I'm bored... so here is another chapter.
R&R please!
She slid the key into the door, the sound of the crenulations sliding into the lock echoing through her apartment. With a click and a small push, the door swung open and the space greeted her no more than it always did; cold, dark and empty.
She dropped her bag by the door and kicked the door closed with her foot. Shrugging off her coat, she tossed both it and her keys onto the couch and made her way into her kitchen. She opened the fridge, blankly staring at the minimal amount of beverages and food she had stored. She grabbed a package of cheese that she had yet to open and examined the green mold that started to overtake the yellow coloring. She tossed the package into the garbage and turned back to her fridge. She shivered at the cold that was emanating from it and bent down, clasping her right arm between her legs to fend off the chill.
She noticed the array of numerous beers she had stacked up on the bottom. These were left over from when Booth would visit in the late hours of the night, toting some sort of take out and a six pack. She hadn't noticed before, but the left over beer that they hadn't consumed she would put in her fridge for next time, leaving her bottom shelf now filled to the brim with any kind of beer she could think of. She smiled at the sight of her own distillery and grabbed a bottle. Twisting off the cap, she tossed it into the trash and made her way to her bathroom to wash away the remnants of the day.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, clad in only a towel and carrying her clothing in a bundle in her arms. She made her way to her bedroom, tossing the soiled clothing into her hamper and then dressed herself in a pair of pajamas for the night. She went back to the bathroom, picking up her previously forgotten beer and made her way back to the bedroom to read before tucking herself in for the night.
She still could believe that Booth had actually wanted her to go up to meet his family on Christmas. They always fought about religion and he despised her view of it. Christmas is not something that one can celebrate while simultaneously ignoring its religious context. She thought she had made that point clear, and she definitely believed that Booth knew how she felt about the Santa Claus myth.
She sighed, suddenly becoming more tired than she had originally estimated. She put her book down on her nightstand and placed the now empty beer bottle on top of the book and turned off the light on her nightstand. She rolled over into her covers and made herself comfortable. She quickly slipped off into a deep sleep.
* * *
There was a crash. She sat up in bed suddenly and found her hand to be wet. She quickly turned on the light next to her bed and realized that she was bleeding and there were glass shards on the floor. She had inadvertently broken the beer bottle next to her bed in her sleep.
She quickly got up and went to the bathroom and ran her hand under the water to clean the wound. She got out her first aide kit and bandaged herself up and then went to the kitchen to get a trash bag for the glass shards.
She made her way back to her bedroom and stopped abruptly when she came face to face with her father. She back-stepped and looked at him questioningly, "Dad, what… how did you get in here?" she asked.
He smiled at her, "That isn't important, Tempe." He said.
Temperance scoffed, "You broke into my apartment?"
Max laughed, "That isn't the point, Tempe."
She shook her head and slammed the garbage bag down on her dresser, "I thought you were going to stop all of this." She exclaimed, walking over to the glass shards on the floor and picking them up piece by piece, "If you wanted to see me all you had to do was knock on my door and ask to come inside."
"Do you remember that Christmas when you and Russ hid under the Christmas tree?" he asked her.
She looked up at him, slightly confused, "Yeah." She said simply.
"It was so adorable." He said, "Your mother and I found the two of you asleep at eleven o'clock before we put out the presents. Your brother had a camera and you had this finger printing powder from your brother's spy kit that he had gotten for his birthday that year. You were trying to catch Santa in the act and prove his existence." He laughed.
She turned her head and couldn't help but laugh at the memory as well. She collected the rest of the shards and then stood up, "Really Dad, what are you doing here? I doubt you came here at…" she looked at her clock, "Three o'clock in the morning to reminisce about old times."
"I'm not your father, Temperance." He said plainly.
She stepped back and looked at him stunned, "Wha… McVicor?" she asked.
Max laughed, "No, I mean, I'm not Max Keenan. Max Keenan is your father, but I am not him."
Temperance raised her eyebrows, "Are you feeling okay, Dad?" she asked, sincerely worried about him.
"Look," he said. He placed his hand underneath her hand that was holding the glass shards. In a moment, the glass shards had formed back into the bottle that had previously broken.
"What?" she asked, stunned at having witnessed this. Then a look of realization hit her, "Oh, I'm dreaming. That makes so much more sense." She said out loud.
"This isn't a dream, Tempe." He said, "This is a wake up call."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Max took the bottle from her hand and set it back down on top of her book and turned to her, "You are at a fork in the road." He said.
"No, I'm in my bedroom." She replied quickly.
Max sighed, "You were always so literal, ever since you were a child. It's a metaphor, Tempe. Just go with it."
Brennan scoffed, "Fine. Use your metaphor." She said, sitting down on her bed.
Max looked at her and then continued, "You're at a fork in the road. One road leads to a happy life and the other, not so happy, Tempe. I'm here tonight to help guide you toward the right path, because right now it looks like you're headed toward the gloom and doom and I know that that is mostly my fault."
Brennan crossed her arms, "I thought that you said that you weren't my father." She argued.
"Technically, no I am not. However, I have all of your father's memories and feelings. He does blame himself for your unhappiness and he hopes that you will accept the happiness that comes to you." He said, taking her hand in his.
She flinched at the pressure on her wrist and hand, where the cut was, but there was an odd tingling feeling. She looked down at her wrist and Max pulled away the bandage revealing no cut or wound anywhere on her skin, "Do you want to be happy, Tempe?" he asked her genuinely.
"Of course I want to be happy." She said, examining the skin on her wrist, "It's not always that easy though."
"No, it isn't easy at all." He replied, placing the bandage in his pocket.
"So, what do I do?" she asked, looking up at Max.
Max bent down, leveling his eyes with her, "Live your life… happily." He said
"Okay." She said getting up suddenly, "You are officially insane. I'm going to bed. Please leave."
"Tempe, you have to listen to me." Max pleaded.
Temperance turned to him, "No, I don't. This is obviously a dream and in this dream, you are not my father, like you said. Just someone who… looks like him. I am going back to sleep and this dream will be over." She said, tucking herself back into bed.
Max shrugged and turned toward the door, "Merry Christmas." He whispered before exiting the room.
Temperance turned to her bedside table and turned off her light, getting comfortable once again and falling to sleep.
