A/N: Last chapter! This is definitely the longest of them all, because I got a little out of hand while writing Brennan's proposal :P Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!

By the time Christine has finally gone to bed, it is nearly ten o'clock and the fire of the sun has long set over the horizon. Brennan stretches out her fingers, yawning as she makes her way into the kitchen. She feels jittery, more than usual – although she knows exactly why. Shuffling through the pantry and cupboards, she finds two glasses and a bottle of champagne. Taking a deep breath, she makes her way out onto the porch.

He is sitting on one of the chairs, right hand rested on the tabletop beside him. He is relaxed, staring out over the ocean, with a far-away look on his face. He turns to her as she arrives, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips, and he gestures silently to the chair beside him. She doesn't notice the way he tenses slightly, his body suddenly reacting nervously.

She pulls up her chair and pops open the bottle, pouring champagne into the two glasses before passing one over to him. His fingers brush against hers as she hands the glass over, and they both shudder slightly at the simple touch.

They both lean back, sighing, staring out onto the sea. Her hand shakes as she raises the glass to her lips; his throat is dry from more than the bubbly liquid. They are both quiet for a little while, each gathering up their own courage, each considering how the other will react.

He is the first to start, unable to wait any longer. "I want to show you something."

"Oh, me too. Well, not show as much as tell, but...well, there is a visual component, but it only comes in later..."

They both pause, waiting for the other to start, and she flushes and he clears his throat and suddenly they lapse back into their previous silence.

He turns to her again, but this time he does not speak. He simply stares at her, at her eyes with their million shades of blue, at her auburn curls that he aches to run his fingers through, at the soft skin flushed red with embarrassment. He reaches across, unable to stop himself, and rests the back of his fingers against her cheek. She tilts her head, pressing into them, eyelids slowly dropping.

She pushes herself closer, his touch lending her new confidence. She turns her chair until she is as close to him as possible, their knees pressed together, and she twists their hands together and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and he mirrors her action, until they are so close their foreheads are mere inches away from touching.

She smiles, warm and wry. "Hi."

"Hello," he murmurs back, smiling back at her.

"I wanted to tell you something." She takes a deep breath, shifting slightly before commencing. "I was thinking...about all we've been through. After all these years. The good moments and the bad." He raises her eyebrows, and she continues.

"I remember, that first year we were working together, when I was in New Orleans and you followed me after I was attacked. I remember being saved by you, when Kenton kidnapped me, and I was...terrified. I thought I was going to die. I trusted you, but you were in the hospital and I thought I was going to die."

His fingers slide over her wrist, up her arm until he is cupping her neck, tilting her chin up with his thumb so he can look into her eyes. "I remember Jasper, and the smurf." She smiles wryly. "I remember staying, when Sully invited me to go with him on his boat, because I couldn't leave you behind. I used other excuses at the time, but I must admit to myself now that you were the reason. You were the reason I couldn't leave. I remember going undercover as Roxie. I loved being her, not only because it was fun but because the way I got to act around you. The fact that I didn't have to hide that I felt something more than I could admit. I remember when Angela and Hodgins were going to get married, and we were at the altar, and I was still angry at you because of my father but I still wanted to be around you."

" I remember kissing you under the mistletoe. It was the best kiss I'd had in years." She looks up under her eyelashes and smiles. "At the time, it only topped the kiss we'd had in the rain, so long ago. I had never known before, but I missed you, your kisses, your taste..." She licks her lips, and shakes her head a little to get back on track.

"I remember when you...when you were..." She clears her throat and looks down, and he brushes away her tears before she even knows they're there. "I remember all the blood, and I couldn't...I couldn't think afterwards. I couldn't react afterwards. It was a defense, one I put up often when I was a child, and I couldn't react emotionally to anything. I wanted to cry and I wanted to...I think...that first night, after you were gone, I contemplated suicide. I trusted you so much, after losing everyone else in my life, and if you were gone...I didn't think I could live. I couldn't find a reason to live."

He wants to stop her, wants to kiss her and hold her and pray she never remembers those days again. He never knew just how much she had suffered back then, although he had a pretty good idea of it.

She takes in a shaky breath and continues. "I remember deciding I wanted a child, and deciding it had to be yours. It was selfish of me, but past all the characteristics that you would have passed on to that child...he or she would have been a piece of you. And when we discovered the brain tumor...I thought you were going to die again. I knew you probably wouldn't, I knew the odds were working with us, but I was still terrified. And then you couldn't remember me, and I thought I'd lost you. It was a pain worse than losing you physically. It was losing the best four years of my life, because all I know is half the story. You are the other half."

"I remember you confessing how you felt about me. I...I was terrified. Emotionally. I wanted to be with you, trust me. But I didn't think I could change. You didn't deserve me back then, Booth. You didn't deserve who I was. Who I thought I was."

"I did." He breaks his own rule and cuts through her speech, telling her what he regrets not telling her that night. "I did deserve you. You didn't need to change. You never needed to change."

"But I did." She smiles. "I already had. Not so much...changed, but...set free. I was trapped in my own world, one I had created especially to fit my emotional needs. But you broke down those walls, the ones I thought were keeping me safe. They were holding me back. And you changed that. I should've realized that back then, Booth. And I should've told you."

"I remember leaving, because I couldn't stand hurting you any more than I already had. I thought if we spent some time apart...but then you left too, and the thought of losing you nearly killed me. You were going to be a hero. And I didn't want you to be a hero. Not if the price was your life.

"And when we came back, and you were with...I'd spent all my time thinking about us, about what we could be, and I'd realized that being with you would take time, and effort, but that I wanted to make it work. And then I came back, and...I would never admit it, but I didn't like her. Not because she wasn't a wonderful woman, and she made you happy, but because she was what I wanted to be with you."

"Never," he murmured, breaking his rule again. "She was never what you are to me now."

She smiles again, her hand cupping his cheek. "And when Vincent died, and you...you were there. You were warm, and there, and alive. Even though you could've died. And you were everything I wanted, and needed, and six years of stopping myself from feeling went down the drain because I couldn't stop myself from being painfully grateful that you were still alive.

"And you were there, for the next year, teaching me all the things I didn't know about being in a relationship. All the things I didn't know..."

"You knew," he smiled. "I never taught you anything, Bones. You knew it all. You had just never put any of it into practice before." He sees the way her eyes look away, and her fingers tense, and he knows what's coming before she can even put it into words.

"When I left, Booth, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted you to be able to concentrate. I was giving you what you gave me. You...allowed me to love. I wanted to allow you something I'd been doing all my life. You needed to concentrate, to see the facts and not the emotions, and that would've been impossible if I had been in jail."

"And everything afterwards...Christine's first steps, her first sentences, everything...I'm so glad all of it was with you. I'm so glad Christine is your child, and that I can raise her with you. I'm so glad that I have this life with you, that I can kiss you when I want, that I can hug you and it doesn't have to be a guy hug, that I fall asleep and wake up to you. I love this life we've created and I wouldn't give it up for the world."

"I realized something this week, Booth. Marriage is...a picky topic. And even after all this...all these years of romance and history, I still can't make the emotional connection by myself. But you do." She looks up under her eyelashes. "You make that connection. I don't know how, but you do. And since I feel an emotional connection towards you...I realized I can make that connection, to marriage, as long as I think of it with you. I can see it through your eyes, Booth, and it...it is a wonderful feeling."

He smiles, eyes clouding with tears, and she reaches and pulls out the ring, holding it in her open palm. "I, um...I went out with Christine, and we got this. I hope you like it. I want...I'd like to marry you Booth. Seeley Booth. I would like to get married to you, and I would like to exchange vows, and I would like to go on a honeymoon and wear a white dress and Angela tells me the socially-accepted ritual is to abstain from intercourse before the wedding and I would not like to do that but if it is the social norm, then –"

He cuts her off with a kiss, pouring all he wants to say to her into it, into the way her lips open willingly under his and his tongue runs over her bottom teeth. He pulls away slowly, both drawing breaths from the air in the inch between their lips, and they both smile.

"Hey Bones." He pulls back, pulling out the list and handing it to her. "I made this for you."

She raises her eyebrows, refocusing her eyes, and looking at the paper in front of her. She laughs, looking up at him again, the laugh catching in her throat. He is holding the bracelet between his thumb and forefinger, dangling it in front of her eyes. She reaches with shaky fingers, gently touching the charms, and he gently takes her wrist in his other hand, slipping the bracelet on.

"I couldn't find a ring," he says dryly, "but I thought this would be-"

This time she cuts him off, pressing her lips tightly against his, and this time there is more behind the way she moves. She pushes closer, impossibly close, until she has no other choice but to raise her legs and straddle him on the chair, tilting his head back as their tongues meet softly in stark contrast to the way her hips press against his. A moan leaves his lips as his fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her head back and dragging open lips down her throat, sucking her pulse point, and her hands drag down his chest, fingers pushing through the space between the buttons of his shirt and touching warm, bare skin-

"Mommy!"

He pulls away with a gasp, both their chests rising and falling heavily as they pause, wondering if they actually heard what they thought they did.

"Daddy! I awake now!"

She scrambles off him, pushing back into her chair, and he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and throws it onto his lap just as their child appears, head peeking around the corner. "Mommy!" She runs over, climbing into her lap and scrunching her nose. "Mommy, you red."

He chuckles, then pauses when he realizes he's probably just as flushed as she is, if not more.

"Back to bed," Brennan laughs, resting Christine on her hip as she stands. As she walks past Booth he drags his fingers across her waist, smiling up at her, and the little girl that they created doesn't see the way they exchange a knowing look as she takes their child back to sleep.


When she returns, he is in bed, and he rolls to look at her when she walks in.

"Hello, Mrs. Booth," he says cheekily, the undertone of love and happiness not missed by her.

She wrinkles her nose and sets off on a long speech about how taking the name of a husband is an antiquated ritual that takes away the individuality and freedom of a woman. But when she wraps her arm around his waist and presses his ear against her chest, she smiles up at him wryly. "Good night, Mr. Brennan ."

He laughs.