Thanks for all the reviews! That and a free weekend got this update up quickly. This chapter involves a lot of talking. A lot a lot of talking, because Booth's kind of stressed out and has to finally talk, and not wanting to talk actually begets a lot of talking. But we're moving toward some B/B resolution and more developments on the Becca front. Things will … well, not get lighter, but more balanced. I promise. Title of chapter from very famous, very awesome Rilke passage.

A note: I changed the name of the dog from Brady to Asta. Those who get the reference get extra points!

Booth slammed the SUV door behind him and stalked to the edge of the soccer field, watching Parker run circles around the rest of the kids. Bones had left barely 20 minutes ago for Atlanta, taking Sophia with her, and he was still seething. Honestly, where, exactly, did she get off saying what she had said? It was better that she'd gone, really. He hadn't felt the urge to yell at her until he went hoarse for years, but that had about done it. He'd never seen her so purposefully rude and insensitive toward him.

It had been, in the days leading up to the getaway, an awful two weeks. Becca was getting her ass kicked by the chemotherapy. Not only was she sick all the time as the chemicals attacked the cancer, but he'd been along to enough of the doctors' appointments with her and Brent to know that they weren't see the results they needed to see to get her out of the woods. If asked, point-blank, the doctors evaded answers on how many months she had left. Weeks, possibly. They hadn't told Parker.

He'd had to have a little talk with Brent about being a man and handling his responsibilities and obligations, as the typically solid guy was flaking out, flaked out by the cancer and working an extra 15 hours a week. Sarah, Bec's particularly atrocious sister, had actually dragged Parker across northwest Washington to their house the weekend because she got sick of him. Parker was about to have a meltdown; he never looked rested in the mornings and the soccer coach had e-mailed Booth to tell him that Parker was being unusually aggressive on the field and he'd heard about Rebecca and wondered if the two were maybe related. Work had been a mess, too; even though he had briefly been Assistant Director of Major Crimes after Hacker's departure it still awed him sometimes how much work he had as DDCI. This week he'd commissioned a task force to look into predatory lending, which had required a press conference and would require plenty of appointments on the Hill; he'd testified in front of Judiciary because of the new DNA database project; a new ethics policy had gone into place; three high-profile cases, one about a serial killer and two involving terrorism, had begun. He'd been working 14 hours and bringing work home.

And at home Bones had started doing her traditional retreat into herself before fleeing, and he just didn't have the energy to cajole her anymore. She was always in the lab, or working in her office on the novel (which he knew was finished; she was making up some excuse about getting a jump on the next one, which she never did until the insanity of a press tour died down), and wouldn't even tell him if a specialist specialized in the right stuff. Becca was just being bounced around from doc to doc, and was stupidly just going with it, and Bones wouldn't even tell Becca if she was seeing a good doctor, even though she knew the information. She barely engaged with Becca at all, and the interactions between the two had become quite stilted. Even Parker had said that Becca seemed sadder every time Bones picked her up, and Bones always seemed awkward around Becca.

In short, Booth had barely seen his kids, he'd barely touched his wife, the director and the Attorney General were perpetually on his ass, and his goddamn back was hurting from trying to stay up late enough to talk to Bones after she got back from the lab, and falling asleep on the couch. His back was chronically bent into shapes no human back should actually sustain and it made him irritable. It made him irritable, because it meant that she was not present.

And God, he needed Bones to be present. He needed her more than he had ever or would ever need another person, he needed her like oxygen, like food, like all that clichéd poetic crap that was just too dumb to say out loud. He needed Bones so badly that it scared him, and it scared him even more to tell her how much he needed her, because he knew that she would get even more scared than he was. But he needed her like that every day.

Right now he needed her to step it up, quite frankly. He needed her to be in certain places and to do certain things, and he needed her to pick up on those instinctively, because he couldn't say them. The fact that she couldn't get that, the fact that she hadn't picked up on it, even though he knew that she could, it irritated him. She was doing it on purpose, he knew that too. He was worried about Becca and Parker, and he needed her to mitigate that worry, take his mind off things and reassure his mind about other things so that he could go on functioning; care for her and Sophia as well and do his job. He needed her, desperately, to not argue with him, to not make decisions based on logic. Because logic said that Becca was going to die soon, and that would destroy Parker's world, which would kill him.

So yeah, when she tried pulling this shit where it was all his fault and not at all hers, he got a little pissed. Especially when she was hypocritically using psychology. God forbid he even attempt to use that reasoning on her.

"Dad!" Parker said, running over once the coach dismissed them. He seemed to be in a good mood, and the coach nodded at Booth, indicating that practice had gone well. "How was the beach? Where's Bones?" Bones usually picked him up from soccer on Sundays to take him to Chinese.

"The beach was … cold," he said, grinning crookedly. "Bones, she decided to go to Atlanta a bit early, get some extra work done. She took Sophia, too, they'll be back in a few days. So I'm taking you to Chinese today, that cool? How's your mom?"

"She's good. She only threw up once this weekend, and we went on a picnic yesterday with Brent and Aunt Lisa because the weather was good and it was fun," he said, his brow furrowing. "She took Sophie with her for a speech? And she left today for a Tuesday speech? On Friday she said she would be home and wasn't leaving until Tuesday morning."

"Yeah, well, girls don't make sense," he said, clapping his hand over Parker's shoulder. "Do you shower before Chinese?"

"Nah, but Bones always goes over vocabulary with me. Can I call her on the way over?"

"She's on the plane, bub."

"Did you give her the ring?" Parker asked eagerly.

"Yep."

"What'd she say?"

"She liked it. Loved it, really." And she had.

"Dad?" Parker looked at him closely. "You and Bones didn't get into a fight or something, did you?" Goddamn, his kid was perceptive. Or maybe he'd become a worse liar.

"What? Why would you say that?"

Parker just sighed and shook his head. "Because you didn't answer my question, and you're all jumpy, and Bones isn't a normal girl and so she always makes sense." It really sucked that Parker was such a perceptive kid. Becca called it sensitive, but really, it was just freaky.

"Yeah, we got into an argument. It's fine, though, bub. It happens." Parker still looked really freaked out, though. Probably something to do with the Becca thing.

"Did you apologize?"

"We'll get there. She's in Atlanta. Or going there."

"You should apologize first," Parker said as they climbed into the car. "You should do it, Dad."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Well, Mom says a real man always apologizes first."

"Bones doesn't like being treated any differently because she's a woman. You know that."

"Bones wouldn't start the fight, so you should apologize. She says arguing is irrational, but she'll always fight back."

"We argue all the time. You hear us bickering."

"That's different. You should apologize first, Dad. Please? I promise it works."

"What do you mean? You mean, you promise it works with girls?"

"Well, yeah. Mom always likes it when I say I'm sorry first, even if I'm still a little mad."

"So no girlfriends yet, right?" Suddenly he was suspicious. Who knew with Parker these days?

"Dad," Parker deflected, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, fine. Don't answer. We can have a guys' night tonight: Football, hamburgers, watch some sports movies, burp, leave the dishes in the sink. How's that sound?"

Parker shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Can we watch Space Balls?"

"Course. Do you have any homework left?"

Parker pinned him with a Look. "Not really. Mom left the science for Bones to help me with."

Lord.

So when Parker was at Chinese and he knew Bones was safely on the plane, he called, expecting and receiving her voicemail.

"Uh, hey Bones," he said, wondering how to word this, explain what was going on for her. "Listen, I know that you're still angry with me, and I'm … I apologize for some of the things I said. They crossed a line. But, jeez, Bones. You know, you're the only person I'll ever care enough about to have that kind of knock-down drag-out fight with," he cleared his throat. "Anyways. I just wanted to let you know … that I'm not mad about the fight." That was true. He wasn't mad about the fight. "And also, Parker has some science homework tonight, so if you could give him a call maybe after Sophia goes to bed that would be great. If you call the home line, I'll make sure he picks it up. Anyways. Love you. And please, tell Sophia I love her too."

He ran a couple errands before picking up Parker from Chinese lessons, and when they got home, Park asked, "Is that Dr. Sweets' car in the street?"

Of course it was. Grinding his teeth, he said, "I guess he's just missed us. He probably let himself in."

As soon as the two Booth men entered the house, though, there was no way that Sweets had come alone. Whatever that was cooking smelled too good for Sweets to be there without — "Gordon-Gordon?" Booth called. "Sweets?"

"Deputy Director Booth! Master Parker! Ah yes, you guessed Dr. Sweets' little surprise," Gordon-Gordon's voice cooed from the kitchen.

"I'm here too," Hodgins said as they rounded into the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter nursing a beer. Booth shot him an irritated look and he climbed down.

"Great. You know, you're lucky Park noticed your car in the driveway," Booth said.

"Yeah, he'd probably have shot you otherwise," Parker said, tossing his gear on the floor.

"Now that would be a bit of poetic justice, wouldn't it," Gordon-Gordon said as Booth told him to pick his stuff up off the ground.

"Go take a shower, bub, you kind of stink," Booth added. After Parker trudged out of the room he turned to the three. "An intervention? Really?" He turned to Hodgins. "Angela put you up to this?"

"Actually, Dr. Brennan called me," Sweets piped up.

"What?" Booth asked incredulously.

"He's right," Gordon-Gordon said. "I was in town for business with Dr. Hodgins —"

"Business? You donating to the foundation?" Hodgins had started an educational foundation with Cantilever money shortly before Joe's birth and had slowly been expanding it to classrooms across the Northeast.

"No, no, no, I'm just a lowly, poor chef," Gordon-Gordon said. "A chef, however, who wants to open a restaurant just off Embassy Road."

"I'm thinking about investing in Dr. Wyatt's new place," Jack finally piped in. "He came down from New York today to cook a dinner for me, Ange, you, Daisy, Sweets, and Brennan. Until Brennan skipped town anyways."

"What Dr. Hodgins means to say is that we were planning on calling you and Brennan once you returned from your romantic anniversary getaway to invite you to a dinner party, but when Dr. Brennan called Dr. Sweets, we decided to change the plans, so to speak. Now, we're making a man's meal in your kitchen," Gordon-Gordon said.

"I'm trapped, aren't I?" Booth sighed. "You know, what's Bones talking to you for, anyways? She wouldn't let me call you."

"Brennan's extremely angry with you, but her overriding emotion is concern. At this point, she's mad at you for not telling her what's wrong, but she'd rather you talk to someone than not bottling it up, and she's prepared to step aside as your confidant if it will help. It's her last resort," Sweets said.

Booth rubbed his hand across his face tiredly. "Okay, not really sure where to start. One, Sweets, it's cute that you're volunteering to help, but there's nothing here. Second, if there was anything, I would talk to Bones. When we got married, it was because it solidified that we're partners in everything. We just had a fight. And Gordon-Gordon, I really hope you leave whatever the hell you're cooking, but Park and I were going to have a night in and I'd like to stick to that plan."

The three men exchanged glances. "So you believe that nothing in the last few months would have led you to become more stressed than usual? Nothing has happened that Brennan would possibly want to talk about? And, though you and Brennan profess to bicker all the time, the fact that for the first time since you married, she's chosen to leave you for longer than strictly necessary doesn't concern you?" Sweets asked.

"Bones has … trust issues. You've all known that since like the second you met her. We're fine." If Sweets wasn't careful, Booth was about to whip out his gun and shoot the nearest ice-cream-truck clown.

"Deputy Director Booth, just for my clarification, what defines 'fine?'" Gordon-Gordon said. "Here, too, be the sous-chef."

"Dude, once Brennan's in, she's in. She doesn't flinch. At all. She might take a while to reach a decision, but once she's committed she's, like, 500 percent committed. And there is nothing she is more committed to than you two being married, man. For God's sakes, she proposed. So there's no way Bren ran because she didn't trust you. You shrinks should know that already," Jack said, swigging his beer again.

"Look, there was no flinching, there was no running. There was a fight; she's more wrong than she will admit, I'm a little wrong, too. We pissed each other off. … You know, most people think it's pretty rude to just walk into some poor schmuck's house and start interrogating them."

"Now, now, now, I am not a psychiatrist, and am only here, purely out of coincidence, to cook a meal and catch up with a dear old friend," Gordon-Gordon said. "Chop this, will you? That's a dear." He slid some asparagus in front of Booth.

"Showered," Parker announced, walking into the kitchen in jeans, a grey Capitals T-shirt and a blue flannel shirt, his curls damp and matted down from his shower. "Whatcha making, Gordon-Gordon?" He slid onto a stool to observe.

"The main course, Parker, will be seared steaks with an essence of tarragon, dressed with white asparagus and mushrooms. There'll also be prosciutto-and-parmesan stuffed ravioli, a salad that I'm sure you'll find quite delicious, and flourless chocolate-walnut cake with cherries and vanilla sauce for dessert!"

Parker did not look nearly as enthusiastic as Gordon-Gordon about the meal, so Booth said, "Parks. It's steak, spaghetti, and chocolate cake. I think you'll live."

"Hey, Parker, want to do Wii Boxing?" Sweets asked.

"Sure. I'll kick your butt, though," Parker said, scrambling toward the rec room. Sweets and Jack followed. Great. Sweets he could still play like a cheap fiddle; he had never been able to do the same to Gordon-Gordon.

"So, Deputy Director Booth, how is the estimable Temperance Brennan?"

"Pretty well. Busy with the museum, but she's really beginning to make some strides there. Visits are up compared to the last five years. Her classroom work and research is going well too — slower, but she's still doing it. She still gets more requests for speeches and appearances than she can handle and the scientists are winning more grants than last year too."

"So she's happy, I presume?"

"Well, for the most part, things are going pretty well. She and Parker get along great. She's just amazing with Sophia. She wants to go to a dig at some point but it's not a huge priority. The book's coming out in February or March. She's never been great with administration — I don't think either of us are — but it's always been advocacy in some way, giving people faces, letting their stories get told, finding them answers, and she's finding new ways to do that, big-picture, you know."

"But she does get time in the lab to do intellectual exploration? That has consistently been a high priority for her."

"She's been taking on a few extra projects, but her plate's kinda full with the kids and the museum. Priorities shift, you know. She used to do fieldwork 10 months out of the year. And then she was in D.C. 49 weeks out of the year four years later." Because of him, he crowed to himself. He had that. He and Bones had that.

"And how is Parker?" Gordon-Gordon asked, not looking up from the steaks he was carefully slicing.

He shrugged, working his jaw. "Busy with school and sports. He's pretty upset about Becca, understandably."

"Ah, yes, his mother. And you know this because he's said it to you?"

"I know this because he's my kid. I was there when he was born. I don't need him to tell me things," he said, realizing that his voice was a tad defensive.

"He really is a very bright boy. And has handled events with remarkable ease over the last few years. What's he going through now?"

"He's … scared. It's an uncertain time, and he doesn't like seeing his mother so sick. He doesn't want to lose her but he's thinking that he might. He's scared, so I'm here if he needs to talk and he knows that I love him, his mother loves him, Bones and Brent love him. I told him if he needed anything, anything at all, if he wanted to say or ask anything, that he could."

"But he hasn't yet."

"No, not really."

"But he usually talks to you?"

"I mean, he's an 11-year-old. He wouldn't give me a straight answer today on whether he had a girlfriend, but we talk."

"Why do you think that is? It doesn't strike you as unusual that a young man who is usually quite talkative and engaging has become quite reticent?"

"Look, Doc, his mom's sick. If he doesn't want to talk about it, I respect that. I watch him. If I think he really needs to talk, I'll help him talk. But right now his mom's sick and he's just kind of focusing on that."

"How is Rebecca doing?" He sometimes hated this about Gordon-Gordon, the feigned lightness and the casual conversation. He knew — they both knew — how carefully ordered this line of questioning was.

He looked behind him before answering. The door was thankfully still shut. "She's … not good. It started in her ovaries, right, but it spread. A lot. Uterus and lungs and liver and it's disrupting a lot of her normal functions. A lot of the levels are out of control," he sighed and took a breath. Maintained control. "I'm not sure exactly what's happening and Bones … well, I've been wanting her to come along to these meetings that we have every few weeks, where the doctors get me and Becca's sisters up to speed, and she just won't. I'd love for her to talk to the doctors because she understands their medical babble so much better, but she thinks that Becca would hate her for it and won't."

"She thinks Rebecca will hate her?"

"During our fight, Doc. She said … that if it were her, if she thought she might be dying, she wouldn't want to see the person who will raise her kid. And I don't think that's true at all. When … When Becca and I both got married, we settled the custody question. Wrote up wills. The most either of us could demand was half a week, split holidays and breaks; if something happened to either of us, the remaining parent would get Parker and the stepparent could get visitation rights. It's good. It's fair. Becca knows what might happen, she doesn't think Bones will kidnap Park. I think she'll be reassured, if she knows Bones better. Bones'll come around to it, once she calms down a bit."

"Have you asked her?"

"What? No. Jeez, doc, you know that I know this stuff. This is my kid, my wife, my ex. I know them. What's more, I know I know them. It's tough right now. And it's tough to think about what happens to Becca. But we'll get through this."

"Yes, yes, I know. You're excellent at your life."

Booth set the knife down gently. "What does that mean, exactly? And you know I don't like it when you use free food as an in for free therapy. And really? I had a fight. With my wife. It'll happen a couple times. We'll cool off, apologize, get through it. We've had fights before. We've had big fights before, both before we got together and after. I'm fine." He tightened his jaw, then tried to loosen it.

Gordon-Gordon set down his knife, too. "Do you remember what the first thing I learned about you was?"

"That I shot a clown?"

"See now, with that answer, I must accuse you of emulating Dr. Brennan and being too literal. You, Deputy Director Booth, are very much in control of every situation. Remember? You're good at things. It's how you became such a respected agent. It's how you kept Dr. Brennan protected and feeling protected. It's how you keep your family safe. You act easy-going and self-effacing, but in reality, you keep your head down and your eyes open in every situation. And the silly thing is, by this point, you know these things. In fact, your relationship with control is the essence of each and every one of our conversations."

"Look, I don't try and control Bones," he laughed. "Hell, there's no way anyone can control Bones."

"Not Dr. Brennan, per se, but the relationship," he hesitated. "Booth, you're a very good father. You're a very good husband. You're a very good deputy director of the FBI. And you have matured immensely — your relationship with Dr. Brennan is really quite a remarkable partnership, your success in a high-profile leadership role at the FBI shows that you have reconciled your conflicted feelings about joining a homogenous organization, your assumption of that role in the first place shows that you have grown more confident in your abilities, an insecurity which you carefully hid for years. You step up and you take credit for things that go well. You did not do that before your relationship with Dr. Brennan became intimate."

"And here comes the but," Booth muttered.

"But you forget that so many of those things are not relationships to be managed but relationships to be lived. When you can't control the other person, and your natural reaction is to control yourself so as to not appear vulnerable in the situation."

"Look, she was the one who flew off to Atlanta here," he knew it was weak, but Gordon-Gordon was gaining momentum, in that happy place of his where he was about to make a triumphant psychological revelation.

"Now, see, was she really mad? Or was she just perhaps exhausted and concerned, as Sweets interpreted?"

"I wouldn't say she was just mad, but she definitely was pretty mad. Bones … you don't think she would be, but she's one of the most passionate women out there."

"Without a doubt she is," Gordon-Gordon said. He then switched tactics. "One of the most revealing and accurate pieces of advice you've ever given Dr. Brennan is the fact that to get people to share something, you have to share a bit of yourself. That was your second case, I believe."

"How do you even know that story?"

"Dr. Brennan has an extremely accurate memory and a fondness for stories involving you. The point is, though, if you live by that advice, how can you expect her to know that you want these things, unless you share your fears with her. How can you expect Parker to come to you if you don't go to him? In both those relationships, you have typically been the one to reveal less — for instance, if I remember correctly, Dr. Brennan's knowledge of your early life came years after her father re-entered her life and you convinced her, quite rightly, to reconnect with him."

"That was different," he said. "Max was back in Bones' life. He wanted in there. My dad's not back in my life; he doesn't want there. Completely different."

"But the point is he would not have gotten there unless you had pushed Dr. Brennan to open herself up. And now that she is trying to return the favor, you push her away. I'm not trying to discuss your emotions surrounding Rebecca's illness — you are more than capable of identifying them, when you want to — but I'm asking why you can't share those feelings with your wife, when she asks. Surely you have some feelings, whether positive or negative."

"I don't have positive feelings about this."

"Then why ever can't you share your negative feelings with Dr. Brennan when she asks about them? Is this some sort of noble gesture? To leave her unburdened?"

"Bones can bear burdens. She says sometimes they allow us to fly."

"That hardly answers my question. Why can't you share these emotions with Dr. Brennan? Are you worried she'll get jealous of Rebecca? That she can't handle these emotions? That she can't handle emotions? Why is this a burden you must share alone, despite the fact that you profess this to be a partnership?"

"Look, doc —"

"No, those surely aren't the reasons. The reasons are laughably straightforward. You dislike feeling vulnerable in general, and you especially dislike looking vulnerable in front of her. You are her Paladin, so to speak. But this woman knows everything about you. How do you think she'll react, if you talk about what Parker and Rebecca are going through?"

"I — She'll be fine. She'll try and say the right thing, and screw up, but in screwing up she'll say the right thing anyways."

"So for goodness' sakes, what's stopping you?"

"You act like she's in the right! Like she hasn't been extremely unsupportive, just because she disagrees with me. She's hardly sacrificing anything here, and gets you and Sweets involved by calling you before hopping on a plane to Atlanta with our daughter."

"Oh, undoubtedly that was not the right move. She made a mistake there. But problems can only be solved with communication of some sort, and right now, you're the one refusing to communicate. If she returns and refuses to speak with you, then it becomes something that she must work out. But she's given every indication that she's open and willing to speak about this. But this is an instance where it is you that is vulnerable, not her, and that scares you. And you must get over that fear. For her, and especially for Parker."

"Really, Gordon-Gordon? You have to make me feel bad about everyone? Who's next? I'm not reading enough bedtime stories to Sophia?"

"Young Master Parker emulates you in every way. And, like a good father, I assume you've told him it's OK to be upset and it's OK to talk to you?"

"Of course."

"But he's still extremely distressed. Have you tried talking to him about how you feel?"

"His mother is sick. He's going to be distressed, and he knows that I am here."

"But he does. Right now. His mother is sick, possibly dying. He needs to know how to behave, and he turns toward you. And you're projecting confidence, projecting assuredness, and so he is trying to. This is the simplest fix known to man! Just talk, to both of them. I don't need to counsel patience, or hope. It's all there, for the taking. Perhaps that makes it the difficult part. The necessity of vulnerability is a lesson that both you and Dr. Brennan forget at the times you need it most, but she trusts you to break through. Now, you must let her do the same to her. It's not vulnerable. Admitting weakness can often be the greatest show of strength. You know that, but must put it into practice. Right now, though, we eat."

Maddeningly, they did eat next. And then Gordon-Gordon and Sweets and Hodgins left. Parker went to go start his homework and he sat for a little while longer, nursing a beer, knowing that he should play with his kid or do some of the work he'd brought home.

He didn't know what to think about Gordon-Gordon's advice. Talk to them. It was the simplest. It was proactive. He could do that. But it wouldn't fix what was really, at the heart of it, wrong: That Becca was sick, that a month into treatment she was not showing any signs of improvement. That she was only getting worse. The possibilities on the other side of that what if seemed to big to contend with, and Bones' view on how to handle things — stay out but stay informed — seemed diametrically opposed to his. He didn't know what to do about that. He didn't know if talking could reconcile their views. Usually they agreed to disagree, and they couldn't do that here.

But Parker was different. Parker was his kid; he needed to learn how to become a man but also get through this feeling loved and supported. And if Gordon-Gordon thought prodding him to release some pent-up feelings was the way to go, he would do it. If that meant sharing, he would do it. For Parker. He rose to go find him in the living room.

Parker looked at him judgmentally as he entered and said, "Did you and Bones make up yet?"

He sighed. "Not yet. But we will. I promise, and I'm sorry that she left. Do you want to walk Asta before we do homework?"

"Sure," Parker shrugged. "I'll go grab the leash."

They started trudging up 31st Street, meandering along their usual route to Montrose Park, when he asked, "So how's your mom?"

Parker scowled. "Fine, Dad."

"Yeah, I know that. It's just kind of scary, you know, to watch her be so sick. Your mom's so tough, normally. It's hard to … see her sick."

Parker snorted. "No offense, Dad, but you don't see the bad stuff. Like when she's throwing up or moaning in her sleep."

"Why don't you tell me about it, bud?"

Parker looked miserable. "It's hard, Dad. She's just sick. All the time. And it's not like she's got the flu. It's like she's there, and suddenly she doesn't look normal, and she's, like, smaller. I don't get it. I don't get why she's not getting even a little bit better, after everything. She should get a little bit better. But all she does is sleep and puke. She can't eat normal food, and everyone's afraid she's going to get sick from me, and Brent's freaked and Aunt Sarah and Aunt Lisa suck."

"Yeah, Lisa and Sarah can be real pieces of work sometimes," he said. "None of us know when she's going to get better, Park. We're all pretty scared about this, too. I stop in at Holy Trinity every morning to light a candle for her. But we don't really know."

"She's … she's going to get better, right, though?" Parker asked. "I … don't want to ask her."

"Honestly, Parker? We don't know. She might not."

"Why?"

"I … I wish I knew, Park. I wish the doctors knew," he ran his hand along Parker's shoulder and tugged him to his side. "You know, when Bones and I solved crimes, we could answer the who. The how. The where. The when. But finding out why things happen? It's the hardest question out there. And I wish I could give you answers but I can't. And I'm sorry."

"That's not fair, though," Parker whined. I mean, Mom's a good person."

"I think your mom's a great person."

"She is! So I don't get why this is happening. I just don't." Parker began to cry a bit then, so Booth maneuvered them to a bench across from Montrose.

"Sometimes," Booth said, "Sometimes things happen that, even years later, we can't explain why they did. Maybe we can tell that something that we think is good wouldn't have happened, if the bad thing hadn't happened, but we still can't tell why it happened. Like, I met Bones because someone died. I love Bones, Park. Love her so much it hurts that we're in a fight. I can't imagine my life without her, not even a little. But I still can't tell you why that other person died. All I can do is accept that it happened and hope that person had a good life, at one point. But she didn't deserve to die, especially not the way she did. Or," he said, struggling for a minute. "I still can't understand why my mom died, either. It caused so much pain, to everyone around her. Without it, I probably wouldn't have joined the Army, or the FBI, or done anything like what I've done with my life, but it still hurts that she died." His eyes burned mentioning his mother.

"An' Bones' mom is dead, too, and so is Mom's" Parker mumbled into his sleeve. "I don't get these things. You and Bones and Mom were prob'ly good kids, right?"

"For the most part. I probably got into a little bit more trouble than them."

"So I don't get it."

"Neither do I. You're a great kid and … this is the type of stuff I wish I could protect you from. But Park? Your mom isn't dead, yet. And you can't go treating her like it. The news isn't good now, and I'm not going to tell you that all you have to do is pray and things will get better, but they might get better. Keep it in mind. But anytime you're a little sad, come talk to me. I know I said that when she first got sick, but I really, really do mean it. You hear me, OK? I mean it, Park. Any time you're sad. It's OK to be sad and cry a little. It's good, even."

"OK," Parker said, and, for the first time, his body wracked with sobs. "I don't know why I'm crying," he finally said. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey. Don't ever apologize for being sad, bub. Don't. Ever."

"It's just … nobody has any answers."

"No. It sucks."

They sat on the bench for a while, Parker sniffling, before he stood and said, "I want to go home."

So they headed back. Parker finished his homework without Bones, though she did call and talk to Parker for a bit. Parker passed the phone to him, though, which surprised him.

"Please don't speak," Bones said in a hushed voiced. "Just — please don't. I'm sorry for flying off, that was quite rash and I wasn't thinking clearly and it was an emotional and childish response. And I'm sorry for sending Sweets after you. I know that you don't like discussing things with him, and I don't either, but — I didn't know what else to do."

"It's OK, Bones," he said. "Gordon-Gordon came. I'm glad you did. I am. I'm sorry for what I said."

"Thank you," she murmured. "But I'm still angry, and I don't know why, and I don't think it's all at you. So I'm going to Angela's on Tuesday night so that I can process this before we proceed rationally. Lunch on Wednesday?"

"Bones — fine, lunch, but please. Come home."

"I … I don't think I can. I really am sorry. Please understand that, Booth."

"I do." They were not phone people, not at all, so he let it drop. "I'll see you soon then. Give Sophia a kiss for me?"

"Of course. Love you," she said, hanging up before he could repeat her words back to her.

So are you on Booth's side now? Bones' side? Are either OOC? Let me know! Read and review!