Well, here it is, finally, the 100th chapter of what I've come to consider the magnum opus of this fanfiction hobby of mine.

There was actually a two-way tie for what should go here but in voting for this one, several people gave the same reason: The birth of Booth and Brennan's first grandchild should have a special place in this story (or words to that effect). I thought that was an excellent way of breaking the tie.

Also, I have to admit that I think July 18 is an excellent day for a birthday. :-)

(This chapter takes place immediately after Chapter 48: Crooked Ties.)





She was dancing with her husband, laughing as they shared a joke about turning sideways so he could still put his arms around her, when it happened.

At first, she was simply embarrassed, thinking the warm fluid trickling down her leg heralded an episode of incontinence. The crippling stab of pain that ripped through her body seconds later said otherwise.

Her face went white as she bent over, clutching the swell of her abdomen, and cried out.

Andrew grabbed for her. "What's -"

He straightened abruptly, eyes wide, as Christine began panting rapidly.

"Are you -"

She nodded, unable to speak through the breathing exercise.

Alarmed, Andrew looked down at the small puddle growing between her feet.

"Is that -"

She nodded again.

A space began to clear around them on the dance floor as the other wedding guests, sensing something momentous happening, backed away.

Andrew quickly scanned the faces beneath the open-sided tent, looking for his brother-in-law. When Christine groaned again, he resorted to a faster method of searching.


His loud yell had more than the desired effect. Heads turned in his direction, conversations and laughter faded away and on the raised platform where they performed, a five-piece band slowly and discordantly fell silent.

There was a rustle of movement as the crowd parted in different spots to allow several people through.

Brennan was the first to reach them.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

Pain momentarily gone, Christine straightened somewhat, supported by Andrew, who held her fast with an arm around her back.

"I think my water broke." She spoke to Zach as he and Petra stepped to the front of the circle of people around her. The others looked to him, too, automatically deferring to his medical expertise.

He glanced at the floor and back to her. "How long have you been having contractions?"

"I haven't." She shook her head. "It just started. That was the first one."

"You had a contraction before the ceremony started." Michael corrected her quickly. He and Tom stood anxiously nearby, arms around each other. "In the library, remember?"

The interruption earned him a scowl. "I told you, that wasn't a contraction." Christine rubbed circles into the top of her belly and frowned at him. "It was just a little indigestion."

Zach's eyes narrowed on her appraisingly. "And when did the indigestion start?"

"I don't know, sometime last night. After din-" The explanation ended with a hiss as once again, she began to breathe in rapid pants. Her knees buckled under the stabbing pain; Booth and Zach rushed to help as Andrew struggled to keep her upright.

"We need to get her inside. Back up!" Zach's commanding voice cleared a large hole in the curious onlookers. As they walked her across the yard, he caught Michael's eye. "Call an ambulance."

Both grooms nodded, then rushed ahead of the slowly moving group to throw open doors. They had barely crossed the threshold into the cool, shadowed interior of the house when another contraction hit.

Zach looked toward the wide staircase in the grand foyer of the home.

"Do you think you can make it to one of the bedrooms?"

Bent double, her face twisted in agony, Christine screamed her answer. "I'M NOT WALKING UP ANY GODDAMN STAIRS!"

"So that's a no?" He took her profanity in good-humored stride and only grinned when she bared her teeth in response. "We'll use the library," he said instead, with a nod toward a set of double doors on the left. "I might need the light."

In an uneven, halting parade made of everyone who had – or thought they had – a stake in the impending birth, the small group shuffled at her heels as Booth and Andrew helped her along. William Hodgins took up a post at the end of the line and blocked the way inside as more gawkers piled up.

"You're wasting an open bar, folks. Go have a drink. And someone tell the band to start playing again."

Inside the library, Zach tossed pillows and cushions to the floor from a long, oak-colored leather sofa sitting between two narrow, floor-to-ceiling windows. "Bring her over here."

Michael coughed delicately. "That sofa is over 300 years old . . ."

Terrified and nearing the edge of hysteria, Christine lost it.


Her parents did not let this second outburst go without comment.

"Honey." Booth soothed her with a kiss on her brow. "There's no need for that."

"Thousands of women give birth every day," Brennan murmured quietly, as she stroked her daughter's arm. "As long as there are no complications –"

"Bones!" Booth warned her to silence her with a shake of his head. "You'll be fine, baby," he crooned to the frightened young woman. "You'll be fine."

Christine turned her face into Andrew's shoulder and began to cry. "I'm not going to be fine!" she whined, sniffing piteously as she whimpered with the pain of another contraction. "I'm not supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be in a hospital . . . with an epidural!"

"Everything will be fine." Booth repeated the assurance with forced confidence. "The ambulance is on the way and even if they don't get here, we've got Zach –"

"What the hell is he going to do?" Christine's head popped up with a snap. "I'm having a baby not a heart attack!"

"Christine –"

Zach had heard enough. He pulled her out of Andrew's arms, gripped her shoulders firmly and turned her to face him.

"Breathe," he ordered calmly, holding her gaze intently. When she instinctively began to pant, he shook his head. "No, save that for the contractions. Just breathe. In and out. Deep and slow."

He did it with her, their shoulders rising and falling in tandem, and repeated the process until the hint of panic left her eyes.

"Now . . ." His low voice was almost hypnotic as he spoke directly to her. "Do you think I'd let anything happen to you or the baby?"

Christine swallowed, then shook her head. "No."

"Do you trust me?"

Her answer was immediate. "Yes."

"Who's the smartest person you know?"


Amusement ruffled through their audience. Zach shrugged.

"It was worth a shot." His grin faded as his expression turned serious. "Your contractions are coming faster, Chris. Chances are, even if the ambulance gets here in time you're not going to make it to the hospital. I need to examine you, okay? I need to know how far along your labor is. I did a rotation in OB. I've got this."

A bright flush of red warmed her cheeks. "You can't deliver my baby! You're my brother!"

Confident now that the crisis had passed, he laughed and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry, I'll keep my eyes closed."

Without allowing further discussion, Zach turned around, divested himself of his coat and tie and began issuing orders. Like raw recruits jumping to the tune of a drill sergeant, everyone rushed to follow his instructions and soon the room bustled with activity. Booth and Hodgins left and returned within minutes dragging a mattress from upstairs, followed by Michael, who carried an armload of clean linens. While Angela raced to find a suitable robe from the clothing she kept in the house, Petra ran to the kitchen. Tom was sent to retrieve the first aid kit.

As the disputed sofa was shifted out of the way to make room for the mattress to lie in the bright sun pouring in through the windows, Zach scanned the contents of the shoebox-size container of medical supplies and headed for the small powder room at the back of the library.

When he returned, the stained, gray silk dress was gone and Christine wore a dragon-printed dressing gown of green silk draped backwards over her shoulders. Andrew lowered her to the mattress and covered her bent knees with a fresh, crisp blue sheet. Zach knelt at her feet and gestured Petra forward with a jerk of his head.

"Take the shade off that lamp," he told her, nodding toward a fat brass fixture sitting on a nearby table. "Stand behind me and point the light right above my shoulder."

As she hurried to follow his instructions, Christine glared around the crowded room.

"Why the hell are you people still here? This isn't a peep show! Get out!"

There was a quick, apologetic rush to the exit.


Brennan quickly returned and sat down on the floor next to her. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Christine clutched for her hand. "Don't leave me."

"Of course not." She kissed her daughter's damp forehead. "I'll stay as long as you want."

The door was almost closed when Christine's tremulous voice rose again.


Booth's head popped back in. "I'll be right out here, baby."

Her chin wobbled. "I'm scared."

He closed the door and hurried to bend down beside Brennan. "Everything's going to be fine, honey, I promise." He unknowingly kissed the same spot on her brow. "I promise."

Christine cried out when another contraction rolled through her body. While her panting breaths filled the room, Zach glanced over his shoulder at Petra.

"Will you be okay?" he asked quietly, concern in his eyes. "This could get messy. If you'd rather wait outside, I can ask someone else -"

Eyes huge, Petra sucked in a gulp of air, squared her shoulders and shook her head. "I can do it," she insisted. "I want to. For Christine."

"That's my girl." He smiled proudly and tilted his face up invitingly. "Come here . . ."

When she bent to take the kiss he offered, Christine lashed out with one foot and connected solidly with Zach's knee.

"Will you two stop it!" she screeched. "Do you mind? I'm having a baby!"

Zach raised one eyebrow and reached for the box of latex gloves he'd removed from the first aid kit. "Well, I certainly hope so," he drawled, as he snapped one onto his right hand, "otherwise, this might be a bit awkward."

Without further adieu, he folded the sheet back and parted her knees with his uncovered hand.

"You're going to feel a little pressure . . ."

A few minutes later, he lowered the sheet and sat back on his heels.

"Well, the good news is that you're definitely having a baby," he said lightly. "The other good news is that all that indigestion you had last night did most of the hard work for you." He took her pulse and checked for swelling in her feet and lower legs as he spoke. "Are you feeling the urge to push with any of those contractions?"

Christine shook her head, instantly more alarmed than necessary. "No. Should I be?"

He patted her knee. "Don't worry, you will - and pretty soon, unless I miss my guess, so just try to relax for now. ANGELA!" The sudden shout came without warning.

The speed at which she opened the door proved that Angela hadn't gone far.


"Put a couple of these towels in the dryer," he ordered, indicating the stack Michael had provided. "I want them nice and warm. Mom." Brennan's head turned toward him immediately. "I want you to wash up, in case I need your help."

"Of course."

When she got to her feet, Angela was waiting. She paused long enough to pull Brennan into a tight, squealing hug, then grabbed an armful of fluffy cotton and raced out again.

Christine spent several more pain-filled but uneventful minutes before everything suddenly changed.

"Ahhhhhhhh." Groaning loudly, she leaned forward into the next contraction.

"Here we go." Zach quickly settled between her knees again. "Dad, Andrew, hold her upright, give her something to push back against . . . Okay, Chris, ready? This is it . . ."

The business of childbirth commenced.

"Give me a good push . . ."
"Thatta girl . . ."
"Oh, God, that hurt . . ."
"That's all right, now you know how it works . . ."
"That's it . . . Good. Good."
"Rest now, just breathe . . ."
"Ready? Push for me . . ."
"Harder . . ."
"Come on, you can do it . . ."
"Push . . ."
"I know, I know. You're doing great . . ."
"Alright. Sit back, take a minute . . ."

"Thanks, Ange. Put them next to Mom . . ."

"Here comes another one . . ."
"Push . . ."
"Push . . ."
"Light, Petra!"
"Come on, you can do better than that . . ."
"Push . . ."
"I know, I know. You're doing great . . ."
"Okay, rest for a second . . ."
"No, don't push now. Wait for the contraction."
"I'm right here, babe. Right here."
"It hurts . . ."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I love you so much."
"I don't want to do this anymore . . ."
"Just a little bit more, honey. You're amazing, you're doing great."
"Zach . . ."
"She's doing fine, Mom. That's normal."
"You're doing very well, Christine. I'm so proud of you."
"It hurts . . ."
"Zach . . ."
"She's fine, Dad . . ."
"She's not fine! She's -"
"She's fine. You're fine, sis. You're doing great."
"Deep breaths . . . Relax . . ."
"Yea, just like that. That's good."
"I don't want to do this anymore . . ."
"Shhhh, you're fine. You're doing great . . ."
"Ready? We're almost there . . ."
"This is a big one . . ."
"Push . . ."
"Push . . ."
"PUSH . . ."
"PUSH . . ."



"Well, hello, beautiful."

A head appeared, nose up, the face scrunched and wrinkled, with a tiny arm tucked close to her ear. Zach touched the tip of his finger to the miniscule fist and watched it open and close like the petals of a flower.

He beamed at Christine, who released a sobbing breath. "Here's one for her baby book - she came into the world waving hello."

Someone sniffled, but since everyone in the room seemed to be crying it was impossible to say who.

Another contraction served as a rude reminder that there was still work to do.

"Alright, let's see what the rest of her looks like . . ."

"One more . . ."
"Good girl, good girl . . ."
"Almost done . . ."
"That's good, another push like that . . ."
"I've got shoulders . . ."
"Keep going . . ."
"Keep going . . ."
"You're doing great . . ."
"Just a little bit more . . ."
"Keep going . . ."
"Okay, stop. Good girl! You can stop now, I've got it . . ."

With the gentlest of touches, the infant girl was brought fully into the world. Within seconds, her vocal displeasure with her new surroundings filled the room.

From just outside the closed door, applause and shouted congratulations rang out.

Zach dealt quickly with the umbilical cord then lifted the squirming, slippery child in both hands.

"Mom, get one of those towels Angela warmed up . . ."

When she was ready, he laid the baby gently in her arms.

"Here you go, Grandma. Remember this moment, 4:38 pm on July 18."

Brennan was crying as she wiped away the fluids of birth and swaddled the infant carefully, and cried harder when she knelt down and transferred the fragile bundle to Christine.

"You have a daughter."

Without looking, knowing instinctively that he would be there, she threw herself at Booth. He hauled her into his lap with arms that trembled, and she buried her face in the curve of his neck and wept.

His cheeks were unashamedly wet, too.

"We have a grandchild." His whisper was full of wonder as they watched Christine and Andrew unwrap their new baby and count fingers and toes.

"We have a grandchild." With a sigh, Brennan laid her head on his shoulder and looked on the moment, too. "This is how history is made, one generation at a time."

His lips brushed against her temple. "Our history."

"Our history."

Smiling from ear to ear as he surveyed the scene from his position at Christine's feet, Zach handled the final delivery of the afterbirth with quick efficiency. "So, what's her name?"

Startled, Christine and Andrew tore their attention away from the baby in her arms and stared at each other. Then Christine laughed.

"Pick a number," she told her equally surprised brother.


"We couldn't agree on a first name so we decided to let the doctor choose." Andrew withdrew a small, folded piece of paper from his wallet and smiled at Zach. "I guess that's you. Pick a number between one and seven."

"Okay, then." Chuckling, Zach considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Four. Four's good."

Andrew consulted the list in his hand then showed it to Christine. His voice was thick when he stroked his daughter's downy cheek. "Lisa. Her name is Lisa Meg."

Christine touched her lips to the fine, almost invisible hair on the baby's head. "Hi, Lisa."

The group outside the room could wait no longer. The door creaked open as Angela tapped out the briefest of knocks.

"Is it okay to come in yet? There's a baby in there! We want to see her!"

Invited forward, they rushed to surround Christine and admire the sleeping infant.

On his way to the bathroom to clean up, Zach caught Michael's attention.

"What's keeping that ambulance?"

"I don't know." Michael looked at Tom. "Are you sure you gave them the right address?"

Tom shook his head. "I didn't call! I thought you were going to!"

Michael's horrified expression was answer enough.

Zach was coldly furious. "Get an ambulance here," he bit out. "Now."

His tone of voice did not go unnoticed. While the newlyweds rushed to follow his command, heads turned toward him from the group crowded around Christine.

"Zach?" A hint of worry roughened the question Booth put behind the single word.

Zach shook his head and gave Christine an easy smile.

"There's nothing wrong," he assured her, and everyone else. "You had a little tearing, that's all, and I don't have the means of repairing it. The baby should be looked at, too. It's all very routine but it needs to be done."

The ambulance arrived within minutes and, after a quick consultation with Zach regarding the details of labor and delivery, the two EMTs lifted Christine onto a stretcher.

Zach was overseeing the process when Petra suddenly clutched handfuls of his shirt, dragged his head down to her level and planted a fierce, hungry kiss on his lips.

"You are so hot right now," she growled, when she finally let him go. She stared urgently into his eyes. "I want one. A baby. I want one."

"Okay." Amusement sparkled on his face as he smiled at her. "Do you mind if we wait until everyone leaves first?"

From his position at the door, Booth snorted loudly as the stretcher passed by.

"Please do," he grimaced. "Walking in on you two having sex once was enough."

The only thing missing was the screech of a record player grinding to a halt. Christine sat up on the narrow rolling bed, her attention instantly diverted from the towel-wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Wait . . . what?"

Eyes closed, Zach groaned in dismay as his head fell forward.

"Well, hell."



The chapter that tied with this one was Christine and Booth at Quantico. I'll get to that one soon, I promise.

Thank you for reading!