The sterile walls of the hospital seemed to close in around her and made her partner, lying prone of the gurney, seem so vulnerable.

When you respond viscerally, we can get to the root of your emotional issues and figure out what binds you two together as partners.

Her announcement to have a child wasn't something Brennan had decided in two seconds during one of Sweets' exercises. Those who knew her well enough would know that she had spent a large amount of time contemplating, deliberating, and deciding.

Before she had met Booth, even during the early stages of their partnership, Brennan would have said that the thought of bringing a child into this world - a child that was hers - was ludicrous. There was just too much death, too much pain, too much everything. How would she explain to an innocent why fathers could stab their children to death. Why a mother would willingly abandon her child to the elements. How a father, mother and brother who claimed to love could leave her so easily.

But like many things since he had come into her life, Booth had shaken the foundations upon which she had built those presuppositions. Watching Parker grow, knowing the love that passed between father and son, it had stirred something maternal in her. Sometimes Brennan would close her eyes and imagine a little girl with auburn hair and pale skin smiling up at her, tiny fingers sliding down the apples of her cheeks. Over time, as her and Booth had orbited steadily closer, that little girl would have deep, chocolate eyes and her father's dimples.

Brennan had long ago accepted that she was in love with Booth. She wasn't as oblivious as everyone thought. Dr Wyatt could tell, she knew. That night when he had cooked his bean stew the Englishman had given her a knowing smile. In that moment, Brennan had felt a small piece of the enormity of what she was carrying around lift. Someone knew how she felt about Booth and, furthermore, they weren't telling her she was engaging in something futile.

At times Brennan had wondered whether feeling this way for Booth was worth it. For someone who claimed to be the heart between them, he was painfully ignorant when it came to his own. Of course Angela had been telling her of the crackling sexual tension between the partners since the day the FBI agent had swaggered into the Jeffersonian. Before Booth she would have said that was enough.

Now though…now she wanted more.

Brennan had asked for her partner's sperm because, really, after everything she had observed about how Booth felt about her, it had seemed like the only thing he would be willing to give. He was still adamant about The Line. Whenever things between them got too intense, Brennan could almost see him draw it inside his mind. He would draw back, plaster on that semi-grin and pretend like everything between them was friendly.

Well I'm not asking for you to be involved. I just want your sperm.

The words had been cruel and deliberate, she knew. Brennan understood the insecurity Booth felt about his relationship with Parker. Only having him on weekends, or less than that if Rebecca decided otherwise, ate away at the former Ranger. Captain Fantastic had done nothing but exacerbate that feeling of inadequacy, with Booth often commenting that he wasn't doing enough for Parker. Brennan would always tell him otherwise – if there was ever a father who would lay down his life for his child, it would be Booth.

Emotional ties are ephemeral and undependable.

She had thought he would fight her request. Insist that he would be involved in some way. Insist that any child he had would be conceived of naturally, where they would both devour each other passionately and intimately as Angela had said.

Truth be told, she wanted the same thing. Brennan wanted Booth to tell her that a child wasn't just sperm and science, but emotions and love.

Instead he had told her that she wasn't going to have the spawn of Satan, that she could have his sperm. No obligation. Just him donating his seed so that she could be artificially impregnated and have a child.

Her child.

His child.

Their child.

Booth watched as Brennan's eyes drifted away from him.

You really liked holding that kid, didn't you?

She had held Spencer Holt's little girl in her arms, her face softening around the edges as she had discussed spatial disorientation with that small, fragile human. Brennan had been amazed how soft babies were, with their downy hair and large, curious eyes. It had been that way with Andy, he remembered. Booth had been hesitant at first about leaving Andy alone with Brennan, despite her being registered as a foster parent. The woman had expressed her discomfort with the child but, as Andy remained with them, Brennan had warmed up to him.

Booth hadn't been surprised when Brennan's eyes had glazed over with tears when she had placed Andy in Carol's arms. He had mentioned a future of the both of them with Andy, and she hadn't protested. Instead, she had smiled at him in that way she did, the one that made his stomach curl up.

So when she had asked him to be the father of her child, he hadn't hesitated. Yes, it made it more difficult to separate Brennan from the rest of his life. But then again, he was slowly realizing that there wasn't a part of his life that didn't involve her. The Diner, his office, his home, Parker…

I want her to have a baby because she wants it.

Bones had always been rational. It was a trait that both reeled him in and repulsed him in same measure. In this case, it was the latter.

How could she think that he didn't want to be involved? That he was just going to leave her alone to raise their child, as if he was some deadbeat father who couldn't care less what happened to his offspring? Was that what she thought about him?

Was that how little she thought of him?

This is not a life or death situation, you understand?

But it was. This was him and Bones. That was his life. His everything. What had Brennan said to Sweets? Some crossover. Ha.

So he had told her that he had to be involved. He had to be a father. He wanted to be there when he or she said their first word, when they took their first step, when they called her mama…

Lying on the cot, looking up at her as the IV bag swung beside his elbow, Booth told her what he had wanted to say.

I want you to have my stuff. You know, for our kid.

She had appeared stunned for a moment, before telling him that everything would be alright. That she would be right beside him when he woke up.

I'm ready, he had said. Brennan must have thought that he was ready to get the tumor out. Of course he was.

But more importantly Booth wanted Brennan to know that he was ready for them. He had grasped her hand in his, intertwined their fingers together. Her skin was so soft and smooth.

'I'll be right here Booth,' Brennan said, smoothing his hair down. Her face was covered by the scrubs and her eyes were so, so blue.

'I know,' he told her. He could feel the anesthesia creeping up, the black around his vision edging closer together.

The last thing Booth remembered was the image of a little girl - all auburn curls and brown eyes and big dimples - in Brennan's arms, her chubby hands outstretched and full mouth forming one word.

Daddy.