"I don't have reasons."
No reason for loving her. For being with her. For waking up day after day next to her, going to bed in the evenings with her. No reason. No reason why he chose to do so every day, no reason for his life, his smiles, his, yes, happiness.
Love is ephemeral. Not tangible.
She had lived believing it for so long, had built her house of reason around it.
Nonetheless, all she could feel at his simple answer, was bliss.
Her belly quivered, joy spread out in her veins. Accepting his words, there was nothing but warmth; that kind of warmth she already knew from his carefree handwriting on their shopping list, from his funny socks and boxers in their laundry basket.
Was it really that simple?
People say a child changes everything. And even though that was most definitely true, it wasn't the end of their story. Not by a long shot.
Christine had given them a reason to try for real, a reason to begin with, but it hadn't really been the beginning. What had been the beginning? A first thought upon awakening that had been him? His favorite beer in her fridge? The knowledge about every broken and healed bone in his body?
As a scientist, she had her reasons for loving him. His love for her. For their daughter. His appealing structure. However, there was more, so much more. He wasn't a tidy person, but whenever he emptied their mailbox, she found her forensic journals as a neat pile on the counter. Whenever it was his turn to shop groceries, he didn't forget to buy tofu. Her picture was on his desk, hers and Christine's.
But... there was still more. His passion, when he made love to her. The devotion in his eyes. The rightness she felt when she was lying in his arms at night, knowing, against all odds, that she was safe.
The first Christmas they had shared as a family. New traditions, long forgotten pleasure. Opening presents he had chosen and wrapped for her. The cautious joy on his face, as he was watching her. His own glee upon opening her presents for him...
His arm around her shoulder, she looked up at him, as they left the dark office behind.
"No reason, really?"
Smiling down on her, he shrugged.
"Maybe too many? Don't wanna sound pathetic, Bones."
Pushing her luck, she squeezed his waist.
"One reason for loving you?"
And even though she didn't need it to believe him, she wanted to hear one of his reasons very much right now, but it wasn't the scientist in her speaking, it was something else entirely. Something way older.
Her brow furrowed.
"Yeah. You... I don't know, Bones, but that was the first thing I noticed. How brave you are. Fighting for those who don't have a voice anymore. You're beautiful, of course, so beautiful that, sometimes, when I wake up and you're still asleep, I cannot believe how lucky I am. You're strong. Feisty. Brilliant. Gifted. But... yeah, if you want just one reason, I'd go with 'brave'."
Stopping in front of the elevator, he turned his head to look at her.
"One reason sounds lame, doesn't it?"
Biting her lower lip, she pondered his words.
"No, it doesn't. It sounds very... sincere. But, Booth," she tilted her head to look up at him, "even though it makes no sense given my former understanding of love... I don't need proof. You know that, right?"
Lowering his head, he dropped a gentle kiss onto her head.
"This mumbo-jambo about brain chemistry?"
She bowed her head almost shyly.
"It was what I believed."
Tapping her chin, he encouraged her to look into his eyes.
"Now," taking a deep breath, "I believe you," she simply said.
And in this wild jungle that wasn't a jungle but their world, he took her home.
Christine was fussy that night. Unable to rest in her own bed. After an hour of trying, Booth brought her to their big bed, and, right between her parents, the child fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Three heartbeats beating in the dark room, two breaths calm and even, Brennan was lying wide awake, taking stock of her life.
She had never wanted to have just a child, it had always been his child, but, even when she had asked for it so long ago, she hadn't dared to hope for so much. Having been alone for so long, it was still... unexpected, somehow, that she was part of a family.
Brennan had had her reasons for choosing him to father her child. For once, he was both strong and kind-hearted. A picture-perfect man. Healthy. Plus, he was her partner, someone she trusted so deeply. Still, even back then, there had been reasons she hadn't been able to grasp; they had simply been too soft somehow. Other people would probably call it "emotional".
The baby turned in sleep, burrowing her tiny face in her mother's chest. Behind her, Booth shifted, gravitating towards Brennan as well.
No reasons for loving me... Or too many...
Opening her arms, she enveloped the girl and her father in her embrace.
Maybe 'too many' was right...
She awoke to the sound of giggles.
"There was a huge elephant, and he was showing the tiny elephant how to... hey, look, Mommy's awake!"
Blinking once, twice, she felt damp kisses on her face, and then bigger kisses, as the child was lifted from her.
"Good morning, Bones."
"Hey," she yawned, trying a smile. "What time is it?"
"6.30. You daughter decided that waking up around six was a good idea."
"Yup, most definitely. My daughter would sleep in."
Stretching, she opened her eyes fully.
"Aha, your daughter."
Lowering his arms, Booth placed the child on her chest anew, and, immediately, Christine patted her mother's cheeks.
"Elephant, huh? That's Daddy's story, Christine."
"Yes. Wanna go back to him?"
Wriggling in her mother's arms, the child reached for her father.
"Not fair," he murmured, losing a kiss in Brennan's hair. And another one.
The blankets were soft and warm, the morning cozy. It felt like a dream, but it was reality.
Once upon a time, she had awoken to dry heat in her throat. In the blissfully numb moment right before reality had kicked in, there had been no reason. Then the reason had come back with full force.
Tears. Tears so hot, so heavy.
Wine. A bottle or two. One too many.
A decision... a decision that, regardless if it had felt wrong, had been right.
One need: protecting him. From her, from her unstable life, her fragile belief in the mere possibility of love. The morning after she had crushed his heart with her words...
I'm not a gambler. I'm a scientist. I can't change, I don't know how...
… the morning after, she had felt the weight of her own decision with every fiber of her being; every cell in her brain had urged her to call him, to make it right again, but her reasons had been solid.
He believed in love. She didn't.
What you have is faith, Baby.
He deserved someone easy.
Thirty, forty, fifty years...
Someone he could love with his whole heart.
You're the standard.
In the months after, she had counted her reasons day after day, had memorized them like a Holy Grail of sanity before realizing in one rain-soaked night...
I got the signal, Booth...
… that she had been wrong. So wrong. So utterly wrong. As wrong as a person could ever be.
He'd had his reasons to stay away from her, though. Good reasons. Reasonable reasons.
She'd had her reasons for staying close.
Could it really be that simple or was it just the way they had been?
The way they could have been?
She had gotten her answer in another night of tears. Had found it in his kisses.
The first morning she had awoken next to him, there hadn't been a reason for bliss. Her body had been aching in a thousand pleasant ways, but Vincent had been dead, had still been dead.
Brown eyes so dazed, blue eyes so heavy...
Bodies still longing for each other, arms afraid to act upon it, though.
"Bones... please don't. Don't say anything. It's fine, you know? You, me, this... It just... happened."
Not "just". There hadn't been just, as he had tugged her into his arms. As she had lost composure and so much more beneath him. No reason why kissing him had been as urgent as breathing. No reason why his world had zoomed in solely on her. No reason why it had felt so damn good. So right. So life-shattering yet easy.
"You want me to go?"
"No. No! Want... coffee?"
"Coffee sounds nice."
There hadn't been a reason for the queasiness in her stomach, as he had prepared himself to chase Broadsky. Or maybe there had been, but she hadn't been able to understand it before two blue lines on a pregnancy test had made her. There hadn't been a reason why she had gone home with him the next night as well, without pretext this time, the bed on his couch remaining unmade.
It had been need. But so much more.
Two plus two equals four... She had always believed in it, in the corresponding cause behind the effect, even if you cannot see it, but, right there with him, so lost in a world without pretext, she had gotten it. Finally. The signal. Once again.
Making love. Becoming one. Being more than the sum of the parts.
Oh my God, there was no reason, there was just it.
A child! How could they have a child? Between him and her and science and faith... was there even room for a child? Was there... not? Was it even a question? The child was already there, granted, only a few cells of life, but when did life start?
I'm pregnant. You're the father...
Light brighter than a hundred Christmas candles on his face.
A nod, a breathless nod, one tear in her eye. His child, his, oh my God, so very own child.
Another reason to go home with him. Again. One reason for his cheek upon her belly, his hands on her uncovered skin. One reason... and oh so many.
One more reason why his body moving inside of her had felt so good, had felt so real. Biology, right? The pregnant woman sensing her mate. Anthropology... and, yet, there had been more.
Breakfast. A note on the table.
Back he had been. With flowers. Had stayed from then on. The reason being this new trace of life growing between them, just a whisper in the darkness... and queasiness in her stomach.
The baby smelled like him. Or like her, if you'd ask him, but to her, it smelled like him. It was his, his body, his soul. His. And, still, hers as well. It was theirs and them. A concept she hadn't been able to grasp before, but there were centuries of reasons why mothers could never abandon their offspring, why the concept of "family" could work. Was it him? Or her? Or just... them?
The truth was not scientific, but it was real.
It was warm.
Solid as well, but in its very own meaning.
It was winter, when something else came full circle. There had been this woman once, the one telling her that he was dazzled by her truth. The one telling him that all would work out eventually. The woman who knew.
Had always known.
One winter day, she was back, stating that she had heard someone calling.
It was a case, but so much more.
It was the first time that a skull made it into their home. That a life invaded a case. That a mission became bigger than finding out what and who had caused death.
Emotions... oh so many emotions bursting into their life. He had been a child, just a child. Like Parker. Like, one day, Christine would be. A person with hopes. Someone who had loved... just like they were loving.
It made them snuggle up at night. It made her seek his closeness like the sentimental woman she wasn't. It made him make her a mixed-tape like the romantic guy he was.
One evening, in a quiet hallway, the medium tugged at his arm.
"That it would work out. Eventually."
"Ha! You didn't mention a child! Nice surprise, by the way."
"You didn't need to know that back then. But I've seen her. A beautiful girl with her mother's eyes. And a little boy with dark hair, if you must know."
"A boy?" He swallowed hard.
"Patience is a virtue. You're booked for a big family."
His jaw dropped, as he watched the strange woman shaking her hair.
"You believe in fate, Agent Booth. Fate has good plans for you."
A smile lit up his face, and even though he didn't believe in psychics, he believed in a mystic world beyond ours.
A responding smile was his answer.
"No need for thanking me. It's always good to find a light as bright and warm as yours and hers. I'm happy for you."
He was easy to convince, easy to talk to. Had always been. She however... She wasn't. Had never been. That's why Avalon Harmonia didn't try. One morning however, she came to her.
"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"
"Do you... do you really think Colin's here?"
"I don't think so. I know."
Nodding, Brennan pondered the other woman's words.
"Your... field of expertise is unlike mine. But..."
Taking a deep breath...
"When we first met..."
"You told me something."
"Yes, why? Why does he love me?"
Brennan's voice had dropped to a whisper, and Avalon reached for her hand.
"You should ask him."
"I did! I did..."
"And... what did he say?"
"That he doesn't have a reason."
A smile spread out on the older woman's face.
"That's very romantic."
Brennan rolled her eyes.
"I know! Still..."
"You need to know."
"Well," Avalon turned Brennan's palm in her hand, fingers caressing lines. Then a shrug.
"It's always been meant to be. I don't know the reason, but I can see the outcome. In your palm... and in the way you are. What you have, it's good. Really good. You're a light shining into his soul. He's strengthening your heart line. He's still dazzled by you. But, I can see, you're dazzled by him as well."
Her hand, the hand the wise woman was holding, felt suddenly very warm, and the scientist dropped it with a shy smile.
"How do I live without reasons?" Brennan uttered weakly, and Avalon wiggled her head.
"I don't know... By living?"
No reasons for loving her.
Or too many.
Waiting in bed for him, she listened to the baby monitor – nothing – listened to his happy gurgling out of the bathroom.
"Is there a reason for... being so happy?"
As always when she had no clue, she was looking up at him with big, child-like eyes, and, as always, his chest ached for her. This woman, so brilliant yet so innocent sometimes.
Lowering himself to the mattress, he flashed her a grin.
"Together, we're better."
Her brow furrowed.
"Happiness is pretty simple, you know?"
Opening her arms, she pulled him on top of her body, and Avalon's words came back to her.
Was it really that simple? Had she wasted decades by making life too complicated?
Maybe. Or maybe not. Sometimes, people need reasons to get up day after day. To go on. To keep on struggling, keep on trying. Other times, however, there's just one body moving with another one. In perfect harmony.
Until reasons become irrelevant. Until soul meets soul as energy shatters, as a woman loses herself in a man only to find herself shortly after once again. Altered. Complete.
Better? Maybe. But who are we to tell?
Fate is not ours to see.
But they who can see fate, they know the truth.
And they are dazzled by it.
I kinda feel sorry for writing my first not M fic, but, well, here we are. This thing flew out of my in a Whisky night and somehow wrote itself. Utterly mushy, I know, but I needed this.