A big thank you to everyone who has been following this series, and to those who have just discovered it, I really hope you're all enjoying it so far. Reviews are very gratefully received, even if you just want to leave a few words, and always replied to if possible.

Twelve-year-old Christine Booth was on her hands and knees on her bedroom floor, one arm fishing around under her bed attempting to locate her right sneaker. Her mother was out that day at a spa with her best friend, Angela, and so she was spending the day with her father. Christine loved days like this. She had her father's undivided attention, and they were planning on spending the afternoon just hanging out together, kicking a ball around the yard, and feeding Christine's sweet tooth with ice-cream. As much as she enjoyed doing science experiments and being with her mother, she cherished the times where she could just be with her father, talking with him and sharing their love of sports.

Her fingers touched the laces of the sneaker, and she tugged it out from under the bed.

"Hey, Stapes, you about ready to head outside?"

Booth called up the stairs to Christine, using the nickname that had stuck with her since she was born.

"Coming, Dad!" Christine called back.

She pulled on her sneaker and jumped to her feet, racing out of her room and down the stairs to where her father was standing with an enthusiastic grin on his face.

"You ready to take on your old Dad, Stapes? I'm warning you, I'm feeling pretty lucky today!"

Christine laughed. Part of the fun they had together was ribbing each other about their abilities in sport. Sometimes, they would be joined by her mother, Parker, Michael, and occasionally Angela and Hodgins too, which would allow them to form small teams to play soccer or basketball in the yard. Today, however, it was just the two of them, and they would be taking turns taking shots at goal and defending it. It was a beautiful day outside at the height of the summer, and so they were both dressed in shorts and t-shirts.

Just before they reached the door, Booth pulled Christine to a stop and asked with a hint of anxiety in his voice, "Did you remember to put on your sunblock? I don't want to get yelled at by your mom like the last time!"

Christine chuckled, remembering the last time that she and her father had been left alone on a hot summer's day. Booth had been tied up with a heavy caseload for months, and they had been so excited at finally having the chance to spend the day together, that they had both completely forgotten about sun protection. Brennan had arrived home to find her rather miserable looking husband and daughter nursing sunburn on their arms and legs, Christine even managing to have gotten her nose burnt as well.

As Brennan applied a soothing after sun lotion to Christine's legs, she had lectured them both about the responsible use of sunblock, making Booth feel a little like a child himself. Later that night when he had told Brennan how she had made him feel, she had more than made up for it by applying the lotion to his own burns, and to some other choice areas of his anatomy as well.

"Don't worry, Dad," Christine assured him, "I put plenty on. Have you?"

"Oh yeah," Booth replied, I'm not going through all that again!" Not that the pain wasn't worth it in the end, Booth thought to himself.

Walking out into the yard, Christine grabbed the ball from by the door while Booth jogged over to the goal.

"Alright, Stapes," Booth shouted over to her, "let's see what you've got!"

Christine grinned and placed the ball on the ground by her feet, trying not to get distracted by her father's exaggerated dancing around the mouth of the goal, waving his arms around and running from side to side in an effort to throw off her concentration.

Walking backwards a few paces to give herself room to run at the ball, Christine sized up the goal, and her dancing dad, before deciding on the angle of her shot. Choosing to aim at the right hand corner, Christine jogged up to the ball, feigned slightly to the left in an attempt to mislead her father about her intentions, and kicked the ball into the air. It flew in a graceful arc over the distance between Christine and the goal – and soared over the top of it before slamming against the fence.

"Ooooo," Booth yelled triumphantly, "and so close! Thought you were being clever trying to trick me there, didn't you?"

Christine rolled her eyes and watched her father grab the ball from where it had bounced over to land next to the goal.

Spinning it around cockily in his hands, Booth looked at Christine, "You, eh, want this back so you can try again? Or was that just a little too humiliating for you?"

Christine grinned back, "I was just making sure you were awake, old man. This time I mean business!"

"Haha, check out the fighting talk from the littlest Booth!" Booth laughed, enjoying the teasing repartee with his daughter. He rolled the ball back to Christine and returned to his place in goal, this time crouching down with his arms outstretched, wiggling his butt from side to side and hopping from foot to foot. Christine retrieved the ball and giggled at her father's antics.

"Dad, you look ridiculous! How do you expect to save any goals standing like that?"

"Well," Booth replied, "since I don't actually expect you to get the ball anywhere near the goal, I don't think it matters how I stand!"

Christine's competitive hackles were raised and she positioned the ball on the ground again, "You just wait, old man," Christine shouted confidently, "in a minute I'll be the one dancing around with my victory dance!"

Booth chuckled and waited for Christine to take her shot. Opting for a different tactic this time, Christine kicked the ball straight across the grass, aiming for the open space to Booth's left. Just as she thought the ball might make it in, Booth leapt to the side and dove for the ball, grabbing it before it could cross the goal line.

Christine sighed in resignation and braced herself for the mocking she was about to receive. Booth got to his feet and dusted off his shorts. "So," he said with a wide grin on his face, "how does that victory dance go? Maybe something like this?" He began singing a 'da da da da, dah' rhythm while shaking his hips and head from side to side, whilst moving his arms in a circular motion in front of him.

Christine couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he looked, but she was determined to beat him this time, and perform a little victory dance of her own, albeit with far better style than her father!

Booth tossed the ball back to her, "Third time lucky then, Stapes! Give it your best shot!"

Repositioning the ball and disregarding any attempt at planning her shot, Christine felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her veins as she ran up to the ball and kicked it as hard as she could in the direction of the goal. She watched it soar through the air – and right past Booth's head straight into the back of the net.

"Yes!" Christine yelled triumphantly, grinning happily at her success and doing her own version of the hand jive while jiggling from side to side, which, she had to admit, probably looked pretty ridiculous, too.

Booth grinned at his daughter and did an exaggerated bow in acknowledgement, before picking up the ball and rolling it back to her.

"Ah, that was just a fluke! Bet you can't do it again!"

Christine stopped her dance and yelled back, "Bet I can!"

Grabbing the ball, she positioned it for her next shot.

For the next ten minutes Christine took more shots at Booth, managing to get most of them past him. She had to wonder if sometimes he was letting them get past in order to let her win, but she didn't care. Although winning and gloating were fun, what she enjoyed the most was spending time with her father.

Afterwards, the players switched places and Christine took her turn in goal. Booth got quite a few shots past her, but she also saved a respectable number, giving her ample opportunity to repeat her victory dance.

Once they were finished playing and had grabbed some water, they lay down on the grass side by side and stared up at the cloudless sky.

Booth turned to face Christine, "I'm having a great afternoon with you, Stapes. Although, your soccer skills definitely need some work!"

"Ha!" Christine huffed, "If mine do then so do yours, or have you forgotten in your old age about all the goals you missed?"

Booth laughed and jabbed her lightly in the ribs, "Hey, less wisecracks about my age if you don't mind! And anyway, I'm not old, I'm just mature."

Christine laughed and replied, "You sure didn't look very mature when you were dancing around like an idiot!"

"True," Booth acknowledged, "but it got you smiling, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Christine agreed, "it did."

"Guess I'm a pretty good dad then, huh?" Booth asked jokingly, with a barely discernible note of doubt lacing his voice.

"You're a great dad," Christine replied vehemently, "I know some people whose dads don't play with them, or who aren't even around."

Booth looked at her seriously, having a feeling he knew where this was going, "Yeah, like who?"

"Like a few of the kids at my karate club, the ones in foster care, like …," Christine hesitated and looked away from him.

"Like your mom was," Booth answered for her.

"Yeah." Christine answered solemnly.

Seeming to gather her courage, Christine raised her eyes and looked directly at her father.

"Dad? Why don't I know anything about how mom ended up in foster care? I mean, where was Grandpa, and Uncle Russ? Why was she left all alone?"

Booth sighed. Up until now, Christine had seemed content with the few facts that they had given her about Brennan's childhood; knowing only that her Grandmother had died before she was born, and that, around the same time, her mother had ended up in foster care for a while. Sensing that the subject was upsetting for her mother, Christine had never asked for more details. He and Brennan had discussed this issue before, knowing that one day Christine was bound to start asking more specific questions about Brennan's past. They had both agreed that, when Christine was old enough, they would sit down together as a family with Max and tell her the truth. But today was not to be that day. Christine was only twelve years old, and though intellectually precocious, Booth knew that she wasn't emotionally prepared to find out that her beloved grandfather was a criminal, who had abandoned her mother and uncle and gotten her grandmother killed.

Booth met his daughter's concerned gaze and took her hand in his, "Listen, Stapes. I know you have questions about your mom, and that's okay, but what happened is complicated, and there are things that we just don't think you're quite ready to hear."

"But why?" Christine protested, "You and mom are always saying how smart I am for my age. I could handle the truth now, I know I could!"

Booth squeezed her hand and looked at her intently, "Please try to understand, Stapes. This has nothing to do with how smart you are. It's up to your mom and I to protect you, and in this case that means keeping certain things from you until you're old enough to understand them. I know that's frustrating, but I need you to trust us that we know what's best for you, and that one day we will answer all your questions."

Christine sighed and looked away for a minute, processing what her father had said.

Booth waited patiently, afraid that she was angry with him, but took heart in the fact that she hadn't let go of his hand. Allowing her the time she needed to think through his words, Booth simply waited silently.

After a minute or two, Christine turned back to look at him, "Okay, Dad, I won't ask about it anymore. But, do you promise that you will tell me eventually?"

Booth nodded, "I promise."

Christine nodded too, and Booth put his arm around her and pulled her over into a fierce hug, both grateful and proud for her understanding and patience.

"So," Booth said, releasing her, "how about some ice-cream?"

A slow smile spread across Christine's face, "Okay, sure. What kinds do we have?"

Booth thought for a moment, "I think we've got rocky road and vanilla. Which one would you like?"

Christine raised her eyebrows hopefully, "Both?"

Booth smiled, "Both it is!"

Christine wasn't finished however, "Can I have them with chocolate sauce?"

"Sure," Booth nodded.

"With jelly beans?"

Booth looked mildly disgusted, "With jelly beans? Really?"

"Yeah!" Christine replied, "I love them, they add extra flavor!"

Booth chuckled and pulled her to her feet, "You are one weird kid, you know that?"

Christine grinned as her father put his arm around her and led her into the house.

"Yeah, but you love me."

"That I do, Stapes," Booth agreed, "that I do."

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one is going to take me a little longer to write, because I need to re-watch some of the old episodes to make sure I get my facts straight, and there's a lot going to happen in it. It will also probably be the longest chapter in the series, so you'll get more for having to wait a few extra days! I'll post it as soon as I can though. Please leave a review and let me know what you think of the series so far. Thank you.