I'm sorry that this chapter is short, but I'm trying to make myself stick to a "one chapter per week" schedule (*gives self stern look*). Besides, the scene following the events in this chapter is going to be pretty long and rather important, so I didn't want to split it.

Feedback is love, and concrit is always welcome!

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Brennan catches up with Booth in the Jeffersonian's parking garage. He's about to get into his car when she calls out to him, and she isn't sure whether the feeling she experiences when he turns away from the SUV to face her is relief or dread. There are so many ways in which she could make this worse –

"What?" He doesn't sound particularly harsh, but even she can identify the way he crosses his arms over his chest as a defensive gesture.

She approaches him cautiously, careful not to invade his personal space. She would love nothing more than to reach out towards him, to let a physical touch express what she's not able to convey verbally, but his stony expression makes it even clearer than his posture that he wouldn't welcome either.

She wants to tell him how much it hurts her to see him in pain, that he doesn't deserve another blow like this when he's already having a hard time, that she wishes she could do anything to make things easier for him. She doesn't say any of it, of course; it's not her place any more. Instead, she just says quietly, "I'm sorry, Booth, I really am."

He merely shrugs, although he seems to be struggling to keep his voice even when he asks, "You figured out cause of death?"

Brennan takes a deep breath, forcing down the reflex to take refuge in a neutral, precise scientific explanation that will go way over Booth's head and spare him the details. This man was his father; he deserves to know the truth.

"Cam and I agree that he froze to death last winter. Given the location where he was found, the most likely scenario is that he was on his way home from one of the nearby bars and fell into the ditch – the bones show no indication of a heavy fall, so he probably just stumbled and then rolled down to the bottom, which means he couldn't be seen from the road any more, and he was too inebriated to get out on his own. There's no evidence of foul play; it was an accident."

"So he died roaring drunk in a ditch?" There's a hint of disgust in Booth's tone. "Seems fitting."

"Booth…" She can't help it, she has to take a step closer. "I can't even imagine – I mean, I know that you loved your father even though you weren't on the best of terms and…"

She falls silent when his expression changes; he's suddenly averting his eyes, and it almost seems like he's about to laugh.

"Yeah, sure." He exhales sharply, and when he looks at her again, his face is calm. "I'm just glad that Pops didn't have to be here for this."

Brennan feels the heavy weight of guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. Hank died two months after Booth left for Afghanistan, and she knows that Booth will never forgive himself that he wasn't with his beloved grandfather during his last hours. Hank suffered a heart attack, but he held on to life long enough for Jared to make it to the hospital – but Booth was half a world away, and it was nobody's fault but hers.

Brennan blinks furiously to keep her eyes from misting over; she of all people has no right to share in his grief. All she can do is repeat "I'm sorry, Booth", even though she knows how little it means.

Booth shakes his head and turns away, and Brennan half expects him to get into his car and drive off without another word to her, but he just opens the door and stands behind it as if he needed something to shield himself from her. He keeps his eyes on a point somewhere above her left shoulder when he says, "It's funny, really – all those years, I've been telling myself that I love my old man even after the living hell he put us through, and now that he's dead I realize that I'm fucking glad he's gone from this world for good because I hated his guts."

Brennan is taken aback by the vehemence of his statement, but she does her best not to show it. "Booth, from what I know of your father, you have every right to hate him."

He makes a strange sound – it sounds like a half-choked laugh, but there's something to it that makes her skin crawl. She knows him too well to believe even for a second that he won't be troubled by the realization that he hated his father, no matter how much the man may have deserved his hatred. Again, she wishes she were better with people so that she could find the right words to reassure him, but nothing comes to mind, so she doesn't even try.

"Do you want me to notify Jared?" He gives her a look she can't interpret, so she hastily adds, "Of course, if you'd rather talk to him yourself…"

"No, go ahead and tell him; I doubt he'll give a damn either way." For a moment, she thinks that there's something else he wants to say, but then he climbs into his car with a hasty, "I'll better go get started on the paperwork. See you tomorrow!"

Brennan opens her mouth to remind him that he still needs her written report, but he has already slammed the door shut and is pulling out of his parking spot without sparing her another glance.

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Brennan ends up spending most of the afternoon in the bone room. The skeleton of Booth's father has been laid out on the table, and although all the necessary tests and examinations have already been done, she finds herself going over every small detail again as if it were vitally important not to miss even the tiniest bit of information that the bones might yield. The skull in particular draws her attention; she wouldn't have needed Angela's reconstruction to know that Booth doesn't look much like his father. The bone structure indicates strong, symmetrical features, but apart from the mandible and the prominent zygomatic, she sees little resemblance to Booth's familiar face, and she's oddly glad of that. The similarities between the skull in her hands and Jared's facial features, however, are so evident that it makes her wonder whether Booth sees his father every time he's looking at his younger brother.

She isn't sure how she feels about the fact that Booth was spot on with his prediction of Jared's reaction – because the only thing Jared said when she called to inform him of his father's death was "Good riddance". She can't help thinking of her own parents, of the resentment she felt when her father came back into her life, and how hard the news of her mother's death still hit her in spite of a youth spent in foster homes. It makes her wonder just how bad Booth's and Jared's childhood must have been if it made them react to their father's passing the way they did today.

The skeleton provides at least a partial answer to her question. The extent of alcoholic osteoporosis speaks of decades of heavy drinking that nearly destroyed what must once have been a strong, powerful body; the general bone structure of the skeleton shows a much stronger resemblance to this man's eldest son than his skull does. Brennan takes her time going over the surface of each bone in detail, paying particular attention to the right hand. She doesn't blame Vincent for overlooking the tiny, long-healed injuries that are almost invisible under the damage that the elements have done to the bones, but they're there – boxer's fractures, hairline fractures of the phalanges and the metacarpals, faded reminders of a violent past, of blows this hand has dealt out. There is some indication of minor blunt force trauma to other parts of the skeleton, meticulously listed in Vincent's report, but none of these injuries look as old as most of those to the right hand. During the earlier years of his life, this man was hitting people who couldn't, or wouldn't, hit back.

Brennan has always found comfort in the fact that the dead will eventually tell her their secrets, but now she's beginning to wish that she didn't see the truth about Booth's childhood reflected in his father's bones. More than ever, she hates being helpless in the face of something that causes him pain, and although the idea of interfering still fills her with trepidation, she decides she can no longer stand by and do nothing. She'll have to trust that he'll tell her if she's overstepping her boundaries again, but at least he'll know that she cared enough to try.

Her decision made, Brennan swiftly walks the short distance to her office to finish her report.