I.

It's raining the day Parker is born. Booth isn't there; Rebecca has been going back and forth for six months about whether or not she'll let him be in the delivery room when the time comes, but at the end of the day, all his fighting turns out to be for nothing. When Parker is born, Booth's on a case halfway across the country.

The pregnancy hasn't been a good time for Booth. It hasn't been good for Rebecca, either – he knows that. It's easy enough to see, in the way she stops looking him in the eye when she talks about their child; the way he'll find her crying by the window, face pressed to the glass. Like she's trying to escape something, or someone. More and more, he gets the feeling that someone is him.

He thinks it's hormones.

He thinks their son will come, she'll see them together, and everything will be okay. She'll accept his ring. They'll be a family.

But he isn't there when their son is born, and Rebecca sounds distant on the phone, like something's been decided and he's terrified what that something might be. He drives for five hours through heavy rain in Nebraska to catch a red-eye out of Omaha, straight from a crime scene. Gets stopped by a cop who lets him go with a warning and a 'good luck,' then nearly gets himself and three other people killed on the Beltway once he's back in DC, trying to get to the hospital.

Parker is a day old by the time he gets there – Booth has missed the first twenty-four hours. The first breath, the first cry, the first time those baby blue eyes looked out on the world. Already, he has regrets.

He feels a surge of hope when he sees the name tag on his son's crib, though. "Parker Booth." His last name, right alongside the first name he and Rebecca talked about and fought over for months. His son, named in memory of a boy Booth fought with; a good, decent boy who never got the chance to be a man. It's a name his son can carry with pride, something to live up to. It's a name that means something.

It isn't until Booth looks into Rebecca's eyes, while she's lying in bed looking exhausted with their son in her arms, that Booth gets it: he gets exactly what the name means. It isn't a promise of the two of them together, the life they're about to lead. She doesn't want him. She doesn't want them. The name is a consolation prize for the family he's never going to get.

But all that angst fades the first time he holds his son. Whatever he and Rebecca are or aren't, whatever their future holds (or doesn't), doesn't matter. Parker Booth. His son. He's missed the first twenty-four hours, but then and there he vows that he won't miss another second. Every soccer game, every dance, every date, every bloody nose or scraped knee, every heartbreak, every win, every defeat… He'll be there for all of it. One tiny life, one infant fist reaching for something only his father can provide, and Booth's life is never the same.

"Hello, Rebecca."

Booth started. Parker had hung up – or the phone had disconnected. He was gone, and now Booth was driving too fast over a deserted stretch of highway in a mad race to get back to DC. Again. Because he hadn't been there for his kid. Again.

Bones was on the phone. It took him a second to realize what was happening, like he'd had too much to drink and everything had slowed to mud in his head.

"Bones, you can't – " he whispered loudly. She held up a finger, gave him a warning look. He shut up.

"Yes, it's Temperance," Bones said. He wondered if she and Rebecca talked often – he'd never really thought about it before. It didn't seem likely, somehow. "No, no," Bones hurried after Rebecca predictably enough started freaking out. "Nothing's wrong, Seeley's fine. We're just getting into town sooner than we expected, and he wanted to surprise Parker on his field trip. Do you have the itinerary for where they're going before the zoo?"

She said it so easily. Smooth as ice. When had she learned to lie?

"If you could just e-mail it to me, that would be ideal. Thank you."

She hung up and looked at Booth. His hands were too tight on the wheel and his palms were sweating; something in his stomach had turned. His back felt like someone had reached in and twisted the muscles into a series of hard, burning knots.

"What did she say?"

"She said she thought it would be a nice surprise for Parker if you came early. She's e-mailing me the itinerary. It should have all the relevant details for their plans."

"So she hasn't heard anything?"

Bones shook her head. He didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say. He didn't know shit. Bones checked her e-mail on her phone and came up with the itinerary. While she was doing that, Booth called Werner. He got voicemail the first two times, then dialed Alyce, Werner's assistant.

"I need Werner."

"And 'good day' to you, too."

"Alyce." He couldn't summon the will for charm. He could barely summon the will for breath.

"I'll get him, Seeley."

Werner was on maybe ninety seconds later, sounding out of breath. "Yeah, Booth? I was in the stinkin' john – what the hell's the problem?"

"The Junior Agents field trip today – that group of Feds' kids, you know the one?"

"Of course I do – I'm the one who arranged the goddamn trip. I'm Master of Ceremonies at some hedgehog singalong shindig at the end of the day. What about it?"

Booth's mouth went dry. Bones reached over and put the phone on speaker without looking at him.

"It's Dr. Brennan here, Deputy Director Werner. We think something may have happened with the bus – the one the children are on."

There was a long pause. "What do you mean, something happened with the bus?"

"Just – do you know where the bus is? Have you seen the kids?" Booth asked.

Werner shouted something to Alyce. There was a rustling of papers in the background. "They started out at the White House this morning at 8:30. Took a tour, met with several members of the staff, and were invited to sit in on the daily press briefing. It looks like they left at eleven-hundred this morning."

Silence.

"And then what?" Booth asked. His voice was tight.

More silence, more paper shuffling. Whispers between Alyce and Werner. "Sir?" Booth pressed.

"Yeah, I'm looking – hang on. They… It looks they got the political crap out of the way in the morning."

"They were scheduled to have lunch at eleven-thirty," Bones interrupted. "That was at a restaurant called Chuck E. Cheese," she emphasized the 'E,' making it sound like Parker was having lunch at Le Cirque or something. "Have you gotten any indication that they didn't show up there? Do you have contact with any of the chaperones on the bus?"

"No – I mean, why would we?" Werner asked. "It's a field trip. I know my part in it, I assume you know yours. I only got the update about this morning because the kids were on the news – "

Bones was dialing someone.

"They were on the news?" Booth asked. He closed his eyes for a second, then remembered that he was driving. Opened them again. The day was gray, snow a threat on the horizon. They were an hour out of DC, and traffic was picking up.

"It's been on the books for weeks," Werner said. "The press corps ate it up. A lot of impressive kids there – and Parker was right up front. The clip's been everywhere."

If whoever was behind this had it planned – and suddenly, Booth knew with sickening certainty that they had – this would be perfect. How many times would the media replay that press conference on the news? Show those faces, rerun the soundbytes, while the story unfolded on a national stage. From the time the first body showed up just over a week ago, someone had been pulling the strings.

"I want Bill Lincoln on a plane to DC now, along with Jeb Hatchet and a General Hartwick. Lincoln will know how to reach them. And I want clearance to read every file you have on the Black Ridge incident in '78." He expected Werner to tell him to go to hell, but instead the Assistant Director asked if he needed anything else. Booth shook his head.

"Just keep this quiet – completely quiet, sir. No one can know. The last thing we need is twenty-five FBI desk jockeys with Napoleon complexes out there trying to get their kids back."

"Where are you now, Agent?" Werner asked.

Booth checked for exit signs and landmarks. He'd lost track of time and space, he realized. He gave his coordinates and an ETA.

"Three minutes and you'll have company," Werner said. "They'll bring you home."

Booth hung up. He realized he had no idea who Bones was calling, and he didn't know what to say to her. She kept talking to whoever was on the end of the line, but quietly took his hand as they kept driving. Sirens started in the distance. The cavalry was on its way.

II.

Parker crawls later than other babies in his play group. He cries whenever Booth shows up to visit, and then again whenever Booth leaves. For the first year and a half, he won't sleep without Rebecca. His favorite toy is a stuffed dog that's missing one eye; Booth takes him to the park one day and forgets the dog, and Parker cries so hard the cops start eyeing them when Booth is trying to wrestle his wailing son back into the car.

All of this, Booth worries about. Rebecca says Parker crawls later than the other babies in his group because the other babies in the group are girls; girls just develop faster. The crying, the sleeping, the stuffed dog…Rebecca dismisses all of it as if it's the most natural thing in the world. As if she's been raising kids her whole life, instead of for just a couple years. Booth still worries. He reads baby books; subscribes to parenting magazines. Obsesses over the ways he isn't there for Parker, and how his son is suffering for his absence.

But then, there are these days when he shows up at Rebecca's and Parker is all smiles, giggles and guffaws when he sees his old man. He wraps pudgy baby arms around Booth's neck and holds on tight, falls asleep in his arms… There are nights when Rebecca lets Booth stay, and he lies there with their son between them and Becca sleeping, and he all but begs God to stop time. He never sleeps, those nights. He feels as though he's been starving – like he's gone years without a scrap, and now he's given exactly that: one scrap. Just a taste of something he's been dying for his whole life, with no shot at something more.

When Rebecca tells him he can't spend the night with her and Parker anymore, just after Parker's second birthday, Booth doesn't fight her on it. Not for Parker's sake – not because he thinks his son might be confused, or because the goodbyes the next morning are too hard for the little boy to understand. He stops because going back to nothing after a night of scraps is too hard on him – too painful for the father, not the son. Booth adds this to the growing list of ways he falls short in taking care of his only child. He goes back to starving, full-time.

What do you think he meant by 'shortcut'?" Bones asked, out of the blue.

The police escort was guiding them through traffic, but there was still a lot of stopping and starting this time of day on the Beltway. Booth thought about her question. His hands hurt, and he realized suddenly that it was because he'd been hanging onto the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were about to burst through the skin.

"I don't know," he said after a second or two. "I… They were going to Chuck E Cheese, right? The closest one to DC is in Largo – that's where I usually take Parks, anyway. So, they'd take the Beltway…" he stopped, giving it some thought. "There's no shortcut to get there." He shrugged, fighting frustration. "I don't know what the hell he's talking about."

"Is there another shortcut you two have taken – one that doesn't have anything to do with the restaurant? Perhaps they're on a road you've traveled together before?"

"Bones, do you have any idea how many friggin' roads I've been on with Parker? Between hockey and soccer and Boy Scouts and camping trips and school crap, I've been over half the goddamn eastern seaboard with that kid. We've taken a lot of fucking shortcuts." He was practically yelling by the time he got through, his hands clenched tighter than ever. He felt like ripping the steering wheel out of the car and tossing it through the windshield.

Bones looked at him. "I'm just trying to help."

"I know," he said. He calmed down. "I'm freaking out a little, Bones."

She nodded. She pried his right hand off the steering wheel, and laced her fingers with his. Rubbed her fingertips along the joints until the pain went away.

"It seems like an odd thing to say – what Parker said about the shortcut. That's why I asked."

"I know it does." He thought some more. "The only time we usually talk about shortcuts, it's because of Rebecca – she's always got these crazy backward ways to get somewhere, and she'll swear up and down it's the quickest route until, two hours later, you're totally lost and ready to strangle her."

He took his hand back, glancing at Bones to see if she'd mind. She gave him this kind of smile – worried, but he could tell her worry had nothing to do with the two of them. He started dialing the phone. His heart was picking up its pace, a faint twinge of hope kicking in. She was right, Parker wouldn't have just said that for nothing – he was a smart kid, he'd be using every tool he had to get Booth where he needed to be.

"Any word?" he asked, before Werner could get a word out.

"They never showed at the restaurant," Werner said.

Booth didn't stop to let that sink in – he'd been hoping for better, but this was what he'd been expecting, he realized. "Can you get agents to cover the length of 202, from DC to Largo? And any of the side roads along there. Maybe get a chopper out there, see if you can spot the bus from the air."

Werner hesitated. "Did you get a break?"

"Maybe – it's just a theory. Have you gotten in touch with Lincoln?"

"We sent somebody out to pick him up – he's flying in now. They've got the other guys you mentioned, as well."

"Has anyone spoken with Janie Billings's husband? Does he know what happened to his wife?"

Another second's hesitation. Booth felt the tension ratchet up another notch. "You can't find him?" he guessed.

"He never showed up for work last night," Werner said. "The state patrol's out looking for him."

Booth thought of the couple he'd met so briefly in Vermont – the wife barely holding it together, the husband doing his best to pick up the pieces. At least, that's what he'd seen. What had he missed? Had he been so fucked up over things with Bones that he'd been too distracted to see something that could have prevented this from unfolding the way it was?

"Get that chopper in the air over 202, would you?" Booth asked, his voice tight.

"It's done," Werner said. "I'll call you the second we see anything. How far out are you?"

Booth glanced at the clock. Dosha had woken in the backseat, and was sitting up with her nose pressed to the top of the window, where he'd cracked it so she'd have fresh air. Five hours on the road without a break, and the dog hadn't made a sound. He thought of Parker's reaction to having a dog – even a bald, mangy one – and his stomach twisted again.

"Twenty minutes," Booth said. He didn't hang up. They were silent for a second or two, before he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Bones jumped.

"Why the hell wouldn't they call it in?" he asked. "The guys who took the bus – why would they just… take it? I mean, don't they want us to know what's going on? Don't they want us sweating over this?"

"They didn't tell anyone when those children were abducted over the past several years, either," Bones pointed out. He felt a chill go through him. "Sorry," she said weakly, when she saw the look on his face.

"This isn't one kid we're talking about, though," Werner said, coming back on after so long silent that Booth had almost forgotten he was on the line. "We're talking about a bus full of kids whose parents work for the FBI, taken from the middle of DC. That's not the kind of shit you get away with."

"What about the cell phone signals," Booth interrupted. The last thing he felt like hearing about was how impossible pulling something like this off should have been.

"We tried Parker's like you said – it's been turned off," Werner said.

"And the other kids on the bus? What about teachers, chaperones… I mean, this is 2010, for Christ's sake. You mean there's not one fucking GPS signal coming off that bus?"

Bones glanced his way, but said nothing. Werner was quiet for a second.

"We're doing the best we can, Seeley – it just happened. We don't even know for sure that anything's wrong – "

"Something's wrong, trust me. My kid doesn't just call out of the blue when he's supposed to be on a field trip, give me the code nobody knows but us, and then drop hints about where to find him because he's bored. You bet your ass something's wrong."

They were turning onto Pennsylvania Avenue when the police escort left them. It was one-thirty – he should be getting ready to take his kid and a bunch of eight-year-olds around the monkey house. This wasn't the way he was supposed to be spending his afternoon.

"He'll be okay," Bones told him.

He just stared at her, trying to figure out if she was just saying it to make him feel better. She didn't look like she doubted it, though – steely blue eyes and a hint of fire in the tilt of her chin.

He almost said, "You don't know that," but then remembered that that wasn't his line. Instead, he stayed quiet. He took her hand again, pressed her knuckles to his lips. Swallowed back the fear, fought to regain his center.

"Thanks, Bones."

III.

It takes a year of negotiations before Booth gets his first overnight with Parker. When Rebecca finally agrees, Booth blows an entire week's winnings on paint and wall hangings, toys and games, a brand new bed, and all of Parker's favorite foods. He works for a day and a night the weekend before Parks is scheduled to come over, until he's created a world he's sure any three-year-old boy would love.

When he goes to pick Parker up that Saturday, Rebecca's nervous. Parker's cranky. Booth reassures Rebecca, hauls Parker up by his bootstraps, and makes his escape, loaded down with enough gear to get them through a Russian winter.

At his place that evening, Parker won't eat anything he cooks. He's afraid of the giant Cookie Monster Booth bought, and won't go in his new room. He throws the remote control truck Booth got him, and it breaks into half a dozen pieces.

And yet, Booth doesn't care. He picks up the messes, gently scolds Parker when it's appropriate, holds the little boy afterward. He's ready for this. When bedtime comes, they go into Booth's bedroom and lie in the king-sized bed that, more and more, just seems a painful reminder of how much unused space Booth has in his life.

They read three stories, pausing for talks and tickle fights. Parker stretches out when he sleeps. He tosses and turns, moans and mumbles. Booth watches every move he makes. When the little boy finally settles in with his arms around him, his curly hair tickling Booth's chin and his small head resting solidly on his chest, Booth gets the feeling he used to get in Rebecca's bed – that starving feeling, but this time it's not just a scrap of something good that he's getting. This is a little bit more, and the promise of something substantial down the road. This is his life. His son.

For the first time since Parker was born, Booth feels like he can do this. He can be a good father. It's not everyday, it's not everything he dreamed of, but it's something.

It's a start.

The Hoover was no different when they got there. Booth had been expecting sirens and chaos – he'd forgotten that Werner was keeping a lid on the whole thing. Bones stayed down below to walk Dosha around the building, while Booth made a mad dash for the stairs and didn't stop moving until he crashed into someone on the third floor.

"Sorry – " Booth said quickly, moving to get out of the way.

The other agent grabbed him by the arm, and he realized it was Geoff with a G, the guy he'd been avoiding water-cooler gossip with just the other day.

"I saw you come in," the agent said. He was out of breath, his face red. Pupils wide. "What the hell's going on?"

Booth looked around, like salvation would come in the form of another agent or, maybe, a natural disaster of some kind.

"What do you mean?" He tried to rearrange his face into some semblance of calm, some façade to hide just how fast his head was reeling.

"Don't give me that shit, man," Geoff snapped. His thinning hair was wild on top, like he'd been running his hands through it. "My kid's on that bus, too – Sweets is up there with Werner and three of the chaperones who're supposed to be with them – "

"Nothing's going on, Agent," Booth said quickly. He recovered his cool, and looked the man in the eye. If he couldn't sell it, it could mean two dozen agents who'd never been trained for the field going rogue. It could mean Parker's life. "Go back to your desk. Do your job. Nothing's going on. You hear me?"

The man kept his eyes on Booth's, his suspicion clear. Anything else and Geoff with a G would have backed down, no questions asked. It was different when your kid was involved, though – Booth knew that.

"Why are they in Werner's office? I heard you got a police escort to get back here – something's up."

The echo of a door opening two floors down broke the stalemate between them. "Booth?"

Bones. He hollered down, keeping his eyes on the other agent.

"I'm up here, Bones. Shake a leg, Sweets is waiting for us."

The agent didn't move. "If something happens to my kid…"

"Nothing's gonna happen to your kid. She's fine." Booth suddenly remembered the man at a Bureau picnic, carrying a little redheaded girl with pigtails and glasses. His voice was steady, his eyes calm. "Go back to work, Agent. Your kid'll be home for dinner, same as every night."

A flicker of relief. He wanted to believe – that's what Booth had been banking on. Just a little reassurance, and he could go back to his day. He nodded slowly.

"All right. I'm – uh, I'm sorry. I guess with all the talk about this case, all those kids going missing, I got nervous."

Bones reached them then. She had Dosha with her. Booth gave her a quick glance, praying to God she wouldn't say anything about the case. He should've known better, though; people might say a lot of things about Bones, but nobody ever called her anything less than a pro.

"We should go, the Deputy Director will be waiting for us," she said. She ignored the other agent, which was good – it's exactly what she would do, under any circumstances.

"Dr. Brennan," the agent said, "I'm Geoff Humboldt. We met on a case a couple of years ago."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember," she said bluntly. Looked at Booth. "We should go."

Booth managed a smile that felt almost natural. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Humboldt – squints. You know the drill."

The agent echoed his smile, a comrade-in-arms kind of a look passing between them. "Good luck on your case."

Booth held his breath, waiting for something to shift. Nothing did. Humboldt started to pet Dosha but then noticed her missing fur and prominent ribs and took his hand back, like he'd just realized he was sharing the stairwell with a leper.

"I should go."

"Yes," Bones said coolly. The agent left. Booth looked at Bones when they were alone. She was a little flushed, her hair a mess. She still looked better than any woman he'd ever known.

"You couldn't have left the dog in the car?"

"She's been in there for six hours. She needed to stretch her legs."

He knew there was no point in arguing. They took the final flight of stairs to Werner's office in silence, Booth's mind refocusing once more on getting his kid back home.

As soon as they were through Werner's office door, Sweets was on his feet. Werner stared at the dog standing at Bones's side.

"What the hell's that?"

"It's a dog," Bones said, like Werner was the slowest kid on the short bus.

"What do we know?" Booth interrupted.

There were three other people in the room, besides Werner and Sweets – a woman and two men, all from the Bureau.

Werner stood. "Not much. At eleven-hundred hours, after their White House tour, the kids were scheduled for lunch. The facilitators were supposed to be relieved for one hour, and then meet the bus in Largo before they continued with the rest of the day."

"And you're the facilitators?" Booth asked, directing his question to the three agents who had risen as soon as he entered the room.

One of the men stepped forward. He was tall and blonde, with square shoulders and a square jaw. The Ken-Doll version of an FBI agent.

"Yes, sir," he said.

"And so who did you sign off with, before taking off for lunch?"

The man hesitated. Booth stepped closer. "I asked you a question, Agent. Who did you sign off with before you left twenty-five kids on their own?"

"There were three agents who were supposed to be taking over for lunch, sir," the woman interrupted. She was small and lean. Brunette. "Mendelsohn, Warrick, and Jeffers."

"Supposed to be?" Booth echoed. "Did they or didn't they?"

Werner shook his head. He looked reluctant to say anything more, but Booth was pretty sure if somebody didn't say something soon, the result wouldn't be good for anyone.

"Agent Booth," Sweets said. He stood up straight and didn't waver for a second. "It appears there was a miscommunication as to how the schedule was supposed to work. The lunch shift facilitators were under the impression they were to meet the bus at the restaurant; these agents were under the impression they were leaving direct from the White House tour."

"So you never saw anybody take over?" Booth interpreted, never taking his eyes from the three agents whose job it had been to keep watch over his son. "You never gave anybody instructions, said, 'Hey, that kid in the back is trouble, watch he doesn't knock somebody over the head during lunch?' You just got done at the White House, grabbed your shit, and took off."

Ken-Fed dropped his eyes. Booth took a step closer, so they were toe-to-toe. "Hey, look at me." His voice was tight. "There are twenty-five kids on that fucking bus, and one of them's mine. I'm not playing games here. How'd this thing play out?"

The third man cleared his throat. He was shorter than the other man and at least ten years older. His thinning hair was swept across his balding head, a little bit of a paunch under his FBI standard-issue black jacket.

"It was my fault, Special Agent Booth. I went to the bus to speak with the other agents, but the doors were already closed. The kids were already on. The bus driver opened the door and said they were running late."

"So, you just let them go," Booth said.

The agent stared at the ground. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. He shrugged. "I never even… Everything looked fine. The kids weren't upset. The bus driver wasn't upset."

"Because the kids didn't know and the fucking bus driver was in on it!" Booth exploded.

"Booth," Sweets said. Booth whirled on him, noting again that the kid didn't flinch. Somewhere along the lines, he'd grown a set – and come to care, Booth realized. Right now, he could tell that Sweets cared a whole hell of a lot.

"What did Parker say on the phone?"

"He said something about a shortcut," Booth said. "That's why we've got people checking out 202 and the outlying areas."

"So, if he was able to contact you and apparently speak freely – albeit in code – then in my opinion, the abductors – if that is indeed what this is – have not let onto the children that they were in danger. The fact that this agent saw the kids leaving with no signs of distress would seem to corroborate that theory."

Booth ran his hand through his hair, let out a slow breath. "Yeah, I thought of that. If he'd snuck off and was hiding when he called, he would've just come out and said, 'Hey, we're in trouble, here's where we are.'"

"Or, the kidnappers would have given you a clear indication that they had the children, and spelled out their terms," Sweets finished.

"Or just killed them outright," Booth said quietly. Everyone looked kind of dazed when he said the words out loud. He thought he might be sick, for a second.

"But that wasn't the scenario," Sweets said quickly. "Whatever is happening, the kids on the bus had no idea there was any trouble. Parker must have noticed something and contacted you."

"But the game's changed now," Booth said. "All the cell phones are off. It's almost two o'clock, which means they missed lunch. No adults they know are on board. They might not've known before, but I think by now everybody on that bus has a pretty good idea that something's gone bad."

Werner's phone rang, then. Everyone kind of jumped. Stared for a second, like they weren't sure how to handle it, before Werner answered. His jaw went tight.

"Where?" the Deputy Director asked. He grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a pad of legal paper on his desk.

"No," Werner said quickly, in answer to a question Booth wished desperately he could hear. "Don't move in without my word. We're bringing units in on the ground, but you don't tip off that you're there. You hear me? Stay back."

Werner hung up. Gave a shaky smile, but he'd gone pale.

"We've got the bus."

IV.

"Who's that?"

It's Christmas day. Parker is in his arms, holding on tight to a robot that he's already said three times is the 'best, best, best present' he ever got. Booth sets the little boy in his child's seat in the backseat of the truck.

"Her name's Bones, Parks – but you call her Dr. Brennan unless she says otherwise, okay?"

"Bones is a funny name."

Booth smiles at the boy. Ruffles his curly hair. He's just been released from a day and a half with a house full of squints, half that time hallucinating and the rest solving a long-dead case, not because he really gave a rat's ass about that long-dead case, but because he'd realized it was the only thing he had to give Bones. And suddenly, locked up in the Jeffersonian, he'd realized that it was important to him to give Bones something.

"Yeah, Parks, Bones is a funny name – it's not her real name. It's just what I call her."

"She's really pretty," he says seriously. "As pretty as Mommy – but don't tell Mommy, okay?"

Booth grins, just a little. "I won't say a word, bub."

"Does she like it when you call her Bones?"

He gets into the driver's seat, turns on the truck. Pauses for a second and thinks about the fact that he's just left his partner alone in Wong Foo's on Christmas day.

"Yeah, Parks. She doesn't know it yet, but she likes it a lot that I call her Bones."

They drive in quiet conversation for a while. Parker is watching the Christmas lights, pointing out the ones he likes best. They're both partial to the blue lights, but Parker still gets a lot more excited about anything remotely Santa related than just about anything else. All of a sudden, he gets serious.

"Why was she sad?" he asks. Out of nowhere.

Booth takes a second to follow the little boy's train of thought. "Who? You mean Bones?"

Parker nods, his blonde curls flying. Booth watches his son's face change in the rearview mirror.

"She wasn't sad, Parks." Another glance in the mirror tells him Parker hasn't bought the lie.

"Christmas is hard for some people, Parks. She's a little lonely, I think – she doesn't have any family."

"She doesn't have a little boy?" Parker asks.

Booth shakes his head.

"What about a Mom and Dad?"

Booth thinks about the story he overheard her telling Angela. The delicate way she wiped her tears, the flush of embarrassment when she realized he was there.

"No, Parks. Right now, she's pretty alone."

Parker thinks about this for a minute or two. He looks sad enough to cry, and Booth loves him as much in that moment as he ever has. His kid is the fastest one on the T-ball team, can count to twenty-five, and can say 'Hello' in six different languages. Still, it's his good heart that moves Booth every time.

"Maybe she could be your family, Dad. I could get her a present, and we could watch movies sometimes."

Booth thinks about this for just a second. He thinks about that first kiss over a year ago – the way she felt in his arms, the way her lips moved under his. He's thought about that kiss a lot. Then he thinks about the slap, the harsh words, the fact that most of the time, it seems like she'd just as soon kick his ass than spend an afternoon with him. He shakes his head.

"Maybe, Parks. Right now, though, I'm pretty happy just watching movies with you."

Parker gets a wider smile at that. For the moment, Bones is forgotten.

"I'm pretty happy, too, Dad."

They go back to looking at Christmas lights together, just him and his boy.

They were just about through the Hoover front door and back on the street when Booth realized Bones was right on his heels. He stopped, and she crashed right into him.

"Ow! Why'd you stop?"

He turned and looked her dead in the eye. The second he did, she got the stubborn glint that had been turning him on and driving him stark raving mad since the day they met.

"I'm going."

"No, Bones, you're not. It could be dangerous – I don't have a clue what I'm walking into. And if something happens, you don't need – " he stopped, trying to stop all the shitty What-If images from knocking him sideways. "What about the dog? This isn't your area, Bones – "

"You're my area," she interrupted. "If something happens, I need to be there." Her eyes filled with tears; she rubbed them away viciously, jaw still set. "I'm going. Sweets is watching the dog. I'm coming with you."

He gave up.

Werner was on the line for most of the trip out, while Booth relayed directions and tried to get his head together.

The bus hadn't moved since it had first been spotted twenty minutes earlier. Tucked in the woods on the back nine of a golf course currently in the middle of off-season repairs, no one had seen it go through the front entrance. The grounds were big, though – plenty of ways to get in or out.

Thermal readings indicated there were live bodies in the bus – a lot of them.

Booth had been telling the truth when he told Bones he had no clue what he was walking into.

He'd just hung up the phone, five minutes out from their destination, when it rang again. Werner's number came up, one more time.

"Yeah."

"Lincoln's here," Werner said. "He's got the other guys you wanted."

"You fill him in on what's happening?"

Werner had. A second later, Lincoln was on the phone.

"The Billings woman is dead?" he asked.

It took a minute for Booth to get back to that – he'd almost forgotten. The puzzle had gotten so big, he couldn't begin to keep track of all the pieces. Especially now, when the most important piece of all seemed to be his kid.

"Yeah, she is," Booth confirmed. "Still no sign of her husband. You remember the father from that day on the Ridge?"

"He's dead," Lincoln said shortly. Booth had the golf course in sight now. Five other unmarked cop cars had pulled up. They'd all gone radio silent, in case the kidnappers were listening.

"Look, I can't do this now," Booth said. "You got anything I need to know before I go into this thing?" He waited, his adrenaline burning now. Everything was clearer, more focused.

Finally, Lincoln said a short, "No. Good luck." He meant it – Booth could tell by his tone. All the same, he couldn't shake the feeling there was something the other man wasn't saying.

"Thanks. Stay put – I need to talk to you when I get back."

Bones got out of the truck with him after he hung up. Booth put on his Kevlar, checked his weapon. Fifteen men were waiting for him, all suited up and ready for his instructions. The chopper was still standing by; Booth switched frequencies on the radio and called the pilot, trying to figure his next move.

"What do you see?"

"I'm too far to see much of anything," the man said. "We didn't want to give them a heads-up if we didn't have to."

Booth took a breath. It was cold and still, despite the people around him. He swallowed. "It doesn't matter," he said after a couple of seconds. "They know we're here."

He looked around, got his bearings. There was a glade of trees twenty yards from where he was standing. The bus was hidden about a mile into that glade, according to the pilot. Otherwise, it was all wide open spaces. He couldn't figure out what the hell they had planned – he just knew that, right now at least, the bad guys had the advantage.

"I'm gonna go around the perimeter," he told the others. "Try to figure out what's going on, get a visual on what's waiting. You guys follow my lead, but stay back. Nobody moves without my word. Am I clear?"

A dozen murmured "Yes, sir"s issued from the men. He headed out. He caught a glimpse of Bones standing off to the side, watching him intently. She looked scared, and he wished he had the time to be comforting. As soon as she saw that thought flash across his face, though, her own fear disappeared. She steeled herself – he could see her doing it.

"Go," she said.

He nodded.

And went.

V.

"I don't know what it means, though," Parker says.

Booth tries to contain his frustration. They're eating lunch on a Saturday afternoon at the Diner. It's raining outside, which means they'll go to the Y this afternoon instead of the park. Parker has ketchup on his chin and his polo shirt, and a confused look in his brown eyes.

"You don't need to know what it means, bub – you just have to say it, okay? Paladin."

"Paladin," Parker repeats thoughtfully. "When do I say it again?"

"You don't say it, Parker. If somebody ever comes to pick you up, and it's not me or your Mom, they've gotta say that word. That's our word."

Parker makes a face, staring speculatively at his mostly-empty plate. Booth can practically see the wheels turning. He thinks of the father and son he saw reunited just over twenty-four hours ago. He can't stop picturing the bloody rag around the little boy's hand. More and more, he feels like he'll never have a clue how people do the things they do to each other.

"Mommy says sometimes your job makes you more worried than other Dads."

"Not about this," Booth says quickly. He gets up from his chair, goes over and kneels in front of Parker. Looks him in the eye. "I get worried because I know things happen, okay, Parker? I'm going to keep you safe – I'll always keep you safe. But you've gotta work with me. Now, say it."

"Paladin."

Booth gets up, his bad knee creaking a little with the movement. He sits back down. "Good."

Parker looks worried. His lips are pinched into a thoughtful frown. He sighs, and the sound is way too heavy for a boy as young as his son.

"Can I have a French fry?" Booth asks.

Parks keeps frowning. "You have your own."

Booth sneaks his hand closer to the plate. "Just one?"

Parker rolls his eyes. He's fighting a smile now. "Da-ad," he sing-songs.

"Par-ker," Booth sing-songs right back.

"Can I have pie for desert?"

Booth smiles. "What else is there, bub? Come on – finish up. Let's get out of here, go have some fun."

Parker's giggling by the time they finish off their pie. They don't mention Paladin again, and Booth pushes the image of the little boy he almost wasn't in time to save, far to the back of his head. The rest of the weekend, he feels like someone's following them – even though he knows there's no one. He panics a little more than normal when Parker is out of sight; stands in the doorway of his son's room and watches his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, while he's sleeping. They don't talk about Paladin again, but he knows Parker won't forget. And he sure as hell knows he won't.

The bus was parked in plain sight. It was white, with DC Tours & Rentals stenciled across the side. One door controlled by the driver up front, double doors in the back. Tinted windows, so Booth couldn't get a clear read on what was happening inside. He approached it from the south side, keeping low to the ground and using the evergreens, elms, and birches on every side as cover. There were voices coming from inside – chaos, it sounded like. He couldn't hear any adults, but every so often there'd be the sound of a child crying. He strained to make out Parker's voice, but couldn't.

There was a thin layer of snow on the ground. Booth spotted two sets of adult-sized footprints leading from the bus to the woods. He searched for a sign of them, waiting in the trees to pick him off, but he didn't see a soul.

Keeping to the woods, he traveled farther around the perimeter until he could see the other side of the bus. They'd parked by of the eighteenth hole, the driver's side of the vehicle facing the trees while the exit remained exposed to the world.

Once he had a clear visual on the situation, his heart stopped.

Snow had started, light flakes that evaporated on contact with his skin. There was movement inside the vehicle, voices getting louder and more desperate.

Outside the bus, a wire – so thin as to be virtually undetectable – ran from one end of the vehicle to the other. It was stretched across the doors and over the windows. It snaked down from the body, over about three yards of golf course covered in thin snow, and stopped.

A redheaded girl with glasses sat on the ground where the wire terminated, a stuffed bear in her lap. Booth thought of the scene Hartwick had painted yesterday: the little girl playing with her doll in front of the cabin on Black Ridge over thirty years ago. He realized he was shaking, and struggled to recover his equilibrium, but his brain wasn't working.

Nothing was working.

Because beside the redheaded girl, his lip bleeding but otherwise apparently unharmed, sat Parker. He held the girl's hand. They both looked strangely calm. He was talking to her earnestly, no trace of fear on his face. Booth watched his son smile and keep talking, oblivious to his father's presence.

In the girl's lap, taped to the bear's body, Booth could see more wires. A timer. He checked it through the scope in his rifle, honing in until he could read the numbers. 1:03:42, with the seconds winding down fast. Just over an hour.

And in the meantime, the entire thing – girl, bear, bus… and Parker – was rigged to go up the second anyone made a move.

VI.

"Laskey says you must know a hundred ways to kill a guy," Parker says.

They're at the park, eating ice cream. It's a gorgeous summer day that, just like that, goes dark.

Booth tries to stay cool. "Why'd Laskey say a thing like that?"

Parker shrugs, and Booth knows the boy can tell he's bothered.

"We were just talking. His Dad says you were in the Army and you're the best marker they ever had."

"Marksman," Booth corrects automatically. He feels no pride over the words – instead, he's trying to figure out who the hell Laskey's father is so he can have a conversation about what he should and shouldn't be talking to his kid about.

"So, you killed guys, Dad?" Parker asks. His voice has gotten small. Booth has never, ever wanted to have this conversation. In fact, he's dreaded it from the time his son came into the world.

Booth looks him in the eye. He's talked to shrinks about this, read books about it – about the importance of being honest, but not too honest.

"I protect people," he says. It is the truth, in some ways. In others, it feels like the biggest lie of them all.

"From bad guys," Parker says. His ice cream has started dripping – Booth takes it and, with one steady lick, gets all the drips and puts the cone back in Parker's hand.

"Yeah, Parks," he says. "That's my job – to keep people safe. You, and your Mom, and anybody else who needs to be protected."

"And to keep us protected, sometimes you kill people?"

Booth sighs. Keeps his eyes on Parker, and gently nods his head. "Yeah, Parker. Sometimes. It's not… It's nothing you need to worry about, bub. It's just my job."

Parker stops eating. He gets quiet. After a while, he looks at Booth and his eyes are filled with tears.

"You don't get to go to heaven if you kill people," he whispers. A tear falls down his cheek. Too late, Booth realizes he's made a mistake – this was one of those times when a lie would have been right, would have been a thousand times better than this.

He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to explain to a six-year-old that he knows killers don't get to heaven, but he's weighed the cost of his soul against the need to keep his country free, his family safe, and he's willing to take the hit for that.

Instead, he shakes his head and forces a smile.

"Hey, bub, relax. I'm just kidding around, okay? Sharkey and his Dad don't know squat. I just keep people safe, okay? The bad guys go to jail, we go to heaven. Okay?"

Parker thinks it over. He looks pissed for a second or two, then relief takes over. He rolls his eyes and takes a big bite of ice cream. Sighs in exaggerated relief.

"Don't play that trick again, okay, Dad? You really scared me."

They go back to ice cream and playing in the park. That Sunday, Booth scans the Help Wanted section of the paper before he brings Parker back home. He tries to imagine a life where he doesn't have to hide things like life and death from his kid. There's nothing in the paper for a highly trained sniper with a bad back and perfect eyesight, though, so he puts it away. Gets his suit ready for work the next morning, and says his prayers before lying awake in bed that night, imagining a different life.

There was no way to tell if radio interference might set everything off. It took Booth a solid two minutes that felt like years, to convince himself that he couldn't just go in on the scene, pick his kid up, and haul ass out of there. He was shaking when he turned his back on Parker, and ran back to the others with his heart going fast and his head even faster. Bones was waiting with the others – which should have surprised him, or at least pissed him off, but he just nodded to her. They were gathered in a grove of birch trees with the snow falling lightly. She wore Kevlar. He couldn't tell if she was armed.

"I don't think they're on the bus anymore – they took off. Or they're in the woods, watching this go down." He looked at Bones. "I need you to go back as fast as you can. Take Hutchins with you," he nodded to a compact blonde man with a pug nose. Didn't even allow himself to think that he was once again trusting somebody else with Bones's life, when that almost never worked out that well.

"Tell them we need the bomb squad. Whatever they've got rigged doesn't look stable, so we're staying radio silent. I don't want to risk a signal touching this whole thing off. You need to go to the pilot and tell him what I said – he needs to shut down his communications as well."

She nodded. She didn't wait for any further instructions, just took off running with Hutchins on her tail.

When she was gone, he looked at the men waiting for his command. Thought of Parker holding the little girl's hand, and shook his head fast. He had to be clear on this.

"I want you five," he singled out five guys in black flak jackets at the end of the line, "to move out, make sure we don't have snipers waiting for us in the trees. Fan out. Cover every opening. Remember – no radios. You've got your orders. You find anyone, you either take them out or you incapacitate them, but don't move from your post. Somebody'll come for you when things are clear."

They moved. The rest of the guys stood around waiting for him to make a decision. Wait for the bomb squad, or go back and get his kid? A second later, though, the decision was made for him: back toward the bus, he heard someone yelling. Not a scream, not terror, but the pure fury of Parker on his very worst day.

Booth took off at a run.


A husky kid Booth didn't recognize was halfway out the bus window when he got back, Parker sitting exactly where he had been, screaming his bloody head off at the idiot.

"GET BACK IN!" he yelled. Booth didn't even know his kid had lungs like that. "Jake, you've gotta stay inside."

The fat kid was crying. "You got out – if you can get out, we can all get out."

"I got out 'cause I stayed away from the wires," Parker yelled back. "I got out 'cause nobody was moving, 'cause you guys made sure the bus didn't rock. You're moving EVERYTHING."

The redheaded girl had stopped crying – now she just looked pissed.

"Parker's right – it'll blow up if you keep going. Get back inside!"

Jake was stuck, paralyzed, trying to figure out what he should do. Booth took a breath and left the cover of the trees.

"Hey, Jake," he said easily. "Settle down, okay, buddy? Just stay where you are for a second."

"DAD!" Parker said. Booth had his eyes on his kid the whole time – he put up a hand, fast, to make sure the boy didn't move, but Parker stayed planted exactly where he was.

"You've gotta stay still, Parks," he said quietly.

Parker nodded. His eyes filled with tears, but he pulled himself together fast. "I know, Dad. It's a bomb, like the one Hodgins and Zack made that time. The men said it'd go off if any of us moved."

Now that he was closer, Booth had a better read on the situation. The bus was wired, the little girl was wired… Parker, it seemed, was the only thing on the scene that wasn't wrapped in explosives.

Jake started to move again. Inside the bus, Booth could hear kids starting to panic. He got closer, slow and easy, and called into the window Jake was crammed into.

"Hey – guys, you've gotta settle down. I know you're scared. We've got people coming, though. Everything's gonna be all right." He nodded to Jake, who took a swipe at his tears. "Listen, buddy, you think you can climb back in there? I know it's hot and crowded and crappy in there, but you've gotta trust me. The alternative's worse."

The kid nodded. "They're coming to get us?"

"Any second now," Booth promised.

Slowly, the kid unjammed himself and shimmied back inside. Things quieted down. Booth turned his attention back to Parker and the little girl.

"You got out?" he asked Parker.

Parker nodded. "I studied the wires. We did an experiment once – Max and Hodgins and me, and they showed me how bombs work. I knew I could get out if I didn't rock the bus, and I didn't hit any wires – like in Operation, right?"

Booth's mouth went dry. A list of all the ways that logic could have gotten his kid killed went flying through his head, but he pushed them all away. Parker was safe.

"And who's your friend here?" he asked, nodding to the girl.

"Dani," he said promptly. Booth noticed they were still holding hands. "Her Dad works with you."

Booth nodded. "Yeah, I know him. Geoff Humboldt, right?"

"Is he here?" Dani asked. There was a thin cover of snow on her red hair. She was shivering.

"No, sweetheart, not yet," Booth said. "But we've got some guys coming. They're gonna get you out of here."

Now that he was closer, he studied the wires wrapped around her thin shoulders, the device strapped to the bear she held. 52:01:25. His chest tightened.

"Parker, what's say we get you out of here? Bones is back at the truck – "

Parker shook his head. No drama, no anger, no tears. Just a simple shake of the head. "I'm not leaving 'til she does, Dad. I promised."

Up close, he could see that the girl was a little younger than Parker, and a lot smaller, but he could tell by the tilt of her chin and the spark in her green eyes that she was a tough little thing. Her lip trembled, but she held it together.

"It's okay, Parker. You should go."

Parker didn't budge, getting the stubborn look Rebecca always got when she was settling in for a good, long fight.

"I told you I'd stay," he told the girl evenly. "I said my dad would come, and we'd walk out of here together. That's what I said."

"Parker," Booth warned. Parker set his jaw, looked down at his hands. Not a challenge, no disrespect.

But he wasn't moving.

Five minutes passed before they heard sirens. Parker met Booth's eye. He noticed the puffy lip again, realized he had no clue what had happened in that bus.

"Those are the bomb guys, Dad?" Parker asked. He seemed older, somehow. Hand still in Dani's, blonde hair dusted with snow. He was shivering. Booth took off his coat and started to give it to his son, but Parker shook his head.

"I'm okay. You should give it to Dani."

Booth looked at the little girl. Her lips were blue, her face pale. He hesitated. Dani saw him do it; she gave him a kind smile that was far, far beyond her years. He tried not to look at the clock running down in her lap, but failed. 45:08:17.

"It's okay. I'm not cold anymore, anyway." She looked at Parker. "Your Dad can't give me his coat, 'cause of the wires all around me. He can't touch me. You can take the coat."

For the first time, Parker looked shaken. He blinked back tears, and Booth saw his grip tighten around Dani's hand.

"I'm okay, Dad. You can keep it."

Bones showed up then, with Werner and five guys in full bomb gear. Parker brightened when she came over.

"Bones! See," he looked at Dani with that I-told-you-so smile he'd perfected over the years. "This is the lady I was telling you about. My dad's girlfriend. Bones, this is Dani – she's gonna be a scientist."

Dani looked skeptical. Booth watched as the bomb squad started checking out the scene, figuring out their next move.

"You're Dr. Temperance Brennan?" the little girl asked.

Bones nodded. She was staring at Parker's bloody lip. "And Parker's Dad is your boyfriend."

She hesitated a long moment, eyes still on Parker. "We… He's my partner."

"And her boyfriend," Parker insisted.

"Well… yes," Bones agreed, after a second or two.

"Gee, thanks for the endorsement there, Bones," Booth murmured. One of the bomb guys signaled to him, and he nodded.

He crouched down beside Parker again. "Listen, bub," he said, "I'm just gonna go talk to those guys for a second. But Bones'll stay with you 'til I come back."

Bones knelt then, and tipped Parker's chin up to look at her. She was shy about it, careful – like she was overstepping some boundary, though Booth didn't know whether it was hers or Parker's. Hers, he suspected.

"You're hurt," she said.

Parker got quiet. "I'm okay."

"They hit him," Dani said. "They took me, and Parker attacked them. He kicked one of the guys, and bit the other one 'til he bled."

Booth felt a rush of emotion as he pictured the scene. Werner shouted for him, and he nodded. He left them there: his partner and his kid, sitting in the snow with a little redheaded girl with a bomb wired to her teddy bear.

He'd had better moments.

VII.

"Why don't you ever kiss Bones?"

The question comes out of the blue, and so close on the heels of the Caroline-inspired kiss that had just about knocked his socks off, that Booth is struck dumb for a few seconds.

"Me and Bones? Because we're partners, Parks."

"And friends," Parker points out. They're on the way to the prison to spread a little Christmas cheer. The truck smells like pine needles, and 'Let it Snow' is playing on the radio. It's been hours, but Booth could swear he can still taste Bones's lip gloss.

"I think you like her," Parker says.

"Since when are you an expert on liking someone?" Booth asks, which makes Parker roll his eyes.

"Dad, come on. You guys are always together. You were gonna go to Africa for Christmas with her, and that's all the way across the world. Mom says you like her – so does Angela. And Dr. Hodgins."

"What?" He feels a blush climbing his cheeks. "They do not."

"Uh huh – do too. You should just kiss her. And buy her some candy."

"I'm not kissing Bones, and I'm not buying her any candy. What's got you so hot on this, anyway?"

He gets serious. "You're alone too much," he says, finally. "I don't even remember the last time you had a girlfriend. When we first started out, it was Bones who didn't have a family, but now it's you. If I didn't come back, you would have been all alone tonight."

They pull into the prison yard. Parker starts to get out, but Booth stops him with a hand on his arm.

"Just a second, Parks." The boy stops. He turns in his seat so he can look Booth in the eye.

"You don't need to worry about me – got it? That's my job. If you hadn't come back today, I would've been okay. I might have been sad that I wasn't with you, but I would've been okay."

"But you don't need to be sad – you could be with Bones."

"Look, you've gotta stop that, bub." Booth's voice rises unintentionally. "She doesn't want me, okay? I'm not the guy for her."

Parker makes a face, the fun gone from his eyes. Booth forces himself out of this unexpected funk. He focuses instead on the falling snow and the carols and the smell of fresh pine.

"Now, come on – just because Bones and me will never be anything more doesn't mean we're not still best friends, right? Let's go make her Christmas."

They get out and set up the tree. Before long, Parker's giggling and they're horsing around in the snow. He can see lights on in the trailer, though the shades are drawn. Every so often, he thinks he gets a glimpse of her silhouette – every time he does, it makes him think of what it felt like to have her fists curled in his lapel this afternoon, her body pressed to his.

When she answers the phone, he gets a little flutter that strikes him as a bad sign. And when she comes to the window, sad eyes brightening and that smile touching her pretty lips, the little flutter gets a whole lot bigger. He keeps a hand on Parker's shoulder and his kid – who's supposed to be in Vermont but definitely is not – is grinning, and the snow is falling, and Christmas miracles don't seem all that unlikely, all of a sudden.

"What've you got?" Booth asked as he jogged up to the spot where Werner and the others had gathered, toward the treeline at the back of the bus.

"Woods are clear," Werner said. "It's a small area, well-maintained – not a lot of thick brush for anyone to hide in. They must've taken off."

"It doesn't make any sense," Booth said. "Why go to all this trouble just to fuck it up and run in the eleventh hour?"

"I don't really care why, I just care that they did," the man who appeared to be leading the bomb squad said. He was in full gear, helmet under his arm. Tall and dark, lean and intense.

"Joe Cragen," the man said. He and Booth shook hands. "First thing we'll do is get these other kids out – that'll be tricky, but we can do it. How much time's left on the device?"

Booth swallowed. "Thirty-eight minutes when I left them."

Cragen flinched. "Let's get moving. There's some plastic explosives under the bus, but they look pretty stable, all things considered. This was a rush job – whatever they had planned, they either didn't think it through, or something bumped their timeline up in a hurry."

He gave the signal to the other guys, and they gently began maneuvering wires and stabilizing the bus.

"I need everybody but my guys to stand clear." Cragen nodded toward Bones, Parker, and Dani. "Werner says that's your boy?"

Booth nodded.

"He's clear, right?" Cragen asked. "So, get him out of here. We've got paramedics waiting on the other side of the fairway. Have them check him out. Then, if you can, try to get back here and help us get the rest of the kids to safety."

Booth was quiet for a second. "What about the girl?" he nodded toward Dani.

Cragen didn't say anything. Scratched his neck. "We worry about her when the others are clear. But…" he hesitated. "Just get your boy out of here, okay? As far as you can get him."


"I'm not going." Parker shook his head stubbornly. Bones had finally persuaded him to let her put a blanket around his shoulders. The situation was starting to get to Dani, Booth could tell – the physical strain of sitting perfectly still, the emotional strain of knowing what would happen if she didn't.

"Parker." Booth's voice had an edge to it, but his kid just looked away. This wasn't something he'd never done before – usually, whatever Booth or Rebecca said, Parker did. He could be stubborn, but he'd never outright disobeyed them before.

"You're being dumb," Dani said. Her voice, her whole… being, really, seemed to be getting smaller as the afternoon wore on. The timer, on the other hand, just seemed to be getting bigger. 22:12:04.

"Am not," Parker said. "You think you're so smart, but I know a lot more than you think. Besides, I'm older than you."

She rolled her eyes. "So what? You might be older, but I'll always be smarter. You should go."

"Parks, she's right – " Parker looked horrified. Booth sighed. "Not about the smarter thing – about you going."

Still, Parker didn't move. Booth noticed that, for all Dani's talk, she didn't let go of his son's hand. He watched as the squad cleared away wires and used bodies and equipment to keep the bus from moving while they slowly lowered each child to the ground.

Across the fairway, Booth could see flashing lights through the snow. A crowd was gathering. No doubt that by now, word had gotten out at least at the Bureau. Parents would be waiting for their kids to come back to them.

It took ten minutes for them to get everyone off the bus. Parker watched his friends go – Booth saw him following them with his eyes, and wondered what the hell he was thinking. When the last one – Jake, the husky kid who'd nearly gotten them all blown to kingdom come – was led over the green and back to safety, Booth turned to Parker. Cragen was standing by.

He crouched down and looked his son in the eye.

"We need to let them do their job now, Parker." The glowing red numbers on Dani's bear changed again: 10:15:42.

"They can do it while I'm here. I won't get in the way," he said.

Dani looked completely terrified for the first time.

Booth caught Bones's eye, gesturing across the green. "You mind waiting for us at the fairway?" he asked, as casual as he could.

She hesitated before nodding. "When you're done here," she said to Dani, like she was out getting her hair done or something, "please visit me at the Jeffersonian. I'll arrange a tour."

The little girl smiled at the same time that tears began to fall – silent, no big sobs, still trying to be strong. She was shaking again.

"Okay. Thank you."

Bones leaned over and kissed the top of Parker's head, then straightened and kissed Booth full on the mouth. She held onto his hand so tight he thought she'd break it, and then finally let go and walked away.

When she was clear, Cragen called, "Agent Booth?"

8:20:31 on the clock.

Booth nodded. It was hard to get a full breath.

"Okay, Parker, time to go."

Parker shook his head. Booth knelt and gently pried his son's fingers from Dani's.

"We're running out of time, Parker. You need to let them do this." His voice rose. Parker clutched for Dani's hand, but Booth pulled his body away until the little girl was no longer in reach. She made no move to stop them, but she was crying harder now.

"I'm not leaving her!" Parker yelled, losing his cool for the first time since Booth showed up on the scene. Booth dragged him away, his arms wrapped tight around his son's body. The little boy fought him every step of the way, kicking and squirming the way he used to when he'd have tantrums at two. This was more than a tantrum, though, Booth knew. And he was a hell of a lot stronger than he'd been at two.

"You can't do this! Dad, she'll die!"

When they were far enough away, Booth dropped to his knees and held on while Parker continued to fight him. They were at the treeline. He was facing the scene, watching it play out, while Parker's face was pressed to his chest. He felt the slow give in his son's body, the shift from fight to acceptance to grief, as Parker stopped fighting and began to cry.

He watched as Cragen approached Dani, crouching as he examined the device. Watched as the man turned to the rest of the squad and slowly shook his head. Parker was sobbing now, holding tight to Booth's body. Booth kept his hand at the back of his son's head, shielding him from the scene as it unfolded.

Cragen stayed where he was, talking to the little girl, working with the wires, as the rest of the squad withdrew. Across the fairway, red and blue lights flashed in a constant strobe. The snow was still coming down, thicker now.

Parker looked up at exactly the moment Cragen was able to detach the bomb from the bear. Booth saw his son's eyes lock with Dani's, felt his body go rigid in his arms, and then Booth felt the air change the way he used to in battle. He gripped the back of Parker's head and forced the boy's face back to his chest, shielding his son an instant before the bomb went off.

VIII.

"Two l's, Parker. Dammit, listen to me."

Parker stares at him like he's grown two heads. They're in Rebecca's living room. It's August, hotter than hell in Virginia. Booth has a bandage on his forehead, scrapes and bruises. It's Saturday night – the day Bones sent him home, without her.

He's having a hard time breathing.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Parker." But he knows his voice doesn't sound like nothing's wrong. Not by a long shot. "Just – listen to me, okay? If anything ever happens – "

"Like what? Dad, is Bones okay?"

He nods, but he's horrified to find that his eyes are tearing up. He can't get a full breath.

"Seeley." It's Rebecca, standing in the doorway. And just like that, she's taken in everything that's going on. "Hey, Parker, why don't you go give Brent a hand out back. He's trying to get the grill going."

Parker doesn't protest. He looks at Booth like's he's afraid of him – or maybe for him – and nods.

"I'll be out back, okay, Dad?"

Booth nods. He watches his son go. He shouldn't have come – he was supposed to wait until tomorrow, once he'd had some sleep. But the idea of going to the apartment alone… When Parker disappears around the corner, he feels a completely misplaced terror. He wonders if he's losing it.

He's sitting on the edge of an overstuffed recliner that he knows Brent picked out. Rebecca grabs an ottoman, sits down, pulls it close. Takes his hands.

"Hey, Seeley," she says softly. He looks at her and remembers being in love with her. For a second, he wonders what it would be like to kiss her, now. "Lance Sweets called. He told me what happened."

Booth nods. He feels like he should be pissed that Sweets made that call, invaded his private life that way, but right now he's just grateful not to have to tell the story again.

"Have you slept?" Rebecca asks.

He thinks of the night before – making love to Bones until she finally slept. Staying awake, cataloguing her cuts and bruises, calculating how many hours she was missing and how long it might take her to get over that.

"She almost died," he finally says.

Rebecca bites her lips. She leans in, kisses his forehead, and then wraps her arms around him and holds him close. He resists for just a second, but then he lets go and holds onto her, so hard he imagines he's cutting off her air. Becca's always been stronger than that, though. She doesn't complain. He cries into her shoulder, silently, harder than he thinks he's cried in his entire adult life. It should be something he's ashamed of, but instead it feels like such a relief that he can't summon anything but gratitude.

When he's got control again, he pulls away. Wipes his tears, avoiding Rebecca's gaze until she grabs his chin and forces his eyes to hers.

"Hey," she says. "It's okay. Don't freak out on me, Seel. That? What just happened, there? It's okay for you to lose it. We've known each other a long time, Seeley. God knows I've cried on your shoulder more than once."

He takes a long, deep breath, and lets it out slow.

"I really thought I lost her," he says. But this time, his voice is steady. He can take a full breath.

Rebecca takes his hands. "But you didn't. She's okay."

He thinks about this. Nods slowly. "Yeah, I know. I just…"

He goes quiet. Rebecca's studying him, seeing right through him in that way she always used to.

"Seeley – don't get mad, okay? But… Do you ever think of doing something else? I mean – you've been at this a long time. Maybe…" She shrugs. "Do you ever think about getting out?"

He meets her gaze. Parker and Brent are laughing out back – he can hear the sound through the open windows, coming in on a soft summer breeze that ruffles the curtains. He imagines for the first time, actually having a shot at that life himself: him and Bones barbecuing on the deck. Parker and a blue-eyed baby sister horsing around in the yard.

He scratches his neck. Nods slowly. "Yeah, I think about it." Swallows, swiping at his eyes one more time. When he stands, he feels the aches and pains of forty years of hard living. He looks Rebecca in the eye.

"Lately, it's about the only thing I think about."

"I'm okay," Parker said, for the twentieth time since they'd gotten to the emergency room. Bones was standing on the sidelines; Rebecca was checking their kid from stem to stern.

Parker was quiet.

"They actually hit you?" Rebecca demanded again. Parker nodded.

"It wasn't a big deal, Mom. I just did what I had to do." He looked at Booth. "Dad, can we go? Please?"

Booth noticed that Bones was on the phone again. He realized she'd spent a good chunk of the day talking to someone, and only now did it dawn on him that he didn't know who, or why.

The emergency room was full of overtired kids and overstressed parents. Everyone that had been on the bus had come to be checked out, but apart from a few cuts and bruises and some very cold eight-year-olds, everybody was fine. Parker had warm tea and a blanket wrapped around him, an ice pack on his lip.

Booth nodded. "Yeah, Parks – they said we can go up whenever you're ready."

Rebecca looked at Booth, who met her gaze full on. He was prepared for a fight. This time, though, he knew what had to be done. She could fight him 'til kingdom come, she wasn't winning this one.

"I'll bring him home after," he said.

She bit her lip. There was a second before he realized she was letting them go. She gave Parker a hug, said goodbye to Booth, and then went over to talk to Bones before she left.

"You ready, bub?" Booth asked.

Parker squared his shoulders. "Is it bad?"

He considered how to answer. Finally opted for the truth. "I don't know, Parker. She's gonna be okay – we know that much, anyway. They said minor burns. There might be a little scarring, but they can take care of that in time. For now, they'll give her drugs, because she'll be in a little pain. But she's okay."

"'Cause that man laid down on the bomb."

"Sergeant Cragen," Booth said. "Yeah. That was his job, Parker. To keep you guys safe. He did what he'd been trained to do."

"And he died," Parker said. He stared at the floor for a second, then almost shyly took Booth's hand.

"I don't know what to say to her. I didn't even know her before today – maybe we shouldn't go up."

Booth stopped. Knelt there in the white-tiled hallway so he could look his son in the eye. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."

"But you would," Parker said, sober as hell.

Booth nodded, just as sober. "Yeah, Parker. I'd like to think I would. This kind of thing, nobody ever knows what to say. The important thing is, she's your friend. Maybe she wasn't before today, but from here on out, you guys shared something pretty big. You go, you talk to her. Make her laugh, let her cry, fight over who gets the last M&M… Just be there for her. That's what friends do."

"That's what you and Bones do?"

Booth smiled faintly. Bones caught his eye – gave him that smile, a little wave. He felt his heart skip when he thought of how grateful he was for his life. His family.

"Yeah, Parks. That's what me and Bones do."


"So, we've got no idea who was behind it. No idea why they did it. No idea where they are now."

He sighed in frustration. He and Bones were in the truck for about the millionth hour running, this time headed back to the Hoover after dropping off Parker at Rebecca's. Night had fallen. The snow had stopped. Christmas lights shone in every color, their reflections muted like watercolors on the wet pavement.

Bones took his hand. "We know Parker's safe," she offered.

He looked at her. "Yeah – yeah, we do. That was… Jesus, Bones, what a day."

"It was very…" she stopped. He let her wade through whatever was going through her head, waiting her out. She drew designs on the inside of his wrist, sorting things out.

"Very…" he prompted.

"Terrifying," she said, finally. "This is all terrifying. I know I'm not Parker's mother, but I feel…" she dropped off. He squeezed her hand.

"You love him, Bones. That's what happens. You let people in, you get attached." He leaned over and kissed her head, keeping his eyes on the road. "Welcome to the human race, baby."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I was terrified for you, too. For what would happen to you, if something happened to Parker."

"I know."

"And now we go back to the case, like none of this ever happened. We meet with Werner and Lincoln and the others…"

He sighed, rubbing at his neck. The case had gotten a thousand times bigger and about a million percent smaller in the course of a single day. He had no clue what to make of any of it.

"Yeah, that's the plan. I can drop you at your place if you – "

Her phone interrupted them. Bones looked exasperated. She checked the caller ID, turned off the ringer, and put the cell back in her bag. When she was done, she realized he'd been watching her. He tipped an eyebrow in question; she grimaced.

"Something's been happening," she said.

He scratched his head, and tried not to wince. "Do I want to know what?"

"Jamie called this afternoon from Portland." She hesitated. He saw her get sketchy when he tensed, and tried to relax. "TJ got back to Oregon all right, but now…"

"He's missing," Booth guessed. There was no disguising the tension in his voice. Bones nodded, but she didn't say anything else. All the same, Booth could tell that wasn't the end of the story. "And you've heard from him."

Another nod, another endless stretch of silence. "He left a message. He doesn't sound good. I think…" she bit her lip. "I called Jamie and told her, but thus far they've been unable to locate him."

"And they want you to come out," he said. "Jesus Christ, Bones. You think we could have two fucking minutes – "

"Why are you angry with me? I didn't make him disappear. And I'm certainly not going out there in the middle of our case – "

"Why the hell not?" he demanded, his voice rising. "You're on the phone all day with them, while my kid's – " he stopped. She looked… What? Hurt, pissed, exhausted. Booth pulled over a block from the Hoover, and turned to face her. Took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I was really scared, Bones." He looked away for just a second, trying to keep himself together.

"I know." She took his hands in hers, twisted their fingers together. Studied the way they fit for a while, before she said anything else. "I know that I'm not as… unflinching as you are, when the subject of forever is raised. But you should never question my loyalty to you or Parker. Whatever happens between us," she lowered her eyes, swallowed past something, "or doesn't happen – you and Parker will always be important to me. I would never have left you today, regardless of what else might have been happening."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just – sometimes it's good to be reminded, y'know?" He leaned back in his seat. The drama of the day rolled over him; he fought the urge to turn the truck around and run for cover somewhere. "So, are we ready to hit the Hoover?"

Instead of the answer he expected, a long silence fell. For the first time since the call from Parker that morning, he really looked at her – her hair hanging loose around her face, collar of her wool coat turned up, circles under her eyes.

"Do you ever think…" She stopped.

He waited. Five, ten, fifteen seconds. A minute passed. "About…?" he finally prompted.

"Nothing. Never mind."

She turned around and faced front again. Booth twisted his body sideways so he could look her in the eye.

"Hey – think what, Bones?"

She sighed. "It's not a good question. Or, it's not a good time for it, at any rate."

"Maybe it is a good question – just ask it. Come on, Bones. You don't know everything. Give it a shot."

Another couple seconds and he'd waited her out. Still, she was shaky about whatever it was she was about to say.

"I'd like to have a child." He didn't say anything. "With you, I mean," she clarified, in case he hadn't gotten that part.

Booth's eyes went wide. He couldn't keep from smiling.

"I thought you didn't want kids – that the world's overpopulated and knowing what you do about…"

She put a hand on his arm. Stared at his shirt front for a long time, before she finally raised her eyes to look into his. No trace of doubt, but a whole lot of fear.

"I'd like to have a child. With you," she said again. So simple.

He traced her cheekbone, the shell of her ear. Twisted a tendril of hair around his finger and leaned closer.

"Okay," he said.

She smiled. Moved in and kissed him, her body pressing against his, her hand urgent at the back of his neck. They parted, but he kept his hand in hers.

"You didn't actually want to start trying this second, though, right?" he teased. "'Cause I swear, most of the time I'm gonna be game for this, but we've got some people waiting. And a case to solve."

She was flushed. Grinning like a fool. Booth kissed her knuckles as he merged back into traffic. He glanced at her; she glanced back at him.

Her phone rang again, and she ignored it.

He tightened his grip on her hand. Just like that, he felt her thoughts drifting. "If he's still missing when this is solved…" he said quietly. Bones turned to look at him, joy replaced with dread at what he imagined she knew was coming, "…then we'll go back out there together. We'll find him. You and me."

She nodded. The momentary celebration had passed, and the air was heavy with the weight of unsolved mysteries and lives that hung in the balance yet again. They drove the rest of the way back to the Hoover in silence.

TBC