(Soccer Mom in the Mini Van)

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I don't own Bones.

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She'd promised to return to the prison and she did. Max was like an albatross around her neck and she needed to understand why. Yes, he was her father and yes she loved him although she wasn't sure why since he hadn't done anything to earn her love. Max was an enigma and she thought it was possible she would never understand him.

"Honey, I know you want a nice neat story that explains who I am to you, but it doesn't work that way. Life doesn't work that way." Max was glad to see his daughter and he was trying so hard to make her see that he was there for her, but she was only interested in the past not the present. "I've always had a problem with authority. I fought the system whenever I could. Your mother understood. She was just like me. We never wanted to conform . . ."

"Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?" Brennan found the entire conversation to be ludicrous. "You weren't some anti-hero like in the movies, Dad. You killed the deputy director of the FBI. You're going to go to trial for that."

Annoyed, Max tried to be patient, but failed. "My God he was a murderer and he was going to kill you and Russ. I had to stop him."

"And you walked out on me and Russ." Brennan wanted to leave. The conversation wasn't clearing anything up and she was just as confused about his motives as she was before he was arrested.

"Honey, I've told you . . . bad people were after your Mom and me." Max knew he wasn't getting through and he didn't know how to clear up the mess their relationship was in. "I was an outlaw on the run . . . ."

Her patience running out, Brennan realized that she was too frustrated to continue their conversation. "You were a criminal." Brennan stood up, pulled a deck of cards out of her jacket pocket and placed them on the table. "These are for you."

"No for us, so we can play games." Max was pleased to see the cards, but not happy she wanted to leave so soon. "Come on, stay and play Blitz with me."

Disappointed that she was just as clueless about his motives as she had been before she had come to visit him, Brennan sighed. "I have work to do." Abruptly turning, she left the room, ignoring her father's pleas to stay.

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The case had been rough and at one point Booth had suspected his mentor Special Agent Sam Reilly of murder. He'd had a few drinks with Sam in his office after the case as a sort of a peace offering and now he was drunk, very drunk. Bones, um . . . I'm drunk.

"Booth where are you?" Brennan had known that the case had not been easy for Booth, but she was surprised that he'd drunk so much liquor. Usually they drank a glass of beer or wine at the end of each case to celebrate, but Booth's former mentor didn't like her and the feeling had been mutual so she hadn't celebrated with them. Booth had tried to make peace with his friend and Brennan hadn't felt that she should interfere. "I'll come get you."

I walked over to the Lincoln Memorial. I'm too drunk to drive home and I'm too tired to walk home.

"I'm coming." Brennan found it very amusing that Booth didn't just call a cab.

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Once they were back at her apartment, Brennan helped Booth into their bedroom and helped him undress. "Bones I can undress myself." His mind a muddle he found it hard to concentrate, so he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her.

"Yes you can." Unbuttoning his shirt, she helped him remove it and dropped it on the floor behind her. After unzipping his pants, she asked him to stand, but realized that that wasn't going to happen. Gently, she pushed his shoulders down and then helped him swing his legs over the mattress. Once he was lying down, she untied his shoes, slipped them off of his feet, placed them on the floor near his nightstand and pulled a blanket over him. She wasn't sure he was comfortable, but since he was drunk and couldn't undress even with her help, she had done the best she could do for him. "Booth." After she sat down on the edge of the mattress next to him, Brennan ran her hand slowly through his hair.

His eyes partially closed, her hand running through his hair felt good and it reminded him of when his mother used to do that after his father had given him a beating. "I'm a mess Bones. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Booth." Brennan wasn't sure why he thought he was a mess and she wasn't sure she should ask. "You got drunk. It's not that bad. I'm sure you've done this before."

Booth captured her hand and held it in his hand. "I love you Bones. I worry that I'm not good enough sometimes. I can't help you with your Dad and I want to, I really do, but I don't know how. I hate my father so much and my mother . . . at least you have a Dad, Bones. I only have you and Pops and Parker. I can't count on Jared . . . he's a . . . he's . . ."

The words were filled with melancholy and they reminded Brennan that she wasn't the only one that had a family that had failed them. "I'm fine, Booth. I really am. I've been visiting Dad . . . we've talked . . . We'll talk again." Her feelings a mixture of anger, regret and sadness when she thought of her father, Brennan decided that she needed to let at least some of the anger go. After she removed her shoes, she laid down next to Booth and placed her arms around him. "You do help me, Booth. More than you know. You help me understand what I'm feeling when I can't seem to do that on my own . . . You are good enough Booth. You are good enough for me."

His breathing soft, Brennan knew her boyfriend was asleep. "You shouldn't have drunk so much. You're definitely going to feel the effects tomorrow morning and we have to see Dr. Sweets."

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Booth thought that it was a good thing that he wasn't allowed to bring his gun into the psychologist's office. His head was pounding and he wanted peace and quiet, but the younger man's incessant talking made him want to strangle Sweets. "Look Sweets. I have a headache. I have the mother of all headaches. Just cut to the chase and let me go . . . let us go. Bones has her squint Zach back and she's visiting her father. We're working together and we're solving cases. Everything is fine. We don't need this."

"Why do you have a headache?" Sweets had noted Booth's appearance and he was sure he knew what Booth's problem was. "Did you get drunk last night?"

His eyes dark glittering orbs, Booth bore them into Sweets and wished that looks really did kill. "That really isn't your business. What I do after work is my business."

"You're wrong, Agent Booth." Sweets felt that Booth and Brennan weren't taking him as seriously as they should. "You got drunk for a reason. You're not an alcoholic so there must be some reason you felt like overindulging last night."

Trying to be as patient as he could be, Booth clinched his jaw and breathed in and out. He was just a hair away from blowing up and he knew he couldn't do that. "During our investigation it looked like a friend of mine may have killed someone. I had to arrest him . . . He didn't do it and we drank some of my Scotch to get our friendship back in line. I drank too much, okay? Am I supposed to ask your permission to drink now? What's the deal with you? My life is my life and . . . "

Brennan placed her hand on Booth's knee which seemed to calm him instantly. "Agent Booth doesn't overindulge often, but Agent Reilly wanted to have drinks with Booth. He was fulfilling a social obligation. It had nothing to do with our partnership or our relationship so it should be none of your business."

Fascinated that Brennan could calm Agent Booth with a touch, Sweets knew that their relationship was very deep and their connection was almost magical. "I'm here to help you both, Dr. Brennan. I've told you that there is great concern about the fact that your father is going to go on trial for murder and that Booth was the arresting officer. Yes, you seem to be handling the situation better than I thought, but as the trial approaches you may find that will change. You are both seeing me so that if you are having any trouble I can guide you through it. Agent Booth got drunk last night and I needed to know why. I had to make certain that you two hadn't had a tiff and Agent Booth was drinking because of it."

"A tiff?" Booth shook his head. "What are you my grandma?"

Sweets heard the raw anger in Booth's voice and he assumed it was because of the Agent's hangover. "A tiff, a fight, an argument, a few words of dissatisfaction. Whatever you'd like to call it, Agent Booth. I had to make sure."

Rubbing his eyes, Booth shook his head. "We're done, Sweets. I have a headache and I'm leaving." His eyes on Brennan, Booth stood up. "Bones, let's go. I think I have some aspirin in my desk."

Brennan stood up and hooked her arm around Booth's arm. "We'll check. If you don't I'll go to the store and buy you some. Perhaps next time when one of your friends wishes to drink with you, you will remember to stop before you get inebriated."

"Yeah, I'm too old for this shit." Booth walked with Brennan to the door and opened it for her. "Hey, if you go to the store, can you bring me back some Sprite. It might settle my stomach."

"Of course."

Once the couple was gone, Sweets closed his eyes and shook his head. His sessions so far had been useless, but he had a plan. He had some tests he could get them to do and that might move them along the path they needed to follow. Max's trial was coming up and he was afraid that Brennan wasn't as logical as she thought she was.

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