(Neither Booth nor Brennan appear in this chapter.)

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It's cliche to describe a moment of destiny by saying their eyes met across a crowded room. Cliches are cliches, however, because they have a basis in fact and in this case, that's exactly what happened.

Even years later, she would never be able to explain what it was that caused her to raise her eyes at that precise moment. A random sound, perhaps . . . the chink of money against the glass counter or a burst of laughter from another customer. It might have been a ray of light reflected off the glass of the door being pushed open or a flash of movement on one of the TV screens fixed to the wall. Whatever the reason, she glanced up.

He was standing in line, patiently waiting his turn at the register. As he shuffled forward one spot, he reached back for his wallet and at the same time, looked casually over his shoulder. There was no reason for the move. Until then, he hadn't noticed her.

It was just . . . fate.

That was the moment he looked over.

That was the moment she looked up.

Blue eyes tinged with silver and green caught and held eyes the color of a clear summer sky.

The busy coffee shop faded into silence and disappeared into the background, until his attention was diverted by the cashier's impatient voice calling him forward.

At the table, the air that had frozen in her lungs released with a whoosh as she blinked and shook her head. Wow, that was . . . She frowned at the screen of her laptop and reached for her coffee. Wow.

She was reading the same sentence for the third time when she felt someone stop beside her.

"I wondered if you'd mind sharing your table." His voice was low and carried more than a hint of the local drawl, with a raspy timbre that sent tingles of electricity skittering along her veins. She glanced around quickly at the sparse crowd and the number of empty seats in the small shop before her eyes traveled up the long, lean length of him to the boyish face smiling at her from beneath disheveled sandy hair. When her brows lifted slightly, his lips twitched. "It was the first excuse I could think of."

Interested but trying to hide it, she nodded and rearranged her belongings to clear a space on the table's surface for him.

He sat down and offered his hand. "Andrew."

"Christine."

The handshake lasted a bit longer than either of them noticed before he sat back and cleared his throat nervously. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important." He nodded toward her laptop.

"You didn't." She closed it immediately. "I was just studying."

His eyes widened. "You aren't a . . . a freshman . . . are you?" His expression was horrified.

Christine chuckled. "No," she reassured him. "I graduate in the spring." She picked up her cup and sipped casually. "Are you a student at Marshall, too?"

He shook his head. "No, I graduated from West Virginia. I work for the state, out of Charleston. I'm an engineer," he added. "Roads, bridges . . ." His voice trailed off as he shrugged. Seconds ticked away as their eyes caught and held again. "Umm -" Andrew suddenly remembered the coffee growing cold in front of him and reached for it. "What's your major?" The words had no sooner left his mouth before he closed his eyes and groaned. "God, that sounded lame."

She swallowed another laugh and took pity on him. "Forensic science."

"Oh." She had obviously surprised him with her answer. "You want to be a cop?"

Christine shook her head. "Not exactly. My goal is to join the FBI."

His surprise was even more apparent. "The FBI? Wow." A smile curved his lips before he ducked his head to cover it up.

She was immediately suspicious. "What?"

"Well . . ." Humour glinted in Andrew's eyes when he lifted them to hers again. "There's a joke there - about you and me and handcuffs." The clear blue of his eyes darkened to something that caused her breath to hitch again. "But I'll wait until our second date to tell you."

"Our second date?" Christine lifted one brow imperiously, but she couldn't hide her own amusement.

"Yea," he nodded. "I figure dinner will be our first - as soon as I think of a way to ask that you'll find irresistible."

Charmed despite herself, Christine reached for her coffee and peeped at him over the rim of the cup as she drank.

A minute ticked away in silence, with neither of them able to look away.

Finally, Andrew's fingers circled vaguely near his temple. "I . . . got nothing," he admitted ruefully.

Christine burst out laughing. Nose crinkled, her eyes shimmered green and blue, her smile was wide and bright and she was beautiful . . . and that was the moment he fell - tumbled, really - head over heels in love. "Well," she teased, unaware that he was completely and utterly under the spell she didn't know she'd cast, "I accept the invitation you haven't extended yet."

"Really?" Andrew settled back in his chair with a smug grin, relaxed and ready to spend all day trying to make her laugh again. "Damn, I am good."

And that's when she fell in love, too.

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From that moment, they were inseparable - or as inseparable as they could be, given their busy schedules and the fact that they lived over an hour apart from each other. Two weeks followed, filled with phone calls and text messages and computer chats, interspersed with dinner and lunch and sometimes just coffee in between her classes or his meetings.

At the end of the third week, he allowed her to seduce him.

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As dawn reached out with misty grey fingers, Christine woke to find herself tucked securely into the curve of his body. She shifted a bit and snuggled deeper into his warmth. His arm tightened around her waist; without waking up, he pressed a kiss into her hair.

Eyes wide open, she let her gaze drift over the unfamiliar surroundings of his bedroom while her thoughts spun in a thousand different directions. Memories of the past weeks, images from the night before . . . all played in an endless loop, interspersed with pictures of her parents and her family, mingling with her own hopes and dreams and ambitions.

"I hope that you will not be afraid to listen to your heart."

"Was it that bad?" Andrew's voice, rough with sleep, rumbled in her ear.

"What?" She shifted to her back and stared into still-slumberous blue eyes.

"Last night." His smile was soft before he leaned over and kissed her gently. "You're thinking so loud, I can hear you out here."

Her fingers played in the short hair that covered his chest before she looked up tentatively. "I need to tell you something."

His head went back slightly. "Okay." When Christine remained silent, his lips curved up in a one-sided smile. "Is this where you tell me you used to be a man?" he teased. "Because if that's it, all I can say is they did a damn good job."

She slapped at his arm as she laughed. "No, don't be silly." She bit her lip and then caught his eyes once more. "We need to go to my place."

Andrew lifted himself up on one elbow. "Your place?" His surprise wasn't a pretense. "Really? I finally get to see your place? Huh." He lowered himself to her side again and kissed her bare shoulder. "I thought maybe you lived in a tent."

She reached for the hand that lay on her abdomen and threaded their fingers together. "It's worse than that." His brow furrowed at the serious tone of her voice before he shook it off.

"Okay, then, we'll go to your place."

When Christine moved to shift the blanket aside, he threw one leg over hers. "We don't have to leave right this minute, do we?" he murmured, as he rolled her beneath his body. "I was thinking, an hour or so."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed into his kiss. "Or so."

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It was several hours past "or so" when Andrew pulled up to a closed gate outside a six-story red brick building and took the security card Christine offered.

"This is where you live?" he asked as he peered through the windshield. "I didn't know this was student housing. I thought it was all condos."

Her hesitation was brief but obvious. "My mom bought the building," she mumbled.

Andrew's eyebrows went up as the gate opened in front of them. "Your . . . mom bought . . . the . . ."

Embarrassed, Christine shrugged. "My dad has a . . . a thing about security," she said with a roll of her eyes. "When I moved out of the dorms, it was either something like this," she waved toward the gate now closing behind them, "or I was getting a bodyguard." Andrew waited for a 'just kidding' remark that never came. "My mom's financial advisors are always looking for investments so . . ."

He glanced over as he pulled into a parking spot labelled Visitors Only. "So is this your big secret?" he asked curiously. "That you're rich?"

There was a brief, short shake of her head. " . . . No."

They got out of the car and headed toward the building. "When I got my first apartment, my parents bought me towels." When Christine's head swiveled toward him, he grinned. "They were really nice towels."

She couldn't help but laugh as she tapped a few numbers into the security pad set into the wall, waited for the buzz of the door's release and led him inside.

The utilitarian lobby was plain, and except for a few simple landscapes dotting walls painted the color of sand and bushy green plants perched on stands around the elevators, unadorned.

Christine shot nervous glances at Andrew and had just opened her mouth to speak when the elevator arrived. An old man stepped off; his still-rigid posture coupled with the ruthlessly severe lines of what was left of his hair betrayed more than a passing familiarity with military service.

"Good morning, Colonel Armstrong." Christine's greeting was as sincere as her bright smile.

"Miss Booth." He did not smile. His glance slipped over the silky pink dress she'd left wearing the previous night before the sharp green eyes moved to Andrew.

Feeling a bit like she'd been caught sneaking out of her parents' house, Christine rushed to introduce the two men. "Uh - this is . . . a . . . a friend of mine -"

"Andrew Taylor, sir." Andrew offered his hand and found it grasped firmly as he was sized up by the old soldier.

"Are you a classmate of Christine's, young man?"

"No, sir." Andrew accepted the interrogation easily. "I'm gainfully employed by the great state of West Virginia." Instinct had him standing still, shoulders down, back straight.

"Hm." The sound was more a grunt than an actual word, as the colonel was clearly not yet convinced of Andrew's suitability. "And your people?" His eyes narrowed on the younger man. "Where are you from?"

"Right here, sir. Born and bred, eight generations of us."

After a moment's consideration, the silver head nodded. "Carry on." Without a look back, his strides long and steady, Colonel Armstrong headed for the door.

Andrew waited until the elevator doors closed before he laughed. "I thought you were joking about the bodyguard."

Christine sighed and shook her head. "If he hadn't been here when I moved in, I'd swear my dad planted him."

The bell chimed as they arrived on the sixth floor. Christine walked out, turned the corner and led him to the door at the end of the hallway.

She put the key in the lock . . . paused . . . squared her shoulders . . . and pushed it open.

Andrew looked around curiously as he followed her inside. A long wall of exposed brick was immediately opposite the door, bracketing one side of a large, open room separated into different areas of functionality by the furnishings grouped together. The hardwood floor beneath his feet was old and scarred, scattered here and there with thick rugs that picked up the warm colors of honey and earth that dominated the space, accented carefully with muted splashes of crimson and green. The whole effect was one of calm and peace, of home and welcome.

He relaxed. He wasn't sure what, exactly, he'd been expecting but this easy, inviting oasis punctured his unacknowledged anxiety.

Until he found Christine again. She'd dropped her wrap and bag over a chair and stood in front of a fireplace tucked into one wall. The mantel behind her was crowded with photos. Her hands appeared to be clasped loosely at her waist but when he looked closer, he could see the white shine of her knuckles.

"Okay." She took a deep breath and blew it out with pursed lips. "Here's the deal . . ." A nervous laugh escaped. "It doesn't usually matter but . . .Well, you matter to me so . . ." She licked lips suddenly gone dry. "I know that's weird," she babbled, "because we haven't known each other all that long . . . really . . . but . . ."

He stared in fascinated surprise as she fidgeted and prattled on. He took one step toward her. "Christine -"

"No." She held up one hand to halt his progress, looked at her feet, nodded, and cleared her throat. When she lifted her chin, her eyes were determined. "Parker Booth is my brother," she said baldly.

Andrew blinked in shock. "Really?"

Christine nodded slowly as she catalogued his reaction.

He pulled a face, impressed despite himself. "Wow." One shoulder lifted. "I've seen him in concert, he's -" The words came to an abrupt end as a photo peeking out from behind her shoulder caught his attention. He inched closer. "Is that Temperance Bre -" His eyes flew to hers.

Christine tore her gaze from him and looked over her shoulder at the family portrait that had captured his attention. Formatted in black and white, it was taken against the backdrop of a battered vintage pickup truck parked in front of a dilapidated barn. Her parents stood at the driver's door, Brennan in front of the arm Booth had stretched out along the roof of the vehicle. Parker, Christine and Zach grinned at the camera from the bed of the truck.

When she turned back to Andrew, his face was pale. "You - Booth - you . . . your name is Booth," he stuttered. "I knew that. You told me that. I just didn't . . . it never occurred to me -" He wiped one hand over his jaw and then pointed at the photo. "Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth, they're your . . . your parents."

Christine's eyes flicked once more to the photo and then to Andrew again. "Yes," she answered slowly.

He surprised her by laughing out loud. "So . . . you're their . . . you're their daughter."

"That's usually how it works," she said sarcastically. He covered his face with both hands, turned his back on her and laughed again. Her eyes narrowed. "What is going on, Andrew?" she demanded. "I tell you about Parker and you freak out about my parents?" His hands dropped to his side but humour danced in his expression when he faced her again. "You know that's weird, right?"

"Oh, the universe is having a good laugh right now. " Andrew cupped her jaw with one hand and kissed her exuberantly. "I have something to show you," he said when he released her. "You might want to change." He touched her sandal-shod toes with one of his own feet. "You're definitely going to need better shoes."

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They'd been driving for almost three hours, through tree-shaded mountain roads that twisted and turned back on themselves, when Christine looked over at him.

"If you're taking me in the woods to hurt me," she said, only half-joking, "my father will kill you and my mother will make sure no one ever identifies your body."

Andrew just laughed and reached for her hand. "Oh, I believe you," he assured her as he kissed her fingers. "We're almost there." He gave her a wink. "Trust me."

Sure enough, it wasn't long before he pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. He glanced at her as he pushed open his door. "We're here," he said. "Come on."

Shaking her head, Christine reached for the handle of her own door.

Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked to his side. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded ahead. "This is it."

She followed the direction of his gesture and stated the obvious. "It's a bridge."

A smile played around his mouth as he nodded and watched her carefully. "Your mother built it."

Christine's mouth fell open. Her head whipped between him and the bridge in front of them. "My mother built . . . What?"

"Well," Andrew shrugged, "she didn't come out here with a blow torch and a hammer but she built it, just the same. She paid for it." His grin widened as he grabbed her hand. "Look." He led her closer, to a brass plaque fixed to the front of a pillar placed at the entrance.

To Dr. Temperance Brennan
with
Gratitude
The
Citizens of Tucker County
and
The
State of West Virginia

Christine traced the letters of her mother's name in wonder. "I don't understand. Why?" She looked from the plaque to the bridge to Andrew. "Why would she build a bridge here?"

He leaned close enough to touch her nose with his. "That's the other thing I have to show you," he whispered. "Let's go."

In the car once more, Christine turned to watch through the back window as the bridge disappeared.

They had only been driving for about forty-five minutes when Andrew pulled off the road again, rolling to a stop beside a knee-high guard rail on the curve of a narrow, two-lane road. He hopped over it and reached for Christine's hand to help her down the hillside.

"Careful," he advised as he assisted her progress. "It rained a few days ago, the wet leaves make it slick."

At the bottom of the incline he stopped, looked back toward the hill and began silently counting the trees that filled the space. He approached one and patted the bark. "This is it." He pulled Christine close and pointed skyward.

She frowned at his profile and then looked up, following the direction of his finger. "What am I looking for?" she whispered finally. "What's up there?"

His finger still pointed up, Andrew watched her. "That's where your parents found me."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. "Where my parents . . . What?" Christine stared at him and then again up into the leaves. "Where they found . . . What?"

Andrew tucked both hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I've heard the story my whole life," he explained. "My mom . . . my real mom," he qualified, "was killed here. I was a year old, thereabouts," he shrugged. "They ran her off the road up there." He nodded toward the road where his car was parked. "Set her on fire. The explosion blew my car seat - with me in it," he added with a grin, "into this tree. It was twenty-five years ago so it was a bit smaller but," her fascinated gaze was locked on him, "that's where I was when Dr. Temperance Brennan and Special Agent Seeley Booth found me."

He closed Christine's gaping mouth with one finger beneath her chin. "Your parents found out who killed my mom. Put him in jail. He died there a few years ago." Andrew stared up at the tree for a moment and his voice became quiet. "My mom's best friends adopted me. I've had a good life. A happy life." He looked at her and winked. "My parents never bought me a building or anything," he teased, "but I had a good life." His expression became serious. "Thanks to your mom and dad."

Shock rendered Christine speechless. Her eyes traveled repeatedly from Andrew's face to the sun-dappled branches high above their heads.

"And then three weeks ago," he caught the lapels of her jacket in his fingers and pulled her close to him, "I walked into a coffee shop and there you were."

She looked past him again, to the top of the tree.

Andrew's fingers brushed against the skin of her cheek before he slipped them into the rich chestnut silk of her hair.

Once again, blue eyes tinged with silver and green caught and held eyes the color of a clear summer sky.

"Do you believe in fate?" His softly spoken words whispered into her soul.

Christine's smile was brighter than the sun that poked through the thick canopy of leaves that hung over them. She linked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers.

"Of course I do," she murmured before their lips met. "I'm my father's daughter."

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Okay, confession time. The bones of my Bones-world (See what I did there? huh? huh? :-D) come from the very first multi-chapter story I wrote, The Story in the Tale. Ruthie is now Christine but other than that, the foundation for my B&B Happily Ever After builds off of that fic. Parker met Billy Gibbons, Zach is a genius, Ruthie/Christine is an FBI agent, etc. I also had her marrying Andy Taylor but *no one* picked up on the fact that "Andy Taylor" and "Baby Andy" were the same person. Of course, maybe that's because only 20 people actually read that story but still . . . I was proud of myself for slipping that in there and then disappointed when no one said "AH HA!"

So, fine. Now I've spelled it out for you. As usual, I have to do all the work around here. :-)

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas or at least a nice day off and thank you (thank you thank you thank you) for reading!