Five months later

Dr. Temperance Brennan's apartment, Washington, D.C.

7:16 p.m.

We had found her handcuffed and gagged, barely conscious from the physical and mental strain of malnutrition and anxiety, chained up in the bowels of her apartment building, just like Renfro had told me. I look down at my hands, the ones that pulled the tape off of her mouth, and I look down at my arms, the ones that picked her up and nestled her close to my chest when we exited the building, towards the flashing lights of the ambulance. The dark thoughts in my mind escape me, suddenly, when I hear her singing.

I am pulled towards it as if by magic, because that's what it sounds like. Making my way down the hallway, I make an immediate left, and lean against the doorway. She's sitting there, in the rocking chair, moving back and forth with our three-month old baby in her arms. Bones still has her own apartment, yet often, I stay over and sleep with her- not in the sexual sense, only in the physical sense- but I can feel that line between us fading fast.

Bones stops her actions when she sees me in the doorway and a grateful smile spreads across her face.

"Will you take her? I'm in desperate need of a shower." I cradle the little girl into my arms and take the seat Bones occupied only a few moments ago.

"Little baby Addy, little baby Addy." I bounce her in my arms and she looks up at me with her mother's eyes, big and bright they are, resembling a light sea glass hue. "Little baby Addy." Bones picked her first name in the delivery room, as she held our daughter, wrapped up in a pink blanket- although Bones asked the doctor for a yellow one, deeming that pink was a sexist color. Then, she turned to me and told me to choose her middle name. "Little Addison Joy." Truthfully, as I stood there in that hospital room, I'd gone through a thousand names at once, the ones I'd scoured the Internet late at night for and read through useless baby books for. The name fit, though, and it rolled off the tongue so easily and sounded just right. The name fit now, still, with her bubbly attitude and how much she resembles her mother, no matter how much protesting of facts Bones spits out. I return to the song Bones was singing earlier.

"Hush, little Addy, don't say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird and if that mockingbird don't sing, I'll be the only man buying you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass, Daddy's gonna kick the salesman's ass-"

"Booth!" I hear Bones' voice from the hallway and I smirk.

"Now, hush, little Addy, don't you cry. Mommy loves you and so do I."

El final.

AN: A little coincidence: my Spanish teacher recently gave birth to a baby girl and named her Addison Faith.