A/N: for this chapter we have the combination of Wendell, Fisher, a principal's office, and a broken window.

Apparently lost in thought, Wendell Bray sat at the diner's counter, hunched over his mug of coffee. Yawning slightly, he tried to shake off the gloom that had seemed to settle on his soul that afternoon.

It had been a rough couple of weeks at work, without any indication that things might get better soon. It seemed as if they'd clear up one case in the lab and another would come in almost immediately, leaving him little time for his studies...and almost no time for the more mundane parts of his life, like sleeping.

"I should call my mom. I need to do something constructive instead of sitting here moping...especially today…," he muttered to himself. "Why am I hesitating? She'll expect to hear from me, but today…I don't know if I can handle it today..."

Sighing softly, he waved for Ellie to fill up his mug. "Maybe I'll call her later…"

He didn't pay much attention when the diner's doorbell rang, so he was surprised when a young man sat down next to him.

"Hey, Wendell…"

"Oh, hey, Fisher. How's it going?"

"Not too bad, considering how depressed I've been lately. I'm used to it, though. Dr. Brennan keeps me hopping, you know, but that's good. It keeps my mind off my troubles, and I'd rather get some hours in. Besides, it seems like you could use the help at the lab."

"Yeah, I could. It seems like all the other interns have prior commitments this week, so I've been working by myself, and we've been extra busy...not that I'm complaining. I mean, I can always use the money…"

"I get that, but it's nice to have help, right? Everyone needs a break now and then…" Fisher sighed loudly. "I mean, you know, besides a vacation at the loony bin…"

"True." Sipping his coffee, Wendell hoped Fisher would pick up on the idea that he wasn't in the mood to talk, but the morose young man kept up the meandering conversation, commenting on various things that were currently happening at the lab as well as his own mental health issues.

For Fisher's part, he'd figured out that something was bothering his friend. Wendell was normally very cheerful...almost annoyingly so...and the fact that he didn't want to make small talk as they sat with their coffee sent up all sorts of red flags. Finally, after a few minutes of chatter, Fisher decided to follow Dr. Brennan's advice: the direct choice was often the best. "So...um...you alright, man? You seem awfully quiet."

Of course, I seem quiet! I can't get a word in, listening to you drone on about being so depressed… "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired, I guess."

"Come on, man...we're all tired.," Fisher asserted. "Take it from me, Wendell. I know when someone's down in the dumps, okay? And if you were any more down in the dumps, we'd have to dig you out with a backhoe…"

"Great. Thanks for that. Way to cheer me up, dude." Wendell turned away from the man sitting next to him. "Just leave me the hell alone, okay?"

"Nope." Fisher's answer was succinct. "Like I said, it's nice to have help, especially when you don't know you need it. What's going on? Might as well tell me. I'm not leaving 'til you do."

"Fine." Exasperated, Wendell pounded his fist on the counter. "Today is my dad's birthday, okay? He would've been 53 today, but he died of lung cancer when he was 45 because he couldn't stop smoking! He was still a young man, but there was nothing to be done for him..."

"I see…," Fisher began quietly. "So, you miss him…"

"No shit! I miss him every day, okay? He was gone before I graduated high school, and then me and my mom had to scrounge to make ends meet! It was only because of the generosity of the people in my neighborhood that I got to go to college. So here I am...the first man in my dad's family to graduate from college, let alone go to graduate school, and he's not even here to see it…"

Nodding as Ellie brought him a cup of coffee, Fisher sighed. "You have every right to be sad...and to be angry at your dad, I suppose."

"I know that. I've been to grief counseling and they said the same thing. It's just that being angry at him doesn't do me any good. It won't bring him back, right? Anyway, I need to call my mom, but I never know what to say on a day like this to make her feel better. She's always so sad on his birthday..."

"Tell me about him."

"Oh, come on, dude…" Wendell shook off Fisher's suggestion. "You don't have time for my 'poor me' shit…"

"No, I'm serious. Tell me about him...maybe a memory you have of him…"

"Well…" Wendell paused as he thought about his father. "He was an auto mechanic. He never had much formal education, but he was real good with cars and he had his own shop. He charged fair prices for the work he did, so people trusted him, and he made good money." Smiling faintly, Wendell stared into his mug. "My parents sent me to Catholic school, hoping the nuns would straighten me out, but I was an ornery kid, always getting into trouble."

"Hardly a surprise…"

Ignoring Fisher's little dig at him, Wendell continued softly. "I remember this one time, when I was about ten, I was throwing a baseball to one of my friends in the school's playground, but I missed him and I broke out a classroom window instead. My friend ran away, but I got caught by Sister Elizabeth, and she grabbed me by the ear and hauled me inside. So there I was, in loads of trouble, sitting outside the principal's office, waiting for Dad to come pick me up, and I was so scared, thinking that he'd be really mad...so mad he might take his belt to me or something."

"Really? You thought he'd beat you?"

"Well, no...not really. He spanked me occasionally, but he never hit me with his belt. I knew he'd be really mad, though, because I'd been so careless. Anyway, he showed up to get me, looking all stern and serious, and after assuring the principal that we'd pay for replacing the window, he took me to his shop and calmly told me that accidents happened, and while he knew I hadn't broken the window on purpose, I'd still have to pay for the window myself by working for him at the shop without pay until I had earned enough money to replace it...and boy, did he make me work hard! I spent every free moment I had at the shop, picking up his tools and all the dirty rags, cleaning counters, washing cars…you name it, and I did it."

"How long did you have to work?," Fisher asked.

"Well, that was the funny part. We'd agreed that I'd work with him for six weeks, but at the end of that time period, I didn't want to quit going to the shop after school. I enjoyed spending time with my old man, and pretty soon, he was showing how to work on cars, you know? So I learned a lot from him, but mostly I learned to be responsible...to own up to my mistakes and to work to make them right…that no one's gonna give me anything for free. One way or the other, you have to earn what you get, be it money or respect."

"And that's why you miss him...because he taught you so much." Fisher did his best imitation of a smile. "But don't you see? Anytime you meet your responsibilities at work, you're remembering what your dad taught you, so he's always gonna be with you. You're not afraid to work hard...to do what needs to be done...because of him, so, in a way, it's like he's still here." Sighing heavily, he paused, shaking his head sadly. "I never knew my old man. He died when I was a toddler. I envy you, Wendell. I know you didn't have your dad for as long as you'd like, but at least you got to know him…"

"Yeah...I suppose you're right." Wendell glanced at his phone for a few seconds. "Hey, um...I need to go call my mom. I imagine she's feeling down today, too, and I need to help her out with that. Maybe I can tell her that story, right? So I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure. I'll see you back at the lab."

"Hey, Fisher...thanks, man…I feel a helluva lot better." Putting some cash on the counter, Wendell waved before stepping out of the diner.

"No problem." Watching as Wendell walked down the street, Fisher pulled out his phone and hit a number on the speed dial. "Hey, dad...it's me, Colin. No, no reason. I was just thinking of you, that's all..."

A bit of an enigma, right? Who is Fisher talking to?

Thanks for the kind reviews. If you have time to comment on this chapter, I'd appreciate it.