Chapter 9

Booth and Brennan were awoken by the pattering of small feet and the creaking of their bedroom door as it swung open. They heard furious whispering, but neither was willing to wake fully and acknowledge the presence of the children. Without warning, two small bodies hit the bed as the two shouted, "Wake up, it's Christmas!"

Booth groaned, rolling over and cracking his eyes open. The sun had only just begun to rise, and small slats of light entered the room through the blinds. "Is it really?" Booth questioned. "Hmm, I was under the impression that Christmas wasn't coming this year." The kids giggled.

"No, Dad, it's here. Come on, there are presents," Parker announced.

"Presents? Well, that changes things." Sitting up, he swung his legs down over the edge of the bed, glancing back at Brennan who had buried her face deeper into her pillow after the initial onslaught. "Come on, Bones, presents," he wheedled. She mumbled something incomprehensible. "Coffee?" he tried.

"There better be a lot of it," she groaned, finally rolling onto her back and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Booth grinned at her.

"Promise, Bones," he agreed.

Parker and Kristen were both bouncing with impatience as Booth moved to the kitchen to start the coffee. Once he, Brennan, and Max all had a mug, the three adults settled on the couch with Noah in Booth's arms, and Booth told the kids they could open their stockings. They did so eagerly, ripping off the paper around the small toys and candy as the adults watched wearing smiles. When they finished with their own stockings, they shared the responsibility of unwrapping Noah's, and Booth and Brennan quickly discovered that the baby was more interested in the wrapping paper than the actual gifts. Booth laughed as Noah reached for the paper, attempting to stuff it in his mouth. Booth's hands stopped the infant before the paper reached its destination, and he removed it gently from Noah's fist.

After Booth and Brennan also opened their stockings, the family ate breakfast before moving on to the gifts. A flurry of activity ensued, and by the end of it, the living room floor was covered in discarded gift wrap, and Parker and Kristen's voices were running over one another as they each exclaimed over their gifts. Booth and Brennan sat back on the couch, Booth's arm around her shoulders as they watched the kids playing with their toys. They had opened their presents after the kids, and a smaller stack of gifts sat to Brennan's left. "I have one more thing for you," Booth whispered into her ear. "Well, actually, it's kinda for all of us."

"You've given me enough, Booth," she assured him.

"Like I said, it's for all of us." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a keychain and dangled it in front of her face. A single gold key hung from it.

Brennan cocked her head to the side. "Finished?" she wondered. He smiled and nodded, and she leaned forward impulsively, pressing her lips to his.

"We can go see it later," he told her as they pulled apart.

She smiled slightly and nodded. "I'd like that."

Around mid-afternoon, Kristen was juggling her new soccer ball around the living room, unable to play outside due to the snow and ice which covered the ground. "Keep it closer to your foot," Booth suggested. "You don't want to have to reach with your leg so much." She turned and smiled at him, and he gave her a thumbs-up. "Looks good otherwise though," he informed her. "Hey, have you seen Parker?" he questioned, checking around the room.

"In our room," Kristen answered, concentrating on her footwork.

"Thanks," he said, heading toward the bedroom. The door was almost completely closed, and he knocked, pushing the door open at the same time. "Parker?" he asked. Entering the room, he saw his son curled up in the center of his bed, sobbing softly. "Bub, what's wrong?" Booth questioned, moving to the side of the bed. He knelt down so that he could smooth the blond curls away from his son's tearstained face. Parker did not answer, but the well-worn picture he clutched in his small hands told Booth all he needed to know. Smiling up at him from the faded photograph was the face of a woman he had once loved.

"I miss her, Daddy," Parker sniffed. "A whole lot."

"I know, Bub, and I miss her, too."

"But you have Dr. Bones now." His sobs grew louder, and Booth pulled him into his arms, letting him cry into his chest.

"I'm not the only one who has Dr. Bones, Bub," Booth told him. "She loves you, too. And I love you, and Kristen loves you, and Noah loves you, and I think even Max is starting to love you, too. And I know no one is ever going to replace your mom, and no one will ever want to, but we're all here for you. We all care about you. You don't have to grieve alone."

"Why'd she have to go, Daddy? Why'd she leave me?"

"Sometimes, God decides it's someone's time to go, Bub."

"But why did he decide it was her time? I need her! I hate God!"

"You don't hate God, Bub. You're just upset and angry." Booth's hands moved soothingly over his son's back. "Hey, how about we go visit your Mom? You can talk to her, tell her what a nice Christmas you're having. Would you like that?" Parker's head bobbed up and down against his father's shoulder, the tears still flowing. "Okay, Bub, we'll do that," Booth promised, pulling Parker closer.

When he told Brennan where they were going, she immediately told him that she was going with them, and Booth offered her a small smile of thanks. Though she claimed to be out of touch with human emotions, she did a remarkable job of knowing the right thing to do in certain situations. Kristen refused to be left behind, also insisting that they bring Noah and Max. "We're family," she said firmly. "We stick together." Booth shook his head in amazement at the small girl before nodding in agreement, and they all left the apartment together.

Once at the cemetery, Brennan hung back with Noah, Kristen, and Max, allowing Parker and Booth their privacy with their memories of Rebecca. She saw Parker place a bouquet of flowers that he and his father had picked out on top of the tombstone before running his hand over the cold stone. He turned to Booth and said something, his words lost in the bitter wind. Booth knelt down in front of the boy so that they were face to face and wrapped his hands around Parker's arms before responding. Parker considered for a moment and then turned back to the gravestone, speaking softly. Booth stood silently beside him, his hand on Parker's back, assuring him that no matter what, he was safe and loved. Eventually, Parker finished speaking and turned back to his father who knelt again, wrapping his arms around his son. Raising his eyes to the heavens, Booth mouthed something, but Brennan could not tell whether it was a message for Rebecca or a prayer to God, and she realized that she did not need to know. Whatever it was, it seemed to comfort Booth, and he returned to the small group with Parker's hand clasped in his, a look of acceptance on both their faces. Brennan reached out and took his hand, silently supporting him, and Kristen placed her hand over his and Parker's. Booth's eyes slowly took in the group surrounding him from his grieving son to the strong girl who had grown up on the street to the brilliant anthropologist to the hardened criminal who currently held a small infant in his arms. They were certainly an eclectic bunch, but Kristen was right—they were family.

One week later, Booth gratefully set the cardboard box he was carrying on the floor of the family room in their new house. "Last one," he announced happily.

"You realize now you have to unpack everything," Max remarked, emerging from the kitchen. Booth gave him a look of exasperation. "Hey, I just speak the truth. Besides, you should be thanking me. Who do you think packed up most of these boxes?" Booth had to admit, Max had helped tremendously with the move. He had spent the past week at Booth and Brennan's apartment packing up most of their stuff and watching the kids who were still on winter break from school. Booth had wondered if the ex-con was planning on moving in with them, but when he voiced the question, Max had simply laughed at him and assured him that he had found his own apartment which he would move into as soon as Booth and Brennan had moved.

"Booth, those are artifacts, they should go in the study," Brennan announced, breezing into the room and pointing to the box that Booth had recently carried in.

"I can move it later, Bones. For now, we should celebrate the fact that that was the last box, so we are now officially moved in."

"Why should we celebrate? I believe that to be truly moved in, we would first have to actually unpack all the boxes."

Booth groaned. "Fine. You people just take the fun out of everything." Lifting the box, he turned to Brennan. "Study, you say?"

"You first."

"Rangers lead the way," Booth muttered.

"Oorah," Brennan responded.

"Marines, Bones," Booth corrected. "Rangers, we stick with a good old Hooah"

"I don't hear a difference."

"Of course you don't. Trust me, there is one." They continued bickering as they made their way to the study, and Max watched them go, shaking his head.

Later that night, Booth and Brennan stood on the back porch, looking out into the newly-mown backyard. They had put the kids to bed earlier, and Booth held the baby monitor in one hand. "Come on, Bones, there's something I want to show you," Booth said, tugging her hand. He led her toward the back of their property where a large oak tree grew, casting odd shadows in the snow around it. "Ta-da," Booth announced, gesturing toward the tree as if he were Vanna White. He had built a wooden swing, attaching it to one of the thick branches of the tree with thick ropes and chain. It hung about two feet off the ground, swinging slowly back and forth in the winter breeze. Brennan had to admit, it was well-built and appeared structurally sound though she still harbored a few doubts about the strength of the branch.

"I'm sure the kids will love it," she told him.

"It's not just for the kids." He stepped in front of it, dropping the baby monitor to the ground and grabbing onto both the ropes. Instead of sitting, however, he pulled his feet onto the wood so that he was standing on the swing, still moving slowly back and forth. "The summer I was eight, my grandfather helped me build a swing like this in our backyard," Booth told Brennan. "My brother and I loved that swing; we were always arguing about who would get to use it. It's where I used to go to sit and think, where I could be away from everything. And it was also the first thing I built pretty much by myself. I mean, my grandfather helped a little bit with the design and corrected my work, but I was the one who actually cut and sanded the board for the base, I tied the knots in the rope, I climbed the tree to secure the chains on the branch. It felt like I had done something, you know, accomplished something. It was a nice feeling."

"You've accomplished a lot, Booth," Brennan assured him.

"I know I have now, but at eight, that swing was my biggest achievement. My grandfather said it was a fine piece of craftsmanship, and I believed him, took pride in my work." He had become pensive, still standing on the swing, his arms wrapped loosely around the ropes on either side of him. The swing still moved slightly, now due more to the small shifting of his weight, but he appeared in no danger of falling despite his relatively light grip on the rope. "A little over a year after I built it, my brother and I got into a pretty big fight about who got to use the swing. Unfortunately, my dad was home; if we had known that, we wouldn't have fought. We never fought when he was home. Anyway, he got angry and grabbed a saw and cut the ropes of the swing before burning it. I didn't stop him, couldn't really. I never rebuilt the swing either because I was afraid of what might happen if I did."

He grew silent, and Brennan placed a comforting hand on his leg. After a few seconds, he shook his head, clearing his mind of the memories. "But I did have it for a year, and in that year, I learned a few tricks. If you'll back up a little, I can show you." Slightly apprehensive, Brennan did as he asked, and he tightened his grip on the ropes before crouching down, pushing up quickly. The swing began to move a little higher. He repeated the motion, and the swing moved even higher. "You see, if you crouch down at the top of your swing," he began, demonstrating, "and push up at the bottom of the swing," again, he demonstrated, "the swing will start to go higher." By this time, he was swinging to a height of about four feet off the ground.

"It makes sense. It's simple physics. The weight of your body-"

"I know, Bones. But it's not just physics; it's also fun. And a great leg workout." She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him as he shot her a charm smile, still moving up and down, causing the swing to move higher. Within a few more pumps, he was swinging higher than her head and spinning as the rope twisted. He stopped pumping, laughing delightedly as the swing moved in dizzying circles six feet off the ground.

"You're going to fall and fracture something," Brennan told him.

"I'm fine, Bones. You should try it."

She looked at him doubtfully. "I don't know about that." He simply laughed.

About fifty feet away from the partners, Sully sat in his car with the window rolled down despite the chilly air, listening to Booth and Brennan's laughter mingling together. He could see them fairly clearly from his vantage point, and he watched as Booth allowed the swing to slow, letting it swing lower and lower. He had gone to apologize earlier that day but had seen the moving truck and been intrigued. He remembered Brennan mentioning something about a house, but he had been curious. And while curiosity may have killed the cat, he had found that the call to satisfy it was often stronger than any fear he might have of repercussions.

And so he had watched all day as they had carried boxes and furniture into the house aided by three movers and an older gentleman he had never met before. The kids and dog ran around their feet as they moved, and the baby cried from time to time. All in all, they made the perfect American family, and Sully had to admit, he was jealous. Sure, he did not want the house or the kids or the dog—he had never really been the type to settle down—but he wanted her. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh, to comfort her when she needed it, to convince her to change her mind about love. But he could not do any of those things.

He watched now as Booth stepped off the swing in front of her, leaning forward to kiss her passionately. When they separated, he whispered something, and she laughed again. He sat on the swing, one hand grabbing the rope and the other arm moving to encircle her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She went willingly, shifting so she could kiss him again. Pulling her tighter to his body, he deepened the kiss as he began to pump his legs up and down. The swing began moving again, lower this time, but still enough that Brennan's loose hair billowed behind her as they swung. Breaking from the kiss, she leaned her head back against his shoulder, allowing herself to be cocooned by his warmth in the chilly December air. They climbed higher so that their feet no longer touched the ground on the apex of the swing, but no fear remained in Brennan's eyes. She trusted Booth completely and knew that he would never let her fall. And so she enjoyed the ride, welcomed the thrill of being suspended above the ground on the small piece of wood with Booth's strong arms wrapped around her body. She surrendered herself completely and enjoyed her newfound ability to live in the moment.

With a sigh, Sully turned away from them, starting his car. Yes, Seeley Booth had what he could never have, what he had never had, what no one had ever had. He had Temperance Brennan's heart.

"The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable. That's the burden. Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens which allow us to fly. . ."