The Ninth Chapter in the Story.

The wail of a baby pulled Brennan out of the deepest sleep she had experienced in ages. Why was she crying? Was something wrong? Experience let her relax after one breathless second, telling her that Christine wasn't really in distress. Probably just hungry. The mattress beside her moved, a very familiar voice, still rough with sleep, said, "I'll get her."

It hadn't been a dream...

Booth. She was home! Back home! With Booth! Christine was in her bed, her very own crib, the one with the mobile, and they weren't running anymore. The events of the past days came back with the speed of light, and before he could disentangle himself from their sheets, Brennan stopped him by flinging herself into his arms, hugging him clumsily and fiercely in the darkness. After a second of puzzlement, he closed his warm arms around her, hugging her back.

"Bones?"

"You're here," she whispered in wonder, and he swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat, as her scent, as her nearness invaded his senses.

"No, you are here," he whispered back, his hand roaming over her back, her hair...

"We're both here..."

Getting impatient, Christine deepened her protest.

"As is she." He smiled into her shoulder. "Don't go anywhere," he said with a last squeeze before leaving the bed, padding away on bare feet.

Propping against some pillows, Brennan undid the buttons of her shirt while listening to his soothing daddy mode voice coming out of the baby monitor. Despite the dark hour of the night, it was hard not to smile like a happy fool.

Back home. She was back home. He had welcomed her with arms wide open, hugged her and bathed her and held her. Home...

The voices coming out of the baby monitor faded away, but then she could hear him coming back into the room, the child's wail reduced to mere whimpers.

"Here we go."

And, like so often before, she outstretched her arms, and, in the darkness, he placed the child in them. Recognizing her mother's body, Christine started to smack demandingly.

"Bones... can I...?"

"Switch on the light."

It was dimmed, but still bright, and the three of them blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden light. A smile for Booth, one for the baby, and then she shifted the child in her arms and rosy lips closed around her nipple, suckling instantly.

Taking a seat at the end of the bed, Booth couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Brennan breastfeeding the child.

Once upon a time, he had been appalled by the idea of milk coming out of human breasts. Well, that had been before her. Before them. It had always amazed him, the way she could nurture their child, and he had watched her doing it so often before. Like always, the intimacy of it overwhelmed him. It was beautiful, so beautiful. A strong feeling of protectiveness rushed through his system, as he watched mother and daughter. They were his.

Christine's lips suckled lazily on her mother's breast, and, despite her heavy eyelids, the girl tried to hold Brennan's gaze, seeking something – a bond, reassurance, warmth – and finding it.

Holding his breath, Booth took them all in, memorizing the moment for eternity. The fluff of brown hair on the baby's head, her little fist clutching Brennan's shirt, the way she cradled the child.

Eventually, with a soft smack, Christine released the nipple – dark and glistening with milk – and, shifting her once more, Brennan positioned her on her other breast. And the procedure of suckling and gazing and smacking began anew.

Booth was so focused on the drinking baby that he failed to notice that Brennan had looked up, failed to notice how an expression ever so reverent washed over her face, as she recognized his devotion, his awe. And she was glad, so glad that she hadn't weaned the baby, had listened to her instincts. She had known, and watching him watching them, she realized how right she had been.

And something more fell back into place.

Something in her chest opened, in her belly stirred, and when he, finally, finally, looked up, he sucked in a breath, almost falling into her eyes. He just looked at her, or she looked at him, and then, slowly, oh so slowly, the brightest smile she had ever seen lit up his face... and she had to smile as well, laugh at his joy, and then he was laughing with her, crawling towards her, taking her and breast and baby and everything into his arms.

An outcry of protest interrupted the sweet moment, and he lowered his lips, kissing Christine's soft head, brushing Brennan's cheek with one gentle finger.

"Are you thirsty?"

He finally remembered his supportive-partner duties, and she nodded gratefully.

"Yes."

"Back soon."

When he came back with a glass of water a few minutes later, the baby had stopped to suckle, snoring peacefully with the nipple still in her mouth.

"Look at that, she's drunk," he smiled, offering her the glass.

Brennan smiled right back at him, smiled at them before gulping down the water. As satisfying as breastfeeding was, and she really enjoyed the intimate connection with her daughter, it always made her thirsty, so thirsty.

Taking the child out of her arms, drowsy eyes opening for one second, he placed her on his shoulder, patting the little back, awaiting the burp, and Brennan sunk back into her pillows, watching the child, his bare chest, the new familiarity of the moment.

"I'm gonna change her. Back soon, Bones."

She had missed this for seven weeks and 48 hours, this and so much more.

After closing her buttons, she rearranged the pillows. The raw but beautiful feeling of coming home soothed, her heart so full, the butterflies in her belly still fluttering, she left the bed, following him to the nursery. Stopping in the hallway, watching him once more. Booth. Changing the diaper, buttoning up the onesie. Murmuring soft nonsense. Picking up the sleepy baby and placing her in the crib. Turning on the mobile. Turning around... and seeing her. Seeing an entirely new feeling of need on her face.

"Bones?" he whispered, but she had already taken one, two steps towards him, grabbing his face, pulling his lips down to hers.

She whimpered, as his mouth touched hers, as his tongue slipped between her lips, and, tasting his sharp intake of breath, she pressed herself as close as possible to his body, feeling his strength from head to toe.

"Bones," he hissed almost desperately, as her hands slid around his back and lower, pulling him even deeper into her softness.

"Is this too soon?" she murmured, suddenly hesitant, and he picked her up with a rough laugh, pressing her against the nearest wall.

"No," he reassured her between kisses, "this is never too soon."

Her head fell back, hitting the wall, as he attacked her throat, nibbling and biting and licking. Tasting and feeling. An old sensation of warmth spread out in her womb, and, wrapping her legs around his back, she felt weightless and oh so free again.

Touching him everywhere while clinging to him was difficult, but she needed to run her fingers over his chest, his back, his rough cheek, through his hair, needed to reconnect with him on the most basic level mankind had ever known.

The sound of kisses filled the air, but, suddenly, it was mingled with a soft meow, remembering them that they had barely left the nursery and that an infant's proximity to this kind of homecoming was probably inappropriate.

Letting go of her for one second, Booth sought her eyes, dark and dazzling, took in her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips. She looked breathless... and happy.

"I love you," he rasped, and her head fell onto his shoulder, as he began to move, carrying her back to their bedroom like the precious treasure she was.

"I love you, too," she whispered, her hands never stopping their soft caress, mapping his skin, learning him anew.

Then the world tumbled, and she found herself flat on her back, the mattress shifting under the impact of their weight, his body towering above her. With a content moan, she let her hands roam freely, finding smooth skin and hard muscles underneath. Spreading her thighs, just a few inches, he sunk down, and the feeling of his hard body so close to hers, finally, again, almost brought tears to her eyes.

Closing his lids against the sensation, he burrowed his face in the crook of her neck, dropping a gentle row of kisses onto her skin, before his fingers started to work on the buttons she had just closed. This time, it was different, though, because, right now, she wasn't a mother, she was just his woman. And there was nothing 'just' about it. Shifting his head, he kissed the swell of her breast, inhaling the sweet scent of her and milk, nuzzling the tender flesh with his lips.

With a long sigh, her fingers raked through his hair, holding him in place... enjoying his mouth on her, as the butterflies began to fly.

"I've missed you so much, so much," she confessed barely audibly, and he almost crushed her in his arms, as his lips slanted down on hers anew, as her kiss turned into kisses, turned into everything.

He was hard, so painfully hard, but the release he needed was more than just a physical one. He wanted to have sex with her because it was fun and great and they were both very athletic, and he would, maybe tomorrow... but tonight, tonight he just needed to make her his all over again. Needed to hear everything which words could never say in a language only bodies had ever been able to master.

And she understood.

Shimmying out of her clothes, she felt him skin to skin, warm and real, finally again, and, as her hands slipped into his boxers, lowering them, he groaned helplessly, thrusting involuntarily into her. This was Bones, his Bones... and they had always been so damn perfect together.

Rolling them around – because just as much as he needed to make her his, she needed to make him hers – she let her lips trail over his chest, soft auburn hair tickling his skin, evoking a sharp gasp. Pulling her atop of him, he let his hands roam over her gloriously naked body, caressing and squeezing, rediscovering his favorite spots, evoking reactions he had once known by heart, reactions he had never forgotten.

"Bones... you're so beautiful..."

She who was beautiful threw her head back in pleasure, as he cupped her full breasts, brushing the sensitive nipples; closed her eyes on a deep breath, as his hands slipped lower, fingers pressing between their bodies... stroking over her and into her.

Molten heat. Silky perfection. Muscles reacting to his touch, tightening around his fingers.

"As are you," she breathed, and then her world was turned once more, as he rolled them around again, positioning himself above her.

Stilling, hard and panting and desperate as he was, he just looked at her, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face... and then he granted himself the luxury to kiss her, just kiss her for a few more minutes. It was the sweetest agony ever, but she was so warm, so alive in his arms, and, for the love of God, he just wanted for this moment to last.

"Booth," she finally urged him in her softest voice, her fingers digging into his back, and, with a nod, he aligned himself. Her thighs parted for him, as her body longed to accommodate him... and then he pushed forward... inch by delicious inch.

Wet. She was so wet. And tight. And warm.

Dizziness overwhelmed him somehow, and she had gotten still, so very still in his arms.

Opening his eyes, he saw tears shimmering in her deep blue, and if it hadn't been for her wonderful smile, he would have stopped... but so he just kept on sinking into the heavenly warmth of her... and, one heartbeat later, they were joined. Finally, truly joined again.

Her arms locked around his back with strength she hadn't known she possessed, and, in her vice-like hold, he could barely move... but this would neither last long nor was it about finesse.

Tilting his pelvis, he rocked into her.

And she sobbed... or maybe it was him... and whose tears could he taste on her lips?

"Baby," he whispered, and it was a slip, but, if possible, she just clutched him tighter.

"Yes, please, yes."

What was she pleading for? For him to move? For him to stay like this for the rest of their lives? For him to make her fly?

He tried to do all of it.

Her body began to hum an age-old melody, as he moved in and out of her, stroking her as intimately as ever possible, all the while holding her, kissing her. He possessed her with an ancient kind of strength, doing it without capturing her... just like she possessed him.

He was Booth, she was Bones.

Nothing could part them, nothing...

"Bones... Baby... Can't hold... don't want it... be over..."

"I know, I know," she panted into his neck, breathed into his mouth... and time stilled, as her body splintered... and something flew freely, something ethereal and pure that was both him and her.

His cry, her sweat, his weight, her pleasure, his oblivion, her haven...

And then... they were both still there. Stunned and silent and breathless. Looking at each other with sudden reverence. Sharing an almost chaste kiss. Unable to let go of each other, unwilling to disentangle.

The things you want and the things you need... Sometimes they are not alike. But, hell yes, sometimes they are.

There was still a lot to talk about... maybe even to cry about. But it could wait until tomorrow. For now, their bodies had spoken.

I love you.

You belong to me.

We're whole.

One language.

To be continued...

Sigh... I just love writing M...