Buried with the Bones

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Imagine if Booth and Brennan never met. The exhumation of a cold case introduces Booth to Dr. Temperance Brennan, but not quite in the way you think. If you believe in fate, somehow might they get a second chance? Very AU.

Epilogue – What Their Efforts Wrought

"I feel as if I have swallowed an inflated sports ball that is metaphorically bouncing around the inside of my abdominal cavity and won't stop rattling around," Brennan said miserably.

Sitting on Janie Lutrell's couch, her feet propped up on a pillow on the coffee table, her hands rested lightly around the bulge of her distended stomach. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, while Brennan had barely cared enough to pull her long hair into a messy pony tail that hung low at the back of her neck. Brennan had only messed with her hair by pure necessity, as the heat of the early July morning had already begun to stifle her, and it required her to secure it somehow to give her some relief. These days, as her pregnancy marched towards its evitable conclusion, Brennan was reluctant to move very much. In fact, Brennan had only left her apartment because she didn't want Janie to be by herself. In the seven months since the wife of Booth's best friend had worked so hard to befriend her, so much had changed for both women. Instead of meeting Booth, six months from the day as she had promised at the airport, Brennan had been faced with another promise to keep. Not quite ten weeks into their separation, both Janie and Brennan had received a call that no loved one wants to get while their family members are deployed. The very bad news was that both Hank and Booth had sustained critical injuries, due to an IED going off while they were on the ground on a mission in Kosovo. The very good news was that Booth was the one who had made the calls to both Brennan and Janie to inform them. While Booth's injuries would require some time to heal and recover in the best medical hospitals that the US Army had to offer, of the two, it was actually Hank who had been hurt the most. Janie had taken the news of Hank's injury several months before in a type of graceful shock.

While Brennan had not been able to support her much in the time before Janie had left DC for Ramstein Airbase in Germany, the place to which he had been transferred after the IED had injured her husband in Kosovo in March, it wasn't because of any lack of trying on her part. However, at four months into her unexpected and unplanned pregnancy with Booth's child, Brennan was in no fit state to travel. She had spent the majority of the weeks at the end of her first trimester, and the beginning of the second trimester, in a state of extreme dehydration. The morning sickness had hit her particularly hard, and for several weeks, there wasn't much of anything Brennan was physically capable of doing until it passed. While it hadn't been critical enough to necessitate her hospitalization, it did incapacitate Brennan to the point that she couldn't do much more than emotionally support her friend in-between alternate sessions of retching and dry heaving. Even still, Brennan had only ceased in her efforts to accompany Janie when a sharply worded telephone call from Booth reminded her that above all else, her health and the baby's health needed to be of paramount importance. He was fine, or would be fine, he told her vaguely, as he then gently made her promise that she wouldn't try to come to Germany.

Brennan had been passed out on her apartment couch the day she received that phone call, staring miserably at the ceiling, an empty suitcase dragged from the closet laying in front of her. It had taken all her energy and effort to merely retrieve the suitcase from her closet, and Brennan wasn't sure how she was going to actually accomplish the goals of packing and traveling to the airport once she felt the familiar first signs of a new wave of nausea wash over her. Knocked out by a particularly intense round of morning sickness, Brennan had haphazardly discarded the suitcase as soon as she felt the onset of the intense and uncontrollable desire to throw up was upon her. She also knew, by that point, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her only choice was to let nature take its course, and such an inevitability frustrated Brennan more than she could actually convey to anyone. Her life had changed intensely since Booth's departure, the progression of her pregnancy changing her body, being only the most obvious of them.

The morning sickness had eventually resulted her taking a temporary medical leave from the Jeffersonian - a place where everyone had been flabbergasted when she announced that she was pregnant. However, Brennan had hired a promising intern, a young undergraduate from Michigan named Zack Addy, and he had kept her informed of the progress of their osteological investigations by both phone and email. She smiled slightly as she thought of Hodgins' terse response to her intern. It had been quite entertaining to see the entomologist react to the introduction of a new team member, but any amusement was quickly pushed aside by another wave of nausea.

The fetus seemed ambivalent about allowing her body to be pacified with any homeopathic remedy, ranging from saltines to herbal tea brewed from ginger root. She had eschewed some of the pharmaceutical options that her OB/GYN had offered her, with a fear of birth defects weighing heavily in her decision, as they were a fear that manifested themselves prominently in Brennan's overactive imagination. Instead, she had decided to deal with the issue using her mind and pure will power alone. On the day of Janie's departure, Brennan mentally cursed herself for thinking she could pull off such an incredible feat. And, it was on that day that Dr. Temperance Brennan finally learned one lesson she never believed she'd submit herself to believing in - humility. Simply put, the fetus had proved to her once and for all, there were certain situations where her superior intellect made no difference in the inevitable outcome of said situation. The pregnancy, a great equalizer, had shown Brennan that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, sometimes she couldn't make her body do what her brain wanted it to do just by sheer determination alone. Tired, dehydrated, frustrated, scared, and in a generally unhappy mood, it was in that mindset that Booth's unexpected telephone call had reached Brennan.

As they talked, once again, he felt horrible for not being able to be there for her, and Booth felt humbled for what she was putting herself through both for and because of him - both in what the pregnancy was doing to her body and what she was putting herself through in trying to accompany Janie to Germany. Ultimately, through the tear-wrecked sobs of Brennan's emotional side of the conversation - no doubt made worse by her fluxuating hormones - Booth had finally convinced Brennan that he would take care of Janie. All he asked of Brennan was that she take care of herself and the baby. Reluctantly, she had agreed, and after the phone call - perhaps as a providential sign, as Booth would say - for the first time in as long as she could remember, Brennan didn't want to throw up.

So, unfortunately, for her friend, Janie had to go to Germany herself to confront the possibility that her husband might not wake up from the coma into which he had fallen after the accident. But, fortunately, for her friend, when Janie did get to Germany, she wouldn't be alone. Booth would be there waiting for her. That fact brought Brennan calm reassurance on several levels. Booth and Brennan had talked several times in the aftermath of the explosion, and while he no doubt downplayed the extent of his own injuries, Brennan knew that if he was conscious and able to speak with her that he couldn't be injured *that* badly. And, so reluctantly, Brennan said goodbye to her friend when Janie stopped by Brennan's apartment en route to the airport. Perhaps because it offered her a welcome distraction, Janie had helped Brennan into bed before she returned her suitcase to the apartment closet and checked on her one last time before she gave her a hug goodbye.

Janie had returned from Ramstein two weeks later, alone, but with the welcome knowledge that Hank had awoken from his coma. It was a comfort to know her husband was alive and not suffering from brain damage, but the month of March hadn't ended without the Lutrells suffering one final bombshell – yes, Hank had woken up from his coma. But, once he had woken up, Hank couldn't feel his legs anymore. The surgeons and neurologists were uncertain if the paralysis was temporary or permanent. By the end of the month, Hank and Janie had been given what seemed to be a fairly common prognosis by the best surgeons and physicians in the employ of the US Army – baring a miracle, the paralysis seemed to be permanent.

In the months since Janie had reluctantly left her husband in the care of the US Army and returned to the States at the beginning of April, Hank remained at Ramstein in anticipation of being sent stateside to receive long-term care and physical therapy once his condition stabilized enough for him to travel. Although it was never made clear to either Janie or Brennan how such a thing occurred - or was even allowed for that matter - Booth remained by Hank's side the entire time.

Thus, April slowly melted away into the heat of May, and with the coming of the summer heat, Brennan's horrible morning sickness had also finally disappeared. Feeling the best she had in many months, as Memorial Day approached, Brennan was blooming with health. She had a typical pregnant glow about her when she finally returned to the lab to work for the last few weeks of her second trimester. And, while she kept in frequent contact with Booth by telephone and email - almost every other day at the very least - it soon became clear that Brennan would be able to keep her promise to meet Booth at the airport on the day she had promised because he wouldn't be there to be greeted in the first place. Slightly frustrated at her inability to figure out when he would be allowed to return home, eventually as her due date approached, Brennan kept a silent hope that maybe, just *maybe* he might be back in DC before she delivered the baby.

In the meantime, Brennan - her health now allowing her to reciprocate for the care and attention Janie had show her in the first few weeks after Hank and Booth had left in December - went through the experience that was quite common to many expectant mothers. And, Janie went through it with her in everything from going shopping for maternity wear and baby clothes, to painting the nursery a pale purple color when she reluctantly promised Booth that they would wait to find out the baby's sex, to going to Lamaze classes in preparation of the delivery. Janie was there for Brennan each step of the way - and then some. Acting as a surrogate for Booth, she was the one who often appeared at Brennan's door with the requisite bag of French fries (with extra salt), pints of chocolate fudge ice cream, or, perhaps most difficult of all for Brennan to deal with, copious slices of apple cinnamon pie from Booth's diner. Yes, Janie appeared dutifully each time when the pregnancy cravings started to drive Brennan insane, which, of course, was almost always in the middle of the night. Not unexpectedly, while she always greeted Janie with a grateful hug before her rapid consumption of such illicit foods, Brennan lamented the fact of what Booth's DNA had done to her. She promptly ascribed the unhealthy pregnancy cravings all to Booth's genetics, since *she* never had a desire to eat such unhealthy food choices in the course of her normal non-pregnancy diet. Such small rantings seemed to be the only time Janie would crack a small smile, and so the symbiotic relationship between them continued to grow.

By letting Janie help her, in a way Booth explained, Brennan was helping Janie. Keeping Janie company as they awaited the return of their loved ones, Brennan found, was a very small thing that she could do for the woman who had been an unexpected bastion of comfort and support in the weeks after Booth had deployed in December. It was because of Janie, Brennan knew, that she didn't have to go through one of most frightening and potentially overwhelming experiences in her life. And, so, time passed, and as Brennan began her third trimester, there still seemed to be no clear indication as to when Booth and Hank would return home, and still she and Janie took each day as it came.

Now, early on the morning of July 3rd, Brennan sat looking at her friend in what could only be described as more than a slightly cranky mood. Over the past three days, the baby's movements had intensified, and with that increase in movement, Brennan had rarely slept more than two or three hours at any one time. She had arrived in a taxi cab early that morning to meet Janie for breakfast, and had only stopped at the front door long enough to say good morning to Janie before Brennan trudged a very familiar path to the Lutrell's couch and collapsed into her favorite seat. It was, Janie had noticed when Brennan had first started to show a preference for the particular seat, the same one that Booth always favored when they watched a movie or some other activity that placed him on the couch for a significant period of time. Fairly certain that Brennan was unaware of the similarity, thus making her predilection an even more amusing coincidence, Janie merely smiled the sad smile that had adorned her face since her husband's accident as she reflected on the thought.

As she shut and locked the front door behind Brennan, Janie didn't even stop to question her very pregnant friend. Instead, she walked straight into the kitchen and returned a minute later. Looking at her friend with a sympathetic gaze, Janie handed her a wet cloth that she had retrieved. "Here, Bren. For your neck."

Flushed and already red with the stickiness of the summer morning upon her, a new misery had washed over Brennan as she continued to swell during the last few weeks of the third trimester. The humidity had made a bad situation worse. Brennan, already uncomfortable as she struggled with wanting to do so many things, but unable to do so in her final weeks of confinement, was quite overwhelmed with being pregnant by that point. She was tired of being pregnant, tired of the heat, tired of not having Booth there, and above all else, tired of being at the mercy of each and every physiological whim her body had because of the growing fetus inside her body.

Looking up at her friend, Brennan sighed a weak sigh of gratitude. "Thanks, Janie," Brennan said, taking the facecloth and lifting her pony tail to place the cool cloth as the base of her neck. Janie sat down on the far side of the couch and a comfortable silence fell over the pair as they just sat for a few minutes. Finally, Brennan broke the silence as she confessed to Janie, "I hate myself so much right now. Gestating is an extremely tiresome and tedious activity."

The only time Janie seemed to smile at all these days were on the few occasions when Brennan shared some random truism in a way that just amused her to no end. Brennan's latest comments elicited one of those rare smiles once more. Knowing her friend needed another pep talk, a happenstance that was becoming more and more frequent as she came closer and closer to delivering the baby, Janie smiled at Brennan reassuringly.

"Well," Janie said. "Think of it this way. Probability dictates that you only have a couple of weeks left before it's over. And, then, when you're done… gestating, you'll have a brand new baby to distract you."

"I'd give almost anything to see my feet right now," Brennan said wistfully. "Or, to be able to bend over. I know from an anatomical perspective that it's not true, but I feel like I lost my waist about two months ago."

"Since I've never been pregnant, I can only tell you what others have told me, Bren, but because you seem to be carrying all of your baby weight in the stomach, it's annoying while you're pregnant, but it's a good thing, too. A lot of the friends I've had who've carried their babies like that always seem to have a lot easier time bouncing back to the pre-pregnancy shape after the delivery," Janie told her. Her observation didn't seem to help as Brennan merely frowned at the words.

Eventaully, Brennan merely shook her head sadly. "I hate myself," Brennan moaned in depressed sadness again. "At this point, I don't care how illogical or how irrational it sounds, but I don't think this is ever going to end."

"It will," Janie laughed, unable to help herself when she saw how irrational her very logical and rational friend was behaving. "Remember, Bren. Whatever goes in, must come out."

Her eyes narrowing at Janie, Brennan suddenly scowled. "A self-propelling soccer ball did not go into me, Janie, and so I fail to see how it's going to come out of me eventually."

"The more the baby kicks, the healthier it is, remember?" Janie reminded her friend quietly. "That's what your OB/GYN, and all those books you bought, said, right?"

"From a medical standpoint, that is a factual statement," Brennan agreed. with a sigh "However, from the realistic point of view of one who's going through this, it's quite irksome, Janie. The baby just won't sit still. If I could see the interior tissue of my abdominal wall, I know it would be black and blue and swollen from excessive bruising. And, further, none of this is my fault."

"Oh?" Janie said, biting her lip, now knowing in which direction that the conversation was headed. In the last couple of weeks particularly, Brennan's increasing crankiness had been focused in one specific, and not too surprising, direction.

"Yes," Brennan said miserably. "I'm a relatively calm individual with a naturally sedate demeanor. I think we both know who contributed half of the baby's genetic material and has what might be accurately described as more than 'slightly excitable personality'."

Again, Janie bit back a smile. She was quiet for a minute, and then said, "You know, Bren, if it helps, you don't have to be so polite about it."

Her eyes narrowing, Brennan replied, "About what?"

Having come to realize long ago that subtle didn't work well with Brennan, Janie took the direct approach. "If cursing out Booth would make you feel better, please don't hold back on my account. I won't take it personally," Janie said honestly.

Sighing, Brennan shook her head. "Believe me, Janie. If I thought expending the energy that's required to castigate Booth verbally would be worth it, I would have no trouble unleashing a vitriolic storm on him. But, right now-" She stopped, looked off in the distance, and took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. When she spoke again, Brennan's voice was somewhat softer, her earlier crankiness now almost completely gone. "-until I know he's back home, here, safe… like he promised, I just... well, I just can't seriously censure him. Aside from the fact that most of my complaints are just the result of pregnancy hormones, I rarely mean any of the critical thoughts that I have about Booth. So, while your offer is kind, I just can't do it. I-I... I miss him. I want him here, and he's not. And, that makes me feel even worse... and I miss him so much."

Brennan's bottom lip began to quiver a bit as she finished making her impromptu confession, and Janie had to stop herself from getting up to give her friend a hug. A while ago, Janie had learned that such an action could actually make things worse for the forensic anthropologist, as Brennan didn't seem to be particularly found of displays of physical affection. So, Janie refrained from such efforts unless she deemed it an extraordinary situation. Knowing this not to be one of those times, Janie merely nodded a reassuring smile at Brennan before she spoke.

"I know, Bren," Janie said softly. "I know." Realizing that maudlin thoughts weren't necessarily the best thing to distract Brennan with, Janie asked, "So, what do we do now? You want to watch TV? I got those DVDs that you asked for... you know, the Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn movies?" Brennan made a face and she knew that wasn't a positive sign. "Okay, well then how about we go over your shopping list again? The nursery is in pretty good shape, but it can't hurt to go over the odds and ends again just to be on the safe side." Brennan considered the suggestion and then slowly nodded her agreement. Happy that they had reached a decision of how to spend the morning, Janie was only interrupted when suddenly Brennan gave Janie *the look*.

Looking up at her with a facial expression that Janie *knew* Brennan had learned from Booth in it's pathetic and manipulative effectiveness, Brennan suddenly ventured to make another small request. "Could I ask you to get me a glass of that lemonade you made last night? For some reason, the baby's not kicking quite as much as it has been right at this moment, but the cramping in my lower back is driving me crazy… metaphorically, of course. I'd get it myself, but with the muscle spasms, I don't really think I want to get up right now and move unless the house catches fire."

Her eyes narrowing suspiciously, her thoughts drifting back to a comment the OB/GYN had made to the pair of women the previous week, Janie said, "Lower back?"

Brennan nodded, completely oblivious to the change that had washed over her friend. "I think I slept on it the wrong way for the entire two hours I actually managed to fall asleep last night."

Shaking her head, Janie said, "Bren, did you forget what the doctor said last week? You're less than two weeks away from your due date. At this point, lower back pain can be an early indicator of the onset of the first stages of labor."

Tilting her head, Brennan considered Janie's observation. For a minute or two, Brennan processed Janie's words and then shook her head as she mouthed a foul expletive… another thing that Janie knew Booth had taught her. She then looked at Janie, wide-eyed and, at the very least, anxious, and, at the very worst... slightly fearful.

Standing up slowly, so as not to exacerbate her friend's emotional response, Janie said, "It's possible that it's just Braxton-Hicks, but, maybe, just to be on the safe side, I ought to call the doctor before I get you that lemonade, huh?"

Nodding, Brennan said, "I concur."

Several hours later, Janie Lutrell stood in a hallway of the obstetrics unit of Georgetown Memorial Hospital. Several rooms down the hall, Brennan lay hooked up to several monitors as her earlier back pain had, in fact, turned out to be a sign of the initial stages of labor as Janie had originally thought. Since bringing her to the hospital, Janie had spent the last three hours going back and forth from riding out the concentrations with Brennan, to using the payphone to try to track down where Booth was. Janie wasn't 100% positive, but three days earlier, the last time she had spoken with Hank, he told his wife that they anticipated leaving Germany and returning to the States at any moment. Janie hadn't said anything to Brennan, lest she get the pregnant woman's hopes up needlessly. Booth also liked the idea of being able to surprise Brennan, and so had said nothing of the possibility of his impending return on his most recent call to her at about the same time Hank had spoken with Janie.

Hank knew that neither one of them would be able to contact her until he landed and was transported to Walter Reed,. But, Hank promised he would call as soon as he could. Hank also hadn't been certain if Booth would be able to accompany him.

So, until Janie got a hold of her husband, she had no idea where Booth might be or how to tell him the news of his impending fatherhood. Going through the list of numbers of various contacts Janie had, she had spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out where her husband and his best friend currently could be.

Sighing in annoyance as she was transferred once again by a telephone operator to another extension, Janie almost screamed in delight when she finally heard a familiar gravel pick up the phone and answer "Hello, gorgeous-"

Hank stared at the sight in front of him. He never would have bet it would actually happen to a guy like Seeley J. Booth. After all, snipers were supposed to be the most unshakeable, most patient, most calm of individuals. But, right now - and really, for the last fifty-two minutes, Hank thought, as he glanced at the wall clock - no one looking at Booth would think *he* ever had the temperament to be one of the US Army's most effective snipers.

Realizing he couldn't take it anymore, Hank finally pleaded with his friend. "Booth, please. Stop," Hank said, at last.

Skidding to a sudden stop, Booth's head snapped up as he looked over at his friend and said, "What?"

"You're making me dizzy, man," Hank said. "Please? I know you're on pins and needles about finding out what's going on, but you're making me ill with motion sickness, and I'm the guy who can't even walk anymore."

"Sorry," Booth said, shaking his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, really. I just… I just can't help it. I'm here… and I should be there, with her… and this is- this is all my fault."

"She wasn't due for another two weeks, man," Hank pointed out. "We both thought you'd be cutting it close, but we did the best we could with things. How were we to know that she'd pop early?"

Shaking his head, Booth said miserably, "Even still. This is all my fault."

When his best friend unconsciously resumed pacing, this time, Hank didn't have the heart to chastise him again into stopping, even if Booth's back and forth motions really were making Hank want to throw up.

In all of her life, Brennan had thought the most gratifying moment she had ever experienced occurred when she heard her name called out in the large arena where Northwestern University held their graduation ceremonies. As Brennan walked across the stage, she stopped in front of a smiling Dr. Al Gardner, who stood waiting for her, as he held a long satin hood with purple, white, and deep gold colorings in his hands. Then, Brennan had dignifiedly lowered her head so that he could drape the hood across her shoulders. After she was hooded, Brennan turned around and happily shook his hand. At the moment, beaming his excited smile at her, Dr. Gardner called her 'Dr. Brennan' for the very first time in her life, and Brennan had felt an explosive moment of fulfilling and exuberant joy that she imagined would never be able to be topped at any future point in her life. At 8:08pm EST on July 3rd, 1999, Brennan finally was able to admit that she had actually be wrong about her initial assumption.

Sweaty, tired, aching in places she didn't even know existed - despite her extensive knowledge of human anatomy and physiology - at exactly 8:08pm EST, two of the greatest things Brennan could ever imagine happening in her life occurred almost at the exact same time. The two events, somewhat unceremoniously, had been preceded by Brennan working through one final, agonizing contraction. Annoyed and exhausted and frustrated with her OB/GYN's incessant, demanding perkiness, Brennan had given one last incredible push. Her efforts had resulted in a sensation that she could only describe as feeling as if something was half-slithering, half-tearing out of her. And, about thirty seconds after her brain was still struggling to process the strange sensation, Brennan heard two wonderful, wonderful sounds. First, she heard the sound of her baby's rattling voice taking its first piercing breath. The shallow intake of the baby's lungs greedily sucking in its first breath of air was mirrored by that of its mother giving a gut-wrenching sigh of relief, as Brennan heard the breath quick transition into a warbling, but piercing, shriek of a cry that brought an overwhelming warmth to fill her heart. Second, and more simplistically, Brennan heard the door to the OB suite fly open and someone call her name in a way that only one person - only one man - had ever said it.

Dressed in woodland green fatigues, Brennan's eyes locked with Booth's as soon as he had barreled into the delivery room. He was sweating profusely as he skidded to a halt in front of her bed, beads of sweat dripping off of his forehead. Brennan, giddy from a combination of surprise, relief, exhaustion, and blood loss, didn't know what to say as the OB/GYN ignored Booth's intrusion and attended to the still crying baby.

Booth's eyes flew back and forth to where Brennan lay in the bed, and the small table in the far corner, where the OB/GYN was assessing the baby. At last, sparing a glance at the intruder, but then nodding to Brennan, her doctor smiled through his mask and said, "I'm assuming since you aren't bellowing out violent recriminations that our newest arrival might be the father, Tempe?"

Brennan, her throat tightening in emotion as tears pooled at her eyes, could only nod her head in a short rapid series of movements that confirmed the doctor's question with an answer in the affirmative.

Looking up at Booth, the doctor said, "Okay, daddy. Better late than never. If you'd like to, you're just in time to cut your son's cord."

"Son?" Booth's head shot back from the doctor to Brennan. "It's a boy?"

Brennan shrugged, and said the first words she had uttered since Booth and the baby had arrived at the same moment. "Don't ask me. No one's told me anything yet!"

The OB/GYN watched the shell shock daze settle on Booth's face as he pulled off the mask, and then turned to Brennan with a sheepish look. "Sorry, Tempe. I forgot. It's a boy."

Brennan laughed a nervous chuckle as she hunched her shoulders in tired excitement. "Thanks."

Nodding at Booth, the doctor repeated, "So, do you want to cut your baby's umbilical cord, or what?"

Booth looked at Brennan, who shrugged again in response, and then he slowly nodded his head at the doctor. Walking towards the table, Booth took the surgical scissors proffered to him by the nurse. Watching the baby squirm and shriek, Booth was dumbstruck and could only manage a silent prayer to the Holy Mother to steady his hand as he cut the baby's umbilical cord. Handing the scissors back to the nurse, he looked at the doctor and said, "He's okay?"

Nodding, as the nurse moved to pick the baby up, the doctor smiled and said, "Two eyes, ten fingers, ten toes, the appropriate reproductive anatomy in the right place…so, yeah, even if he's a bit early, he's perfect. Now, if you want to go and keep Tempe company for a minute, we just need to check a couple of more quick things, and then we'll bring him over to you, all right?"

Booth nodded. Turning back, Booth walked over to Brennan's bed, and suddenly overwhelmed, pulled her into as tight a hug as he could manage given how she was situated. Tilting her head up to his, Brennan returned his kiss with a smile.

"You're here," Brennan murmured in obvious disbelief. "I don't know how, but you're here? You're really here? I'm not just hallucinating due to rapid blood loss, right?"

Booth nodded. "We got into DC about four hours ago. I had to wait for clearance to leave Walter Reed on a temporary medical leave pass. That's what took me so long and why I was late."

"So, you aren't AWOL?" Brennan asked, a small frown coming onto her face. "Please tell me you didn't go AWOL, Booth. I'm going to get very pissed off if a bunch of MPs come in here right before I have to deliver the baby's afterbirth and haul you off back to base."

Booth quickly shook his head, and grinned at her. "Nope, not AWOL. I swear. There are no MPs hot on my trail, I promise. I have a forty-eight pass right here in my pocket, signed, stamped, and sealed with all the appropriate authorizations in place that I can show you if you don't believe me. That's what took me so damn long after Janie called earlier. Getting the paperwork authorized took *forever*."

Reaching out to him, clasping his hand as her fingers intertwined with his, Brennan smiled as she said, "God, I'm glad to see you."

"Me, too," Booth said, as he reached out and kissed her again. "You have no idea."

About an hour later, Brennan sat in a fresh hospital gown. She had been cleaned up and was in a much improved state as compared to how she had been when Booth had first arrived. She had delivered the afterbirth fairly easily, and it had been disposed of quickly, leaving Brennan with time to spend recuperating and getting to know her new baby. In addition, now that she was able to eat and drink, Brennan's ravenous hunger kicked in, and Booth watched her with a curious eye.

"Booth?" Brennan asked, taking her spoon and licking it clean of the last of its chocolate pudding.

"Yeah, Bren?"

"I need you to do me a favor," Brennan said sweetly.

"What's that?" he asked warily, his intuition telling him that he was walking into a trap.

"Bring the baby over here, for a minute, would you please?" Brennan asked innocently.

Booth sat on the comfortable armchair that he had dragged next to Brennan's bed. The baby - bathed, fed, and changed - lay resting on his father's shoulder, drowsing quietly. Booth, arching an eyebrow suspiciously at Brennan, said, "What for?"

"Well, aside from the fact that I would like to hold my son, I would consider it a personal favor if you would go out into the nurse's station and find me another sandwich, some more chocolate pudding, and another two fruit punch juice cups," Brennan said, smacking her lips in anticipation.

Booth laughed in disbelief. "Seriously?"

A deadly look coming over her face, Brennan said in a very menacing voice, "I just spent the last 34 weeks gestating your offspring, Booth. I've lost at least a pint of blood during the delivery our son. I need sustenance to gain enough caloric intake to produce new red blood cells to replace the ones that were lost during that process. That, in English - or non-squint speak - means I'm starving. So, go get your cute ass out there, smile at the nurses that have been slobbering over you since you arrived, and go get me some more damn food." She stopped, smiled again prettily, and then added, "Please."

Biting back a laugh, Booth looked down at his dozing son, and observed dryly, "Boy, Mommy gets cranky when she's hungry, huh?"

"Please don't talk to the baby like that and pretend I'm not here, Booth," Brennan muttered, being annoyed at what she thought was Booth dismissing her demands. "I want more pudding, and if I don't get it right now, I'm going to be very, very bad."

"Oh, God, where did you get that one?" Booth laughed. Brennan stared at him, and he nodded knowingly, "Don't tell me... you learned that one from Janie, didn't you?" Brennan shot Booth another look, but he refused to be cowed. Eventually, though, gave in because he was just really teasing Brennan. Feigning reluctance, Booth slowly stood up and brought the baby over to Brennan. Handing the newborn to his mother, Booth chided her softly, "Careful, there now, Bren."

"What?" Brennan said, mildly offended. "I'm his mother. I know how to take care of him."

"I don't doubt that," Booth laughed. "I'm just afraid in your post-delivery attack of the munchies you might mistake the baby for a ham sandwich or something."

"Pudding, Booth," Brennan said, not finding his joke amusing in the slightest. "*Right* now."

Waving his hands in supplication, Booth winked at her and said, "I'm going, I'm going."

Leaving them alone, Brennan let the baby rest on her chest, amazed at how small and tiny he actually was. Shaking her head, Brennan said softly, "Please, how ever you turn out when you're older, please, please, please don't be a goofy jokester like your father. I don't think I can handle two Booth men cut from the same genetic bolt of material."

At this, the baby sleepily lifted his eyes at the sound of his mother's voice. The baby, whose eyes were a dark, dark brown - somewhat unusually, given the fact that most babies' eye colors didn't become pronounced until several days after birth, and, sometimes, not even then - seemed to mock her in response. Booth's eyes clearly stared back at Brennan, and she stifled a laugh as she said, "Oh, come on, not you, too."

The baby blinked once at her drowsily, and then let his eyelids fall again, as he dozed once more.

A short time later, Booth had adjusted himself on the edge of Brennan's bed, laying next to her on top of the blankets, staring at their sleeping baby. Brennan was much more docile than she had been earlier, as she was now replete, having gorged herself with three turkey sandwiches, two bags of Lays potato chips, four chocolate pudding cups, an orange popsicle, and four fruit punch juice cups. Initially, Booth had contemplated just ordering a pizza, or large order of Chinese takeout, for her since the meager offerings of the hospital hadn't seemed to be making any dent in Brennan's ravenous hunger. However, by the time her late dinner finally arrived, Brennan merely turned her nose up at the tray, apparently having finally reached a level of satiation. It had actually been Booth who was the one who ended up munching on the pasta, bun, and cup of tea that had come for her. Smiling at the thought, he lightly began to trace a small circle on the baby's back. Booth then glanced over at Brennan and shook his head in amazement.

"He's perfect, Bren," Booth said.

"While he's a bit underweight, given the fact that he was born twelve days early, I can't fault the sentiment behind your comment, Booth. He *is* perfect," Brennan said lovingly. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the baby's forehead. Wisps of auburn hair peaked out of the baby blue cap adorning his head than Brennan noticed with a wry smile. "He may have your eyes, but I think he has my hair color," Brennan mused.

"Ehh," Booth said. "He can't have too many advantages, you know, Bren. We don't want him to have a life that's too easy."

"Oh, really?" Brennan said, a bit of mocking exasperation coming into her voice. "And, how's that again?"

"Well," Booth began. "If he looked too much like me, physical god that I am, he'd have to start beating the girls off with a stick as soon as he leaves the hospital."

"Ahh," Brennan said, comprehension dawning. "So, this is another example of you exhibiting a claim of male superiority where you think you're excellent physique makes you a gift to all women who view your exceptional aesthetic attributes—"

Brennan was cut off as Booth turned his head and proceeded to stick his tongue in her mouth, effectively silencing her tirade.

Pulling back, Booth saw a rather dreamy look settle over Brennan's face at his actions. He chuckled at her response and repeated what was becoming his standard response after such an action, "God, I'm never going to get tired of doing that."

"Mmmmm," was all Brennan answered back. Tilting her head back up towards him in an unspoken command, Booth took Brennan's hint and leaned in to kiss her again. "I've missed you," she murmured when they finally drew a part. Despite her fatigue, and everything that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours, aside from feeling gratitude for the safe arrival of their son, Brennan also felt a deep amount of thankfulness to whatever events that had resulted in Booth returning to her alive, whole, in one piece, and – more or less – in time to witness the arrival of their son's entrance in the world. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Hmmm," Booth said. Glancing down at their baby, Booth said quietly, "Isn't this about the point where I should be saying that to you?"

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm not thanking you for making me a mother. I'm thanking you for keeping your promise," Brennan said simply.

"And, which one is that?" Booth asked.

"The one where I made you promise that you wouldn't be too much of a hero over there," Brennan told him. "The one where I made you promise that you'd come back for us… to us. And, and you did. You didn't leave me… us. And, for that, just… thank you. It means more to me than you'll ever know," Brennan told him with a raw and vulnerable honesty that made Booth's heart want to burst with happiness that she trusted him enough to let him see her in such a state.

"Yeah, well, I had a lot of time to think about things when I was over there." Booth paused and stopped to consider his words. Then, deciding that he at least wanted to mention it, Booth continued, "And, well, I, ah-"

Noticing his hesitation, Brennan prompted, "What is it, Booth? You know you can tell me anything."

Nodding, Booth held her gaze for a minute before he spoke again. "We don't have to talk about it now, Bren, but… my re-up comes due later this year, and I… I think I've decided that I don't want to stay in anymore," Booth told her.

Brennan considered his words and then tilted her head at him. "You want to leave the Rangers?"

Running his index finger across the soft fuzz of his son's hair that peaked out from the baby's cap, Booth looked from one miracle back to another as he lifted his gaze to meet Brennan's eyes. "Yeah, I do. I'm… I almost missed this… missed him getting here. But, for a happy accident of fate—"

"I don't believe in fate—"

"Well, I still do," Booth laughed. "Now, can I finish please?"

Brennan, sheepishly chastised, nodded. "Sorry."

"Okay," Booth said. "So, what I was thinking is that I might look into seeing if I might be able to qualify to apply to the FBI Academy."

Brennan thought about it for a minute, and then said, "Would doing something like that make you happy?"

"Being an agent?" Booth thought. His was silent for a minute and then he replied, "I've thought a lot about it for a while now. And, yeah, I think it would. I'd still get to use some of the same skills that make me good at what I do in the Rangers if I were with a federal agency like the FBI. Plus, the hours would be better, and I could stay in DC with you and the baby."

"So, this means you *want* to stay with me and the baby?" Brennan said carefully.

"Well, I know we really haven't had a chance to talk about it, but, yeah. Of course, I want to stay with you and with him…." Booth said, suddenly realizing that they had started to talk about a much more serious and much more personal issue. Wanting to reassure her, Booth added, "But, Bren, I'd want to stay with you even if he weren't here, at least, that is, if *you* want me to want to stay with you."

"Would it be a trite admission in my weakened emotional state to admit that I want you to stay with me so badly that it hurts?" Brennan asked. "I've being doing a lot of thinking since you've been gone too, Booth, and every time I think of you not being there, of me not getting a chance to see you again- I know it's irrational, and there's probably a psychosomatic explanation for it, but I hurt, Booth. I still get this physical ache just thinking about it."

Booth leaned in and softly kissed her again. "If you don't want me to, I'm not going anywhere, Bren."

"Good," Brennan said. "That'll make the late night feedings and diaper changing schedule a lot easier on me."

Almost as if the baby knew he was being talked about, he immediately started to cry that shrill and shallow wail that characterizes the new lungs of all newborn babies so small in size. Brennan immediately looked down at him in disbelief.

"You seriously can't be hungry already. The nurse said you're not supposed to be fed again for approximately ninety minutes," Brennan told her son rationally.

The baby ignored his mother's logical intonation, and merely mewled even more piteously at not being fed. Brennan frowned as she felt her breasts begin to leak in response to her son's cries. Almost as if he smelled the milk, the baby's cries began to get louder. Resigned to the fact that another Booth male would be setting her schedule for the next few months, Brennan sighed as she shifted in the bed to assume a position more conducive to nursing.

"He's going to suck any energy reserves I've managed to build up in the last few hours right out of me," Brennan lamented as she adjusted the baby's position to be more one that made it a bit more easy for him to latch on to her nipple and commence nursing. Within a few seconds, the baby immediately found his desired goal, and Brennan winced while her son stopped crying and began to suck greedily.

Booth watched in wonder, a frown marring his own face as he noticed her grimace. "Does it... does it hurt when he does that?"

"No," Brennan said truthfully. "He's not hurting me. It's- It's just… it's hard to explain. I… I'm just not used to it yet. It's not painful. It's a strange sensation, that's all."

"Oh, okay," Booth said. The pair were silent for a minute as the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the baby happily nursing. Eventually, Booth looked up and said, "Bren?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I know we haven't talked about this yet, either, but did you have any idea for names?" Booth asked.

Brennan thought for a minute and then shook her head. "No, not really. I… if it was a girl, I think I would've liked to name her after my mother, but I never really thought of any appropriate names for a boy. Why, do you have any?"

Caressing the back of his son's head again, Booth said, "I, ah… yeah, I do. I'd… it would mean a lot to me if we could maybe name him Parker?"

"Parker?"

Booth nodded, as he thought back to the dead friend and comrade that he had lost several years before in another deployment that he didn't like to think back on given how happy a day this was supposed to be for them all. "There's a reason why, and I'll tell you the story sometime, but it would... it would be a really big deal for me if we could choose that name for him?"

Testing the word on her lips, like an experiment, Brennan said, "Parker. Parker Booth."

"Booth?"

Brennan nodded as she looked up at him, surprise clearly evident on his face. "Of course. I mean, if you don't want to be listed on his birth certificate for some reason, that's fine. But, I had just assumed that you'd want to bestow your surname on your offspring, especially since the baby's a male—"

"I do," Booth said quickly. "I, just… I didn't know what you wanted, Bren. He's your son, too. I didn't want to just make blanket assumptions about him."

"You're not," Brennan said simply, feeling her need to reassure him this time. "I would tell you if you were."

Booth nodded. He was quiet for another few seconds before he said, "Bren? I know you said you wanted to name the baby after your mother if it was a girl, but for a middle name, how about we call him after your dad?"

"Matthew?" Brennan replied, uncertainty coming into her voice. "You don't have to do that, Booth."

"I know," Booth said. "But, I kind of want his name to have a special meaning for your family, too. And, I think Parker Matthew Booth sounds sorta spiffy, don't you?"

"It *is* somewhat of a lyrical name," Brennan agreed hesitantly, a smallness coming into her voice that Booth had noticed whenever the subject of her family had come up on occasion in the past when they'd been talking. "If... if you're sure?"

"I'm sure," Booth affirmed. "That is... if *you're* okay with it?"

"I'm okay with it, I think," Brennan said slowly. "But, are you sure you are? I mean, you never even met my father. And, Parker is *your* son, so—"

"See?" Booth said, grinning. "That rolled right off your tongue when you called the baby 'Parker', didn't it?"

Brennan blushed a bit, and said, "Yes."

"It's good, right?"

"Yes," Brennan agreed with a chuckle. "Yes, it is."

"And, Bren, I know that I never met your dad, but I like the idea of honoring him this way if for no other reason than the incredible woman he helped to create," Booth said. "So, yeah, if you're okay with it, so am I. I'm not doing it out of obligation, but because I want to... I really want to, okay?"

Slowly, Brennan nodded her head at him.

A smiling reaching his lips, Booth said, "Besides, I don't know why, but for some funny reason, I think if I ever had the chance to meet your dad, I think I would've like him. A lot."

"Personality-wise, you do have several alpha-male traits in common," Brennan agreed. She stopped and then said after a few seconds, "Booth?"

"Yes, Bren?"

"Do you really think I'm incredible?" Brennan asked, obvious insecurity again creeping into her voice.

And, right then, Booth vowed that he would spend every day of the rest of his life proving to this amazing woman how incredible, how *special* she really was. Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. "Incredible, amazing, fantastic, beautiful, smart, sexy, and a whole bunch of other amazing things that I can't think of right now that are everywhere in between, Bren."

Blushing a bit, Brennan nodded and said, "Booth-"

"Yeah, Bren?"

"You know, when you left that I told you I would tell you that I love you if I knew for certain that I did-"

"It's okay, Bren. You don't have to," Booth said, cutting her off. His tone softened as he said, "I know you will. One day, you'll say it when you're ready."

"I never thought I would be," Brennan confessed. "But, about five and a half hours ago, when I met this little person here, I had this swelling of emotion that I've never felt before in my life Booth. And, I know… it feels more than right when I say it. I… I love Parker. I do. With everything I have, with everything I am."

"For new moms, I think that's pretty normal, Bren," Booth laughed. "That's sorta how it's supposed to work."

"I know," Brennan said. "But, I also… because I know that about Parker, I know now how I feel about it... well, I know it feels right when I say it about his father, too."

His gaze leveling at hers, Booth said quietly, "Bren?"

"I love you," Brennan said simply. "I love you, Booth… and, if you want to… I think this thing might be going somewhere, and I'd like to see where it takes us."

Booth, feeling his heart swell at her words - the same words he had said to her at some point in the not too distant past - nodded. "You have no idea what you saying that, both of those things, what they mean to me, Bren."

"Well," Brennan said, adjusting the baby in her arms. He had stopped suckling, mostly, and seemed to be falling back asleep. "I figured I kind of owe you. You… you saved my life, you've made me a mother… you taught me to do something I never thought possible… how to believe in things like love and faith… and, so… it's a small thing for me to do, Booth."

"Never small, Bren," Booth laughed. "It's bigger… bigger than you, me, us, even him… bigger than you'll ever know."

A bit confused by his words, Brennan herself felt herself suddenly tire and chose not to argue the point as she felt Booth caress her cheek again in a soft kiss. Feeling more happy, peaceful, and right with the world than she ever had felt in her entire life, Brennan closed her eyes, just for a minute, and revealed in the rightness of the entire situation.

And, somewhere, far away, two women with dark hair - one with dark brown eyes and one with bright blue eyes - looked down on the scene before them.

"He's going to be a great looking kid," Sarah Booth told Christine Brennan.

"And, smart, too" Christine said, nodding in obvious agreement. "He's going to be hell on wheels when he's old enough."

"Well," Sarah agreed. "It's not like they don't deserve it. They need someone to keep them on their toes."

"They're going to have a great life together," Christine mused.

"Yes," Sarah agreed. She looked up and then nodded at her friend and grandson's other grandmother. "I think we did good, Christine."

"*Well*," Christine corrected her friend immediately in a tone of slight admonishment that was eerily reminiscent of Brennan. "Things taste 'good'. We did well."

"Whatever," Sarah laughed shaking her head.

But, slowly nodding her head, she said softly, "But, either way, yes, we certainly did."

Realizing that a grievous mistake had finally been corrected, things had finally been put right - perhaps even in a slightly improved manner than how they had turned out the first time - as they let a wave of emotional happiness overwhelm them, both women shared an approving nod and a secret smile.

Yes, all - finally - all was right once more. And, for that, they were both eternally grateful.

~The End~

A/N: Okay, so how's that for an ending? As my normal cadre of readers know, this is the point in time where I take a moment to thank everyone for their kind words, both in reviews and private messages, and let you know how much the feedback means to me.

When I started this story, it was with the idea that I wanted to see what Booth's life might've been like if he hadn't meant Brennan when he did. Let's face it, the Booth at the beginning of this story has some serious demons – for all intensive purposes, he's a gambler with a serious, serious problem that caused him to lose at least one relationship (Cam), lose his son (but for token visitations), stalled in his job (and who knows where he would have ended up but for Sully), and turned his back on his devotion to his religion but for the token Easter/Christmas ritual trips to mass. I also loved the idea of playing with a younger Brennan. Sure, she was always going to have the baggage inflicted on her because of when her parents and Russ abandoned her to the foster system, but I've always thought her collegiate experience was another crucial point in her development. I think, depending on the man she met at the time in which this story takes place, a turning point in her personality emerged. I've tried to insinuate that ,with the right person in her life, she might've become a bit more open and a little less cynical than the Brennan we met in the canonical pilot, who's many years older than the Bren of my story.

Also, the symmetry of canon's time line did inspire me a bit. I'm sorry for those who wanted Rebecca to be Parker's mom. But, hey, the way I see it is like this… if Booth had met Brennan first, I don't think Rebecca would've ever stood any chance. It was Booth's fate, I believe, always to have a son named Parker at the point in his life he did. I do like to think that the issue of who his mother was could be played with… and, so, yeah, that's how that went. I know a few people thought Brennan's initial response that might have resulted in their conception of Parker was a bit uncharacteristic, but I don't really think so. After all, she was a very young 22-year-old, a virgin, and had a naked Booth waiting in her bed to commence very pleasurable activities. I think you take any one of those facts, and it would be enough to knock Brennan off her game. Combine all three, and her rational brain never stood a chance. Now, I'm not going to say which encounter I think led to the baby - since it's not all that important anyway - but, it's a fun point I really enjoyed teasing out... particularly in tracing how their physical relationship changed Brennan even more, much to Hodgin's chagrin! I also know some people were confused about the issue of Booth and his memories… and I do hope the Sweets' sci-fi cameo helped a bit. The temporal paradox issue, as Booth said, can make any one's head hurt on the best of days. So, as I warned people, you do need just a teeny tiny suspension of disbelief to make things work, but hopefully, once you did that, the enjoyment of the story made up for it.

Before anyone asks, the answer to the next question I know people will probably want to ask is... will there be a sequel? Initially, if anyone had asked me this question a week ago, I would've feinitely said no - i.e., it's time to move on to some completely new and different. I really like where things have ended up here... but, now having been said, Sully kinda jumped into the EMT chapter, and reminded me how much I loved writing his and Booth's partnership in this story. A lot of people also asked how this future would be different with everything that's changed. Those are two questions I've been thinking about, and what I've decided is that, those are some interesting ideas to plan with. So, the bad news is that the official answer to the "is there a sequel question" is no, there won't be a direct sequel in the near future. BUT, the good news is that the new story will have some similarities in tone and feel to this story. The next story will a new adventure that builds on some of the elements inspired by the end of this tale. The idea of sending Sully the EMT and Booth the Ranger to the FBI Academy just really tickles me. So, in the more immediate future, for those interested, I'd like to briefly plug the next project I'm working on, which is entitled "Betrayed by Those Loved Best." The first chapter is already written and will be posted soon (i.e., over the weekend if there's enough interest here). As I said, the arc of the new story stems from the following plot bunny – what would happen if Booth and Sully ended up going to the FBI Academy and were pulled into an FBI investigation about a serial killer known as the Broken Promises Killer? Obviously, it's another AU story (not supernatural this time, though, I promise - and, I'll also add the promise of lots of B&B goodness to the original one I just made - the title doesn't refer to B&B angst, but the serial killer... for the most part), and I'm really, *really* excited about it. So, if you haven't done so already, don't be shy about hitting the Author Alert button so you know when the first chapter is posted or merely be on the look out for it. As I said, I hope some of the new readers who found me through this story might stick around and see what comes next.

As I said, the feedback to this story has been incredible, and really, *really* helps us individuals as writers. I have been asked in the past, why I require registration for individuals to leave feedback. Well, to be quite honest, fan fic readers represent a fickle beast. Although I can't stop irksome individuals, who are tedious in their desire to share snotty and random unintelligible comments, from posting something idiotic, making someone go through the process of signing their name to a review does seem to cut down on the useless flames that get tossed my way. Now, I think I've probably been spoiled by this story's amazing response when I only got a single review on a recent chapter I posted for another story. Normally, I don't like to be a review whore, but it *is* nice at least to know that people are reading and having some response. When there aren't any reviews, it's a bit apathetic, and you start to wonder if you're the only one who's reading something. So, again, I appreciate all the people who have let me know their thoughts, especially my repeat reviewers. I always value the constructive criticism, but... to the other idiots running around complaining - yeah, well, my question is, why are you still here? Really, go make your life and my life easier and read something else. "Buried with the Bones" has been one of the most fun stories that I've ever written. And, while each of my stories, like children, have a special place in my heart, I can't lie and not say that it's probably one of my personal all-time favorites. I hope everyone had as good a time seeing how things fell out as I did in seeing the story through to the end. Thanks for everything, and see you all (hopefully) on the flipside soon!~