Title: This is Life

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.

Rating: This is rated T.

A/N: I hope everyone likes.

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Angela Montenegro had never felt quite so nervous in her life.

Brennan was a fairly unpredictable woman. If she had her logical brain in gear, she'd find a million reasons to refuse Booth's proposal, and if she did, Angela wasn't sure how anything would ever be the same again.

Not after the effort Booth had gone to, arranging something so astoundingly romantic. He'd planned the event in a few short days, spending hours trying to find an available registrar, paying a fortune to hire the luxurious Woodland House for the entire day, even going as far as giving Angela whatever money she required to pick a suitable outfit for Brennan, should she have agreed.

Standing in the wedding room, she saw their car, and pressed her nose to the glass, praying that Brennan would allow her love for Booth to take precedence over the logic she held so dear to her. It was a long shot, for ordinarily, Brennan would never sacrifice the security blanket that was her rationality.

To her right, a fire crackled within the wide, opulent fireplace, and outside it had begun to snow again. It was perfect. Picturesque and so eloquent that Angela felt weepy at the romance of it.

"Do you think she'll say yes?" Jack asked, his hand dropping to the small of her back. Angela sighed, crossing her arms over her torso, watching as she saw movement within their car.

"I hope so, Jack," she whispered. "I really hope so." Hodgins stepped closer, the warmth of him reminded her of exactly why she liked having him around. He was kind, considerate and when she needed to be reassured, he was there to help. Obliging to ensure she was happy.

"She will," he said with soft determination. "She's a very intelligent woman. Sometimes Booth is obnoxious and arrogant, but no one has ever loved her or accepted her the way he does." Angela dropped her head to the window again, his hand falling upon her shoulder. "Don't worry, Angela," Jack said. "It's their love."

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"Booth…" Brennan swiped her hand across her forehead. "This is a paramount event. Have you thought about it? Have you really considered the consequence of this…?" He brushed a single fingertip across her cheek, smudging the lone tear that marred the perfection of her lovely features.

"What I feel for you can only have good consequence," Brennan drank him in, the mocha dark gaze of his eyes, his certain smile, the way his fingers cupped her jaw, stroking her face, searing with love and passion. There was elegant perfection in the way he loved her. The way she felt when she looked into his eyes and saw something so powerful, it almost blew her away.

Yet she was gripped by fear. She imagined that one day he'd wake up, unable to cope with the complex person she was, and leave. Her biggest fear, was losing Seeley Booth. She felt nauseous as the clock ticked in her mind. What should she reply? What should she do? Was he making a mistake? What if his assumptions had been wrong? So many marriages ended in disaster…

"Booth…" she said, shaking her head slowly. "Oh… Booth…"

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Booth climbed the stairs to the first floor, walking the corridor slowly, trying to remembering everything he saw as he did, for he'd never be in the place he was, ever again.

His feet sank into the plush beige carpet, the ivory and gold wallpaper made the corridor look as though it went on forever; high carved ceilings, a round chandelier that hung like an upside down cake, three tiers, with a single pointed crystal at the bottom, catching the muted light. It sparkled.

The heavy oak doors, painted white, made him think he could have been in Heaven. Everything looked perfect as he approached the room at the end of the hallway, and listened to the voices from within, speculating whether there would or would not be a wedding taking place today.

His watch told him it was one thirty and the registrar said she'd stay until two fifteen – and then she'd have to leave. He sighed, pressing his head to the doorframe, unnoticed by the crowd that had gathered. He watched Jack, arm draped around Angela, murmuring words of quiet reassurances, and Zach sitting in the front row with Sid. The registrar standing behind a dark mahogany pulpit, her head bent as she read over the service.

He saw his friend Hank from the military and his wife, and he caught a whisper of Hank's approval in Booth's decision to finally 'settle down and relinquish his guilt demons'.

The fire crackled within a sweeping marble fireplace, and two vases filled with simple ivory Vandella roses scented the air, sweet and reminiscent. He thought their colour complimented the falling snow, perfectly and mused that, if he had picked anything right in his preparations for what was supposed to be his wedding day, it was those flowers – stunning in their simple elegance. Their petals reminded him his Temperance's skin.

Slipping back, away from the wedding room, he heaved a heavy sigh, dropping his eyes to the floor before turning on his heel, striding down the corridor to the third room on the right, before disappearing inside.

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The registrar glanced at her watch, the golden hand slipping unto two pm, a nervous twitch tingling at her spine.

Seeley Booth, the would-be groom was playing a very dangerous trick – one that could easily backfire and with only fifteen minutes left before she had to leave, she was beginning to feel as though perhaps today was not his lucky day. Which was a shame, for when he came to see her a few days earlier, she'd been taken with him – endeared by the soft way in which he spoke of the woman he wanted to surprise. He regaled her with stories and anecdotes that made her smile, and even prompted her to agree to his outlandish request.

Not to mention that the Winchester family – the owners of the fabulous house they stood in, were intensely private about their home. It had surprised her that they'd agreed to open their doors for a wedding – especially so soon after Christmas. Even if the family rarely stepped over the threshold of their enormous house, it was still no small feat.

Resting her elbows on the pulpit, she swept her eyes over the small congregation, a collection of friends that formed an unlikely bunch. Each person harboured worried expressions, none totally at ease. She understood this discomfort, for despite not even knowing the couple, there was a niggling worry inside.

Tapping her pen against the pulpit, she checked her watch again as the hand moved on to two minutes past.

Things were not looking good.

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Temperance Brennan felt something gnawing at her insides, filling her with trepidation and sickening fear. She wondered if her decision was the right one, for as she recalled the expression on Booth's face, the worry doubled, and her chest tightened as though someone were pressing a boot to her sternum.

It suffocated her, making her knees weak as she stood, her eyes watching as the slim silver watch on her wrist told her it was four minutes and thirty seconds past two.

Her cheeks felt warm and she pressed her fingertips to her fevered skin, wondering at her warmth despite the frigid winter temperatures. Amazing what love, confusion and fear could do to a body. With her heart pumping so hard, she was surprised she hadn't overheated completely.

When she was a kid, she had imagined a wedding to be so different. She had imagined that she would have planned it, right down to the last detail, her dress, her sparkly princess tiara, ivory shoes, curled hair, pretty floral bouquet, and her groom – all thought out.

She would lie in bed with her stereo playing romantic songs of the late eighties, imagining that her dad would walk her down an infinite aisle, and she'd have maids, dressed in silken dresses, and her husband-to-be would be a knight in shining armour, devastatingly handsome with a wide, white grin when he turned at the alter and seen her standing, eloquently beautiful and filled with hopes and dreams.

It was funny how life sometimes didn't work out as planned. In fact, it rarely did. All her romantic dreams were before she saw her family ripped apart by murder and before her ideas about marriage were stamped out by fear of loss. She hadn't ever felt a desire to be married because there were so many damn things that could easily go wrong in life. It was as fragile as thin ice and she didn't relish the thought of falling through that thin ice into a bottomless lake of grief.

Sometimes she felt like that anyway.

In fact there were many times she'd felt as though she were drowning in sorrow. Until he'd reached into the water and pulled her out. Made her breathe again.

Why had she been so afraid to say yes, then? Why has she shaken her head with slow contemplation, watching the way his expression changed, filled with sorrow and sadness. Why had she not leapt into his arms at once, exclaiming 'yes' and promises of eternal love?

She was cursed by logic, rendered incapable of normal functioning and grasping true happiness when it was offered to her on a silver plate. She had to sit there, mulling over her thoughts, wallowing in her doubts, recalling those adolescent nights when she was comforted by the romantic words from her head-phones and when logic didn't play such an enormous part in her life.

Would it have been different, had her parents not died? Would she still have had so many foolish reservations about happiness? The truth was, Temperance Brennan wasn't even sure perfect happiness existed. It was irrational to be comforted by the prospect. Life had a cruel habit of pulling the rug from under her. And how she was finally feeling something that she could call happiness, she didn't want to jinx it by leaping head first into a marriage commitment.

Yet, despite all her reservations, she stood there anyway. Lingering outside the doorway, her hand on the heavy brass doorknob, her heart hammering inside her chest as she wondered what lay beyond. What awaited her? She realised that the door was a metaphorical symbolism of life itself. She never knew what waited, just beyond the line of foreseeable knowledge.

She'd never know for sure if Booth would one day leave her. Or be killed in the line of duty. Just like she couldn't know for certain that she'd be a good mother and always be successful in her chosen career.

Turning the knob, she sighed.

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The room waited with bated breath as the door creaked and opened, revealing the corridor to their greedy eyes, and the slender frame of Temperance, shoulders squared and spine straight. She wore her hair in a small clip, smoothed back from her face, and a sweeping ivory dress that reached her feet. She smiled a little, rose-like in her elegance.

Booth turned from where he stood at the top of the makeshift aisle, dressed in a black suit and a muted gold tie, a ivory Vandella rose tucked into the lapel of his jacket. His eyes turned black when he saw her, a vision of perfection, standing in the hallway, her fingers wrapped around a small posy of roses.

"Well," the registrar said, her lips pulled back into a smile. "Won't you come in Temperance?"

As she stepped forward, the satiny toe of her shoes peaking out beneath the sweeping gown she wore, Booth felt as though something had reached inside his chest and curled around his heart, as she moved through the chairs, two tiny diamonds twinkling in her ears, her blue eyes darkened to the colour of ripe blueberries.

Her shoulders bare and milky, her throat elegant and long, he thought there was perhaps nothing in the world more perfect than she.

When she stood next to him, looking up at his face, he smiled too. "Thank you for coming," he said, having been quite sure that she wouldn't. He'd told her he'd leave her to think – give her the option and had slipped from the car, into the regal house. He had thought, for a long moment, that she would drive away, turn down his proposal and banish the thought of happiness from her mind because it wasn't logical.

But as she stood before him, he felt foolish for having doubted her. Doubted them.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," she said and he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You look so beautiful, Temperance."

The registrar cleared her throat and all eyes turned to her. "Shall we begin?" she asked, pointedly watching Booth as he dipped his head in ascent.

"Yes," he said. "I think we're finally ready."

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She loves him too much.

Hope everyone liked.