AN: If you're new to my fanfiction, you should know that all of my stories live together in a big castle in the corner of Hart Hanson's sandbox and sometimes, the characters wander into other rooms. If I write an OC as if you should already know him or her, it's because that person was introduced elsewhere.
(Lisa, this chapter is for you. I know you've missed him. :-D)
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At first, no one noticed the young man who stepped off the elevator late the next afternoon. It was a busy hospital, after all, bustling with medical personnel, hospital staff, patients and visitors. When he paused briefly to study the area, carefully noting the locations of stairways and exits and security cameras, no one paid attention. Those in the waiting room, huddled together in the shared solidarity of grief and fear, were unaware of him carefully scanning and memorizing their faces. Of average height and average age, dressed carefully in faded jeans and a battered leather jacket, with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, he was intentionally forgettable. Deliberately unremarkable.
That is, until he crossed to the nurses' station and asked to be directed to Temperance Brennan's room.
The nurse was used to speaking in a voice pitched to carry over the noise of the waiting room and her response caught the attention of the group seated closest to the desk. "I'm sorry, Ms. Brennan's visitors are restricted. If you'd like to join the others," she waved behind him, "I'll let you know when someone is allowed back there."
"I'm actually here to see her father," he corrected what was an easy assumption to make. "Would it be possible to get a message to him, ask him to come out for a minute?" She nodded and picked up the phone while behind him, heads turned toward Russ, who rose to his feet immediately.
When Harland turned around, he found himself the object of curious scrutiny.
"You're here to see my dad?" Russ asked as he stepped forward and introduced himself. "Russ Brennan."
"I know who you are." He set the heavy fabric bag he carried on the floor and leaned easily against the desk. "You look like a Keenan."
At his words, curiosity turned into suspicion for at least one person. Lips pursed, one eyebrow lifted high on her forehead, Caroline Julian studied the stranger openly, angling her head to get a better look at the face shadowed beneath the hat's brim.
Russ frowned, his confusion obvious. "Do I know you?" he asked. "I didn't catch your name -"
"Max!" Their exchange was interrupted by Angela's exclamation as she rushed to his side. "How is she? Has anything happened? Is she awake yet?"
The old man threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "No, sweetheart, not yet." He looked weary and heartsore as Angela slumped at his response. "Why don't you go and keep Booth company for a few minutes?" he suggested, with a peck of his lips at her temple and an attempt at a smile. "He could use a prettier face than mine around him, I think." While she looked around for approval from the nurse, he deliberately stepped between Russ and Harland and with a hand on the other man's shoulder, herded him away from the assembled group. "I didn't expect you so soon. Let's take a walk."
"Dad -"
"It's okay, Russ." He patted his son's arm as they passed by. "Everything's fine."
Watching the two men walk to the elevator, Russ didn't look convinced. Noticing the manner in which the younger man kept his body at an angle to the security camera, Caroline looked downright grim.
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Harland waited until the elevator doors closed before he spoke. "How's your girl?"
Max shook his head, his face hard. "I'm almost glad she hasn't woken up yet. At least the way she is, she's not in any pain."
That was the end of any conversation until they left the hospital. By unspoken mutual consent, the two men kept walking until they were several feet away from the building, in the middle of two rows of parked cars.
"Well?" Max asked when they came to a stop.
Harland pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his coat pocket. "That's the man who hit her. Gangbanger," he shrugged. "Stolen car. I found it in a chop shop in Baltimore. I . . . rescued it," he added with a smirk, "and had it moved it to a more secure location."
Max opened the page and read the information silently.
"You want me to have that taken care of?"
Max considered the calmly-voiced offer for a moment. "No," he said finally, releasing his breath with a deep sigh and a shake of his head. "No. I'll turn it in." He laughed without amusement. "An anonymous tip or something."
Harland stared in disbelief. "Turn it in? To the police?" he asked. "That's your daughter in there." His head jerked in the direction of the hospital. "You don't know if she's going to live or die and he's -" he jabbed a finger toward the paper in Max's hand, "responsible. You're going to give him to the cops?"
"Yes, I am." Max said fiercely. He fixed his jaw and stared into the incredulous grey eyes stubbornly. "I'm going to handle this the way Tempe would want it handled."
The younger man looked ready to argue further, then abruptly let it go. "Your call," he shrugged.
"Yes, it is," Max snapped.
"Mama sent food." Harland suddenly remembered the bag that dangled from his fingertips. "There's plenty there," he said, as he handed it over. "Enough for you . . . and the federal," he added with a grimace.
Max slipped two fingers through the handles and offered a tight smile. "Booth's a good man."
"Eh." Harland obviously disagreed but chose not to press the issue. "She doesn't get her Tupperware back," he nodded toward the bag, "I have permission to shoot you."
Max laughed then, with the first real touch of humour he'd felt in two days. "Then I'll make sure I return it. Tell Minnie I said thanks."
"I will." Harland patted his shoulder. "Anything else we can do, you just get word to Keith."
He was only a few steps away when Max's voice stopped him.
"Harland."
He turned back immediately. "Yea?"
Max stared at the paper in his hand for a moment and then crushed it in his fist. "If Tempe -" He broke off as grief threatened to overwhelm him. "If she doesn't -" He couldn't continue.
He didn't have to.
Harland nodded. "I'll do it myself." With a wave of his hand, he walked off into the night.
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Max took a minute longer to compose himself before he went back inside the hospital. He went straight to the waiting room.
"This is the guy who hit Tempe." He held out the crumpled sheet of paper for Caroline. "Anonymous tip. Where you'll find the car, too."
Caroline stared at the mess he'd made of the note and then pointedly looked behind him toward the empty doorway. "Anonymous tip," she sniffed in disbelief.
Max remained silent.
"Hmpf." Eyes rolling, she snatched the paper from him. "Given what happened the last time your children were threatened," she reminded him in arch tones, "is this person alive or dead?"
His expression haunted, Max looked over his shoulder, down the hallway toward the room where his daughter lay. "He's alive." When his eyes met hers again, the words for now rang in the silence between them.
Caroline pushed herself out of the chair with a huff. "You're trying my last nerve, Max Keenan," she warned as she hunted for her phone. "And I didn't have that many to start with." Her grumbling could clearly be heard as she stomped out into the hallway. "Anonymous tip. The man must think I'm a damn fool. Hello? Hello? This is Caroline Julian . . . ."
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(Harland was introduced in my summer hiatus fic Once Upon a Summer. I love him and I couldn't resist giving him a bit of a prequel role here. You don't fuck with Max Keenan's kids, even accidentally.)
Thanks for reading!
