A/N: I had several readers ask for a sequel to chapter 36. I hope this is what you wanted.
I don't own Bones.
Ooooooooooooooooooooo
She found him sitting on the bench at the bus stop. His eyes were closed, his hands were in his jacket pockets and he was leaning back against the bench. "Are you alright?"
Not moving or opening his eyes, Booth responded. "Someday I'm going to get on the bus when it stops."
Curious, Brennan cocked her head to the side. "And where would you go?"
"To the end of the line."
Moving closer to the bench, she sat down next to her husband. "And what would you do then?"
"I'd call you to come and get me." Booth opened his eyes and placed his hand on her thigh.
"Thank you for letting me know. I'd be worried if I came down here and you weren't here." Brennan hooked her arm around his arm. "She's sixteen years old and she has a lot of questions . . . Some of the things we went through were also things she went through . . . I'm afraid I was impatient with her when I found her with your keepsake box . . . the things she wants to know are the things we want to forget."
Staring at the house across the street, Booth wondered if all families were as complicated as his was. "I try to protect them. Christine and Hank are still children . . . hell, I've never really talked to Parker about a lot of the things that happened to me either . . . As a parent you want to protect your kids. You don't want them to know about the horrible things that happen in the world, but somehow, they find out anyway . . . Computers make it easier for them than it was for us when we were kids. I've googled my name, who hasn't and the shit I see on there makes me sick. Half of it isn't even true especially when I was arrested for murder . . . our kids are seeing that stuff and they want to know if their Dad is a monster or not, but I don't know how to talk to them . . . Christine is almost an adult, but Hank is still a little boy . . . Parker is a man and he probably can handle it, but I don't know if I can handle it . . . Maybe I shouldn't have kept the letters."
"No Booth." Brennan turned her head and looked at the side of his face. "No, you have a right to keep letters if you want them. We both have keepsake boxes and we've never had to worry about them being opened by someone else, but our children are bright and intelligent. They want to know about us, but we don't really talk about our pasts too often . . . Parker and Christine know about my parents abandoning me when I was fifteen. They remember Dad and they remember when he was murdered and why . . . they know that Edwin Booth was an alcoholic that abused his sons and his wife, but Hank doesn't know those things yet. He doesn't really remember my father . . . How do we know when it's right to tell them things that might affect them in negative ways?"
"I don't know Bones." Booth slowly rubbed his forehead with his right hand. "I don't know why, but I thought I could keep everything in my past a secret from my children, but that was just wishful thinking I guess . . . It took me years to tell you about my Dad . . . I hate talking about the past. I . . . I don't know what to do about Christine. I can't really punish her. She just looked at some old letters trying to understand me, but she invaded my privacy . . . I get that she wants answers, but what about what I want?"
Brennan leaned against him and sighed. "Being a parent isn't very easy. Most of the time I enjoy being a parent, but sometimes . . . it's difficult."
Chuckling, Booth patted her thigh. "Yeah, you've hit the nail on the head. I love being a father. It's one of the best things that ever happened to me . . . Well, besides us getting together . . . Let's go back to the house. I need to think about how to handle our daughter. She's too much like you, Bones. Smart, inquisitive, brave . . . charges in where angels fear to tread." Moving his arm, he stood up and turned to face his partner. "Come on. Unless you want to take a bus ride, we need to leave. The bus should be here in a few minutes."
Taking his offered hand, Brennan stood up. "I'll help you talk to Christine if you'd like me too."
"Thanks Bones. I may need you there as back up."
Oooooooooooooooooooo
They found their daughter in the living room, texting one of her friends. As they entered the room, Christine turned off her phone and placed it on the coffee table. "Am I being grounded."
Booth sat on the chair near the fireplace and Brennan sat on the other end of the couch. Once he was settled, Booth leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Should you be?"
Careful how she answered the question, Christine kept in mind that her mother could be quite literal. "I don't know." She saw her father shake his head and she wondered if she had said the wrong thing.
Not really sure where to begin, Booth chewed the inside of his cheek for a few seconds. Leaning back against the chair, he crossed his arms against his chest. "You're having a bad year this year . . . stealing my car and trying to drive it to New York . . . Parker told me about you drinking wine while you were visiting him earlier this summer . . . Your mother and I debated talking to you about it when you got back, but Parker says he handled it and we decided to wait and see if you had learned your lesson."
Her cheeks were scarlet. She hadn't known that her brother had told her parents about her drinking wine with her new friend while she had been in New York. It had been a mistake and not one she was going to repeat. "Parker gave me the talk when he caught me drinking wine . . . about your father and Jared being alcoholics and you being a gambler . . . I'm not a loser like Jared and your father. I just wanted to try wine that's all. I didn't even like it very much . . . Parker says we need to be careful because there's something wrong with the Booth genes and we can become addicted to stuff if we're not careful. I get it. I don't want to be like them."
He prayed that was true. "I know you think you're an adult, but Christine you're not. Sixteen is still a child whether you like it or not. You need to understand that with adulthood comes responsibilities. . . . Invading my privacy was a childish thing to do. You don't see your mother looking into my keepsake box and you'll never see me look at her keepsakes unless she wants me to. We give each other room to have secrets. We don't need to know everything. Some memories are painful and best forgotten or at least thought about sparingly. What you did was offensive and disrespectful."
"Dad, I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. I really wasn't . . . I know awful things happened to you and to Mom in the past. I've seen some of it online. Some of it was awful and I talked to Aunt Angela about it, but some stuff she won't talk about either. She says I'm too young to understand, but I'm not . . . I've seen the scars on your stomach and chest . . . on your feet. I . . . I read that you were a traitor and a murderer and then I read that you were a hero and had saved our country from something really bad. Mom . . . I've seen where she was accused of murder when I was a baby and then I've seen articles that said she wasn't a murderer and that she was set up. Don't you see how confusing that is to me. I want to understand what happened to you both. I want to understand why my Uncle Sweets was murdered . . . I have so many questions."
His daughter sounded so desperate and he wondered how he had let this situation get this far. "Yeah . . . You have questions and your mother and I have decided to try to answer some of them . . . You can ask questions, but we reserve the right to answer them or not. If we do answer, it will be honestly. Now . . . go ahead and ask your questions."
Shocked that her father was actually going to tell her something about his past, answer her questions, she didn't know where to start. "When I was five years old you went away. I didn't really know why and I wasn't sure I believed Mom when she said you were on a trip because she cried almost every night. I was so afraid I'd never see you again. I was afraid you might be in heaven. A few years ago, I read online about you being in prison, but it's all jumbled up and I'm not sure I understand what really happened."
Not really surprised, Booth looked at his wife and gave her a sad smile. "You said you've gone online and checked on stories printed about me and your mother . . . just so you know, most of those stories are garbage." He turned his attention back to his daughter. "I've seen them too . . . When you were five years old . . . I was in prison at the time. Your mother and I . . . Uncle Jack and Aunt Angela, Aunt Cam . . . Uncle Sweets . . . we were investigating a murder that led to a serial killer and from there . . . we stumbled upon a group of people that were trying to do a coup against the United States . . . Glen Durant was the head of that group and he wanted to shut down our investigation. He didn't want anyone to know about him and his perverted cause. He decided to make an example of me to scare off everyone else . . . several thugs broke into my house . . . the mighty hut, the house we lived in before this one and they tried to kill me. I killed them instead and after it was done, I was arrested and accused of murdering FBI Agents trying to serve a bench warrant on me. It wasn't true. They were ex-Navy Seals . . . Mercenaries and dishonorable men. They hurt me, badly and your mother who was supposed to be away from the house, came back and saved me . . . When I didn't die, I was put in prison."
Christine was both fascinated and appalled. "But wouldn't they have had records proving that they weren't FBI agents?"
Booth's laughter was not mirthful. "Durant had a lot of people in high places under his control and I guess someone covered their tracks. They fed the FBI a lie and the FBI accepted it. I don't really know why or how, I just know I was in prison . . . I was an FBI agent in prison. You don't know what that means, but it's bad. The convicts used me as a punching bag when they could and the prison guards looked the other way when they did it. They didn't give a shit what was done to me. They'd have been happy if I'd died . . . Your mother found a way to get me out and I got my old job back at the FBI . . . Jack, Angela, Sweets, Cam, your mother and me . . . we tried to figure out what was going on and eventually we figured out that Glen Durant was behind the whole thing. Your Uncle Sweets was murdered while we were trying to get at the traitors and your Uncle Aubrey joined our team and helped us to bring down Durant and his group of sell outs. It was the saddest thing I ever had to do to tell you about Sweets dying. I know you loved him and he loved you. You were just five years old and I had to tell you that you'd never see your Uncle again."
Swallowing back tears, Christine sniffed and licked her lips. "I remember when you told me that Uncle Sweets had gone to heaven. I didn't get to say good-bye."
"He was a brave man, Sweetheart. He was doing his job and Durant had him murdered to stop him." Booth paused and stared at Brennan. He was worried that he was giving his daughter too much information.
Brennan saw her husband hesitate and tried to help him. "A lot of the bad things that were printed about your father was done during this time. Durant tried to ruin your father's and my reputation to keep himself safe. There are a lot of evil men and women in this world Christine. Your father and I try to stop them. It leaves us vulnerable sometimes . . . The scars on your father's body prove what a brave man he is. He is a warrior and you should be proud of him."
"I am proud of him and of you." Christine looked down at her hands. "I miss Pops and Uncle Sweets and Uncle Jared . . . I know how Uncle Jared died and why . . . but he loved you Dad." She looked up and gave her father a slight smile. "When you were away, he helped Mom and Uncle Sweets with this house. He moved furniture and mowed the lawn. He played with me sometimes. He didn't like to play with my dolls like Uncle Sweets did, but he played tag with me and we played board games. I'd ask him when you were coming home and he would always tell me that you were doing important work and you'd come home when you could. He told me that you were the best big brother ever and he missed you."
His throat thick with emotion, Booth found himself unable to say anything for a few moments. "I didn't know that. I knew that your Uncle Sweets helped your mother a lot."
Brennan crossed her arms against her chest. "Jared asked me not to mention him being here. He had lost his job at the dealership and he didn't want you to think badly of him. Sweets and I shopped for new furniture and Jared helped us set up the new beds and transfer some of the things I salvaged from the Mighty Hut to here. He hated that the back yard had bare spots and he came over ever week to work on it. He reseeded the lawn and kept it mowed. He didn't want you to worry about it when you came back home . . . I should have told you before now, but I wanted to keep my word to Jared."
A few tears escaped from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Brushing them aside, Booth swallowed. "I'm glad you told me now . . . Christine do you have any more questions?"
Wise enough to know that her father and mother were upset, Christine shook her head. "No. Thank you for talking to me. I'm sorry that you went through what you went through. It all makes sense now. Thank you." Standing, she grabbed her phone and left the room.
Once she was out of the room, Brennan left the couch walked over to where her husband was sitting and knelt in front of him. Placing her hands on his knees she stared at his tear stained face. "This talk was more painful than I imagined it would be."
Leaning forward, he brushed his hand against her cheek. "I love you Bones. We've been through so much and yet here we are. Still together."
Brennan stood up and smiled at her partner and husband. "Where else would I be?"
Her love had always kept him going. Standing he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. "Nowhere, Bones. You and me . . . we're going to get our 40 or 50 years, just so you know that."
Placing her arms around his chest, Brennan leaned against him. "I do know that . . . I love you Booth. I love you . . . You know we'll probably have to go through this again with Hank."
"Yeah." Booth placed his forehead on her shoulder. "Maybe we won't have to tell him. You know Christine will probably tell him and that will be that . . . I really should have this talk with Parker. I told him I would talk to him about my past when he had to shave. He's been shaving for a while and I've put it off . . . He deserves to know . . . Thanks for telling me about Jared." He felt more tears fall and seep into his wife's blouse. He didn't try to stop them. He had few good memories about his brother, but him taking care of Brennan and the lawn was the best memory he could have. "He wasn't a loser, he was just lost most of the time."
Oooooooooooooooooooo
Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.
A/N: Christine's adventure in New York is next.
