Author's Note: As with the last story, this one is also set in season seven.

Silent Night, Holy Night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child ...

She watched the shadows of the worshippers as they danced in the light of the candles on the wall. She took in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the incense and Christmas flowers. It reminded her of their home in Chicago before her parents left, before her innocence was shattered. She felt the tug of her dress material as it pulled against her expanded waistline when she shifted in her seat to view those seated behind her. She listened to the bishop as he led the congregation in recitation of the Responsorial Psalm. Listening with quiet intensity as they repeated his words back to him, each syllable said with the practiced eased that only comes with years of saying the same words and phrases over and over again. She found it an odd practice but as she looked upon the faces of those around her, she could see that it brought a sense of peace to their features.

Temperance Brennan did not believe in God but she could not deny that this sanctuary was filled with a tranquility and serenity that couldn't be found elsewhere during this hectic season. No one here seemed to be concerned with finding the last minute gifts that they hadn't had time to purchase. No one seemed to be worried about having enough food to prepare for their holiday meal. No one was stressed or overwrought with worry about anything it seemed. It was quite a contrast to the streets outside that were filled with shoppers pushing and shoving their way along in the cold night air.

She had to admit, although only to herself, that she liked it.

Once she had stopped fidgeting in her seat like a bored toddler and decided to instead soak in her surroundings, she was overwhelmed with ... Happiness.

Feeling the sensation of Booth's muscular shoulder against her own filled her with a sense of safety and she allowed herself to remember all those a Christmases without him. All those years after her parents left, Christmases spent with foster parents who couldn't be bothered to remember her name, the years she spent on digs, trying to forget the holiday existed, and the last two years that she had spent broken hearted over not having this man by her side. He was here now.

And as the voice of a young girl, barely ten, with long blonde curls and crystal blue eyes filled the room; Temperance leaned further into Booth and closed her eyes. She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and his lips place a tender kiss into her hair. In that moment it didn't matter that he had come here to worship a God that she knew didn't exist. It didn't matter that he couldn't reconcile her disbelief with his faith. All that mattered was that they were here together, sitting on a crowded pew, in a crowded church, listening to a sacred song being sung by a child with an angelic voice. They were each gathering strength and faith and peace from their surroundings, from the music and from one another. Even if they had widely different definitions of those words.

And on this Christmas night, that was more than enough.

Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace