Christine's sitting on a swing at the park, absently dragging her feet along the ground. Her eyes are red and filled with unshed tears and her cheeks, despite her effort to wipe them free, are streaked with brown mascara. She heaves a sigh and grips the chains tighter. "I can't believe it's already been a year," she whispers so low Michael Vincent, who's idly swinging beside her, barely hears her.

"It's been a long year."

"No longer than any other. It's still 365 days."

He laughs. "You know what I mean."

She turns her head and looks at him. "I do."

"You doing okay?"

She nods. "Yeah."

He stops swinging and holds out his hand.

She takes it and flashes him a genuine smile, blue eyes meeting brown.

He slowly leans over and is inches away from her, when his swing twists and his ankles cross, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

She gasps between laughs. "Michael, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"My ego's a little bruised, but I'm fine." He pushes himself up and just sits in the sand.

She swallows and shrugs off what was about to happen—err—what she thinks was about to happen. "I—I have to get home."

He pushes himself up and dusts himself off. "Your Dad was going to pick Parker up from the airport today, right?"

She beams. "Yeah. I'm so excited to see him. I haven't seen him in almost a year, not since—." She shakes her head. "He's been really busy with work. He says he's bringing someone special with him and it's not my sister-in-law."

"I'll walk you home."

"Um, thanks for coming with me to the cemetery, Michael. I—thanks."

He slings his arm around her shoulders and playfully bumps his hip against hers. "No need to thank me, Baby."

"You really need to stop calling me that."

"Sorry. It's just a reflex." He moves his hand to the small of her back and the two of them head to her house.

Michael walks Christine to her door and they just stand there for a few moments, not speaking, just looking at each other. Before she can think or stop herself, she leans over and presses her lips against his. She feels him place his hands on her hips and she steps closer to him, deepening the kiss just a little. She pulls back first and swallows, brushing her thumb across her swollen lips. "I—thanks again." She hurries inside and slams the door shut, leaning back against it and breathing quickly. What did I just do?

Outside, Michael stares blankly at the front door and blinks. What just happened? "I—I guess I'll call you later," he says to no one and heads to his car.

Inside, Brennan walks out of the kitchen, having heard the door shut. "What's wrong, Christine?"

"I just did something really stupid."

"Did you drink?"

Christine shakes her head. "Um, no, I didn't, mom."

Brennan looks at her daughter critically and nods, satisfied that the teenager is telling the truth. "Then what really stupid thing did you do?"

"I kissed Michael Vincent."

Brennan smiles. "Oh?"

"I thought he was about to kiss me at the park, but then he fell off the swing and I wasn't sure, and just now, I was so—even when I was horrible to him he's been so great and today, he came with me to the cemetery and—." Christine throws her head back against the door and groans. "I just screwed everything up. He's my best friend, he's like—he's always been like a brother to me, but I don't know, I just—I kissed him and now I don't know anymore."

"Slow down, Sweetheart."

"I kissed him and ran away. He probably thinks I hated it, but I didn't, it was—it was—I don't even know."

Brennan just stares at her daughter. "Honey, you are not making any sense, so you are going to have to talk slower and clearer if you want my help."

Christine lets out groan mixed with a sigh. "I liked it."

"The kiss?"

Christine nods. "What does that mean, Mom?"

"It means you liked the kiss."

Christine rolls her eyes and throws her arms in the air. "You're no help at all." She pauses. "I'm having a crisis here."

"Christine, you are being a bit overdramatic."

"No, you don't understand. He's my best friend and I just screwed everything up. It's gonna be awkward and just—no, why the Hell did I kiss him and why the Hell did I have to like it so much?"

"You need to breathe, Sweetheart." Brennan pauses. "And I do understand. I was afraid to start things with your father because we were best friends and I didn't want to screw things up."

"When you first kiss Dad, were things awkward afterwards?"

"We didn't speak for just over a year."

"Great. That's real reassuring. Thanks for the help, Mom."

Brennan ignores Christine's sarcasm and continues, "The second time we kissed, it was a little awkward afterwards, but everything returned to normal pretty quickly. The third time we kissed was a disaster. We tried to move on from it, but it was difficult and awkward and we never truly got back to the relationship we had before."

"Mom, you are not helping."

"That was all before we officially got together, so of course things were awkward. We didn't know what we wanted or we wanted different things. The fourth time we kissed was very different. We were both ready then."

"Thanks for trying, Mom."

Brennan sighs. "I'm not an expert, nor do I claim to be, but first kisses are always awkward, Sweetheart. At least, my experiences were always awkward."

Christine nods, walking towards the living room. "What do I do? Maybe he hated the kiss. Then I don't have to worry about any of this and I can just pretend it didn't happen." She laughs. "Yeah, that would be impossible, even if I didn't like it."

The front door opens, interrupting their conversation. "We're home!" Booth bellows and then jerks, startled to find Brennan standing right there in the foyer. "Oh, Bones, hi."

"Where's Parker?"

"He's getting the bags. I offered to help, but he said he could get them." Booth looks at Christine, who looks somewhere between embarrassed and frustrated. "Hey, Princess. Everything okay?"

"Just peachy, Dad."

"What's wrong?"

"She kissed Michael Vincent."

"Moooom."

Brennan shrugs. "Oh, was I supposed to keep that a secret."

"I'm surprised it took you two this long."

Christine's eyes widened. "What?"

"That kid looks at you the way I've always looked at your mom. I've known for a while how he feels about you. I like him and I've known him his whole life, so I wasn't too worried about it, but if you two do start dating, just remind him that I have a gun and I know how to use it."

"Daaaaad!"

Parker walks through the front door and shuts it behind him.

Brennan and Christine both stare at him; well, they both stare at the little girl resting on his chest, asleep on his shoulder. "Who is that?" They both ask at the same time.

Parker adjusts his arm around the little girl and smiles. "Bones, Firefly, this is Jasmine." He kisses her dark brown curls and shifts the sleeping child to his hip.

"Where did she come from?" Brennan asks, rather bluntly. The girl looks to be about three and she knows for a fact she wasn't in the picture the last time he was here.

Parker carries Jasmine into the living room and places her down on the couch carefully. He covers her with a blanket and strokes her hair as she drifts back to sleep. He steps away and looks at his Dad, stepmom, and little sister. "She's a foster child. I sometimes volunteer at a children's home near my office and the last time I was there, I read the kids a story. Jazzy—that's what the director and the older kids call her—crawled into my lap and wouldn't let me leave. The director said that was strange for Jazzy. She had been there for two months and she was wary of strangers, even the director, herself. She was surprised how quickly Jazzy took to me."

Brennan looks at the child and then back to Parker to listen to the rest of the story.

"She thinks it has something to do with the fact that I look a little like Jasmine's Dad, who was arrested for possession and child endangerment shortly before she came to live at the home." He glances at the sleeping child and smiles. "She wasn't there when I visited the time before last. The director told me she was placed with a family, but it didn't work out. That was the nice way of putting it. She still has some bruises and scars from cuts and cigarette burns on her back, stomach, and legs." He sighs. "I couldn't leave her there and Jenna and I are both registered foster parents, so—we've had her for about two weeks now. I knew I was coming out here, so I wanted to keep it a secret. We're in the process of adopting her."

Brennan blinks and swallows, her own painful past bubbling up to the surface. "She's lucky to have found you."

"I'm the lucky one." Parker runs his fingers through Jasmine's curls and watches her sleep soundly on the unfamiliar couch. "When she wakes up, I want you guys to meet her. She's really smart."

"How old is she?" Christine asks, looking at the little girl.

"She's almost three."

"So I'm an Aunt?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. She's cute."

"She's perfect." Parker beams. "We still want kids of our own, of course, but I just—I met her and I knew she was meant to be ours."

"Does she still think you're her father?" Brennan asks, a little concerned.

"She never did. I just look like him, so she feels comfortable with me. She calls me Arty." He laughs.

Brennan smiles. "She seems like a wonderful little girl, Parker." She pauses. "I'm going to heat up the macaroni and cheese for lunch," she says, heading into the kitchen.

"I'll help."

"Booth, I don't need your help to operate the microwave."

"Sure you do." Booth follows her into the kitchen.

"Are you just making an excuse to leave so that Christine and Parker can be alone to talk?"

"Nothing gets past you, Bones." Booth nudges her and places a quick peck on her cheek.

"Parker and Christine are both old enough to understand that you are not in here to help me reheat the macaroni. You could have just said you were going to leave the room, so they could have the privacy to talk. You didn't have to lie."

Booth rolls his eyes and sits at the island. "You aggravate me sometimes, Bones, you know that?"

"I did know that. I appreciate your honesty, Booth. I wish you would give our children the same courtesy."

Booth grunts.

Brennan just smiles and pecks at his lips before heading over to the refrigerator to get out the Mac-n-cheese.

Meanwhile, back in the living room, the siblings just sit on the floor, staring at each other. Parker finally breaks the silence between them. "How are you, Firefly? You good?"

Christine shifts and plays with her shoelaces, avoiding her older brother's eyes. "Yeah, I'm good. It's been a year—today—since Brittany died. I put flowers on her grave earlier. I have good days and bad days, hard days and easy days. I start college soon and I—I'm kind of nervous. Not 'cause of school or anything, but 'cause of the parties and temptation and stuff."

He reaches over and takes her hand. "I'm really proud of you, sis. It takes guts and strength. I don't know if I could do it, getting sober, I mean."

"Mom and Dad don't keep alcohol in the house anymore. I feel bad that they had to get rid of it 'cause of me. It was a choice. I know they didn't have to get rid of it, but still. I just celebrated nine months sober. I almost slipped once, a month after I got out of rehab. I went to the movies with some girls from school and they brought vodka in water bottles. I spent five minutes staring at the bottle and then I left. Mom picked me up."

"Good for you."

She nods. "I—I'm proud of myself. The chips, they really help. Dad goes to meetings with me sometimes and Michael drives me the other times. I don't like going alone."

"I was worried about you. I called all the time, I sent you emails too. You never responded."

"I—I admit I was angry at the time and a part of me didn't think I deserved all the support. I was horrible to everyone."

"We're family, sis. You'll always deserve my love and support, no matter what." He pauses. "I'm sorry I snitched on you to Bones and Dad, but I—I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't talk to anyone and I was really scared, Firefly. You weren't acting like yourself."

"At first, I was pissed that you told Mom and Dad, but I—I want to thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do."

"Then, you're welcome." He pulls her into a headlock and kisses her head.

She squirms and pushes him away, laughing. When he finally lets her go, she punches him in the arm.

"Ow."

"That didn't hurt, you big baby."

He rubs his arm, feigning hurt, and smiles. "So how are you and Michael Vincent? Are you friends again?"

She sighs.

"What happened?"

"We're friends—best friends—that never changed; we just didn't talk for a little while."

"Then what's with the sigh."

"I—I kissed him earlier."

"Did he kiss you back?"

"Yeah."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Does that mean you're more than best friends now?"

"Like are we boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Yeah, sure, are you?"

She shrugs. "It was just a kiss."

"Did you like it?"

She didn't answer him, which was an answer in itself.

"You don't know what to do, do you?"

"No. Mom was no help. You're a boy. Maybe you can help."

He puffs out his chest. "Correction, baby sis, I'm a man, not a boy."

She throws her arms up in mock surrender. "Oh, I'm sorry. You're a man, so maybe you can help me sort all this out, you know offer me a different perspective or some crap like that."

"I can try." He pauses. "So do you like him?"

"He's my best friend. Of course I like him."

"Firefly, stop pretending you don't know what I mean because I know you do." He loosens his tie and gives her a knowing look.

She sighs and slumps. "I've been feeling things for a while now. Ever since Brittany died and he got me that stuffed bear before I stopped talking to him. He's been here, even when I refused to let him be here, all year, and I don't think he realizes how much that means to me. I like to spend time with him and we have a really good time together. He's weird and goofy and makes me laugh. He makes me feel better just by smiling or telling me an absurdly unfunny joke. He's really smart too and hot. I like talking to him." She pauses. "I don't wanna ruin what we have, though. Until this year, I've seen him more like a brother than anything else. It's confusing and scary."

"You're eighteen, Firefly. You're getting too serious about this. Just talk to him, see what he wants, and go from there. It's okay to try something out. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. You move on." He pauses. "I like Michael, he's cool; but just remind him that I'm a black belt and I'll kick his ass if he ever hurts you."

She rolls her eyes. "Maybe I should just lock myself in my room and never date anyone ever."

"Now that's a thought—."

She punches him in the arm again, this time harder.

He rubs the spot and laughs. "I was just kidding, sis."

Jasmine stirs on the couch and starts to whimper. "Arty," she mutters, her eyes opening wide.

He crawls over to the little girl and brushes her curls out of her face. "Hi, Jazzy. Shhh. I'm here."

Jasmine reaches out for him, wrapping her tiny arms around him and holding on as he pulls her into his chest. "Hi, Arty," she says more clearly, snuggling into him.

"Jazzy, there's a few people I want you to meet."

Jasmine lifts her head and looks at the stranger person sitting a few feet away. She looks away again and buries her face in Parker's neck.

"Hi, Jazzy. I'm Christine. I'm Parker's sister, so that makes me your Aunt." Christine holds out her hand for the little girl. "It's nice to meet you."

Jasmine looks at her again and narrows her eyes, which are a dark shade of brown. "Hi." She smiles.

Booth and Brennan reenter the living room and smile at the now awake little girl, who once again buries her face in Parker's neck.

"Jazzy, this is my Dad, he's cool, and this is Bones. Only Dad and I call her that, but I'm sure she'd let you call her that too if you asked."

Jasmine looks at the two new strangers and smiles slowly. She laughs when Booth makes a funny face at her and then she looks at Brennan. "I caw you Bones?"

Brennan smiles. "You can call me Bones if you want, Jazzy."

Jasmine beams. "Hi, Bones." She looks at Booth and furrows her brow. She doesn't know what to call him. She turns back to Parker and tries to figure how to ask the question.

Parker beats her to it. "You can call him Booth."

Jasmine nods and waves. "Hi, Boof."

"Hi, Jazzy."

Jasmine rubs her stomach when it growls and then she starts to giggle. "I'm hungwy."

Brennan nods. "Then it's a good thing I made macaroni and cheese, then. Do you like mac-n-cheese?"

"Mac-n-twees." Jasmine throws her arms up in the air and squirms out of Parker's grasp. When he lets go of her, she scrambles up to her feet and runs over to Brennan, who takes her little hand and guides her into the kitchen.

"I think she likes Bones." Booth smiles at Brennan and sighs. Seeing her with that little girl reminds him of how she was with Christine when she was little and it just makes him fall in love with her all over again.

Parker nods. "I knew she would." He pushes himself up and heads into the kitchen, with Booth not far behind him.

Booth stops walking and turns back to look at Christine. "Are you coming? You love Mac-n-cheese, especially your mom's."

"I'll be right there."

"You okay?"

Christine nods. "I just need a little space to think."

Booth leans down and kisses her forehead. "Don't take too long or there may not be any macaroni left."

Christine smiles. "I'll be there soon."

Booth smiles back and heads into the kitchen. "Hey, save some for me and Christine."

Christine sits on the couch and spends a few minutes thinking over what Parker said to her before Jasmine woke up. Maybe she should give her and Michael a chance? She isn't anywhere near a decision when she decides to just stop thinking and go into the kitchen for lunch. As she walks towards the kitchen, the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," she calls to her family, who all stop what they're doing and look in that direction. She walks to the door and checks the peephole, furrowing her brow. She opens the door wide and stares at Michael. "What are you doing here?"

Michael Vincent steps closer to her and swallows. "I'm risking humiliation and bodily harm, but I need to do this."

She's about to ask what he means, but she doesn't get a chance. Within a second, his lips are pressed firmly against hers and his hands are resting comfortably on her hips. It takes her a moment to get over the initial shock and then she kisses him back, stepping into him and snaking her hand around his neck while the other rests on his shoulder. She's the one that pulls back first, and that's only because she can feel eight pairs of eyes on her. She swallows. "Uh."

He heaves a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "I—I've wanted to do that for a while now. You stole all my thunder, though. I always thought I'd be the one to kiss you first."

She smiles shyly. "What—what does this mean?"

"I didn't have time to go to the floral shop, but I—." He pulls some crumpled dandelions, a couple buttercups, and a bouncy ball with a cricket inside from his breast pocket. "Tine, will you be my girlfriend?" He shows her the mess of gifts and can't help but laugh.

She smiles at him and kisses his cheek. "Are you sure you want me to be your girlfriend? I mean, this past year has—."

He pushes the flowers and marble into her hands and kisses her hard on the lips. "Yeah, I'm sure, as sure as my Dad is that life exists outside our planet." He backs out of the doorway and smiles at her. "I have to go. I just—I just needed to do that." He waves and runs back to his car, slightly embarrassed.

She waves and slowly shuts the door. She turns around and finds everyone's eyes on her as she suspected. She closes her hand around the weeds and smiles. She lets out a breath and heads into the kitchen, ignoring her family's curious stares. The past year has been difficult to say the least, but she made it, she survived. She hit rock bottom, but she can only go up from there.

The End...

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