(After Season 12)

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I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Christine and Hank heard about the garage sale Mr. Adams was having on Saturday from one of their friends and decided to check their banks and see how much money they had. Sitting on Christine's bed, Hank poured out the money from his porcelain piggy bank and started to count. "I've got sixty-four dollars and thirty-nine cents." He tried not to spend all of his allowance when his mother gave it to him. His father had told him that it was important to have money around for a rainy day and he believed his father. Why not, he was the smartest man in the world. "I've been trying to save most of my allowance all summer."

"That's good Hank." Christine was impressed. Hank was eight years old and he already knew that saving money was a good thing. She finished counting her money and sighed. "I have eighty-three dollars and sixteen cents . . . Okay, this is what we're going to do. We'll only take twenty dollars each to the garage sale. If Mr. Adams thinks we have a lot of money then he might try to charge us more if we decide to buy something."

"Oh Chrissy, I have a better idea." Hank grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Let's just take ten dollars then he'll think we're even poorer."

Amused, Christine laughed and tousled her brother's hair. "Sure, why not. It's not like he doesn't know our mother is a famous author and Dad is Deputy Director at the FBI."

Hank shook his head. "Just because Mom and Dad have money doesn't mean we do." That should have been very obvious to his sister, but maybe not. "I'm just taking ten dollars."

In agreement, Christine set aside ten dollars and placed the rest of her money back in her little pink safe. "That's fine. If he has something we want and it's more expensive we can come back home for more money. We just need to make sure that whatever we buy isn't broken. The last garage sale we went too didn't turn out so hot. That clock we bought was broken and Dad said it was cheaper to throw it away than to fix it."

Disappointed in that purchase, Hank sighed. "It was a pretty cool clock though. I should have kept it anyway. Oh well. Yeah, we need to be more careful."

Satisfied with their plan, Christine placed her ten dollar bill on her dresser. "Okay. We have to go early, so plan to get up around seven tomorrow. All the good stuff goes fast."

They had been checking out garage sales in the neighborhood all summer and Hank was becoming wise in the ways of garage sales. "Yeah, I know. We can eat breakfast when we get back home. I hope Mr. Adams has some books. Mr. Greer just had National Geographic magazines at his garage sale and Mom said we can't buy any more of those. Your bookshelf doesn't have any room and neither does mine."

Christine glanced at her bookshelves. "I need Dad to build me another one. Maybe I get him to make me one for my birthday.

Oooooooooooooooooo

She needed a chicken for dinner that evening and walked out into the garage where the freezer was. After the overhead light was on her attention was grabbed by a painting propped up on a work bench along the back wall. After studying the painting for a few minutes, she shook her head, retrieved the frozen chicken from the freezer and left the garage.

Once she was in the kitchen, she spotted Booth walking past her towards the living room. "Booth, I know most males like calendars with nude women on them to hang up in their garage, but I really do think you've gone too far. We do have small children living with us."

Puzzled, Booth stopped and placed his hands on his hips. "What are you talking about? I don't own any naked girl calendars."

"Not a calendar." Brennan was very disappointed in her husband. "The painting in the garage is very inappropriate and frankly I find it disappointing that you would buy a painting like that."

Totally confused, Booth walked over to the garage door, opened it and entered the room, Brennan following behind him. Once the overhead light was on, his attention was captured by the large painting propped up on his work bench. "Shit! Where did that come from?" Booth stared at the painting of a naked woman with chestnut colored hair and blue eyes. The curvaceous woman was holding a Washington Nationals pennant in one hand and a baseball in the other hand.

"You didn't place that painting on the work bench?" Brennan was sure Booth wasn't lying, but who else would put such a painting in their garage?

"No, I didn't." Booth stared at the statuesque woman and decided she was pretty, but not as beautiful as his Bones. "Come on. When have you ever known me to buy naked women calendars or paintings like this? I mean they're nice to look at, but only if you don't have someone like you to come home to. I don't need pictures when I have a flesh and blood woman as beautiful in my life as you are."

Flattered, Brennan moved over to where Booth was standing and kissed him. "That was a very nice thing to say."

"Well, it's the truth." Not sure what to do about the painting, Booth grabbed a cloth from his rag box, covered the painting with it and laid it flat on the bench. "It seems a shame to throw it away since it looks pretty nice. Maybe Aubrey would like it."

"He might, but I don't think Jessica would care for it." Brennan chuckled. "If this is a joke it is amusing. I just wish I knew who put this here."

Booth shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Why don't you call Angela and see if she wants it? She likes risqué art."

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

On the verge of panic, Hank ran into the living room and almost crashed into his father who was sitting on the couch. Tugging on Booth's hand, the boy tried to get him to stand. "Daddy, my painting is gone."

Surprised, Booth pulled Hank towards him. "Hank was that painting of the woman with the baseball your painting? Where did you get it?"

"I bought it from Mr. Adams at his garage sale for $5. Please Daddy, we need to find it. Someone stole it." Hank didn't know where his painting was and he wanted it back. "Please Daddy, help me look for it."

"Calm down, Tiger." Booth tried to get his son to stop pulling on his hand. "I know where the painting is. It's not stolen."

Relieved, the boy stopped yanking on his father's hand. "It's not in the garage, Daddy. Where is it?"

"Tiger, why did you buy a painting like that?" Booth was concerned about why the boy would buy something that trashy. He was too young to be interested in sex.

Suddenly shy, Hank looked down at his hand which was being held by his father. "It's a present for you. Mr. Adams had some sports pictures and he said his nephew painted them. Mrs. Adams said it didn't go with their de . . . de . . . something of their house and she said I could have it for $5 since I was buying it for you. She said you're macho . . . I don't know what that means, but it didn't sound bad. I thought you could hang it on the wall with your other sports stuff."

Pulling the boy into his arms, Booth hugged him. "Thank you, Hank. That was so nice of you, but I don't really like sports paintings. I'm more of a poster kind of a guy. You've seen my posters. Even though it was a real nice thing that you did, I'd rather you didn't buy me anymore paintings."

"Okay." Hank was disappointed that his father didn't want it. "Christine thought $5 was pretty cheap for the painting."

"Christine, huh?" He was going to have a serious talk with his daughter when she came home from her Woodchucks meeting. "Well, it is pretty cheap, I'll admit that." Booth took $5 dollars from his wallet and handed it to his son. "Here you take this and save it. I'm going to give the painting to someone that I know who will really like it."

Taking the money, Hank stuffed it in his pants pocket. "Thank you. Maybe next time I'll get you a poster." He wanted to buy something for his father.

"If you see a Phillies poster, then you buy it for me." Booth was so proud that his son was such a generous soul. "You never know what you'll find at a garage sale."

"Okay." Hank smiled and stepped away from his father. "I'm going to go play some video games."

Once the boy was gone, Booth walked back into the garage, retrieved the painting from the trunk of his truck, raised the garage door and walked out onto the driveway. The rag still covered the painting so he thought it would be okay while he went on his mission.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Ella Adams heard a knock on the living room door and curious opened the door to find a police officer standing on her doorstep.

"Ma'am, we've been getting some complaints from around the neighborhood about your painting."

Puzzled, Ella stepped outside and looked around. "What painting? . . . oh." Her cheeks reddened as she swallowed in embarrassment. "Um, that's not my painting. I sold it this morning at my garage sale."

Officer Riley scratched his chin. "Well, I guess they didn't want it. Some of your neighbors don't like it where it's at. Some of them have young children and . . ."

Ella held up her hand. "No, you don't have to explain." Marching over to the oak tree in the middle of her front yard, she snatched the painting away from the base of the tree and hurried back towards her house. "Don't worry officer. I know what I'm going to do with it."

Glad that nothing too weird was going on, Officer Riley nodded his head. "Thank you, Ma'am. I'm a big believer in the first amendment, but you know you have to draw a line when it comes to paintings like that and the fact that there are kids in the neighborhood. I noticed two little boys staring at it when I drove up."

Her cheeks burning, Ella tried not to cry. "My neighbors must think I'm a nut."

Office Riley patted her lower arm. "Probably not. Don't worry about it. Just make sure when you sell stuff at a garage sale that it goes to the right person. Obviously, whoever bought it didn't really want it."

"No, I guess he didn't."

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

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