This story is not being told chronologically. These are just story ideas that pop in to my head.

I don't own Bones.

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Entering the den, Christine found her parents sitting on the couch watching a documentary on the Nazca Plains in Peru. Standing in the doorway, she smiled, "Mom, can I borrow the car? I want to drive over to Michael's and then we're going to drive over to Tristan's for a group study for our mid-terms."

Turning her attention to her daughter, Brennan asked, "Why isn't Michael driving over here and picking you up? You know I don't like you driving after the sun sets."

Shrugging her shoulders, the teenager frowned, "He got a speeding ticket so his parents won't let him drive for the next month."

Keeping his eyes on the TV screen, Booth commented, "It'll be two months if you get a ticket."

Rolling her eyes, Christine pouted, "I'm a careful driver, Dad. Sheesh. I am not some reckless out of control teenager who. . ."

Turning his gaze upon his daughter, Booth smiled and interrupted her, "I love you too Sweetheart." Watching her sullenly leave the room, he leaned over and kissed his bride of sixteen years, "She sure is touchy lately."

Returning his kiss, Brennan smiled, "Hormones."

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Later that evening, Booth was in the kitchen looking for a snack when the back door opened. Closing the fridge door, Booth turned to smile at his daughter and froze. The look of fear on her face, giving him pause, Booth moved over to the back door and placed his hands on her shoulders, "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Shaking her head, Christine threw her arms around her father and burst into tears. Worried, Booth hugged his daughter and waited for her to calm down. Finally hearing her cries turn to gentle weeping, Booth released her and looked into her face, "Baby, if you aren't hurt then why are you crying? What's wrong? You know you can tell your old Dad anything."

Looking into her father's face, Christine reached up and wiped a tear slipping down her cheek, "Oh, Dad. You're going to hate me."

Frowning, Booth released his daughter and stepped back a step, "I'll never hate you Baby; but, you need to tell me what's going on."

Swallowing, Christine searched his face earnestly. "I . . . I got . . . Well, I had the car parked on the street in front of Tristan's house and someone came by and hit it. The drivers side of the trunk is mashed and well the other driver scraped the drivers side of the car and tore off the side view mirror."

A little horrified, Booth shook his head, "My God, you have to be kidding me. You're mother is going to freak when she sees her car."

Entering the room, Brennan heard what her husband had said, "What happened to my car?"

Explaining first, Booth answered, "Someone sideswiped your car outside of Tristan's house."

Frowning, Brennan asked, "You weren't in the car were you Christine?"

Shaking her head, Christine rushed past her father and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist. "No, Mom, still the car got a lot of damage and the driver of the vehicle didn't come tell me he did it. I didn't even know about it until I left Tristan's house."

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan smiled, "I have uninsured motorist, Christine. I'll just have to pay the deductible. I'm just glad you're okay."

Sighing, Booth left the kitchen and walked outside to inspect the car. Christine watching her father go outside, started trembling. "Oh Mom, he is going to so hate me."

Shaking her head, Brennan rubbed her daughter's shoulder, "I don't understand. Why would he hate you because someone damaged my car?"

Swallowing, Christine bit her lower lip, "I didn't borrow your car, I borrowed his."

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Standing in the garage, Booth stared at his 1968 Fastback Mustang. His eyes smoldering, his thoughts one of rage, he didn't hear Brennan enter the garage. "She borrowed your car not mine."

Glaring at the damage on his car, Booth shook his head, "That car was cherry, now look at it. I just have regular insurance on this car not Antique insurance. It's going to cost me a fortune to fix this mess."

Hooking her arm around his waist, Brennan remarked, "She's in the house crying. She thinks you hate her."

Hooking his thumbs in his belt, Booth sighed, "I don't hate her; but, I am very pissed right now. Too pissed to talk to her."

Squeezing his waist, Brennan pointed out, "The car was parked, Booth. She didn't cause the accident."

Shaking his head, Booth responded, "She borrowed it without my permission. She drove it without my permission. If she had borrowed your car then my car would still be cherry."

Looking up at Booth, his wife responded, "It's just transportation."

Shaking his head, Booth growled, "No, your car is just transportation. My car is a classic and it was cherry." Stepping away, Booth continued, "You mean well Bones; but, just leave me alone right now. I'm really mad and I don't want to say . . . Just give me some space, please."

Walking away from her husband, Brennan looked back to see the now stoic look on his face.

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Sitting in the living room in the dark, Booth sipped from his glass of scotch. Staring at a picture of his daughter in his left hand, Booth sighed. Placing the picture down on his lap, he finished his drink and placed the glass down in the middle of the coffee table. Leaning back, he picked the picture back up and hugged it against his chest.

Christine, creeping into the room, moved to the couch and cleared her throat, "I am so sorry, Daddy."

Closing his eyes, Booth shook his head, "What you did was wrong."

Nodding her head, Christine searched her father's sad face, "I know, Daddy. I just wanted to drive it. I was very careful when I drove it. I drove under the speed limit and made sure the lights were green before I entered intersections. I was really careful. As careful as I've ever been, Daddy, I swear."

Exhaling deeply, Booth opened his eyes and placed the picture on the coffee table. Turning to look at his daughter, Booth responded, "You know the sad thing about this whole thing?"

Remaining silent, his daughter shook her head slowly. Booth informed her, "I was going to give you that car for your next birthday."

Shocked, Christine rushed over to the couch and threw her arms around her father, "Oh, Daddy, I am so sorry."

Patting her shoulders, Booth sighed, "Yeah, I know." Clearing his throat, Booth frowned, "This is how its going to be, that trip to London that your mother was giving you for spring break is now off. I want the money she put in your checking account to pay for the trip. I want it to help fix my car. My insurance isn't going to cover all the damage. . . . That's my fault, I should have bought Antique insurance." Sighing he continued, "Once it's fixed, I'm transferring the title to you and you're going to have to cough up the money for maintenance and insurance from then on. That means that you can't quit that part time job you have at the Jeffersonian to take that unpaid internship at that law firm you were looking at. You're not going to be a lawyer anyway; so, I can't see that being a big deal. What ever the insurance and your Mom's present doesn't cover, well, you'll have to pay me a little out of your check each week to finish paying to fix the car. Like I said, once it's fixed it will be yours to upkeep . . . I could pay to fix it; but, you won't learn anything if I do that. I need you to understand that actions have consequences. You're not a kid anymore."

Smiling at his daughter, Booth shook his head, "And why are you calling me Daddy? You haven't called me Daddy since you were seven years old."

Laughing and crying at the same time, Christine hugged her father, "I'm really sorry Dad."

Hugging her, Booth smiled, "Yeah I know."

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Reviews would be great. Thanks.