A/N: Okay, so here is the prologue for the sequel to Flirting with Disaster. Most of the story will flash back to five years after Flirting with Disaster, as Brennan tells her granddaughter the story. If you didn't read Flirting with Disaster, I recommend you read it, but I'm obviously a little biased. The brief synopsis is that B&B get together post ep5x05 and get married. Brennan gets pregnant shortly before the wedding. During her pregnancy, Rebecca and Parker are in a car accident, and Rebecca is killed. Also, Booth's father resurfaces and becomes a part of their life. Brennan nearly dies giving birth to Natalie, and it is discovered that she has a genetic bleeding disorder inherited from her mother.

Spoilers: Through mid-season 5, just to be safe!

~ The Mother in the Memory ~

Prologue

March 14, 2061

My grandparents' was a great love story - truly something right out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. It wasn't love at first sight, well maybe for Pops. And, well, if it were for Gram, she would never admit it anyway. They'd both been burned by life early on – Grammy by her parents' abandonment and subsequent time in foster care, Pops by his abusive, alcoholic father. What made their marriage magical was that they were truly one another's best friends. They seemingly could have an entire conversation without ever saying a word.

I always wondered if having such a wonderful example of love and devotion set my mother up for failure in her own brief marriage. My mom told me numerous times that Gram was far from pleased when at twenty; a junior in college, my mom had announced that she was going to marry my father. Gram had told mom that she was too young and couldn't possibly know that she wanted to link herself to someone for the remainder of her life. Pops had managed to soften Gram's objections, and Mom and Dad married the summer between her junior and senior years at Georgetown.

When Mom learned she was pregnant with me six months after the wedding, Gram renewed her objections, accusing Mom of not being serious about her education. Pops, once again, interceded on his daughter's behalf, but I always got the feeling that things were pretty tense for a while between Mom and Gram.

Once, during an argument between Mom and I, she said, "You think it's rough having me for a mother; try being Temperance Brennan's daughter!"

I am sure that it didn't help matters that, when I was only three years old my parents divorced when Mom discovered that Dad was having an affair with his secretary – what a cliché! So, Mom and I moved back in with Grammy and Pops while she finished her doctorate in physical therapy. Mom and I moved into our own place when I was six, but I've remained very close with Pops and Gram ever since those years I lived under their roof. My relationship with them was sufficient to compensate for the lack of a father. Dad ended up marrying the secretary and having a "new" family with her. I only hear from Dad on my birthday and Christmas. His loss, I figure.

Two weeks ago was my twenty-eighth birthday. I'm quickly approaching thirty and taking stock of what I have and have not accomplished in my thirty years. Perhaps that is why I have taken to visiting Gram a few times a week. She always has a great story to tell. It's funny, because when I was younger, I don't really remember Gram telling that many stories. Pops was the story teller. When I was little, he used to lift me onto his lap and regale me with one of his and Gram's adventures: when they'd gone undercover in the circus or when Gram had found a girl inside an alligator. As I got older, the tales became more serious: how they'd each rescued each other from a killer nicknamed "the gravedigger" or about how Gram and Great-Grandpa saved him from being tortured and killed. Every story seemed more fantastic than the last, but they were true. Gram swore they were, and she never lies.

I guess that since Pops died six years ago, Gram decided she needed to keep up the tradition of story telling. We were all somewhat amazed that Gram was able to go on after Pops died. I didn't know if Mom and I were going to survive his loss either, to tell the truth. Ultimately, Gram's strength in the face of losing her husband, her best friend, gave Mom and me the strength to carry on. Gram has always had an excellent ability to "compartmentalize," as she puts it. But, we all knew how much she missed him – still misses him. For a few months after Pops passed, Gram would visit his grave every other day. When Mom asked her if it was healthy to visit so often, Gram simply replied that she was "keeping a promise to Booth". Apparently, Pops, or Booth, as Gram called him, had asked Gram to "spend some time and talk to me every once in a while" when he died. Gram had agreed, although she certainly wasn't the sort of person to visit someone's grave.

Gram doesn't go visit Pops as often now, especially since the cancer. She was diagnosed with renal cancer four months ago. The offending organ was removed, but the cancer had already spread to her bones. A fractured tibia is what had led Gram to see the doctor in the first place. Now, after much coaxing from Mom, Gram has a caretaker that spends her days with her. Gram usually has a visitor everyday, either Mom, Uncle Parker, one of my cousins, or me. Today, though, she's alone. Her caretaker, Rose, has the day off.

"Hi, Gram," I said.

"Hi, Lauren. You didn't have to come again today – not that I don't enjoy your company."

"It's no problem. I thought that we could order pizza or something."

"That sounds great, sweetheart," Temperance said with a smile, "You just missed Ryan and Rebecca."

"Oh, I spoke to Becca on Monday. I guess she told you her big news."

Temperance smiled. Becca, Parker's middle child, got engaged over the weekend.

"Yes, she did. Ryan seems like a very nice young man."

"Yeah, he is. I think Uncle Parker is glad he might have a chance for grandkids yet."

Temperance laughed, "Yeah, I suppose that Chris and Matt don't seem like they are planning to settle down any time soon. Of course, they are both devoting their lives to great intellectual pursuits, which should please their father."

I laughed. Gram never was one to pressure people towards marriage or family.

"So, Gram, how about telling me another of your great stories?" I asked, sounding a bit like an eager eight year old.

Gram smiled, "Hmmm, I suppose your grandfather told you about when I shot him?"

"Of course, that was one of his favorites."

"Did he ever tell you about when your mother was kidnapped?"

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, when she was almost five, your mother was kidnapped. It was almost a half of a century ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday."