Author's Note: The current angst is just getting to be a bit too much of late. I am not an overly emotional person, yet these characters break my heart…regularly. So instead of focusing on canon at this time I am delving a little further into the future I created for BB in The Should in the Could, and explored a little more in The Meaning in the Coffee… enjoy….


Their beloved bohemian friend had insisted on painting their front door a vibrant blue, touting that it gave their Georgetown brownstone needed character and whimsy. Bones had made an off handed comment about it was really so the artist didn't get lost when visiting. For Booth, however, their cobalt door meant only one thing...he was home. Built of bricks and mortar and love, it was the first place in his 40 years that truly met all criteria.

It had been a nearly endless week, one that had kept him away from home, something he rarely did anymore. A hotel was reserved in New York for him for another night, but when he finished his final meeting before 5 he knew that sleeping in his own bed was well worth the late drive. The meetings were arduous, but progress had been made in three different cold cases and he had trained another group of agents to be better equipped to communicate with the scientific community. Sometimes he barely recognized his job, hell his life, from what it had been just a few years earlier. Gathering his luggage from the SUV he couldn't help but be drawn into the memories.

The pain was excruciating, like threads of molten iron encircled his entire body. Nothing moved, his muscles refused to obey his command. Even the lids of his eyes were beyond his control, and so in darkness he suffered. Then like a siren from the shore, or an angel from the heavens he heard her voice.

"Booth? Booth? Please open your eyes...please."

The sadness and desperation in her voice only increased his agony. When she used that lost little girl voice on him he could deny her nothing, yet heading her pleads was beyond his ability.

It may have been hours or days when he voice called out to him again. "I'm here. I'm right beside you. But I need to know you are still beside me..."

The promises he made were not going to be broken, not tonight.

Reaching deep to the base of his strength, for that is what she was, he found enough reserve to force his eyes open.

She was by his side in but a breath, hands caressing his marred face. "Booth? Booth?"

He tried to make eye contact with her, to quell her worry, to let her know she wasn't alone. Words had never been needed between them, and in this moment he couldn't be more grateful for that connection. The truth was that there was no possibility for him to form coherent words. He was simply too weak, but she heard him.

Silver trails of too long held back tears went streaming down her pale cheeks. "You have to stop doing this, you can't claim to love me and then go rushing off on these dangerous missions, and especially not when you don't tell me and leave me at the lab. I am not some passive female that needs your protection. I know that you think it was best, that you need to know I'm safe. But Booth, you tell me we are partners, equals, and....and...and I need to know that YOU are safe too..." She quieted her own rambling as she brought her forehead to rest against his in their long held display of camaraderie and affection.

He knew, knew in that moment he truly COULDN'T do this to her again. The life they were building was too important, it was more than just the work. As the darkness started to creep in again his thoughts were of how much he loved this woman and how it might just be time for a change…

Of all the choices he doubted in his life, finally accepting the promotion that reduced the field work was not one of them. As he bounded up the front stoop, his keys in the lock, he felt the weight of the week slip from his shoulders. That last case had changed him, changed them, no longer was there a rush that came from storming a criminal's hideout. Realizing that he had a lot to offer in interrogations, mission planning and training had allowed him to find peace in his new role. Frankly the greatest thrill of his life was coming home. There was no way to describe it, perhaps Bones would say it was a release of some brain chemical or another, but beyond the blue door he always found joy.

"Hello! I'm home. Anyone here?" He removed his shoes and threw his bag against the closet door.

Rachel appeared in the hallway. "Hey Mr. Booth. Dr. Brennan isn't home yet. She said she wasn't expecting you until tomorrow morning. "

"Yeah I decided to brave the traffic tonight." With his charm smile she shrugged. "Was missing home."

"She will be glad to see you and there is extra macaroni and cheese Dr. Brennan made last night in the fridge. Things have been quiet around here for more than an hour."

"Thanks Rachel. We will see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I will be here by eight." She grabbed her oversized shoulder bag. "I have class tomorrow afternoon so Carolyn will be here when you get home. Good night!"

"Goodnight and thanks again."

After watching her get safely get into the car he headed upstairs, removing his jacket and tie as he went. Years of sniper training kept his footfalls nearly silent as he made his way through their home. Their home. Over the past few years they had slowly morphed this townhouse into a refuge. It hadn't be easy melding her ancient burial masks with his sports memorabilia, her preference for light colors and his rich earth tones, but the end result was breathtaking, perfect.

He stopped at the first doorway, gently pushing it open, taking note of the slumbering gangly, sandy-haired teen. A quick adjustment of the covers, a closed laptop and a flick of a switch left the boy to dream peacefully. Further down the hall the occupant was also sound asleep and unknowing of his presence as he silently entered. In the crib was a curly haired little girl, dressed in a yellow fleece sleeper, the contrast of her dark lashes caressed her round cherub cheeks.

"Hey there baby girl." Ever so gently he lifted her from the bed, the movement caused her to stir and look up at him with bright eyes and a smile. Enraptured in her soft touch and fresh smell he found himself settled in the rocker. Looking out at the night stars he couldn't help but hum, a song he barely remembered from childhood, the words long lost but the tune remained. His deep robust timber reverberated across his chest soothing the infant. She quickly fell back asleep, her father not far behind.

As the blue door swung open to a darkened home, immediately she knew where she could find him. She had started to say her farewells the instant she received the text message from the nanny stating Booth was at home. In fact, she couldn't get there fast enough. For a moment she stood in the nursery door, watching, studying. It was not anthropological but visceral. This was her family, her love, her home and she couldn't prevent the contemplation of how she had come to deserve such an existence. In the darkness she could make out his solid figure highlighted by the moonlight, she crept in not wanting to wake anyone. Allowing herself to be immersed in the scene, she focused on the lesson he had spent years teaching her, not all matters must be rationalized. Their love was one of those outliers.

Panic was beginning to set in as she thought about the plastic stick for the thousandth time. They had talked about this in hypothetical, potential, theoretical discussions. However they both knew that their lives in this moment were not idyllic to raise an infant. Jobs that were strenuous, demanding, unpredictable, and not contusive to the type of quality parenting they hoped to one day accomplish. Her fear prevented her from sharing the news for three days.

She felt his presence on the platform before she even heard him, she wondered if perhaps on some subconscious level she recognized his scent, something primal in her responding to something in him. Failing to acknowledge his entrance, she continued to examine a pre-civil war mandible. But he had crept behind her and encircled her shoulders with his arms.

"Talk to me," he murmured tenderly. It was not the first time he had pleaded these words during their relationship. While he had grown used to her solitary ways of dealing with her emotions, he also knew that sometimes he had to coax her from behind the walls. For the past few days he had agonized as he watched her withdraw and immerse herself in her stoic world of science.

She stiffened under his strong hands ever so slightly. She still wasn't sure how she felt about things, how could she possibly gather the courage to deal with his reaction? A deep breath, and then another as she felt his breath warm the nape of her exposed neck.

"I'm pregnant." Barely the vigor of a whisper.

Spinning her around so that they were face to face she saw the joy in his smile and the fear in his eyes. "How do….you feel about that?"

Something about his presence, his ever calming, ever secure, presence suddenly made everything clear. She couldn't fathom why she had waited so long to tell him, why she was hesitating, it was all so very obvious.

"I am…inexplicably happy. Rationally I know that it is not the perfect scenario to rear offspring but my desire to procreate and nurture seems to outweigh that at this moment."

That was all the encouragement he needed to sweep her off her feet, quite literally, and spin her around. He shouted for all to hear, to share their news with friends and colleagues alike. "SHE'S HAVING MY BABY!"

She chuckled remembering how she had reprimanded him for using such possessive language and for being reckless in the lab. It was an old argument between them, part of the very fabric of their relationship. A sudden shift of his handsome brow was the first sign that she had awoken him.

"Hey" she whispered. "I apologize if my presence woke you."

"Hey yourself." He smiled at her, in a way that she knew would forever increase her dopamine levels. "Sorry for taking her out of her crib. I know it isn't good for her to let her be rocked to sleep. I just couldn't resist." In a single fluid motion he rose from the chair, kissed the love of his life and laid their daughter back in her crib. "I missed you guys."

She smiled. "Your absence was keenly felt here as well, despite it only being a few days. I find it unfathomable that we once used to be separated, for weeks at a time, with minimal discomfort." She felt his warm arms wrap around her as the last of the week's difficulties and loneliness was washed away. She signed contently "And I don't think one night in her father's arms will do her any harm."

Gazing at this woman, so lovely in her jade silk evening gown the rest of the world melted away. "My arms felt so empty this week. I just want to hold both of my girls. "

"It's good to be home." She whispered, leaning over the crib to caress her daughter's downy curls and took him by the hand as they walked toward their own bedroom.

Two bodies found themselves pressed against a wall, his face pressed against her throat whispering. "I need you, in our bedroom, out of this dress, screaming my name."

"Oh." Her kisses peppered his face and dove into mouth passionately. "Director Booth I do believe that you cannot require that without a warrant. Although I am sure your famed interrogation techniques could illicit your required information." It was rare that she played with him so, and damn was it hot.

"Well Dr. Brennan it is a good thing I got your warrant right here." Hands couldn't work fast enough to remove their clothing, tearing in sweet desperation.

"Hey." Eyes that had nearly deepened to indigo seared into his, her words soaked into his very soul, proving once again that she knew all the right buttons to drive this man wild.

That there was something she could say, a silky whisper, which was even more powerful than when she yelled out to him…

"That's Dr. Booth to you…."

Author's Note: I apologize to anyone who had read and reviewed this story as a standalone. My need to have things orderly made me think that it this would be better as a "collection." But honestly I am not sure. I would love your thoughts on single standalones vs. "collection." Additionally, I have several more ideas for this series, and am wondering if having the intermittent flashbacks are helpful or distracting from the story?