Family Matters

Rated T for violence and adult language

Disclaimer: If only I owned Bones. I could retire. Or at least live happily ever after. Too bad the show and its characters belong to FOX, Hart Hanson, and Kathy Reichs. No infringement is intended.

A/N: I really wanted to write another chapter for Anthropologically Speaking, however, the sun baked my brain a bit and I came up with this instead. I'm not really sure where it came from, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

The young FBI agent sat silently in his car, watching the lights in the apartment above. He was there. That asshole. No, he thought. Asshole wasn't the right word. It was an insult to all the fine, upstanding assholes in the world. There was no word to describe the man in the apartment.

He knew him. Didn't like him. Didn't like him from the first time they'd met. Not good enough for her.

Tag Stevens. Who in the hell names their kid Tag, anyway? He asked himself.

He knew the man's habits. Knew he'd still be in his shirt and tie from work. He'd be drinking again—and probably drunk by now.

He thought about the woman in the hospital bed, beaten, her lip split and her arm fractured. Radius and humerus. A feminine voice in his mind stated. The injuries were from him knocking her down and stomping on her arm. His jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly; a small muscle beside his left eyebrow twitched uncontrollably. He felt his temperature rise and the muscles in his neck tense as an all-too-familiar rush of adrenaline washed over him.

He emerged from the car, the door latching almost inaudibly behind him. He entered Tag's building and made his way up the stairs, avoiding surveillance cameras all the way. He stopped near the door. His door. The agent stood on the side opposite the hinges. He raised a hand, knocked, and listened as the occupant's footfalls approached the doorway from the inside. The door cracked slightly and the agent landed a swift kick to the door, slamming the door wide open and sending him back several steps.

The agent reached forward with his left hand and grabbed Tag's necktie, wrapping it around his fist twice with one swift motion. He pulled back with his right arm and landed several heavy blows to the younger man's face. He felt something pop in the upper part of Tag's cheek with his last strike. Zygomatic arch the female voice said again. Blood trickled from Tag's right nostril, dripping to the floor and staining the cream-colored carpet. The man's knees buckled from the shock.

"The fuck, Booth?" the man spat at him, blood droplets spraying on the agent's clothes.

Booth didn't answer immediately, yanking the man to his feet and throwing him up against the wall, never releasing his grip on Tag's tie. He spoke, his voice cold and even, "You know damn well what this is about."

"Whatever, cocksucker. She deserved it. She's a stupid bitch." Tag hissed at him, still trying to appear tough. Blood now poured from his nose and dribbled into his mouth.

Booth fought down the rage he felt. He looked closely and realized Tag had bruises and a few scrapes on his face already. He felt a small welling of pride that she'd fought back against him, even though he was much larger than she was.

Booth's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Motherfucker, she is smarter than you will ever be," The anger flickered in his eyes. "I told you once that if you ever hurt her I would make you regret it. I'm just making good on that promise."

The man spat, leaving a stream of bloody saliva on Booth's worn black science-fiction t-shirt. Booth wrapped his hand tighter around the neck tie and clutched at Tag's throat, squeezing the breath out of him. Tag's hands clawed at Booth's wrist as the agent leaned in close to his ear. "Dude, you just got blood on my favorite shirt." The man's eyes grew wide and Booth pulled his right arm back again.

Tag never saw the fist before his world went dark.

Booth heard the doorknob turn, but didn't move from his spot on the couch. He was too tired. Still too angry. He'd wiped at the blood on his shirt, leaving the red "I COMPLY" across his chest slightly smeared. His right hand was bandaged and lay across his chest, a cold gel-pack wrapped around it to help with the swelling. He was sure he'd broken the proximal phalanges and metacarpals in his ring and pinky fingers. He had his feet propped up on one armrest of the couch and his left arm curled under his head. He didn't even open his eyes at the woman standing in the doorway. She walked up beside the couch and watched him for a moment, smiling at the tiger-striped socks poking out from the ankles of his jeans. She reached down and brushed a few locks of hair off his forehead before speaking softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You okay?"

He cracked an eye open and gave a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm great." He winced as he sat up and she lowered herself to sit next to him.

"Let me see your hand." It wasn't a request.

He held it out while she inspected it. "You need to go to the doctor and get this set."

Booth shook his head. "I'll be okay. I've had worse." She regarded him skeptically and he continued. "I took some ibuprofen, taped it, and iced it. I'm fine."

A corner of her mouth curled in a sad smile.

"How'd you do it?"

He averted her eyes. "Working on the car. Hood fell. I didn't see it coming." He knew she couldn't read people very well—even him, after all these years—but she'd still know his lie.

"You're just like him, you know that, Parker?"

A familiar smile was her only answer.

"How's he taking all of this anyway?" he asked after several minutes.

Temperance sighed. "The way your father takes everything. He's at Julie's apartment right now helping her get squared away. He doesn't know about," she paused, looking for the words, but finding none. "This, yet."

"Are you going to tell him?"

She shook his head. It wasn't her story to tell.

She wanted to say the right thing, to make him feel better. She'd never been good at pep talks; she usually left that to Seeley.

"You were ten when Julie was born," She started. "And you wanted a little brother more than anything in the world. You were so upset that you got a sister instead, but you didn't show it. You just said you were going to be a really good big brother and protect her. You said you had to—it's what big brothers do."

"But I didn't protect her," he wiped a tear from his eye with his bandaged hand. "That—" he wanted to swear, but stopped himself. "Guy," he said, his tone revealing his true feelings, "still hurt her. I couldn't stop him."

She wrapped Parker in a hug and kissed his forehead. "Maybe. Maybe not. But you are still a great big brother and she loves you for it."

Parker hugged her back and she continued. "And we're so proud of you."

FIN

Please let me know what you think! OOC much?

PS: Bonus points for folks who know what the T-shirt's "I COMPLY" references.