A/N: Ugh. I don't know how I feel about this one...kind of...just....Ugh. Click review and let me know what you think since I'm so...Ugh.

Heaven

I've 'bickered' with Booth plenty of times about religion. It's almost always got something to do with a case—and, quite frankly, I am normally the one that starts it, as I did this time. But I've never felt so hurt and completely confused afterward. I know that's not what he set out to do.

"But, Bones, what if it is real? What if your mom is in heaven looking down on you? Is this life you're living really what you want her to see?"

I didn't know what to say to that. I was stunned. How dare he question my life and the way I lived it? I couldn't even yell at him. My brain was still reeling. We sat in silence the rest of the trip back to the Jeffersonian. I had fled the SUV before it even came to a complete stop, running through the torrents of rain that had begun pouring from the sky during our trip. I never looked back.

I just wanted to hide. I didn't want to see Angela. She would know something was wrong and would want to talk about it. But it's hard to talk about something when you don't understand it. I just needed to be alone. Perhaps I could place these feelings in a box and be done with them. These feelings. I didn't even know what I was feeling. After all, that was Booth's department, not mine.

I slipped down the back stairs to Limbo, not even going by my office when I returned. I dropped my handbag and soaking wet coat in the corner and slipped into a spare lab coat and set about laying bones on the exam table.

After I placed not only the ribs in the wrong order, but also the vertebrae, I realized I wasn't going to be able escape this. All I could do as I stood and stared at the remains before me, was run those words over and over in my mind.

What if it is real?

Booth knows I don't believe in some celestial home of angels…or spirits…whatever you want to call them. There is no scientific evidence. It's part of that Christ-myth we discuss all the time. When we die, we are still here, as bones. How does he expect me, a woman of science, to believe in this? I still don't know how he believes it. After all, with everything we see in our jobs, how could he?

Perhaps that answers the question. I suppose I could see how the horror and depravity of mankind would make you want to have something good to believe in. It could be all very depressing. Glancing around modular storage, I began to understand how the idea of it all could be appealing. But nonetheless, there is no proof.

What if your mom is in heaven looking down on you?

Max had once said something to me about mom's presence watching over us. Of course, I scoffed at the idea. I never explained that it wasn't that I couldn't romanticize the idea and want to believe it, or even that I didn't believe in heaven, though I don't. But at the time, I had asked myself whether or not she would have even gotten into heaven if there was one. I had bit my cheek (was that how the phrase went?) and not said that out loud to Max.

Is this really what you want her to see?

What did he mean by 'this'? What about my life was so horrible that I should be ashamed? Did he mean my work? My friends, my family? Albeit a different family, but still, my family? I'm just not sure what he meant, and that is may be what agitates me the most.

After glancing at the clock, I decided that I wasn't going to get any more work done in the emotional state that I was in, and for possibly the first time ever, I packed up the bones and left work early.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

I wasn't sure how long I'd been here. Normally I only come here with Booth. I'm not very good at this and quite frankly, being here by myself has made me acutely aware of that fact. I had even tried talking to her when I first got here but, as usual, it felt ridiculous. All I have been able to do since then is stare at the carvings on the granite tombstone, lost in my thoughts.

"Baby, are you ok?"

I jumped at the sound of Max's voice next to me. I was so lost in thoughts about my argument with Booth I hadn't even noticed him approach.

"What's wrong? You seem pretty upset. It's Booth, isn't it? What don't you agree on now?" Max looked at me tenderly, probably not sure if I would open up or not. Ever since he started working at the Jeffersonian, I got the feeling that he was never completely sure where he stood with me, and with good reason. I had overreacted when he was hired, though I never admitted that out loud.

"How did you know? Did he say something to you?"

"No, baby. But you seem pretty upset. And you never come here without Booth."

"How did you—" I looked at my father and sighed as I realized he knew me very well. "We had an argument and he…said some things, and I just don't know what to think."

"You want to talk about it?"

I hesitated, but quickly realized that he was my best option. Clearly I had not made any progress thinking about this on my own, and normally I would talk to Booth, but he was not an option.

I looked at Max's face and I was twelve years old again, just wanting my father to help solve my problems. "If you don't mind…" I trailed off as he led me to a bench nearby.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, my dad obviously giving me time, just like Booth does.

"We argued and he said some things…"

"What did he say that has you all turned around?"

"He…he asked me...he said 'What if it is real? What if your mom is in heaven looking down on you? Is this life you're living really what you want her to see?' And I…I…"

"And you don't believe in Heaven, and if there was one…was your mother the kind of person that would get to go there? But, more importantly, you don't know what he thinks you shouldn't want her to see. Am I right?"

How does he do that? I can only sit there slack-jawed. "I…I…how did you..?"

"Listen, baby, I'm your father and I know you. And even though I've been gone a while, deep down, you're still the same person. And I know that no matter what I tell you, you're going to have to mull it over and process it in that genius brain of yours, so all I can do is tell you what I think and you can make up your own mind. Ok?"

The kindness and warmth in his eyes at that moment made me forget that he could ever have been a killer. I nodded wordlessly.

"You may not remember this, but we went to church when you were a little girl. Oh, you loved it. So much faith. Your mom was always amazed. That innocence of a child made it stronger. There was no question in your mind then as to whether or not Heaven existed. It was just a given. I had hoped all those years when your mom and I were on the run that you had held on to your faith and that it would help you through the tough times."

Max paused, looking at his hands, a tear rolled silently down his cheek. Short flashes of a church entered my mind. Images I didn't recall, but it felt as though I'd been there. Was he right? Was this true? I couldn't think of a reason he'd have to lie to me about this.

"But I was wrong. We brought too many tests, too much pain for your faith to survive. For that, I'll always be sorry. And as for your mother…sweetie, she was a good person. I know we did bad things, but she never hurt anyone, other than you and Russ, and I take the blame for that, but we honestly thought we were doing what was best for you and Russ to keep you safe. She struggled with that every day."

Max turned to look at me for the first time since he started talking. "She had faith—God, heaven, the whole she-bang. She prayed for you every day, right up until the day she died. Honey, she made her peace with God, prayed for forgiveness, had more faith than anyone I've ever known and tried to share that with me, you, and Russ. And because of that, I have faith that she is in heaven, despite all the things you are concerned about."

Max must have sensed that I was going to need time to process all he had said…or maybe he needed a few minutes after all that outpouring of emotions. Either way, he waited a few minutes before continuing. We sat there for several minutes, caressed by the breeze that had picked up as he talked about my mother.

After a while, he started again. "What do you think Booth was talking about when he asked if you wanted your mother to see this life you're living?"

"That's just it. I don't know. I'm good at my job, I bring closure and justice to those who wouldn't otherwise get that. And I thought Booth thought the same. Dad, I thought he was proud of me. I'm so confused…" My words trailed off as my thoughts returned to think about my life.

"Can I tell you what I think he means, without you getting upset with me?" Max said, with no small amount of trepidation in his voice. I knew he thought I wasn't going to like whatever it was he had to say.

"You sound like Booth." I couldn't help myself, a half smile graced my face as I rolled my eyes and thought about the numerous times Booth had tried to get me to agree to not be angry with him.

Max chuckled. "Well, you can't blame us for trying. Honey, I know you pretty well, and I like to think I know Booth as well. You're right; I don't think he's talking about your job. Tempe, he's so very proud of you and all that you do in the pursuit of truth and justice. You know as well as I do that's one of the things he admires most about you."

"But then, what…??"

"Now, just remember, I'm just hypothesizing here."

"Just tell me! I don't like being confused and I hate being at odds with Booth."

"Sweetie, you've come a long way since you met Booth. You've always cared about people, but you've really worked on showing it and being more open since you met him. But there's one thing I think you still hold yourself back from."

Max looked at me to see if he had my attention, seeing that I was focused solely on him, anxiously awaiting the answers he could give me.

"Love, honey. You still have your walls up to the possibility of love, even though it looks you in the face every day. I think Booth was talking about that. He questions if you want your mother to see that you hold yourself back from true happiness and sharing your life with someone who loves you with all their heart and loving them back."

"But dad, why would Booth care about that? He's my partner…"

"Honey, you just don't get it…Booth—he's in love with you. Crazy in love…waiting for you to realize it. And no, I don't think he started whatever argument you had to cause you pain or for you to come to this revelation, I'm certain that he would never tell you that on his own. That man, he'd never do anything to purposefully hurt you, but you're very stubborn…maybe your stubbornness finally beat his patience. I'm also certain that he's somewhere, blaming himself and beating himself up for causing you pain."

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. As I closed my mouth, I looked at Max. He was watching every move I made, closely examining my expression, no doubt afraid he had further upset me with his words. The longer I was quiet, the more concerned his expression became.

I couldn't help it; I needed time to process what he had said—to examine the evidence. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized…Max was right.

"Dad—thank you…for everything." I scrambled up off the bench, grabbing my keys. I took a few steps away and quickly turned back, throwing myself into a tight hug with my father.

"Where are you going?"

I grinned as I looked back. "I have to find Booth—we have a little talk about heaven we need to finish!"