Second chapter here! Thanks everyone who read and reviewed. We're doing a bit of a jump backwards here to explain everything (or at least more). Some elements of "The Idiot Magi" and "Meetup in Aisle Five" are in this fic and explained here. Again, please READ and REVIEW. The title comes from the very awesome "Wear Sunscreen" poem by Mary Schmich. Check out the song version if you can. Thanks!

Chapter One

4 P.M. on Some Idle Tuesday

September 2012

"Deputy Director Booth, a Rebecca Knowles on the phone for you," Danielle, Booth's secretary, said in a clipped, slightly bored voice. He could barely see her through his glass door, and knew that she was painting her nails — typical end-of-workday behavior for Danielle. Bones always thought Danielle needed more to do (Danielle thought that Bones needed to recalibrate her definition of a normal workload). Booth secretly agreed with both, but he wasn't going to argue with the Bureau paying someone to bring him coffee. "Should I send her through?"

"Of course," he said, then realized something. "Danielle, you know that Rebecca Knowles is Parker's mom, right?"

"Nice to know her full name isn't 'Bec,' then," Danielle said dryly before patching the call through.

"Hey, Bec, what's up?" he asked, pulling up a case file on his Mac Book before leaning back in his seat, spinning in his chair until he looked out the window toward the Washington Monument.

He had had this view — this office, this life — for the past 14 months, since he became the Deputy Director for Criminal Investigation, one of two number-twos at the Bureau. He now ran all the old-school FBI operations: violent crime, hate crimes, white collar, corruption, little of the new counterterrorism stuff. It had been a bit of a leap, and it was something he had quite honestly never seen himself doing. Paperwork was not his thing; his thing was, as Parker now put it, "kicking butt and taking names." That was what he was best at — investigations, people, righting wrongs, upholding justice the way it should be upheld: By putting his own life, his values and practices, on the line. Policy, leadership, administration, supervision simply weren't the same, but he was not quite the same, either, and fieldwork without Bones was definitely not the same. He'd wanted her out of the field, and she received a promotion at the museum shortly before his, and taking himself out of the game had helped alleviate her feelings of being left out.

"Seeley," Rebecca said. He noticed immediately that her voice was odd — a little low and rushed, like she was nervous. He and Rebecca were a well-oiled machine now when it came to Parker — she picked him up from Chinese on Sundays and then he stayed with her through Thursday, when Booth would pick him up after soccer and had him through Sunday — and there was rarely need to call each other to coordinate something. Parker had always known to pick up two copies of everything, they debriefed each other on the phone every Thursday and Sunday, and the two of them ran into each other two or three times a week at sporting events. It was civil, cordial. Comfortable, even. But they weren't friends, so the call, and her tone, raised his defenses a bit.

"Everything alright?" he asked cautiously. He knew it couldn't be Parker; she would have mentioned that already.

"Yeah — Parker's fine. School's going well."

"I know, I just saw him yesterday at the soccer game," Booth said, puzzled.

"Yeah, he played really well, didn't he?"

"Bec," he tried again. One of the things that he always had appreciated about Rebecca was her no-bullshit attitude. It was the one thing she had in common with Bones, and it was damn rare in women. He didn't like this waffling.

"I was hoping — that you could stop by after work, maybe around 5:30? Temperance too — bring her, too, if possible."

"Rebecca — seriously. Are you and Brent moving, or something? What's going on?"

"Can you make it, Seeley?" she demanded.

He clicked over to his calendar to make sure Bones didn't have any late meetings (neither rarely left before six), and then said, "Sure. You going to give me a hint?"

"Seeley, please." While she definitely sounded irritated, there was a bit of a beg in her tone as well, which worried him.

"Fine. We'll see you in about an hour, Bec."

"Thanks," she said, before hanging up.

He looked at his desk. There were three case files he needed to review and sign off on before they were officially sent to the DA's office, reports from agents for two different ongoing cases (he still led investigations, although rarely, and only the high-profile ones), some memos for a meeting in the morning, a schedule for continuing training that he needed to approve for his department, a meeting tomorrow to prep for, on ethics policy. In short, stuff that was portable and could be done later in the evening. Yep, time to go bug Bones. He downloaded several files to his secure USB and packed up his laptop and a few paper files before grabbing his coat and hitting the lights.

"Heading out already, sir?" Danielle asked. "Kind of early, isn't it?"

"You know, once I leave, nobody'll care if you're here," he said. "You really want me to stay the extra 30 minutes?"

She smiled hugely. "If you have somewhere you have to be, I understand," she said. Danielle was a bit of a smartass but anything else from a woman made him nervous at this point, frankly.

Even though he was basically in charge, even though there were barely 30 minutes left in the regular workday, even though most nights he was there until seven and in by seven, Booth still felt half-guilty, half-thrilled as he left, like he had in high school when he played hooky. Jared had always mocked him for his Catholic guilt. Jared had never needed to feel anything approaching remorse when they were growing up.

But there was one more stop on the way to Bones'. Stepping off the elevator on the second floor, he beelined toward the citrusy-colored daycare. This was another perk of leaving early: No godforsaken five-o'clock-dash-for-the-kid line.

Sophia was playing with her friends Annie and Charlotte, and he paused for a second in the entryway to observe her. She was a gorgeous 22-month-old — almost all of her mother's pale, ethereal features and her fabulous cerulean eyes, and his dark, dark hair. He had known all along that the baby was going to be a girl, and that she would be the most beautiful and intelligent child he'd ever met, possibly the smartest and prettiest child, ever. So far, that was true. Sophia was endlessly curious, was thoughtful, was sensitive and fearless; she liked dogs and pandas and mango and giggling and socks and riding in Daddy's truck and digging her tiny fingers into the dirt until she could touch a worm. In short, perfect.

"Deputy Director," Maribeth, the daycare director, greeted him. "Beating the rush today?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "We've got a family thing tonight."

"Daddy!" Sophia yemlled, immediately abandoning Annie and Charlotte and running over to him. She was almost two, so she was pretty steady at the whole walking-running thing, but it still made him nervous. "You early!"

"Yeah, kitten. You wanna go surprise Mommy?" He scooped her up for a hug.

"Yeah!" she nodded enthusiastically. "Go see Mommy at museum!" She was Bones's kid; of course she had an impressive vocabulary.

"You wanna go get your coat?" he asked.

"Yeah!" she said, slithering down his leg and running toward the cubby closet. Bones always claimed she'd inherited his fashion sense — today, for instance, she'd insisted on light purple tights with stars underneath her violet jumper. He quickly turned and signed her out, checked that Sophia had had a good nap, reminded Maribeth that tomorrow she'd be home with the nanny, and then scooped her up again, tickled her until she squealed.

The museum was only a short walk from the Hoover Building, and it was always easier to stay parked, walk over, and then walk back. Sophia squirmed a little, clearly wanting to walk. "No way, kitten, the streets are too busy," he said. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah. We played clay," she said, and he stroked the back of her head. She set her hand on his chest and sighed — she was getting tired, he could tell. As soon as they got to the steps of the museum, though, Sophia commanded, "Down!"

"What do we say?"

"Please." She sounded exactly like Bones in that moment.

There weren't many people in the museum's foyer — it closed in about an hour, anyways. He nodded at Steve, the guy who manned the desk and knew that Booth always packed heat, and the two of them were waved through without having to go through the metal detector. Sophia chirped, "Hi, Steve-o!" as they passed. They took the elevators up to the super-secret third floor (Parker's name for it), waved at her office manager, Leisa, and knocked on her door lightly before opening it.

"Mommy, Mommy," Sophie immediately dashed in and toward Bones' desk.

"What? Sophia!" Bones had been concentrating intently on something, and was clearly startled by their intrusion. Still, she quickly picked Sophia up and put her on her lap, kissing her temple and smoothing out her hair. "I wasn't — I wasn't expecting you for at least an hour. I really have a lot of work I need to finish."

He immediately felt guilty. "Sorry, Bones, but I got this weird call from Becca, and we need to go out to her place at 5.30, and then I didn't feel like working anymore and Sophia was over daycare, weren't you kitten?"

Sophia had been using her palm to push around one of Bones' papers, and looked up at her father's voice. "Yeah," she said.

"We need to go to Rebecca's? Is Parker okay? It's only Tuesday," Bones said.

"She said he's fine, and she wouldn't say anything more," he shrugged. He came around and leaned against her desk, hands in his pockets. "She specifically asked that you come," he said before she could object. "And it sounded like it would be really important."

"That's suspicious, isn't it?" Bones asked.

"Yeah, well, we'll know soon enough," he said, pulling for her hands.

She smiled up at him, her features softening. "Hey," she smiled, leaning upward for a soft kiss. Sophia was used to this, continued playing with her mother's paperwork. "How was work?"

"You know," he shrugged.

"Too many meetings, not enough opportunities to interrogate suspects?" she guessed.

"That'll sum it up," he grinned. Ever since he'd received the promotion he'd been going a little stir-crazy, and Bones bore the brunt of his restlessness most days. "Yours?"

"Yeah, no chance of shooting someone here either," she said. "Not that I'd have a gun to do so," she smirked, ever so slightly. "We have to be at Rebecca's at five-thirty?"

"Yes," he said. "You don't have 'work' to do, do you?"

She looked dubiously at her spread. "To be honest, I was anticipating working until at least six or six-thirty," she said. "I'll need to take some of this home. Right now, though, I need to walk through the oceans exhibit again." She rolled her eyes. Exhibits bored Bones to no end, and this one was doubly bad because it had a formal dinner attached to Saturday's opening.

Bones was now the director of the entire museum — a promotion she'd been offered while on maternity leave and one that Booth had urged her to take. She'd earned it mainly based on her fame and reputation; for her, it offered a return to the academia and a palatable way to get out of the field, as it was unlikely for the FBI to let her return to work in dangerous situations with the father of her child. Initially she had little interest for the most administrative duties of the job, but she'd grown hugely in the post and was generally very well liked around the museum.

The job granted her greater autonomy to spearhead her own research and travel anywhere she wanted, but Sophia's birth meant that she had little desire to leave. He knew she missed her old adventures, domestic and foreign. The dangerous, covert, government-sponsored missions — all gone. No more trips to El Salvador, or Uzbekistan, or areas ravaged by natural disasters. And while she often claimed to understand the biological imperative and desire to sacrifice for her child — and adored Sophia with a fierceness Booth had never seen before — she often got wistful when talking about her past world-tramping adventures. She had similarly adopted an "out of sight, out of mind" attitude toward FBI cases — she missed delivering justice and the thrill of the chase and kicking bad guys' asses. Booth brought her in on really good cases still, but that was all.

Still, he knew she enjoyed the ability to write what she pleased (fiction or nonfiction) and she insisted on a few hours hands-on in the lab three mornings a week as a way of keeping her scientific skills sharp, which kept her happy. She enjoyed being recognized for her achievements in academia and didn't mind the haggling with donors (she viewed that anthropologically of course) or working with budgets. And it was also a platform for her, a way to expand access to science for those who couldn't afford it, for affecting policy on issues she cared about, for saving scientists who didn't have her clout to gain funding — different ways of speaking for victims. Still, she really hated being asked her opinions on tablecloth material for the opening of one exhibit or another.

"The fish exhibit? Again? Come on, how many times have you seen that this week?" He scratched the back of his neck.

"14, why?"

"See it in the morning," he said, looking at his watch.

"Canceling would be irresponsible." She stood, and instead of sliding down, Sophia clung to her neck, so Bones shifted her to her hip. "Come on. It won't take that long. Sophia might like the fish — bright colors are excellent brain stimulation. You want to see the pretty fish?"

"Fish," Sophia repeated, looking at her father.

"Ah, fine," he said, grabbing her Longchamps over-the-shoulder briefcase as she and Sophia moved toward the door. "But really, Bones, we need to get going."

"Can you grab my bag, then?" she asked. "Oh," she said, when she saw he had it.

"One step ahead of you, Bones," he muttered, draping his arm around her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said, in that half-haughty, half-extremely-sincerely-grateful tone that she had.

It'd been three years since they got together, two years since she'd proposed that they marry, and eleven months since the wedding (private, beach, families and "family" only), and moments like these still really got to him. She relaxed into his embrace, and they headed to Terrence Hall. Several people were waiting anxiously for her: Annalise, her assistant; Carolyn, her chief of staff; Miles, the museum curator; Melinda, the exhibits head; Richard, the exhibit curator; Kevin, the director of zoology; Michael, director of oceans; Kathleen, the PR manager; Dinah, the event planner; and several zoologists, oceanologists and exhibit designers.

"Sophia!" Annalise exclaimed. Bones had Shawna, the nanny, drop Sophia off two afternoons a week so she could nap quietly or play in her office, and Annalise adored her. "And Deputy Director Booth—hello."

"Hello, all," Booth smiled, not removing his arm from around Bones.

"My apologies for my tardiness. Also, we need to get this tied in quickly, as we unfortunately have to leave at 5:15 for a family matter."

"Tied up, Bones."

"Whatever. We'll do a more-thorough walkthrough tomorrow morning at 7:30, as scheduled."

A blessed half hour later they were on their way to Becca's and Bones was quizzing him on what it could possibly be. "It's not Parker and they're not moving? And it sounded urgent?"

"Yeah, Bones. We'll know soon enough."

"But it's so much more fun to figure it out by ourselves," she huffed. "In fact, you make a living figuring things out before other people."

Rebecca opened the door, dressed down in yoga pants and a long-sleeved University of Maryland tee. She looked … well, not exhausted, at least not physically, but drained and near-defeated. "Bec," Booth said, moving to tip her face up and examine her features. "Okay. Now will you please tell us what's wrong?"

"Hi Seeley," she smiled wanly and pushed him into the house. "Hi Temperance, Sophia."

"Hi!" Sophia chirped. Bones looked damned concerned, too. Bones catching on was a bad sign.

"Come in. Would you like anything to drink? Parker's at …"

"Soccer until six, yeah, Becca, I know it's Tuesday too." Booth headed into the living room, getting more agitated by the second.

"Calm down, Booth," Bones said, setting down Sophia and putting her hand on Booth's arm.

Brent was sitting in the living room, and Booth nodded hello. Becca sat down next to him, unconsciously curling into his side and bringing her knees to her chest. Booth had decided long ago that he kind of liked Brent. Shortly before the wedding, he'd sought Seeley out, said that he knew Parker already had a father and absolutely was not going to try and replace that. And shortly after the wedding the custody arrangement had become more equitable, and Booth suspected Brent had a hand in that.

"Well, since we've decided to skip the pleasantries and Parker's coming home soon, we'll just rip the Band-Aid off my mysterious news," Becca said.

"Becca, calm down," Brent stroked her arm. Bones picked up Sophia and started playing nervously with the baby's hair.

Becca couldn't talk for a long while, so finally Bones said, "You're sick, aren't you?"

Becca didn't look that surprised, but nodded.

"Cancer?" Bones guessed. "You almost certainly have cancer." Nothing else made sense. Bones continued to study her. "Statistically breast cancer would be most likely, for your age and familial history." Bones knew that Becca's mother had died of breast cancer at age 57, shortly after Parker's birth.

"Becca?" Booth said.

"Yeah," Becca finally said. "Two days ago, I found a lump in my breast. I went to the doctor yesterday pretty freaked. He found a ductal carcinoma in situ."

"Those are … very treatable. Rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, preventative measures such as surgery should lead to remission and recovery within a year," Bones said.

"So it's not that bad, Becca?" Booth asked, noticing how ashen she appeared.

She shook her head. "Well, yes, if the DCIS was the first tumor. It's not," her head dropped, and she wiped at her eyes before looking up again. "Further tests showed that I probably have tumors in my ovaries as well. They believe they're unrelated."

"What's that mean, then?" Booth asked, unsure of whether to look at Bones, who could voice the answers, or Becca, who needed to.

"That's bad," Bones said. She looked at Becca. "That's bad."

"Yes," Becca said. She looked at Bones and took a deep breath. "They don't know staging yet; I'm going to have a biopsy done tomorrow and possibly surgery early next week."

"And there weren't any symptoms?" Booth asked, trying not to sound incredulous.

"I'd felt ill, I guess, but not really. They said it was likely fast growing due to genetic markers. Some … levels were way out of control," she shook her head. "Some intermittent pain, I'd gone to the bathroom more than normal." She leaned back into Brent's shoulder and wrapped her arms around her shins. "I was kinda floored."

"She was shocked," Booth translated immediately, feeling Bones tense up. "Is there a prognosis?"

"I have an appointment with an oncologist tomorrow," she said. "I was wondering … if you two could take Parker for the rest of the week. I'll pick him up Saturday. Tell him then. I need to have something more concrete for him."

"Yeah, of course," Booth said.

"And we — we may need Parker over there a little bit more. I don't want him … I don't want him to hurt too much."

"Anything you need, please ask," Bones said.

"Mom? Brent? I'm home!" Parker yelled from the kitchen, followed by a loud clank from him dropping his soccer gear on the floor.

"Shit," Becca said, running her thumbs underneath her eyes and fluffing at her hair. "Look casual," she hissed at Booth, who awkwardly, but obediently, stretched out and put his arm around Bones again. Bones just looked worried, and he nudged her to make her relax. "In the living room, babe," she called. "Dad and Temperance are here too."

"What? Why? Hey, Sophie!" Parker said, coming into the room. He was the only one who could call her Sophie — Bones didn't like nicknames. He was very tall, his head skimming Bones's chin, and wore plaid red-and-blue shorts, a blue polo, and red Converse. The last vestiges of a summer tan shone on his skin. His curls were a bit too long for his own good.

"Park!" Sophia yelled, scrambling down from Bones' lap and going over to her big brother, who picked her up, sat her on his hip and started making faces.

Parker was now 11 (12 in February) and had just started sixth grade at Janney Elementary. He was incredibly bright, all A's in the toughest classes, and was just entering his smart-mouthed teenager stage. When he was at Booth and Bones' home in Georgetown, he and Bones would retreat into her office nightly, and she would work or write and he would do his homework, asking her for help if needed. He was taking Chinese at her urging (Booth didn't like it when they lapsed into simple Chinese at restaurants), and now loved both biology and history. They had a unique, incredibly close relationship.

He kept busy outside of the classroom as well — he was a Booth, after all. He played hockey, soccer, basketball and baseball, depending on the seasons. Becca often worried that too much time with Booth and Bones — both of whom she critically called high-overachievers with large egos and guilt complexes— would make him push himself too far, or worse, feel like he'd disappointed all his parents. So far, that hadn't been too much of an issue; he didn't seem to realize how intense either Bones or Booth actually was. He had adapted remarkably well, rolled with every punch, from stepfather to baby sister to stepmother. They made an awkward, lumpy-sided family around Parker, but he was alright with that.

"Zenmeyang, Sophie?" he asked, then turned to his four parents. "Why are you guys here, Dad? Bones?"

"Brent and I actually are going out of town for the next couple days, Parks, so we're switching things up a bit." Becca said, her voice remaining surprisingly steady.

His eyes narrowed. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah — it's our wedding anniversary, which we all forgot about." It actually was their anniversary, he realized — four years. Damn.

"Oh, right," Parker said, looking slightly relieved. Aw, damn. Parker might be stable, but with both parents remarried and Sophia with Booth all the time, he sometimes felt abandoned, and Booth could tell. "When are you back?"

"Friday evening, pretty late. We'll pick you up Saturday, m'kay?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

"Do you need to grab anything, Parker? We're supposed to meet Angela and Hodgins for dinner," Bones said.

His face lit up. "Nope! Got my homework and my gear. Angela and Hodgins for dinner?"

"We're meeting at Agraria in about half an hour — will a hamburger and onion rings be acceptable for dinner?" she asked. Booth smiled. Bones was so good with Parker, she didn't even know. (He really needed to let her and Angela know how much he hated Agraria, though.)

Parker's grin broadened even more, if possible, and he bumped her fist with his. "Heck yes! Let's get going!"

"Why don't you help Bones get your sister in her car seat, bub? I need to talk with your mom." He gave Bones a significant look, and she trailed after the kids uncertainly. Brent drifted slowly into the kitchen.

Becca raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. "Yeah, Seeley?"

He studied her carefully, this woman whom he'd once loved, and still did, really, in some way. He searched for the words. "Becca — I'm so, so sorry," he said in a low voice, catching her upper arm.

She looked straight at him. "You're a good man, Seeley. Please make sure Parker becomes one as well."

"Becca — don't talk like that. Like you won't be around."

She shook her head. "Days like this remind me that I might not be, Seeley."