A/N: I'm behind on everything in my life this week – so just a short update. Had planned to do more, but the rest will have to wait until the weekend.
Disclaimer: I own nothing Bones related except my imagination. (12/10/15)
Max yawned. One of those big, wide-opened, mouth stretching yawns that brought tears to his eyes in its wake.
It had been after midnight when he returned from Ohio yesterday and at his age, he needed to maintain his regular sleep schedule or his whole system would get out of whack. Like now.
It was early afternoon and he was still sitting around in his boxers and undershirt with just a tattered old cotton robe thrown over top as he nibbled on some cheese and crackers while pouring through the white pages and different online sites trying to identify all the furniture making shops or custom wood carving stores in the area. Betsy had said she thought her brother held some sort of job as a craftsman somewhere like that and Max was determined to find him.
The sudden ringing of his phone startled him from his concentration, but a quick glance told him it was just Tempe. She and Booth probably had a break in their case and needed him to watch their little angels tonight. At least he hoped so. He loved getting to spend so much time with his grandkids.
"Hey, Tempe," he answered, his easy-going smile echoing in his voice. "How's everything going?"
Hello, Max. Booth and I would like to request that you join us for dinner tonight. We need to discuss some recent events with you.
Uh oh. She called him Max. Not Dad. And he thought the invitation sounded more like a formal summons to the palace than a friendly invite. Surely there was no way that son-in-law of his found out about what transpired on his latest trip to Ohio already. He'd only been back half a day. He knew Booth was good, but seriously? Maybe it would be best if he evaded them for a bit, he thought to himself.
"Oh, uh, I'm not sure if I can make it tonight, sweetheart. How about next week sometime?"
There was a pause on the other end, then he heard her expel a big sigh. If you already have an evening engagement and can't make it in time for dinner, then please stop by afterwards. Otherwise, you're likely to be having your next conversation with Booth down at FBI headquarters in the interrogation room at a time that's most convenient to him.
Damn. That didn't sound good at all.
"What time should I be there for dinner?"
7:00.
"I'll bring dessert."
True to his word, Max showed up just a little before Brennan's 7:00 deadline carrying a blueberry pie, vanilla ice cream, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that he knew his daughter liked to drink. He was still trying to figure out how exactly he'd gotten in trouble with his daughter, but was opting to take comfort in the fact that at least she still seemed to be willing to talk to him. She wasn't shutting him out like she'd done several times before, at least, not yet.
As Brennan poured herself a glass of wine, Booth brought Max a tumbler of scotch and told Max they had some things to discuss with him, but not until after dinner, when the kids were asleep. Max certainly wasn't going to balk about the reprieve so he sipped his drink and just enjoyed listening to the typical back-and-forth banter between Tempe and Booth as they prepared dinner.
Surprisingly, Max found dinner to be very pleasant with no hint of the issue on Tempe's mind interfering with the meal. Booth had made a cheese ravioli dish and garlic bread while Brennan had prepared a salad to go with it. Nothing fancy, but it tasted delicious and the conversation around the table had been lively and fun, much of it focused around Christine's upcoming activities. After dinner, Brennan asked Max to help read to Christine and get her ready for bedtime while she took care of Hank and Booth cleaned the kitchen. It was so normal, that Max was almost able to forget the summons that had brought him over to their house in the first place.
Before he knew it, he was placing a kiss on Christine's sleeping forehead and heading out to deal with whatever Tempe and Booth wanted to discuss.
Booth handed Max a fresh drink and sat down on the couch next to his wife, opposite from Max's chair. Max watched as without conscious thought, they both reached for the other's hand and automatically entwined their fingers together. They probably didn't realize how much of a unified front they presented sitting side-by-side like that for the upcoming discussion, which at this point Max just wanted to get over with, not caring for the anticipation of the unknown.
Booth looked at Brennan and when she gave him a barely visible nod of her head, he began. "Max, Bones and I think you have some information that may be relevant to our current case and we need you to answer some questions for us."
That wasn't the direction Max had expected the conversation to go and he didn't even try to hide his surprise. "Really? You mean the dead guy you found in the woods a couple weeks ago?" He shook his head. "I had nothing to do with that, Booth. I promise."
"We don't think you killed him, Dad. But, we think the man who did kill Deon Mosley, the person from the woods, also killed a number of other people and now, we think he's become a danger to me and my family."
Max sat up sharply at that and focused his gaze on his daughter with an intensity that was uncommon relative to his normal, laid-back manner around her. "What do you mean?"
"We've collected some evidence that leads us to believe that the killer we are looking for is the same person who put the snakes in my car the other day. While our evidence is circumstantial, it's enough for us to also conclude that this killer is the same person who sent me that wooden ice-axe carving you were so interested in when you last came to my office." Max felt his mouth go dry and took a deep breath as he began to comprehend what his daughter was wanting to know. "Dad, I need you to tell me why you reacted that way to that artifact and everything you know about it or what it means."
"I'm not sure what you think I know or what you think I can tell you, Tempe." Max stalled.
"Dad, somehow, this case that we're working on is connected to the person that gave me that Hillary token and I believe something about that item is connected to you and your past. Now, that person is threatening my family. Your grandkids. I know you don't want to tell me about any part of your past life. You've made that very clear over the years since you came back. But we need to know. You're holding something back and Booth and I need to know everything that you can tell us about this man and we need to know it now. Tonight. Before he does something else."
Max stood up and walked over to the window, looking outward, but not really seeing what was on the other side of the glass. His gaze was focused inwards as he thought back to a period in his life that he'd spent most days of the last few decades trying to forget.
There had always been two, well three if he was honest, reasons why he clung so religiously to his silence about that era of his life. The least noble of the three reasons was simple pride. Max did what he had to do to survive and he was always able to operate within a certain code of behavior which allowed him to make peace with his actions and still sleep at night. But that didn't mean he was proud of everything in his past and he simply didn't want his precious daughter, Tempe, to know things about him that would make him appear to be less in her eyes. She had suspicions based on bits and pieces she'd dug up over the years, but that wasn't the same as truly knowing.
The most obvious reason to keep quiet about his past was that silence was the best way to assure he stayed out of jail. Personal feelings aside, Booth was FBI and if he knew everything about Max's past, he'd either have to arrest Max again or he'd become an accessory to the crimes after the fact, simply by merit of undisclosed knowledge. Max didn't ever want to put Booth or Tempe in the position of having to choose between his freedom and their own sense of right and wrong.
But even the prospect of jail time wasn't the primary reason to remain silent. He'd accepted several years earlier that he'd serve his time if need be in order to make restitution with Tempe.
No. The primary reason he'd been so diligent about keeping his mouth shut was fear. For his kids. Tempe and Russ. Pure and simple.
In the early days, he'd feared the men that were part of the strong arm crew he and Ruthie got tangled up with. They wanted Max and Ruth to keep stealing on their behalf and had proven they wouldn't hesitate to use the kids to coerce Max and Ruth into doing their will.
Later, when he thought it was safe to come out of hiding since most of the crew were either dead or too old to care about him anymore, he quickly learned to fear the corrupt network of individuals hiding behind their masks of respectable civic servants. Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when the strong arm crew was still in operation, they'd wisely used a portion of their spoils to pay off FBI agents, state police, Secret Service, ATF, and who knew how many others. Back then, Max knew that there was a very elaborate network of corrupt law enforcement and political figures that the strong arm crew was in bed with, but he didn't know names or how deep it went. When he came out of hiding almost a decade ago and Russ's life was threatened by FBI agents Delaney and Kirby, Max realized the individuals of the strong arm crew weren't the only threat to his family. The network of corruption was just as big of a threat and still vitally alive. So, Max kept his head down and his mouth shut and tried to stay off their radar.
It wasn't until last year, when Tempe and Booth exposed Durant and his entire chain of minions, effectively cutting the head off the viper that had kept him immobilized, that Max finally felt he could stop looking over his shoulder. This last year, he'd been able to relax and live without the specter of fear looming over his shoulder for the first time in decades.
Now, he and the man known as 'Hillary' were the only two left from before that he knew about and Max had no desire to go back to living with fear as a constant companion.
He turned and faced his daughter and son-in-law. "I'll tell you everything I know and answer any questions you may have."
Brennan squeezed her husband's hand. Her whole life she'd been searching for answers to questions about her parents. Now, finally, her dad was agreeing to open the book and share at least part of that story with her freely and all of a sudden, she was terrified of what she might hear and what it might mean.
What if what she heard was awful? Would she still be able to accept her father in her life and around her children if she learned he'd truly done some awful things?
What if what she heard wasn't awful? Would she be able to accept that her parents had abandoned her or that her father kept secrets from her for decades if what he had to confess really wasn't that bad?
Brennan loved her father and, in her own way, even trusted him when it came to important things. His refusal to disclose the events of his past was still a constant source of friction between them, but it had become almost a comfortable friction, one they both understood and accepted and which existed these days more out of habit than any real concern over how his past would impact their present.
For the first time since her parents drove away when she was fifteen years old, she wasn't certain she wanted to know the reasons behind their actions and that realization made her feel confused and disoriented.
Booth knew his wife well enough to have a sense as to what she was feeling. "Max? Come sit back down with us and I'll freshen our drinks before we start."
Max nodded in agreement. "Yeah. This may take a while so we should get comfortable."
Booth went to the bar and grabbed a full bottle of scotch and an extra tumbler for Brennan. Sitting down next to his wife, he poured them all a healthy dose to drink. "Here you go, Bones," he said as he handed her a partially full glass. He wasn't surprised, but was still slightly amused, when she took a rather large gulp and barely flinched at the burn she must've felt.
"All right, Max," Booth began. "Tell us what you know."
A/N: OK – just have to ask. Did you yawn at the opening scene with Max? I think I did *every time* I read those first couple sentences as I was writing/editing this, which means a bunch. How'd you like this chapter and our first real glimpse into Max's thoughts on his past otherwise? Next chapter probably won't be ready until Sunday this weekend.
