Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

Prompt #33: Ancestor - She'd said it without intending to hurt him. Sometimes she forgot how sensitive this tough ex-sniper FBI agent was underneath all his strength.

Words: 631

He was already skeptical about us finding out if this mystery skeleton was President John F. Kennedy. When Hodgins postulated the theory that there was another shooter and I confirmed it, he stormed off angrily. I found him later in my office, and when I asked him about it, Booth was unusually abrupt with me.

"And if he was killed by two gunmen, then the government lied. They covered it up."

I didn't see why this bothered him so much. "Throughout history, governments have lied with impunity to other governments and to their own citizens." When he didn't seem reassured about that, I decided to get to the dot - point? Whatever.

I'd come across the information in passing once, and it had never been mentioned again. After all, Booth was hardly a common surname. That and the fact that his facial bone structure bore a striking similarity to the famous assassin's, and I could draw that conclusion in my sleep. Just to be sure, I did some further digging and managed to find that assassin's face. My initial assessment had been correct.

"Booth, does - does this have anything to do with the fact that your ancestor was a - a famous assassin?"

"Bones..." His eyes cut to me. That should have been my first clue that I had crossed a line. But I had to continue. I had to finish my thought to make sure that was the reason Booth was acting so strange.

"John Wilkes Booth, who killed President Lincoln."

He immediately got even angrier at me. "You promised you would never mention that. You said that to me," he said in a raised voice, getting up off my couch and heading for the door.

Even as I scrambled after him, my mouth was spewing the rationale. "No, you told me not to. I never promised. I promise now. I promise now!" I called after him as he stormed across the lab. I stayed in my doorway, staring after his back as I realized that I had, once again, stuck my foot in my mouth.

Great. Now he's angry at me again. I turned around and sat down on my couch with a sigh. I didn't want this to break us apart again.

But I couldn't brood for long. I had a murder to solve.

After we were released by Mr. White and his men, I went to Booth's apartment with a case of beer. It always worked as an apology before. We'd already made our peace, but I wanted to make sure.

I hated making him feel bad. Especially over things that I don't understand as well as I should. This was just another issue in a long line of them.

He opened the door when I knocked. I gave a hopeful smile. "May I come in?"

"Sure Bones, come on in," he said, standing aside to let me pass.

I decided to speak first and get to the purpose of my visit. "I'm sorry for bringing up John Wilkes Booth earlier. I wasn't thinking when I spoke. I'm sorry."

His expression formed a confused frown. "Bones, that's okay. I didn't ask you to promise, so you didn't have to keep it secret." His grin returned. "I guess it could've been worse. You could've said it in front of Hodgins. Or Sweets."

The face he made was priceless. I laughed, and he laughed with me. Then we opened up our beers and spent the night watching movies.

It was good to be friends again.

A short tag to "The Proof in the Pudding" because seriously, it's adorable.