"Yes, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan, I need to get someone to my office in the Medico-Legal lab to clean a spill from a carpeted area," Brennan told the Maintenance Department at the other end of the line, simultaneously juggling her purse and packing up her satchel to leave. "No, it's not blood… Yes, I will be leaving, so could you have one of the security guards stop by when you're through to lock up?" Slinging the two bags over one shoulder, she pulled a small overnight bag from beneath her desk and carried it with her as she left her office at a brisk pace. "Great, thank you so much." With that, Brennan hung up and hurried to the platform, where Wendell was carefully cleaning a set of remains.

"Hey, Dr. Brennan, what can I do for you?" He asked.

"Yes, Mr. Bray, I must leave at once. Continue your work for today as planned, and you will receive your tasks from Cam for the next couple of days. Please tell—" her words faltered as a sharp pain coursed through her, taking her aback. "Please tell the others that I left for the day."

"Are you okay? Are—" His jaw fell open slightly.

"Yes, I have just experienced an amniotic membrane rupture," she told him. The intern's face lit up.

"WHOOOO! You're in labor! Congratulations, Dr. Brennan, and good luck! I'll let the others know."

"Thank you, Mr. Bray," she called over her shoulder as she rushed to the ladies' room. Dropping her bags, she grabbed a sanitary pad from the machine, went into the first stall she saw, and put it on, keen to avoid evidence of the impending slow fluid leakage seeping through for the public to see. As she finished and gathered her bags, she steeled herself to call Booth.

Brennan rested her hand on her pregnant belly, where she knew two heartbeats beat strong and steady, and she was gripped by so many powerful emotions that she found a tear coming to her eye. She put a shaking hand to her face to wipe the tears from her eyes and, deciding that she was less likely to cry if there were people around, she gathered up her bags and hurried out into the warm, bright May sunlight to hail a cab. Once she and her bags were inside and she told the driver where to go—with several reassurances to the nervous-looking driver that she was several hours from delivering—Brennan pulled out her phone to call Booth.

"Hello?" he picked up on the second ring.

"Booth," she began, her voice quivering, "My water just broke. I'm headed to the hospital now."

"Okay," Booth said, and through the other line she could hear the shuffling of papers that meant he was hastily packing up and preparing to leave his office to meet her. "I will be there as soon as I can. Do you want me to stop home and pick anything up for you?"

"No, I have my bag already," she said, bracing herself as the cabbie made a rather sudden stop at a red light. "Actually, could you be sure to grab the camera from the SUV?"

"Absolutely," Booth said, shutting and locking his office door at the Hoover. "Hang in there, Bones, I'll be there as soon as I can. I love you," he told her over the phone, and she smiled.

"I love you too, Booth. I'll see you soon."


"Bye." Booth tucked his phone away and made his way quickly to the elevator, jamming the call button impatiently several times before the doors finally slid open and he practically dashed inside.

"Where's the fire, Booth?" asked Steven, his friend from Violent Crimes.

"Bones is in labor!" Steven grinned and slapped him on the back.

"Hey, man, congrats. Good luck!" The doors slid open on the ground floor and they stepped out.

"Thanks," Booth said, before making a beeline for the parking garage.

Brennan checked into the maternity ward of the hospital while simultaneously fielding phone calls from Cam and Angela, both of whom expressed both concern and excitement for her and Booth. Brennan had kept the conversations short, finding that she couldn't speak with them for long before she started to lose control of her emotions.

She plopped her bags down on the bed in the private delivery room that the nurse had shown her to. It was a lovely room, with a large, bright window, soft green walls, a plush cream-colored couch and two chairs, a private bathroom, and a television mounted above a set of drawers and shelves built into the wall. She unzipped her overnight bag and began to unpack.

"Hey," Booth's voice came softly from the doorway and he stepped inside, and no words could describe the emotions that shone through his eyes. Brennan gave him a small smile, put the onesie and receiving blanket she had been holding into a drawer, and went to him, allowing him to wrap her tightly in his arms.

It was finally too much, and she broke down sobbing, her cries of pain and joy muffled by Booth's strong chest and arms. He guided them over to the bed and he sat, allowing her to curl into his body as she continued to cry. Booth struggled not to cry himself as he traced circles into her back with his free hand.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered through her tears.

"You can," Booth said comfortingly, "We can."

"I know that I can do it physically. Women deliver babies all the time. I am just not sure I'm strong enough to handle the emotional aspects. Can I be strong for them? For us?"

"Temperance, look at me," Booth said gently, using a soft touch to lift her chin and bring her eyes to meet his. "You are the strongest person I know, and we will get through this. You have to believe it, okay?"

"Okay." Brennan pulled away and rested her hand again on her belly, their babies' hearts beating beneath for at least a few hours more.

And so Brennan put on the gown and sat in the hospital bed, wave after wave of contractions crashing down on her, and she couldn't help but use the contractions as an excuse to cry at the emotions she was feeling. She knew it wasn't fair to feel the way she was, it wasn't fair to either of the little ones who were soon to make their entrances into the world. Booth left her side only to refill her cup of water or answer a phone call from a family member or colleague. Otherwise, he was beside her, holding her hand and whispering a continuous stream of loving and encouraging words

Mercifully, the labor went relatively quickly, and it wasn't long before she received her epidural. As much as she hadn't wanted the medication, the relief from pain was welcome. And when it came time to push, she gripped Booth's head tightly, and turned her head away so he wouldn't see the tears streaming down her face.

"This is going to be a little cool," the ultrasound technician told Brennan before she squirted what appeared to be way too much gel onto her bulging abdomen. She grinned at Booth, who had one hand on her shoulder and the other hand holding hers, when the black-and-white image of their children appeared on the monitor. The sounds of two heartbeats were still there, still strong, just like the last appointment. "There are your girls," the woman told them, smiling.

"Our girls," Booth repeated through his haze of euphoria that had lingered ever since he found out she was pregnant. Brennan, however, kept her eyes glued to the screen.

Then, the ultrasound technician's smile fell into confusion as she continued to glide the instrument over Brennan's abdomen.

"What?" Brennan asked sharply.

"I'm sure it's nothing. I'm new at this job… I'm going to go and grab Dr. Burkett for a quick look."

"Okay, Temperance, take a deep and give a good, hard push for me… 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, good, and relax."

"Deep breaths, Bones," Booth told her, dabbing at her sweaty forehead with a hand towel. "We will be able to see them soon." Brennan nodded, but she almost wanted to simply keep their two tiny girls alive inside of her forever.

There were so many nurses in the room, it seemed, prepping trays and helping to hold her legs up (which was good, because she could no longer feel them). Everything was draped in blue, and Dr. Burkett's kind oval face smiled at her from behind a mask.

"You are doing very well, Dr. Brennan, keep up the excellent work," she said. Brennan nodded.

Dr. Burkett came into the darkened room after very little delay. She greeted them cheerfully, as she always had, then washed her hands, put on gloves, and looked closer at the ultrasound images. She was quiet for a long time, moving the Doppler from its focus on Twin A to Twin B and back again before finally cleaning the gel from the instrument and handing Brennan several tissues to clean her own abdomen. Dr. Burkett flipped the lights back on, and turned back to them, her shoulder-length blond hair whipping across her gentle-looking face. Brennan sat up, pulled her sweater back down, and threw out the tissues. The way that Dr. Burkett was looking at them made Booth grip Brennan's hand.

"I am concerned about something I saw on the ultrasound," the doctor began, leaning forward slightly to speak with them in a gentle tone. "I am going to need to do an amniocentesis to check on one of the little ones. Her lungs may not be quite on track for development."

She had told them not to worry too much, that the resolution of ultrasounds wasn't perfect, and not to panic until they had gotten the tests back.

"Let's go again—big push for 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… and take a nice, deep breath."

"Ugh," Brennan groaned, collapsing into the bed before the next contraction came. "I always assumed that the pain women said they felt during labor was an exaggeration."

"Nope, they call it labor for a reason, Bones," Booth said, a small smile coming to his lips. His phone beeped to life and he checked the text message. "Hey, everyone's here. Do you want Angela to come back for the delivery?"

Brennan was quiet for a moment. She didn't want anyone back here, didn't want anyone to see her like this. She knew, though, that with the chaos that would ensue, it would be nice to have her best friend for support and, at the very least, to help take photos. She nodded.

"Yes, I would like that very much," she said, "but everyone else will have to wait a couple of hours, until…"

"Okay," Booth said softly, squeezing her hand before turning to his phone to reply to Angela's text. "One step at a time."

Two weeks later, after another amniocentesis and an MRI (no contrast), they sat side-by-side in Dr. Burkett's office again to discuss the results. Brennan was still getting used to interpreting facial expressions, but there was no doubt she perceived sorrow on the physician's face.

"Dr. Brennan, Mr. Booth," she began, folding her hands atop her desk. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

It had been beyond bad news; it had been absolutely crushing, grief-ridden, devastating news that had made her feel so suffocated that she wasn't sure she'd be able to draw another breath. But she stiffened and kept listening to the doctor. It was extremely rare, she told them as Booth put his arms around his Bones and held her tight, a developmental disorder that neither of them could have prevented. One of their daughters' lungs had completely failed to develop. Both lungs. It was called Bilateral Pulmonary Agenesis, and it was so rare that this was the first case Dr. Burkett had seen in her practice.

"Hey, sweetie, how are you doing?" Angela asked just as Brennan was gritting her teeth and preparing for another contraction, and she began to cry again.

"I—I just don't know how to feel, Ange," she said, sounding so heartbroken that Angela's heart broke for them. Brennan reached a hand over to cover Booth's hand, which was caressing her shoulder, as she looked at her best friend with a sorrowful expression in her eyes. Angela looked over at Booth, and she saw that he, too, was wiping silent tears from his eyes with the other hand while Brennan wasn't looking.

"Whatever you're feeling, sweetie, it's okay," Angela said, hugging her friend. "You are in an impossible situation right now. It's okay to dread the loss of a child, and it's okay to be overjoyed at the idea of becoming a mother to your other daughter. But it's going to take time. And believe me, my heart is breaking for you both right now, but you will get through this and heal and eventually, you will be able to remember without it hurting so much. Right now, let's just live in the moment, okay? Take in the experience and deal with your emotions as they come so you will be able to look back and realize what a blessing today is, that you will be able to hold both of your daughters in your arms, kiss them, and tell them that you love them."

"So what happens now?" Booth asked as calmly as he could, still holding his Bones tight. Dr. Burkett took a breath.

"Well, there is something good to come out of this. Your other daughter is perfectly healthy and neither twin is showing signs of distress, which means that you will be able to carry both babies to full term. You shouldn't have any trouble at all with the pregnancy, and your risk of preterm labor is the same as with any other set of twins."

"We won't lose them both?"


"But then what? What about when Bones goes into labor?"

"I will give birth to two baby girls," Brennan told him, "but one of our little ones won't be able to breathe," she choked on her tears and her words.

"How long?"

"Not long," Dr. Burkett told them. "She'll have a few minutes to be with you."

"She's crowning," one of the nurses called out, and Dr. Burkett hustled back over to lend a hand. Booth smiled and turned to Brennan.

"You're doing good, baby, keep on pushing. Our baby will be in your arms soon," he told her. The thought of meeting her daughter gave her the strength to keep going. And then, sooner than Brennan had expected, Booth was cutting the cord and a tiny baby girl was swaddled in a receiving blanket and placed in Brennan's arms.

The staff had obviously been briefed, because they continued to work as quietly as possible, no one commenting on the newborn's quiet arrival. Angela took a few photos, and the staff bustled around preparing for the delivery of the placenta, and Dr. Burkett was dictating notes, but Booth and Brennan were oblivious to all of it.

Both of them stared at the tiny face of their daughter. For a few seconds, she looked up at them with bright blue eyes, and her chest made a motion as if struggling for breath, but she relaxed into Brennan's arms. Brennan frantically catalogued every detail of her daughter's precious face, from the tuft of brown hair on her head to her large eyes that darted between her face and Booth's and blinked in the sudden bright light of the room, to her sculpted lips and tiny nose that looked like a smaller, more feminine version of Booth's.

And then, too soon, her eyes closed again, and Brennan tried almost on instinct to rouse the baby. But she would not stir. Brennan knew she was still alive, but quickly becoming hypoxic. She felt Angela's calming hand on her shoulder, but kept her eyes glued to her child's face.

"She's a beautiful baby," Angela said softly. Brennan nodded.

"I know," she said. She stroked the top of her baby's head gently and held her close. Overcome by emotion, she turned and buried her face in Booth's shoulder, willing the tears to stop. Booth reached his arm around her to stroke his silent daughter's head and touch her velvet cheeks. Brennan turned back and kissed the baby's forehead. "I love you so much, little one," she whispered. It was too much for Angela, who turned to face the wall, crying silently into a tissue. Brennan wrapped the tiny girl more tightly in the blanket, kissed her cheek, and handed her to Booth, who was crying, too.

"Dr. Brennan," Dr. Burkett said softly, as if not wanting to disturb the moment, "It's time for you to deliver the first placenta, just push when you feel the urge." Brennan nodded and did as she was told. Soon, the placenta was delivered and the team was preparing for the second child's birth.

Booth was unable to tear his eyes from his child's face. He cradled her in his arms, kissed her cheek, but he couldn't control a lone tear from dropping with a small splash onto the baby's forehead. He brushed it away gently, noticing that her skin felt slightly cooler to the touch than it had before. He tried to speak and his voice cracked.

"I love you, my sweetheart," he whispered. "Thank you for being a part of our lives, how—" his voice choked out again, "—however briefly. You are precious to us."

"What is her name?" one of the nurses asked, ready to fill out the birth certificate. Brennan looked over at Booth, holding their baby girl in his arms, and then looked back at the nurse.

"Her name is Lily," Brennan said. "Lily Christine Booth."

Angela dried her tears and embraced her best friend, sharing in her grief. She looked at Booth sympathetically and they exchanged a look. The only people whom he and Brennan had told about little Lily's condition were herself (with permission to confide in Hodgins) and Cam. Not even Russ and Max knew the fatal condition that their baby was born in. Yet, there were people waiting for them in the waiting area down the hall to see how Brennan and baby were doing. Booth tried to swallow the lump in his throat and handed the tiny bundle back to Brennan.

"Where are you going?" she asked him. Booth squeezed her shoulder and looked into her grief-stricken eyes, sure that she could see some of that pain in his eyes as well. She nodded, turning her attention back to her daughter, now limp in her arms. She knew then that their baby had passed, but she found herself unable to let go.

Booth and Angela looked back in from the doorway; Brennan was still cradling the infant in her arms. Dr. Burkett approached her, and Booth watched as she put her hand on Bones' shoulder and they began to talk. Angela laid a comforting hand on Booth's upper arm and started to guide him away.

"She'll be alright," Angela said, sniffing and dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "You both will. We all will." Booth looked at her with such incredible pain in his eyes that their usual sparkle was snuffed out.

"I know, we're strong. We'll pull through. We always do…" his voice broke again, and Angela pulled him into a hug. "It's just… I never imagined it would be this hard to lose a child that I barely knew. I can't imagine what Bones is going through."

"Bren will be okay, Booth, it's just going to take a long time. But you will heal, and eventually you will be able to remember your sweet angel without so much pain." She released him from the hug, and she saw that Booth was struggling to keep it together. "Come on, G-man, we have a family to talk to." Booth nodded and led the way down the hallway. He tried desperately to round up his emotions, to work up some composure, but every time his breathing calmed, the image of Lily's tiny face and Bones' sorrowful sob came swam back into the forefront of his mind. Before he knew it, there were the double doors, and he was leading Angela through them.

There were a number of other people in the waiting room, too, but he found "their" group in a far corner. There were Cam and Hodgins, Sweets (but, mercifully, Daisy was absent), Wendell (possibly because everyone else from the lab was here already), and Max. He looked around at them, and as soon as they saw him come through the doors, they were on their feet.

He met Cam's eyes, and almost instantly her eyes welled with tears. He tried to swallow the lump that had popped up again in his throat amid all the smiles and pats on the back and words of congratulations.

Brennan's contractions hadn't slowed much since her last delivery, but she wished they would. She wasn't ready to let go of the tiny bundle in her arms, and she knew she couldn't do it without Booth there, but Booth was helping their makeshift family to understand what had happened and was not at her side for the time being. One of the nurses had begun to explain some options to her, but she couldn't even try to think beyond this moment right now, not without Booth, not with the agony of watching such a tiny and innocent creature blink in the bright light of a dazzling new world, struggle for breath, close her eyes and go limp in her arms all in a matter of minutes.

Brennan couldn't bring herself to stroke her daughter's hair anymore, not now that she knew the only reason her baby was still warm was because of her own body heat. At the same time, the surging levels of oxytocin running through her cerebrospinal fluid had done its job to develop a strong maternal attachment to this sweet baby, and she found it nearly impossible to fathom the idea of letting her go.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly Booth was at her side again, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear. More contractions started coming and she knew she still had another child to deliver, and a swooping feeling of guilt crashed over her about grieving so much during an occasion that was supposed to be joyous, and tiny baby Lily was still in her arms, and Booth was trying to gently take her away because Brennan needed to concentrate on the second delivery. Booth squeezed her hand and continued to speak words of encouragement as he cradled Lily's body in the crook of his other arm.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and a second little one made her entrance into the world. She was a little mottled creature, tiny fists flailing, eyes screwed up and screaming so hard that Booth had to laugh. He laid Lily in the hospital bassinet that had been brought in for them and hastened over to where the baby was to cut his second umbilical cord of the day. Angela was there snapping photo after photo every step of the way, and after the Apgar score was taken ("Just like you, Bones, a minute old and she's already got her first A."), she was pronounced 6lbs, 14oz, 19 ½ inches long, swaddled tightly in a pink blanket and handed to Booth.

Booth stared at the baby with wonder in his eyes. Her cries had died down, but her face was still scrunched up against the bright lights of this new world. Her cheeks were pink now, and her thick fuzz of light brown hair stuck up every which way from the nurses toweling her off. Booth lifted his face and said a prayer of thanks to God for the blessing in his arms. Gently, as not to jostle his newborn baby girl, he sat in the chair at the bedside.

Now, the nursing staff had scattered, having mostly cleared out of the room to give the two of them some space. Angela hung back, standing at the other side of the bed and stroking Brennan's sweaty hair comfortingly, and Dr. Burkett was hovering over the bassinet in the corner and writing out notes.

"Do you guys want some space?" Angela asked calmly, looking between Booth and Brennan.

"That would be great, Angela. Thank you," Booth nodded at her. Kissing the top of Brennan's head and giving her a quick hug, she left the room for the waiting area down the hall, and Dr. Burkett pulled over a chair to approach them.

"I know this is a difficult time for you both," she said in a consoling voice. "We had discussed some arrangements in the last month. How are you feeling about those things now?" Booth looked into Brennan's beautiful blue eyes, so laden with sorrow and grief, and turned back to Dr. Burkett.

"Yes," he told her. "It's for the best." As heart-wrenching as it was for him, he handed their tiny baby girl, sleeping now, to the physician. She would take her to the nursery for the necessary blood tests, footprints, and ID-banding, allowing the two of them some time to say both hello and good-bye to their firstborn.

"Okay, then," Dr. Burkett said, cradling the child in one arm and wheeling the other bassinet over to the bedside. "I'll leave you for a bit. When you are ready, just call the nurse, alright?" Booth nodded, but Brennan just stared at her, with both tears and understanding in her eyes.

"Thank you—" Booth's voice cracked, "thanks for everything, Dr. Burkett." The doctor gave him a solemn nod and a tiny smile.

"I truly, truly am sorry for your loss. When you're ready, though, remember that you have this little darling waiting in the nursery." With that, she turned and left, closing the door behind her. Brennan's walls crumbled suddenly, and she began to weep again. Booth sat at the edge of the bed with her and they held each other, tears spilling over, and they buried themselves in each other's arms as though they could block out the rest of the world.

"I don't know if I can do this, Booth," Brennan whispered, her voice muffled in his shoulder. He held her tighter, then pulled apart slightly to rest his forehead on hers.

"We can, and we will. We are so strong, you and me together, and this is—" he sniffed, wiping away one of his own tears, "—this is the hardest thing we've dealt with, but we can pull through this. We have to. There is a living, breathing, screaming baby girl in the nursery who can't wait to meet her mommy."

"I'm a mother," Brennan said, giving a tiny laugh in almost disbelief. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she was so emotionally numb during the second birth that the fact she was still a mother had almost escaped her. "We have a daughter together."

"And there is nobody better to be the mother of my child," Booth said, smiling.

"And similarly, nobody better to be the father of mine." They both exhaled deeply, still resting against each other.

"Temperance, we need to say goodbye." For the first time that day, Brennan didn't cry, she simply nodded. She found that she didn't want to hold Lily's tiny body in her arms; she already had already held her baby, comforted her, and told her she loved her as much as she could during her daughter's short life. Holding her again would only make things worse for her.

Instead, Booth pulled the bassinet between them and he put his arm around Brennan's shoulders, her head dropping onto his shoulder as the two of them looked lovingly at their still daughter. It would take time, they knew, to grieve the loss, but they knew that they couldn't stay here frozen in time indefinitely. They sat in silence, memorizing every curve of her face, silently pleading to nobody in particular that they would never forget. Booth and Brennan had decided a month ago that they would take no photos after the baby had passed; it seemed too macabre to them.

There would be a funeral in a few days. The two of them, together, had made all of the arrangements necessary to say a beautiful, heartfelt goodbye to a child whom they would never really know. They chosen everything, from the cemetery and the headstone to the casket to the church where the service would take place as though on auto-pilot. The baby had been so active and full of life in Brennan's womb that even though she knew logically that it was that child who would be residing in that tiny, intricate white casket, her heart simply couldn't make the connection between the two. But now, it came flooding back.

Brennan was the first to allow unwelcome tears to stream down her face again. It was crushing to make the connection between the tiny, strong, very alive creature who had been full of life and movement in her womb for months and the tiny little girl lying before them. She couldn't have prevented the outcome, she knew that in her rational mind, but her heart kept questioning that. Did she eat or drink something she shouldn't have? Was she exposed to something in the lab or the field or even at home that had prevented her daughter's lungs from forming? However she examined the situation, though, there was one thing she knew: she had lost a child and was in bereavement.

Booth heard her sniff and looked over, tears glistening in his glassy eyes, and he held her close and she clung to him and began to sob again. Booth kept her in his embrace, wrapping himself as tightly around her as he could, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and, finally, he broke. His body shook with cries of grief as, for the first time that day, he really let his emotions go.

Neither was sure how long they sat like that, but when they finally pulled, apart, they knew it was time. Booth leaned forward and kissed little Lily on the forehead for one last time, and together they pushed the call button. A nurse entered and Brennan gripped Booth's hand as the nurse wheeled the bassinet away. A moment later, though, a second nurse entered the room, wearing a somber expression on her face.

"I know this has been hard for both of you," she said, "but would you like to meet your other daughter? I'm sure her testing is finished by now." Booth looked at Brennan, who nodded halfheartedly. She felt awful to be so listless about an event like becoming a mother to a healthy baby, and she hoped the feeling would pass.

When the nurse placed the tiny, squirming bundle of pink blankets into Brennan's arms several minutes later, she felt her heart bursting with love and joy for her tiny daughter. The baby was no longer crying, and her activity gave her tiny face a rosy glow. Her tiny face looked as though it had been perfectly sculpted, from her smooth forehead and tiny eyelashes to the curve of her chin and the tiny spirals of cartilage that made up her ears. Beautiful. Precious. A miracle.

Booth grinned with giddiness as Brennan handed the child to him, and he hadn't felt this content and peaceful for a very long time. He looked up at Brennan, who now had a very different emotion in her eyes.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"I can't remember ever being so happy," she whispered in response, almost as if saying it too loudly would somehow make it not true. They both stared into their baby's face as her eyes opened with wonder for the first time since she'd been in their arms. Her eyes, too, were a clear, vivid blue.

"Look at that, Bones," Booth said with delight. "She has your eyes."

"All babies' eyes are blue… we won't know her real eye color for up to a year." Booth chuckled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Do you think the others are still here? In the waiting room, I mean?" Booth asked. Brennan shrugged.

"I'm not sure, but I can check with Angela."

They were all still there. Wendell and Sweets had gone to grab food for the rest of them, but Angela, Cam, Hodgins, and Max were walking into the room a minute later, all of them excited at the presence of the baby in Brennan's arms who was now being held by her godmother, Angela. They brought balloons and flowers from the gift shop downstairs, which lit up the room with every shade of pink imaginable. Max approached the bedside and gave his daughter a hug.

"How are you doing, Tempe?" he asked slowly.

"I couldn't be happier to be a mother," she answered simply, as Hodgins shook Booth's hand and slapped him on the back in congratulations.

"So you never told us what this little one's name is," Angela said, cooing softly at the baby in her arms, who only stared at her godmother in wide-eyed wonder.

"We decided on Grace Angela," Brennan told her. Angela looked up from Brennan to Booth and beamed in delight.

"Oh, sweetie…" Angela began, but found she didn't know what to say. It didn't matter. They simply exchanged smiles.

Shortly thereafter, Sweets and Wendell returned with the food and the large group crowded into the delivery room, chatting and passing little Grace around from one person to the next. Brennan couldn't help but be excited for her daughter's future, because she would grow up being loved by so many people.

And as a mother, she couldn't ask for anything more.