Chapter 52: Winners & Losers.
Max Keenan was back at the Jeffersonian by Monday afternoon. He'd promised the kids in the after-school program that they could make a volcano. He really was trying to keep his promises. He usually succeeded when the promises were too small to matter.
The volcano activity had been a hit; it always was. An oldie, but a goodie. Kids loved eruptions. They hadn't yet learned to fear the moment when everything that had been held back finally rose to the surface. Kids, the kind who attended fancy after-school programs at world-class museums, had no concept of the ways in which those moments permanently altered the world entire.
Booth's little rugrat Parker had been completely hyper with excitement over the experiment. When the tiny volcano began to spill over, Parker had thrown his arms wide, ushering the other kids behind him. "Stand back, stand back," he'd yelled, and Max had gotten a glimpse of the kind of man the kid would become; a man like his father.
The Booths seemed destined to be guardians. Not too shabby, as far as destinies were concerned.
He liked to think that he might have made a good guardian himself- if he'd chosen a different road...if, way back when it had mattered, he'd made a different choice.
But he hadn't, and he wasn't really one to look back at all that could never be undone. No point to it. Too bad everyone else seemed less inclined to focus on the future. They wanted answers and explanations and "what's done is done" was never good enough. Trying was never good enough- success was all that mattered. He loved his children. He fought like hell to protect them; he fought like hell to mitigate the impact of choices he'd made before they even existed.
But what was done was done.
His situation was...unconventional, so his methods of protection had to be unconventional as well. Unconventional came with risk. Risk came with the occasional failure.
He did his best, but sometimes the people that mattered still got hurt, and it wasn't enough that they lived through it, or it made them stronger. It wasn't enough that his kids knew how to survive this world. They had learned early on that people didn't get what they deserved and that life could take cruel turns you never saw coming. He considered this knowledge a gift- it was nothing less than the truth, after all. Not everyone agreed with him.
And he was really getting too old to fight them.
He made his way to the lab, his daughter's domain. He was surprised to find it empty except for her. It had been a long time since the others had left her alone. They must have seen that she wasn't as fragile as they wanted her to be. They must have seen that his Tempe was tough.
He smiled, because he had made her that way. Wasn't that the best thing a father could do for his daughter?
He'd made her tough, and he'd take care of anyone who caused her pain.
But it wasn't enough.
"Hi, Sweetheart."
Her eyes were wary when they rose to meet his. He took no offense; it made him proud. Wariness was vital to survival.
"Hello."
"Working hard?"
"Many people rely on my expertise."
"Damn right." He grinned. His daughter was important.
"Did you enjoy your stay in North Carolina?"
And this was why he'd really come here tonight. A test, of sorts. "I did. Those girls, they're sharp. It was good to spend time with them, to help out Russ and Amy, what with their jobs and Hayley's condition and all. Felt good being needed."
There was no change in her expression, and he regretted that his youngest wasn't easier to read.
He continued, "They have a pretty nice museum down there. Not as nice as this one, of course, but not bad. I took the girls for a visit, spoke with the Director of Education there. They'd like to replicate the Jeffersonian's after-school model."
Something clicked, and he thought he saw relief in her eyes. His Tempe, she was going to disappoint him.
"Are you considering a move?"
There was hope in her tone; it hurt. "Away from you? Why would I want to do that?"
"Why would you not want to do that?"
He'd put up a fight. He owed it to her. "I don't want to leave you. I missed so much time...I thought we had a deal."
"I don't make deals. You've spent three years with me. I wasn't the only one you left. If you could be helpful to Russ, and you enjoy being with the girls, a move would be the rational thing to do. I don't need you to stay for me. I'm so busy, I barely have time to see you anyway. It would appear that North Caroline could offer you everything you seem to want."
"What I want is time with you. You've-"
"Go." Her voice cracked. "Please go." She was begging, and he was disappointed; he'd taught her never to beg. "I can't be what you want me to be. I don't trust you. I don't feel safe around you. I...we tried, but too much has happened, and-"
"Tempe, you don't mean that."
"I do. I do mean it." And he could tell she did.
"We're family."
"What does that mean? Everyone always says that, but I fail to see the relevance. We share DNA. Why does it have to follow that we need to share a life? You left, and I moved on. I made a nice life for myself. You came back, and, against my better judgement, I made room for you. But...it hasn't been good for me. All the things that have happened-"
"Is this about the kidnapping? Because I would have taken your place in a heartbeat, had I known. And I know, I didn't tell you about the trial, but that was for your own protection. If you'd known, it wouldn't have necessarily changed things. I know that Booth blames me. Is he behind this?"
She shook her head, and she looked angry now. Bringing up Booth was a mistake. He knew better than to force her to choose between the two of them; he was well aware of which man she valued most.
"This isn't about Booth, and it isn't about blame. I don't hold you responsible for what happened to me. I really don't. I just...you make me tired. You always seem to want things from me that I don't know how to give. I don't know you. I knew Matthew Brennan, but he wasn't real. You...I've tried to know you, but...I don't think I really want to."
And it was time to stop fighting. It was time to let her win this one. Because his girl had a point. She had tried, and now she wanted to walk away without regrets. Who was he to begrudge her that? And didn't he also win in this scenario? He'd tried too; it wasn't his fault that it didn't work out. She was letting him walk away from his mistakes. She was freeing him of his obligations.
The truth was, she made him tired too.
And he really did prefer the winters in North Carolina.
