the traditional long-term committed sexual relationship.

She felt certain that their friendship would withstand this storm. She was going to do everything she could to support Booth and to try to be genuinely happy for his happiness.

She loved him. She knew that she loved him now more than ever.

TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY… TRY…

Precisely three afternoons after Booth had saved her from the car that almost killed her and after she'd confessed her love and heard that he couldn't respond to it, Hannah had dropped by her office unexpectedly.

Brennan cringed internally. She'd ached for more time to compose herself and to adapt to her revised expectations before dealing with the object of Booth's affections. She'd planned to avoid both of them for weeks, if possible. Sadly, she realized that she'd have to do this the hard way.

"Hello, Hannah," she said with as large a smile as she could muster when she heard her new friend knock on the door to her office.

"Hi, Temperance," Hannah said softly, taking the greeting as an invitation to enter the space. "How's your day?"

Temperance called upon her self-discipline and spoke frankly and with enthusiasm so as to evoke the image of one who was perfectly at ease, "I'm fine. Working on a set of Civil War remains. I enjoy the challenge of trying to determine which army the soldier joined and reviewing the other records to find out if he had brothers who also died in that war. On occasion, I've encountered remains of two brothers buried together in uniforms of the opposing armies. Fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"

"Much of your work is fascinating, Temperance. I envy you the fact that you can apply your passion in so many diverse ways—chasing the bad guys with Booth in the field, interrogating suspects, examining the evidence, writing books and traveling."

"As we've discussed on several occasions, your job affords many similar experiences and opportunities. I would not be as adept at reaching an audience to inform them about current events and news stories. You have a talent for taking your listeners and readers directly to the heart of the matter. I admire that capability."

"Thank you, Temperance. We should form a mutual admiration society or something. Seeley can be a charter member."

Brennan bristled at the suggestion for reasons she chose not to voice, "I think that our brilliance and success and our support of one another's excellence need not be anchored to any man—even to one as admirable as Booth."

"Point well taken."

"Was there a reason that you came by, Hannah? I don't mean to be rude, but I do have a significant amount of work to do here at the office."

"Yes, there was a reason. I was wondering if you've talked to my boyfriend today. He's been extremely quiet and distant since you guys finished the case a few days ago, and I can't seem to shake him out of his mood."

Only with extreme care was Brennan able to hide her discomfort. "I haven't spoken with him today. Booth often rallies soon after a dark mood hits. I find that it's best to let him work through what's troubling him. He will recover more quickly that way. I wouldn't worry about him."

"Thanks for the advice. I do trust your judgment, but I am worried about him. Something has been... different... this week. Would you mind checking in on him? Did something happen on the case? I thought you guys wrapped it up."

Temperance swallowed almost imperceptibly before speaking. Her mouth was exceedingly dry, "I'm sure that Booth would resent it if I checked up on him."

"Well, why don't you join us tonight at Founding Fathers for a drink? You two didn't have a chance to toast your latest case. If you don't mind me being there for your post-case ritual, I think we can team up on Seeley and cheer him up. It's almost the holidays. I hate to see him down this time of year."

Brennan tried repeatedly to avoid it, but she somehow found herself agreeing to have drinks with the man she loved and his lover. She knew that seeing Booth again would be terrifying and painful, and she suspected that having that meeting in front of Hannah was the worst possible idea. Yet, she had allowed the persuasive woman to convince her to join them for a drink. Even worse, she'd allowed Hannah to convince her to surprise Booth at the bar. Brennan had been too dumbfounded considering the possibility to respond before Hannah bolted from her office content with her plans.

One drink. She was leaving after one drink. She was his friend; she should help cheer him up. That's what friends do. She'd just have one drink and assure herself that he was fine. Then she'd pick up a bottle of something on the way home and dull her own heartache in private.