This story is a Christmas present for threesquares. She's been having an exhausting year doing a job that she loves. She's making a difference and I salute her. Merry Christmas. I hope you like this.

I don't own Bones.

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Standing in line in front of Santa's Workshop, Booth squatted next to his daughter and went over the rules. "Okay now remember, this your only chance to tell Santa Claus what you want for Christmas so make sure you tell him everything. Don't skip anything."

Not sure if she wanted to see Santa Claus, Christine leaned against her father's chest and told him, "Mommy says that Santa Claus doesn't exist, Daddy. He's just a social construct used to illicit good behavior from children. I don't really believe he's real either."

Noticing the woman in front of him turn and glare at him, Booth felt his cheeks burning. Lowering his voice, he spoke quietly to his seven year old daughter. "Christine, why in the world did you ask me to take you to see Santa Claus if you don't believe he's real?"

Unaware that her voice was carrying to unwilling ears, Christine answered her father, "Because you believe Daddy and Mommy says that I shouldn't rain on your parade."

Closing his eyes, Booth shook his head slowly, trying to be patient.

Concerned about her father, Christine placed her hands on the sides of her father's face. "Are you okay, Daddy? You don't look good."

Opening his eyes, Booth assured her, "Yes, Daddy is fine, Sweetheart." Staring into his daughter's crystal blue eyes, he asked her. "So you don't want to see Santa Claus?"

The sadness on her father's face making her wish she hadn't said anything, Christine decided to make him happy. "No, Daddy. I want to see him."

Hugging his daughter, Booth tried to assure her that it was alright to not see Santa. "Honey, you don't have to see him if you don't want to. It won't hurt my feelings at all. We're here for you to see him, but you don't have to. I won't be mad or anything. I promise."

Glancing over at the jolly man in the red suit, Christine thought it over. "He's giving candy canes to the kids, Daddy. I'd like a candy cane too."

Amused at her reason to stay, Booth released his daughter and stood up. "Okay. Those candy canes do look good. We'll go eat lunch after we're done here."

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Observing her father as he watched the other children talk to Santa Claus, Christine soon regretted her decision to tell her father that she no longer believed in the jolly old elf. The sad look on her father's face had returned and it made her feel sad. Reluctantly she sat on the white bearded man's lap, smiled for the camera and took the candy cane from him. Afterward she watched her father pay for the pictures of her visit with Santa Claus and arranged to have the pictures mailed to their house.

Holding his daughters hand in his, Booth talked to her about the picture as they walked towards the Food Court. "It's a beautiful picture, Honey. I had a few extras made so we can mail them with our Christmas cards."

Her need to make her father happy again, Christine tugged her father's hand and stopped him. "Daddy, I need to tell you something important."

Kneeling, Booth placed his hand the child's shoulder and asked her, "What is it, Baby?"

Christine leaned closer to her father and licked her lips nervously. "Well . . . uh . . . I really believe in Santa, Daddy. I just said that I don't because a lot of the kids in my class say he isn't real. I thought I was supposed to not believe in him anymore."

Placing his forehead against hers, Booth wanted her to feel comfortable with her beliefs. "Honey, just because your friends don't believe something is real doesn't mean you have to agree with them. If you believe then you believe. If you don't you don't. Don't let your friends keep you from believing in something."

Her arm around her father's neck, Christine stared into his warm brown eyes. "Don't be sad, Daddy, I believe in Santa Claus."

Picking her up, Booth hugged his daughter. "Baby, I'm not sad. I'm happy. Let's go home and eat lunch. Maybe this afternoon we can pop some popcorn and watch "A Christmas Story." I know you like that one."

Laughing, the young girl grabbed his shirt front to anchor herself. "I love it when Ralphy has to eat the soap. Boy he's dumb."

Amused, Booth walked to mall entrance pointing out the different Christmas decorations as they went by them.

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Sitting in the kitchen with her mother, Christine sipped her hot cocoa, "Daddy was very sad today, Mommy."

Concerned, Brennan placed her cup down and stared at her daughter, "About what, Christine?"

Shrugging her shoulders, the young girl stared at her cup, "I told Daddy I don't believe in Santa Claus. I shouldn't have done that. It made him very sad. I told him that I really believe in Santa Claus though and then he was happy."

Placing her hand over her daughter's hand, Brennan frowned, "Santa Claus is a very complex issue, Christine. I'm glad you told your father that you still believe though. He loves Christmas so much and he is always very happy this time of year."

Curious, Christmas asked, "Why does Daddy believe in Santa Claus, Mommy?"

Smiling, Brennan patted her daughter's hand, "Your father believes in the miracle of Christmas and it helps him to forgive all the bad things he sees the rest of the year. It's part of his faith."

Nodding her head, Christine smiled, "I love my Daddy very much Mommy. I hate for him to be sad."

Feeling a little emotional, Brennan smiled, "I hate it too, Sweetheart."

Booth, standing outside the kitchen listening to his little family's conversation, wiped his hand over his eyes, smiled, entered the kitchen and clapped his hands together, "Hey who wants to watch 'A Christmas Story" with me?"

Jumping up from her chair, Christine jumped up and down,"Me . . . me . . . me."

Smiling, Booth walked over to where Brennan was still sitting, leaned down and kissed her, "What about you Bones?"

Returning his kiss, Brennan laughed, "Of course, it wouldn't be the Christmas holidays if we didn't see 'A Christmas Story' at least three or four times."

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I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday. Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.