Thanks again to Linda (1cosmicgirl) and Michelle (BlueMoonFan) for betaing!

IV. Evidence and Saints

"Noooooo!"

Brennan squealed with delight, holding the little red gnome that was her daughter tight in her embrace, as the sleigh slid down the icy slope. The girl, being her parents' child, didn't know any fear, giggling happily as the cold wind hit her face.

They came to a halt in a snow pile at the foot of the hill.

"More," Christine screamed, turning around to her mother. "More, more!"

Booth laughed out loud.

"You're up for another ride?"

The woman gasped for air, adjusting her woolen hat.

"No, I need a break."

"Mommy! More! More! Sled!"

Brennan's gaze wandered from the excited child in her arms back to the man sitting behind her.

"We've created a monster, Booth."

His laughter could be heard once again, as his frozen nose poked her neck.

"No, she's just happy. One more time before we head home?"

She shook her head.

"I'm going to sit this one out. But have fun."

"Alright, come on Christine."

He plucked his daughter out of her mother's arms, attacking the steep ascent. Catching her breath, Brennan watched her family climbing up the hill, the big man pulling the sleigh and the little human being in a red snowsuit in his arms. Experiencing a sudden burst of happiness, Brennan plopped down into the soft snow. Her butt ached from the foreign exertion, it was a wooden sled after all, but she couldn't really remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

It was Sunday, an ordinary Sunday except that there was nothing ordinary about it. Christmas was only three days away, and the mere fact that she was counting down to this year's Christmas did mean something.

In the distance, she could see that Booth and Christine had reached the peak once again, and she observed with a mother's eyes, a mother's heart, how he took his place on the sled; how he tucked the little child safely between his thighs. And then the descent began, and even though it was impossible, she could hear how the ice-cold wind carried their laughter straight to her place, straight to her chest.

A smile she wouldn't have been able to suppress curved up her lips, and her eyes beamed. Around her, Brennan could spot other families, other fathers with their kids, but she was part of it, was finally and unexpectedly part of it. And then the two people she loved most came to a halt just a few feet away from her. She clapped her hands.

"That was awesome!"

"Aw'some," the child repeated, and Booth pressed a kiss to his daughter's head.

"I think someone needs a fresh diaper, though," he stated with a scrunched-up nose.

"No," the child shook her head. "More sled!"

"No, Honey, it's time to go home. Don't you want a nice hot chocolate?"

"Nooooooooo."

And the whining began.

It didn't stop until later, much later, until the three of them were snug and warm in front of their fireplace, big mugs full of hot chocolate warming their hands.

And there was peace; a calm kind of peace, a cozy kind of peace.

Three days before Christmas, there wasn't room for anything else. Not this year.

-BONES-

Even the lab was peaceful, strangely peaceful, and although it made no sense at all, it felt as if murder and mayhem were taking a break, allowing the city to breathe. Cam was still busy collecting compromising video footage from the Jeffersonian Christmas party that had somehow gotten out of hand, and Angela was secretly painting a family Christmas portrait for her husband.

Everybody was happily following their own agenda, and for once, Brennan did not mind. For the first time ever, she regretted all those Christmases she had spent away from Booth; in a faraway hot country collecting dusty bones, somewhere, anywhere she could go to escape the holidays. And last year, hidden in a joyless motel where neither Santa nor Pelant had been able to find them. It was sad somehow that in nine whole years, she had only spent four Christmases with Booth; three of them so stolen, so unwillingly. And one of them wholly unprepared.

Lolling in her desk chair, her muscles still aching from sledding, she remembered the other Christmas two years ago, when they had already been a family. Her belly heavy with his child, the Mighty Hut still a ruin. She had been afraid, so afraid to believe in her new reality.

He had tried, had really tried, but she had rejected everything that had looked faintly like mistletoe or Christmas trees. The child had been moving around inside her, announcing her presence, but Brennan had felt so vulnerable, so raw in this new life that had somehow happened to her.

And Christmas had come without bright lights or stockings. Christmas had gone by without her having been ready for it.

Now, for the first time ever, she felt ready to accept the bliss that was Christmas with the ones you love, and even though she had always believed in the truth, she was prepared to lie to create this special kind of magic for her daughter.

Santa and elves and the power of wishes.

She wanted that for Christine. She wanted it for Booth as well.

But there were still three days to go, and there was something else that needed to be done before unwrapping presents underneath a tree.

"Hi Bones. You wanted to see me?"

The man in question appeared in her office, and she greeted him with a warm smile, trading musings for reality within the blink of an eye.

"Yes. Follow me."

"Okay..."

He stretched the word, made it sound like a question, but her smile didn't disappear as she took his hand, guiding him to an empty room.

"Booth... I believe one Christmas is still missing in our recreation."

He blinked softly, remembering a gathering, a toast.

To family... friends... lovers... family... and food.

You said "family" twice. It's repetitious.

It's a good toast, though. Cheers. Okay?

"The one that felt like family?"

Her smile deepened.

"Yes. The one where you were evidence."

He laughed out jollily.

"I tried to push that part to the back of my mind."

She regarded him with deep eyes.

"I did not."

"Okay... Meaning?"

"Take a seat on the table."

"Bones. I don't know why- hey!"

Raising his hands, he tried to shield his face from... whatever it was she was throwing at him.

"Hey! What's that?"

She looked down at the bowl in her hand.

"Apple pie."

"Why are you throwing apple pie at me?"

She didn't even blink.

"Authenticity. I figured you wouldn't want to be covered in actual human remains."

"Hey! You're ruining apple pie for me when it's second best!"

She shrugged.

"It's squashy. That should be enough. Take a seat, Booth."

Grumbling, he hopped onto the metallic table, regarding his ruined suit.

"Thanks a lot Bones."

She wasn't really listening anymore, though she was already regarding him as if he was evidence.

"I have to remove your clothing."

He swallowed hard.

"Bones!"

Her pink tongue darted out, as she moistened her lips, and her blue eyes bore into his.

"Yes?"

"Do we really have to do this?"

Leaning in, she brushed his cheek with her mouth.

"You will love it. Now, stay still."

And, just like so many years ago, he held his breath, as she removed his jacket, and as her glove-clad hands tugged at his tie, a smile played around his lips.

He remembered.

Remembered how he had tried to pretend that she wasn't t wearing any gloves, how he had allowed himself the luxury to feel, for one breathless heartbeat, that she was undressing him.

And... she was undressing him.

"You have a perfect acromion."

His mouth went dry, as he could smell Santa's burned flesh once more, and it was as if her hands were baring him for the first time.

"Now stand up."

Unable to do anything else, he obeyed, and immediately she dropped onto her knees in front of him and, as she belt slipped through its loops, he focused on the crown of her head. He knew the sight by now, knew what it could mean, and it was not possible to stop the heat from rushing into his groin.

"Bones..."

Looking up at him, she opened the button of his pants.

"Time to recite some saints, Booth."

"Not funny... oh..."

And suddenly, unexpectedly, her talented mouth was all around him, and he was dying a little bit in her damp heat.

"Shit," he gasped, and her laughter sent vibrations along his hard shaft.

"Cameras?" he managed to utter, but she shook her head, replacing her lips with her palm for one stolen heartbeat.

"No cameras and the door is locked. Relax, Booth. I really want to do this. Wanted..."

And her lips were back, sucking him into her sinful mouth once again. His hands clutched the cold edge of the table, holding tightly onto it, and he blinked against the bright light of the room, falling into her rhythm. She was good at this, he knew that she was good at this, but they weren't at home, they were right here in her house of reason, and she was wearing her prim blue lab coat and a high ponytail.

"Not fair..."

One hand snuck between his legs, cupping his heavy balls, and through the layer of her latex gloves, he could feel the warmth of her skin. And his body shuddered.

It was a fantasy, but it wasn't. It was back then and it was now. And she was sucking him, swallowing him deeply with the most delicious pressure; and she was licking him, her warm tongue circling his plump head.

His whole body was aching for her, aching with burning need, and, for the love of God, he couldn't remember the name of one single saint anymore.

His knees buckled as he tried to keep standing, and finally, he couldn't stop his hands from flying into her hair anymore. She was his, so very much his; but he was hers as well.

Had been back then and was most definitely now.

And she was kissing him; so intimately with lips and tongue, her eyes closed, long lashes casting dark shadows on her cheeks. And then she was moaning, deep inside her throat, and he was lost. Cupping his buttocks, she pulled him into her mouth almost roughly, taking him in as deep as possible, and he groaned nearly helplessly, trying to pull away, but it was futile...

… because she wanted this. Had wanted this. Needed this.

And then he was lost, and bright lights danced in his mind, as he inhaled a shaky breath, as he splintered; and she didn't stop sucking him, taking everything he had to give.

And the room fell silent, as his arms ached for her.

-BONES-

Unlike back then, she helped him getting dressed so tenderly. His suit was still ruined, but he didn't mind anymore. His brain felt like pulp, his body utterly sated.

"Bones..."

And he pulled her into his arms, kissing her roughly, kissing her for the first time ever in that room. She was his. So his. But as he reached for the buttons of her pants, she retreated, catching his hands.

"No, Booth, don't."

"But I want. You... you..."

Her swollen lips met his, gently.

"If you want, you can show your gratitude later, but this... this was perfect. Thank you."

He laughed out, feeling almost foolishly.

"Thank you? Are you nuts? Thank you, Babe!"

His arms all around her, she looked at him with soul wide open.

"That was the missing piece, Booth." And she smiled. "Merry Christmas."

-BONES-

It was already dark, when they arrived home, when Booth took one drowsy girl from her grandfather. He was lingering, the old crook, basking a few more moments in this wonderful life his daughter had given him, saying yes to one more drink, as Booth put his granddaughter to bed.

Accepting one dinner invitation for Christmas day because Brennan and Booth wanted it; remembering another time when he had to tell her that being alone on Christmas meant that nobody loved you. She was loved; he knew that, had known it all along. But, the biggest miracle was that so was he.

And as he hugged her goodbye, he couldn't help but notice that her hair smelled like apple pie; couldn't help but mention it, and she blushed, blinking almost shyly, mumbling something he couldn't understand.

Then he was gone, a whistle on his lips, and Brennan closed the door, turning around to the man that had approached her from behind. And it was a winter night three days before Christmas, when he scooped her up in his arms, carried her to their couch; when it was his turn to undress her, to examine her body, and as he showed his gratitude, his lips buried so intimately between her legs, he made her forget the periodic table of elements; just like she had made him forget every saint that had ever existed.

And it was evidence.

To be continued...