There hadn't been much in the store that was vegetarian, but Max managed to find enough to get them through the weekend. He arrived back at the cabin as the sun was disappearing behind the trees. He sighed as he watched it set, allowing himself just a moment to miss his wife.
She would have known what to say to their headstrong, brilliant daughter. She'd always known just the right words to say to both their kids, no matter the situation. He'd always been jealous of the way she could reach them.
"Wish you could be here now," Max said, staring toward the darkening sky.
Because he didn't know what to say. Hell, he didn't even know what the problem was. He'd always been afraid for Tempe, afraid that she wouldn't be able to find her place in the world or friends that were like family. It had been a relief, when he'd finally forced his way back into her life, that she'd done better that he'd ever dared hope.
Those scientists in the Jeffersonian were as brilliant as she was. But even better than the respect they gave her, Max knew they truly cared for her. And Booth would give his life for her, of that Max had no doubt.
It hurt to think, to know, that he'd probably had very little to do with the success she'd attained. She'd been forced to do it entirely on her own. Russ was very aware of how Max felt about that particular situation.
The bruise or two Max had supplied in defense of his daughter hadn't taken long to fade, and he'd made sure to place them carefully. It might have been late in coming, but Max always made sure debts were paid.
Before taking everything inside, Max did a quick walk around the perimeter of the property. It was always good to know where the exits were, where a person could hide if it was necessary. Old habits died hard.
On the balcony, Max could see Tempe sitting in a chair. Leaning against a tree, he observed her for several minutes. She was definitely conflicted; despite their years apart, Max could still read her face and the emotions she displayed there.
Those blue eyes, so stormy, spent more time staring into the distance than anything else. Her mind worked at the speed of light, and Max knew his daughter was trying to think her way out of whatever situation she'd found herself in.
Five, ten minutes passed before Max completed his walk and grabbed the supplies from his trunk. After a moment to consider, he grabbed a second phone from the bag, along with a gun. He didn't expect to need the weapon, but he couldn't spend a night unprepared either.
Storing the food supplies in the kitchen, and the gun in his own bedroom, Max quietly climbed the stairs toward the room Brennan stayed in. She'd left the door open and Max could see her still sitting on the balcony, feet on the railing, continuing to stare out into the distance. On her lap, was a yellow notepad and every now again she wrote something down on it before going back to just watching. He wasn't sure if it had been there the whole time, or was something she'd retrieved while he was downstairs.
He knocked on the door as he joined her. "Nice view," he commented casually. He motioned down to the pad. "Taking notes for your next novel? I'm eager to see what adventures Agent Andy will go on next."
She blinked hard and looked at him. There was very little writing on the pad, and most of it was written in her version of shorthand, something her father would never be able to read. "You read my books?" she asked, as if the idea had never occurred to her before.
Max looked at his daughter knowingly. "Of course, I do. I've read every single thing you've ever written. Even the scientific stuff." Taking a seat next her, Max gave her an embarrassed smile. "I don't always understand the scientific stuff, even with my background, but I try. Some of your articles are pretty deep."
When he was gone, she'd receive a key to a storage container. Inside, Brennan would find a copy of every single thing he'd collected of hers over the years. That collection included copies of all her novels, including each time one was issued with a different cover. She probably wouldn't want any of it.
He'd wanted all of it. For a long time, it had been his only connection to her.
"That means a lot to me, Dad," Brennan said, before turning back toward the trees.
"You didn't notice it until just now, did you?" Max asked.
Looking back toward him, she tilted her head. "Notice what?"
"The view from here. Wait until it gets dark. I can spend the evening telling you the constellations like I used to when you were young." Max's face turned reflective as he remembered. "Of course, you probably know more of them than I do now."
Unsure whether to nod or shake her head in denial about what she'd noticed, Brennan shrugged. "I was thinking about other things. Other than the view, I mean."
She wasn't sure about the offer to look at the stars. It was a painful reminder of the childhood that had been torn away from her when her parents abandoned her. But Booth would have told her to make new memories to replace the painful ones. Memories she could look back on and enjoy.
No matter where she went, or what she did, thoughts of Booth always crept back in.
Max assumed a position similar to Brennan. "Are you ready to talk about why you called me out the blue to ask me to pick you up?"
"There's nothing to talk about," she denied, but it came out so awkwardly, the lie was clear. "I just needed a break."
Snorting, Max laughed. "You just came back from eight months on a tropical island. If that wasn't enough of a break, this weekend isn't going to do it for you. And quite honestly, Tempe, I would have thought Booth would be your first call for that sort of thing."
Picking up the pen, Brennan flipped to a blank page in her notepad and began to draw. "I'm not sure I should have come back," she admitted softly. "I've made some mistakes."
"Who hasn't?" Max asked, giving his daughter a brief glance before staring back into the trees. "You've never been good with change, even as a child. Has everything changed more than you expected it to?"
Everything had been so changed when he'd finally returned, it had been hard to reconcile the past with the present, but he'd worked hard to do just that. The relationship with his daughter had been more than worth it.
On the pad, bold lines were beginning to form the shape of a hand and forearm. "Booth told me things had to change, before we left."
"Did they?" Max asked, knowing he would have to be careful not to give away that he'd talked to the man only hours ago.
The arm headed toward a shoulder. "Yes," she said finally.
Turning, Max looked down at what she was creating. His daughter might not believe in certain soft sciences, but a psychologist would have a field day with what she was producing in her lap. "Did Booth ask you to change? Or did the situation need to change?"
A hint of anger flared in her eyes. "Booth respects who I am, Dad, he would never want me to change."
Had she said anything else, Booth never would have found her. "So the situation needed to change. Considering how unhappy you are, I think it did."
The pen paused, before continuing to put a head on the shoulder she'd created. Features began to appear on the face. "He wanted our relationship to change, I understand that now. That we couldn't keep circling each other, metaphorically. He asked me to take a chance on us," she admitted, "before he said that." It still made her uncomfortable to say it aloud. "I said no."
Max let out a low whistle. He was surprised and a little sad to hear she'd made that choice. "Do you still feel that way?"
Her father seemed like such an odd choice to share all of this with, before Angela or Cam or even Booth. But her friends couldn't see anything but their desire for her to end up with Booth. Her father, at least, seemed more neutral.
Brennan shook her head. "I wrote Booth to tell him I had reconsidered the decision I made. After that, it was clear he was no longer interested."
If the conversation he'd had earlier was any indication, his daughter had definitely made the wrong assumption there.
"Did Booth tell you he wasn't interested?" Max asked. "Did he actually say the words?" He'd turn himself in for several unsolved robberies if Booth had even hinted at not desiring the woman next to him.
"He didn't answer the letters," Brennan said. "But no, he never said the words." The head now had hair and a remarkably familiar face.
"What do you mean he didn't answer?" Max demanded, his voice rising in indignation. Shit, was he really going to have to turn himself in? Damn that Booth.
Her eyes never moved from the page in front of her. "I learned that the letters never arrived at their intended destination."
And with that simple sentence, most of the pieces fell into place.
"I don't think I need to tell you that you need to talk to Booth, honey," Max said, relieved he wouldn't have to sacrifice himself after all.
Brennan nodded but didn't speak.
Seconds turned into minutes as the silence stretched on. When it became apparent she wasn't going to continue, Max tried to fill the silence with what he hoped was good advice. As he opened his mouth, he sent a silent prayer to his wife to help him.
"Can this old man offer you some advice?" he asked, waiting until Brennan looked at him and nodded before continuing. "We all come to conclusions based on the evidence we have at the time. Without that ability, we'd all become stuck, unable to make decisions or do anything in our lives."
The pen had stopped and Brennan stared at him with fathomless blue eyes.
"When Booth didn't answer those letters, you made a decision, maybe a whole bunch of them. But you had to move forward. And he shouldn't be mad at you and you shouldn't be mad at yourself for doing what you thought you had to."
Reaching forward, Max took the hand not tightly gripping the pen inside both of his. "Mistakes can be fixed, Tempe, you and I are proof of that. You just have to make the effort."
Breaking the stare to look down at her hand, Brennan whispered, "I'm scared."
"So am I, every time I talk to you," Max said. "Afraid I'll make a mistake and make you angry with me. But I keep talking and I keep trying. You're worth it. You have to decide if Booth is worth the effort."
Pulling her hand away, Brennan rose quickly and Max knew the conversation was over. "I'll go look at what you bought and start dinner, " she offered, quickly exiting the porch before Max could speak again.
Sighing, unsure if he'd helped or made things worse, Max's gaze shifted to the notepad she'd left behind. On it was a figure, clearly Booth, reaching a hand toward the edge of the page. Just visible on that same edge, was a second hand, the fingertips just out of Booth's reach.
She set a casual meal out for both of them, much better than Max could have created himself. Despite the circumstances, he was thankful for the time he was getting to spend with his daughter.
Their relationship had come a long way since the day he'd reappeared in her life. She'd sacrificed a lot, risked a lot, to get them both to a place they could sit down for a meal together.
His wife had died in his arms that day so long ago, and there had been nothing he could do at the time to save her. It was a similar feeling to the one he'd experienced the day his daughter implicated herself on the witness stand to save him from a guilty verdict and the death sentence that would surely follow.
Wondering if she knew about the visit Booth had paid him the first night he'd been free made him pause so long in eating that Brennan looked at him questioningly. He gave her a reassuring smile before digging back in, figuring that if Booth had told her, she would have let it slip by now.
A lawman. It was hard to believe his daughter had fallen for an FBI agent, considering Max's history. At first, it had seemed like a cosmic joke. Later, he wondered if Ruth had a hand in it, as both a torment to him and a perfect match for their daughter. Whatever the reason, Tempe sat across the table from him, eating slowly, and Max knew a lot of that was due to the man she was trying to avoid. Max had never seen two people more suited for each other who did everything possible to make sure they didn't end up that way.
Still, he knew Tempe needed to settle this situation with Booth before it grew even further out of control. He was the anchor his daughter needed to actually start living. Science was interesting, but it wasn't a life. And, he hadn't given up the hope for grandchildren just yet.
So after the meal was complete, but while they were still at the table, Max pulled an item from his pocket.
"What is that?" Brennan asked suspiciously as Max placed it between them.
"Burner phone," Max explained. "Don't give me that look, it's almost untraceable."
Leaning back in her chair, Brennan crossed her arms. She didn't know why she was surprised, given her father's history. "Almost?"
Max shrugged. "The Titanic was unsinkable and it sank. It's a good lesson in why you shouldn't speak in absolutes. Besides," Max continued as Brennan reached for the phone, "you do have Angela."
"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "We do have Angela." Brennan flipped the phone open and closed several times before placing it back on the table without powering it on. "What am I going to do with the phone we aren't supposed to have?"
"Call Booth," Max said. He knew she only asked to have something to say.
Max was surprised she didn't jump from the table and run from the room, given the look that crossed her face. "I can't do that."
Reaching out, he pushed the phone toward her. "It texts, as well. Do that instead."
"And tell him what?" she asked, not dismissing the texting idea immediately. Max took that as a good sign.
But his answer to her question was a shrug. "I think you know that man better than anyone else. Tell him what you think you should. Tell him nothing. That choice is yours, Tempe."
She sighed and turned her head toward a window that faced the road. Max sat patiently and waited her out, knowing her mind was working through scenarios before making a decision.
Finally, she reached out and took the phone from the table. "Should I power it off when I'm done?"
Max rose to start clearing the table. "The answer to that question depends on whether or not you want Booth to find you."
Torn by an indecision she wasn't used to, Brennan carried the phone around in her pocket as she also rose from the table and helped her father clean the kitchen. In the end, without another word, she put the phone back in the center of the table and disappeared up the stairs.
"Damn," Max muttered when she was out of earshot. A hand rubbed over a weary face as he considered his options, wondering if he really had any to consider.
In the end, he felt it boiled down to two. Leave his daughter to stew over her mistakes, upstairs, fighting battles alone just as she had much of her adult life.
Or force her to face what was right in front of her. One call was all it would take to get Booth to their cabin.
But could Max make that choice, knowing the decision could easily cost him the tenuous relationship with his daughter? She'd trusted him enough to call for help, something that happened so rarely, he could count the times on one hand. Could he break that trust?
At the same time, could he allow his daughter to break her own heart? The years with his wife had been some of the best of his life, and he wanted the same for Tempe. She deserved the world, and right at that moment, Max wasn't sure if he was giving it to her or taking it away.
"Shit," he swore again, leaving the phone on the table to take another walk around the perimeter of the property.
The night air was cool and Max could hear the echo of an owl not far from the cabin. It was a lonely sound in an otherwise quiet night and it did nothing for his mood.
As he rounded the corner toward the back, he wasn't surprised to see the small balcony empty this time around. Instead, he could see light behind shades that had already been pulled for the evening. His daughter was safe, behind doors Max made sure were safely locked.
But she wasn't happy.
A hand slapped against the side of his leg as he once again considered his options. And after flipping a coin in his head, and weighing the pros and cons, Max tried to come to a decision. And without knowing it, went with something Booth would have appreciated.
His gut.
Finally making a decision made him want to pick up the pace. A past that never quite left him behind forced Max to take his time and finish the walk. Satisfied that all was well, he returned to the house and secured the door behind him.
But when he went to get the phone from the center of the table, it was gone.
