Title: All That Glitters

Rating: T

Summary: Sometimes, the most precious thing in the world is that which we cannot name.

Disclaimer: Bones is the property of FOX, Hart Hanson and various writers, producers, and other awesome people whose job I wish I had.

Spoilers: Brief mention of the end of S5, and acknowledges the existence of Hannah.

Author's Notes: After the latest episode, I just realized, holy mackerel, I am tired of the angst. So until Hannah Banana gets off the show, I am content with deluding myself into thinking that someday, we will all get our happy ending. Also, please note that it is 3 AM where I am, and I have no beta, so all mistakes in the story are mine, and mine alone.

They didn't want to name her. How could they name something so pure, so sacred, confine it within the boundaries of letter-strokes, alphabets? She stared at them with brown eyes, the color of leaves in autumn, sparkling in the cold white light of the hospital room. It seemed like she was watching everyone, remembering the scent of their skin, the sound of their voices, the way her mother held her in her arms and whispered words in her ear.

"Your father is a brave man."

"Your father once told me that to give up your life for someone else - that's love. I'm inclined to believe him."

"Your father will be back."

In the hush of the nursery, watching cocoons of cloth-swaddled children stir in their sleep, dreaming (what did newborn infants dream of? Perhaps Sweets could tell them), they whispered possible names to each other. Joy. Temperance. ("That's a mouthful, Booth. She'd barely be able to pronounce it. Plus, do you really want another Temperance?") Angela. ("She would spoil the child rotten.") Camille. Michelle. Jackie. ("No, Bones, we are not naming my child after Hodgins.")

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his chin against the junction where her neck curved into her shoulders. She smelled of motherhood and milk, newborn child and love. "You smell good, babe," he whispered in her ear.

She leaned back against his chest, luxuriating in the warmth of his embrace. "The doctors said to abstain from sexual intercourse for at least a month to allow the incisions to heal."

"Everything all right? No bleeding or anything?"

She shook her head, looking at their daughter in her bright pink blanket. The name "BOOTH" was written in black marker on the card in front of her cradle. She was small and warm and perfect, with a shock of auburn hair gracing the top of her head. "She'll have gorgeous hair like her mother," he said, "and I'll have to beat the boys away with a bat."

"Just show them your gun," said Brennan teasingly. "I am certain that, as alpha-male, they will accede to your instructions."

They watched their daughter sleep, her small face peaceful. "She's gorgeous, Bones."

"You do have superior genetic markers, Booth. It's not surprising that we would have an aesthetically pleasing offspring." She smiled up at him. "But I do understand what you are trying to say - having a child is more than just a scientific process. She's... she's perfect."

He pressed a kiss on top of her head, the silk strands of her hair tickling his nose. "And you're perfect too, Bones."

She tilted her face up for another kiss, his lips brushing hers quickly. "Take me upstairs, Agent Booth."

He smiled. "Glad to comply, Dr. Brennan."

"What do you mean, you still haven't named her?" Angela said over the phone, her voice rising. "You can't call her Baby Booth forever!"

On the other end of the line, Brennan moved efficiently around the private hospital room that they provided for her. The baby lay in her crib, hypnotized by the swirling patterns on the overhead mobile that they had installed, chewing patiently on her tiny fist. Cradling the phone against her ear, she moved from the closet to the bed, efficiently folding up her maternity clothes and baby onesies for the trip back home. "We're not planning to call her Baby Booth, Angela. The right name just hasn't come up yet. And we want to provide her with a suitable moniker that will not induce teasing in school when she reaches that age where formal education would be most suitable for her mental facilities."

Angela huffed. "Why not just name her Mary or Anne?"

"I am not naming my child after a mythical woman who was said to have given birth to a child while remaining a virgin. I would like my daughter to at least be open to sexual experiences and not stigmatize it because of some irrational belief system." Brennan packed up her clothes in her duffel bag and scoured the room for the baby's toys, bottles, and diapers. "I also refuse to provide her with the name of a historical figure who was beheaded because her husband thought she was consorting with other men."

Her best friend laughed. "All right, all right. A good name. Have you and Booth discussed this?"

"Yes. We have yet to reach a joint decision." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. 5:50. Booth would be here in ten minutes to discharge her and the baby, and then head home. Home. The three-bedroom apartment that she used to call hers was now transformed into a home. Parker had reclaimed the old guest room once they had decided to move in together, and now the boy's sports equipment and science projects littered every corner of the apartment. They had spruced up what used to be her office, painting in a light mint green ("It's a unisex color, Booth.") and setting up the layette in shades of cream and yellow. Even Hodgins pitched in, getting one of the best interior decorator in the country to fly down to DC to paint a whimsical design on the walls. "Anax junius," he proclaimed proudly to Booth and Brennan. "The official insect of Washington state."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "They're dragonflies, Hodgins."

"Green Darner dragonflies, to be exact," added Brennan. "In Japan, dragonflies are symbols of courage and swiftness, although of course, they are male attributes in Japanese society. However," she said, stroking the roundness of her stomach, "I find that such symbols are appropriate for a girl as well." And that was that.

Of course, that was two months ago - and now they were ready to take their baby girl home.

Brennan leaned over the crib, and the baby's eyes moved from the slowly rotating mobile towards her mother's face. Doctors said that the baby would not be able to see anything clearly for the next seven days, only fuzzy shapes and moving objects, and no clear distinction of color. Still, it didn't seem to distract her - she knew exactly where her mother and father were in the room, and could turn her head and flail her arms in their direction if necessary. Brennan reached down to stroke her child's arms, covered in a soft down of almost-invisible hair. "What's your name, little girl?" she asked quietly. "I wish you could talk already so you could tell us what you want to be called. Booth - that's your father - says that the choice is up to me, since he had the chance to name Parker already, but I figured that since we're partners, it is a joint decision to name you."

The baby gurgled, as though amused to hear her mother's voice. Brennan resumed stroking her daughter's limbs, relishing the soft, pliable feel of her skin underneath her fingers. "I wish my own mother was here," she whispered to her daughter. "Perhaps she would have helped. You would have enjoyed her. She had a calming presence."

There was a knock on the door. Booth stood at the entrance, a familiar figure in his leather jacket and dark jeans. He was twirling his poker chip between his fingers. "Ready to go, ladies?" he said with a grin.

Brennan gestured to the bag at the foot of the bed as she carefully lifted her daughter in her arms. Despite all the science, despite all the rational and logical thought that led to the decision, there was still something indefinable, something intangible and surreal, about having a child. Out of love. Her daughter - their child - was made out of love.

"Come on Bones," Booth waggled his eyebrows as he lifted up the duffel bag in one hand and then reached out to Brennan with the other. "Let's go home. Parker wants to meet his new baby sister."

"She's so tiny!" Parker exclaimed, peering over the side of the bed. The baby turned her head at the sound of his voice and gave him a bright, toothless grin. "Hey, look Dad, she smiled at me!"

Booth leaned against the changing table, watching Parker reach down and wave his fingers in front of his daughter. "Well yeah, bub, 'cos she knows you're her big brother."

Parker grinned as the baby wrapped her tiny fist around his pointer finger, her legs flailing as she listened to her brother speak. "I'm gonna teach her how to throw a football and how to skate and ride a bike and I'm gonna tell her all the bones in the body!"

Booth laughed as he arranged the last of the contents of the duffel bag. While he wasn't really known for being neat and tidy, he learned that it was best to keep the layette as organized as possible, especially when there was a high probability that there would be a mess. Watching his son and his daughter meet for the first time, he felt such a swell of love that he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest and do the cha-cha right in front of everyone. What he had missed during Rebecca's pregnancy, he managed to make up for with Bones'. Granted, it still wasn't the same, and a part of him regretted not being in the delivery room when Parker was born, but still -

"C'mon, bub, we gotta get dinner ready," he finally said, reaching down to take his daughter and cradling her gently in his arms. She gave him her patented wide-eyed look, as though she was carefully observing and cataloging everything he said and did. "Just like you mother, aren't you, junior squint?" Parker hopped down from his perch and rushed to the kitchen, Booth following him with the baby. They had placed small cribs in all parts of the house so they could comfortably take her anywhere and keep an eye on her.

Soon, they had eggplant parmigiana and garlic bread on the table, alongside a feta salad that Brennan made. Milk was put out for both Booth boys, and Brennan grabbed a glass of orange juice for herself. Not wanting to miss out on the action, the baby started gurgling as soon as the clink of cutlery and china echoed around the small dining area, and Brennan picked her up so that they could all eat together.

After his first bite, Parker looked up at the table. "Hey! We're a family now."

Booth laughed and reached across the table to stroke Brennan's arm. "We're just a different kind of family, bub."

"I know! But it's awesome, isn't it? I always knew Bones would make a good mom."

Brennan put down her fork and looked at Parker curiously. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're smart. And you're pretty, just like my mom. And you talk to me like a normal person, and you know how volcanoes explode, and you can read bones. And also you tell me awesome stories, like that mummy you found with his heart in a jar. I like that. Plus, you help me with my Math homework. And you make great mac 'n cheese."

"I told you your mac 'n cheese would be a winner," said Booth.

"So you think I'd be a good mom to your sister?" asked Brennan.

"Well, duh, yeah. She's gonna be scary smart, like you. And she'll also be pretty. And Dad and I will beat up anyone who says otherwise. Right, Dad?"

"Right, bub."

Brennan rolled her eyes. The baby gurgled, trying to reach for the fork on the table. "Look at that," she said to her daughter, pulling her back from the cutlery, "you already have two alpha males and you can't even form words yet." The baby turned to her and tried to reach inside her blouse, her mouth opening in a hungry wail. "And that's my excuse to feed to little one," she said, rising from the table. "Can you help clean up?"

Booth nodded. "No prob, Bones."

Much later on, with both children tucked in for the night, the partners lay in bed, arms and legs tangled up underneath the sheets. A lone bedside lamp dispelled the darkness; on the night stand, the baby monitor was quiet, signalling a few short hours of bliss. While weary, Booth was still awake enough to discuss baby names with Brennan.

"How's about Maxine?"

"No. That sounds like the name of a prostitute."

"Booth!"

"It's true!"

"How many prostitutes have you ever been introduced to, anyway?"

"I plead the Fifth - ouch, Bones, that hurts! How did you even know that spot?"

"I'm a scientist, Booth. Plus, Cam mentioned that was a... sensitive spot."

"Cam should really learn to keep her mouth shut."

Brennan laughed and turned to face him. "What about Theresa? That was you mother's name, wasn't it?"

"No. I don't want her to bear the burden of my mother's grief."

"What a poetic line."

"But sincere."

"All right." Pause. "Not Catherine."

"Not Hannah."

"Not Rebecca."

"We don't have much left, Bones. We might as well name her Jemima."

"She will associate herself with a forgetful duck. No."

"Jemima was a goose."

"She was a puddle-duck - although I am not sure whether that is even her proper scientific name. I shall inquire with Hodgins tomorrow."

"Better than naming her Flopsy."

"Or Mopsy."

"Cottontail Booth?"

"No!" Brennan smacked him with an open palm, and then pressed her lips to the spot. "Booth, be serious."

"I am being serious."

"We are not naming our child after fictional animals."

"I agree."

"Or your previous sexual liaisons."

"That would just be awkward."

Brennan pulled up a copy of The Big Baby Book Of Names from the night table on her side and flipped it to a random page. Scanning the page, a name caught her eye. She ran her finger down the list of names and carefully read the meaning. Deep inside of her, something was stirring - a flash of recognition, of rightness, of the balance of things. Much like the knowledge that a certain bone fit within the skeletal structure like the perfect puzzle piece, she knew that this was the name.

"Bones?" He had sat up and was leaning over her shoulders, brow furrowed in concern. "Bones, what is it?"

She pointed to the name on the page. "What do you think?" she asked in trepidation.

He leaned over and kissed her, full on the lips, tasting her joy. "Yes. Yes, love. Yes."

The chapel was small and secluded, the whitewashed walls glimmering in the morning light. Fresh lilies in wrought-iron stands stood beside the pews. Brennan sat at the front pew, her daughter dozing in her arms. Despite her own beliefs about the fictitious nature of organized religion, she could appreciate the ceremony of naming. After all, there was a weight attached to the significance of names - the idea that an individual is important enough to deserve their own name has been recorded in history, fraught with meaning-making, and now they were simply continuing on with the tradition.

"So how did you guys think up of the name?" asked Angela, sliding in besides Brennan. They had invited only a few people to the ceremony - Angela and Cam were asked to be the godmothers, while Hodgins and Sweets were invited to be the godfathers. (Sweets was bouncing ecstatically when they extended the invitation to him.)

"It was just there. It seemed perfect," Brennan said, waiting for her partner to arrive. She was never fond of churches, aside from those with historical and cultural significance - there was something almost oppressive about them, as though they were simply waiting for her to get sucked in. Irrational, she thought, dismissing the idea.

"Well, when you told me about it, I also thought it was perfect. A good, strong name. Not weird enough - you should see what's on my birth certificate - but it fits well. Are you using Booth's last name?"

"Yes, for practical and legal purposes. But my name will also be on the birth certificate."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to have a christening."

"It was Booth's idea."

"I have no doubt about that, sweetie."

"And it is important to him."

"You've come a long way, Bren."

Brennan cocked an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

Angela gave her a one-armed hug. "Awww, sweetie. I mean, the Brennan of years past would never have consented to a religious ceremony like this. In fact, the Brennan of years past would have just used Booth's sample, had herself impregnated, and then ran away to Timbuktu without so much as a 'So long, farewell, auf wiederschen goodbye' to any of us."

"Well, that does not make sense. I would have resigned formally from the Jeffersonian. And I'm sure I wouldn't want to raise my child in Timbuktu."

Angela rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "I mean, you would have just left, Bren. You never wanted to stay in one place before. You were so scared of commitment, you once ran all the way to Indonesia when Booth said that he loved you. Remember that time?"

Brennan winced. It was not a good time for everyone. "Yes. That was a mistake, in hindsight. I should have been braver. I should have stayed."

"Well, at least now you've got your head on straight." Angela looked over her shoulder at the sound of the chapel doors opening. "And we're right on time, Bren. Agent Studly's here with the gang."

Brennan turned to see her family walking towards them - Booth in his best three-piece suit, with Parker holding his hand; Hodgins carrying their two-year-old, Marjorie, in his arms; Sweets and Daisy, hand in hand, an elegant wedding ring gracing Daisy's left ring finger; Cam and Michelle chattering away as they made their way towards Brennan and Angela. The priest made his way down the aisle and shook Brennan's hand warmly. "Hi, I'm Father Ben. I'll be performing the baptism today."

Booth reached Brennan's side and kissed her softly on the cheek. "Hi, babe, I've got everyone here now."

"Russ? Dad?"

"Stuck in traffic. Russ said they'll meet us at the house."

"All right. I suppose we should begin then."

They all trooped up to the baptismal font set at the foot of the altar. Intoning the ritual words, Brennan snuck a glance at Booth and wondered what he was thinking - was he sad that they weren't here as husband and wife? Was he hoping that their child would grow up to be Catholic like him, that she wouldn't be like her mother? Booth's eyes were closed in prayer. She hoped he was asking for something good.

All too soon, they had her daughter at the font, her forehead smeared with chrism and washed off with water. "What is the name you wish to give her?"

Booth looked at Brennan, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Abigail Joy. Her name is Abigail Joy Booth."

After the papers were signed and stamped, everybody made their way back to the apartment, where they were greeted by Brennan's family: Max, Russ and Amy and their two children. Parker immediately led the girls to his room, where he promised them he'd set up a race track and let them crash his cars against the wall. Abigail - Brennan still couldn't get over the fact that her daughter had a name, a perfect name - was ensconced in her grandfather's arms, sleeping quietly after being fed. Angela and Cam were in the kitchen, preparing lunch, while Michelle kept a watchful eye on Marjorie. Russ and Hodgins were loudly discussing the pros and cons of the latest Toyota models, while Amy perched on Max's armrest, watching him cradle the baby.

Booth quietly slipped beside Brennan, hooking an arm around her shoulder and tugging her towards him. "Hey there, babe. You okay?"

She nodded. "My sleeping patterns are still adjusting to Abigail's body clock."

"I told you, you should let me help you."

She gave him a warm smile. "I'll be all right. It should be better once she gets used to a bottle."

"But you like breast-feeding her, don't you?"

"I... I am surprised that I am."

He rubbed her arm reassuringly. "Like I said, you're a good mom."

She sighed. "I just feel... there's just so much going on, and I feel like I'm just running to catch up with everything." She looked down at her hands. "I can't even think up of a good metaphor for this emotion, and I'm supposed to be a writer."

"Hey, relax, babe." Booth pressed a kiss on her forehead. "You'll be fine. We'll be fine. I love you, and that's all that matters."

"What about marriage? What about your thirty, forty, fifty years? What about that one true love you keep on talking about? Do they still matter to you?"

"Yes, they still matter to me, but you know what? You matter to me most of all. You, and Parker, and Abigail. You are the ones that matter the most. So what if we never get married? I will still love you the same way I love you now, the same way I've loved you for nine years, and ninety years into the future. You are my one true love, Bones."

She took a deep breath. Like the name of her daughter, things fell into place - a carefully constructed skeleton, a carefully created case - and she was suddenly thankful that the crowd in her living room was generating enough noise that nobody was paying much attention to the couple in the corner, wrapped up in each other as though they were in their own private universe. She leaned into Booth's embrace, happy that his body shielded her from everyone's view.

"I love you too, Booth," she whispered against his chest, trying to control the sudden wave of emotion that crashed around her. "I think... I think I wouldn't have changed if it wasn't for you."

"I know that."

"And I want you to know that... in the future, if you are thinking of marriage, I want you to know that I am - "

Just then, Angela stepped into the living room and loudly announced, "Lunch is ready!", prompting a rush towards the expanded dining area. Max placed little Abigail into her crib near the head of the dining table and gestured to Booth and Brennan. "Come on," he said. "You don't want to be late to your own party."

Booth grinned and stood up, offering his hand to Brennan. "I know, Bones," he said with an easy smile and a wink as he smoothly steered her to the dining room and to her usual seat. "I know."

A/N:

The name Abigail means "her father's joy". I thought it was appropriate, given that Booth had always wanted more children. Joy is, of course, Brennan's real name.

So what did you think? Reviews, comments, and constructive critiques are always welcome! Thanks for reading. :)