Title: Cradle
Author: Caera1996
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
WC: 1,458
Summary: Bones mentions adoption; Jim doesn't think he'd make a good father. They talk it out.

I really have no idea where this came from…I was driving home from work and pretty much wrote this on the way. I'm sticking with AOS canon for this story...Joanna never existed.

Something was bothering Jim. He was acting…well, Leonard didn't really know how to describe it. Pensive, maybe? On edge?

Whatever it was, he knew exactly when it had started. It started when Leonard commented on the need for adoptive parents, and the fact that were it not for the starship, he thought they would make great parents.

And that came up because while they were on a six-month leave between the end of their first five year mission and the beginning of their next assignment, the Enterprise was having maintenance done, and the crew was grounded. Grounded, but not idle. Jim was teaching at the Academy and Leonard was picking up shifts at the hospital, and doing a bit of teaching himself. And a couple of days ago, he'd treated a beautiful little boy who was waiting to be adopted. Who was sick and frightened and in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and whose caseworker who just didn't have the time to sit at his bedside. But Leonard made the time, soothing the child to sleep and idly thinking about how wonderful it would be, if he and Jim ever settled somewhere with the sky above and not around them, to raise a child together.

Jim, he knew, would make a fantastic father.

Over dinner that night, he'd mentioned the child and his feeling that when they were done making a difference in the universe, maybe it would be nice to make a difference in the life of a child. And Jim had given him a slightly stiff, blank smile, one that didn't reach his eyes, and the conversation had ended with that one comment. And since then, Jim had seemed pensive…on edge.

Over breakfast a few days later, during a day they both had off, Leonard was aware that Jim was staring at him with a contemplative expression on his face. Since eating cereal was certainly not all that interesting, he knew that Jim had something he was fixing to say. So, Leonard waited, keeping his eyes on the PADD he was holding, reading while he ate.

After a couple of minutes, Jim shifted and let his fork clink against his plate. Leonard glanced up, meeting Jim's eyes and watched as Jim opened his mouth to say something – then look away without breaking his silence. Leonard put the PADD down and leaned forward.

"Jim," he said. He waited until the blue eyes were back on him again. "Tell me." Jim sighed and fidgeted with his glass of orange juice, rolling it between his palms. This behavior – this slightly nervous and avoidant behavior – wasn't new to Leonard. Jim hadn't had an easy life, and it had left him reticent when it came to expressing his feelings, cautious when it came to opening up to someone, wary when it came to trust. All things they'd worked on over the last eight years, first as friends, then as something more, and now as something permanent. Leonard loved and needed Jim, and he knew Jim felt the same, even if sometimes he couldn't verbally express it. He was always quick to show Leonard how much he loved him. And Leonard knew that Jim needed him just as much. But this hesitance…this wasn't new, and it wasn't offensive, and Leonard simply did what he always did.

"Jim – I love you." That got a quick, heartfelt smile out of him.

"I love you too, Bones," he replied. Leonard reached over the table and gently took the glass from him and laced their fingers together.

"So tell me what's on your mind. It's important to you; I want to know." Jim held his gaze for a moment, but looked away again. His fingers tightened on Leonard's.

"H-how important is it to you to have a kid? To…to adopt a kid?" Jim asked, voice soft and hesitant and so, so different from the captain Leonard knew. But Leonard knew this side of Jim, too…and he took a moment to seriously consider not only what Jim was asking, but why he was asking.

"Not nearly as important as you are to me, Jim," Leonard replied. "I like the idea of being a father to a child who needs a family. But I love you, Jim…I'm not interested in doing something like that if you're not interested in it." Jim seemed to relax a bit at that, and Leonard stood gently tugging until Jim stood as well. "Let's sit."

"Bones…I have-"

"The day off, and enough time to have this conversation with me. C'mon." Sighing dramatically, Jim followed Leonard to the couch, dropping down on it. He knew what Bones wanted…to talk about why he felt the way he felt. And that was something that Jim still struggled with. Not because he had things he didn't want Bones to know…Bones knew everything. But because it was still so hard…thirty-two years old, and he was still dealing with issues from his screwed up childhood. If it wasn't so pathetic, it would be funny.

"Okay," Leonard said when they were settled together comfortably. "Tell me why this is bothering you so much. You haven't been yourself for a couple of days."

Jim sighed again, and let himself relax against Bones. So many of their conversations happened like this, with them sitting together, Jim's back to Bones' chest, his arms around Jim's waist. Jim wasn't a shy person, by any stretch of the imagination, but when it came to talking about things he'd been through as a kid, stuff in his past, it was just easier to make the words come like this.

They sat quietly for a couple of minutes, Jim trying to gather his thoughts while Leonard waited patiently.

"It's just…I never had a dad, you know?"

"Yeah," Leonard replied. As far as he was concerned that was one hell of an understatement.

"And…well…you know what it was like for me and Sam with F-Frank." Jim hated himself for tripping over his name. Still. After all these years. His hands clenched and Leonard responded by holding him a little tighter. "He and mom were always fighting about us…when she was around. And he…he hated us because he felt trapped with us when she took off again because she couldn't take it anymore. And we were stuck…we were just…all stuck." And now, Leonard understood. And his heart ached for Jim and the lingering doubt he had about himself because of what his life was like. How he grew up.

"Jim, you're not-"

"I don't think I'd make a good father," Jim blurted. "I don't know how to be. And…and I'm afraid I'd end up screwing up. And kids stress relationships. We already fight…what if having a kid made us fight more…enough to end up like my mom and Frank? I – I can't lose you, Bones. And nothing, nothing is worth that."

Taken aback by Jim's distress, it took Leonard a while to process everything that had come tumbling out. This had obviously been building up for a while, and Leonard had no idea his comment a few days ago would have such an impact on Jim. Leonard felt the tension in Jim's body, and his hands moved soothingly over him, slipping under his t-shirt to gently stroke his skin, trying to get him to relax while he thought about how to respond – where to start.

"Jim," he said after a moment. "First of all – you are not Frank, and you're not your mother. You have never once – not once – backed away from a difficult situation…even when you should have. Second, I am not Frank, or your mother, and anything we decided to do together, we'd do together. All the way." He reached up to gently card his hands through Jim's hair, massaging the tense muscles at the base of his neck. "And most importantly, Jim, you are a good, loving, caring, kind person. You would make an excellent father." Jim sighed and turned in Leonard's arms, curling up against him in the tight quarters as best he could considering they were the same height.

"But," Leonard continued. "I meant what I said earlier. You are more important to me than anything. If adopting a child is something we want to consider a little later, fine. If not…that's fine, too." Jim stayed quiet, not responding, but Leonard could feel his body relaxing, and he was content to lie there, holding Jim tightly as he pressed a kiss to Jim's head.

After a couple of minutes, Jim inhaled deeply and stretched up enough to kiss Leonard soundly. He settled back down, feeling a little more secure.

"I kinda always wanted to have a little girl," Jim whispered, as if telling a secret. Leonard smiled to himself, the picture of Jim cradling a pink bundle clear and so very right.

"Me too."