This short chapter is brought to you by Snowpocalypse 2010, and a lot of hot chocolate. Seriously. Thesis=ignored. Papers=ignored. Emails=ignored. Life is good. This chapter is a bit short (comparatively) and it's a bit of an interlude. I'm trying to get all the pieces out there, all nice and ready to weave together. Hopefully it's working.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I wasn't able to reply to any because I was writing, but I PROMISE to do so this round. On that note, the reviews last time were a littttle on the light side. Not complaining (no seriously. That is not bitter passive-aggressiveness. It is honesty and earnestness), but when Snowpocalypse is gone, motivation is definitely appreciated. I'd love to see a few more this time around.

Enjoy Parker! He's such a favorite. Title from the Killers' Read My Mind; last chapter was from Ingrid Michaelson's Turn to Stone.

Parker smacked the puck. Hard. It felt good to be back on the ice.

"Nice hustle Booth, nice hustle," Coach McGrory yelled. "Alright, men, pack it up. Good day. Booth! Gotta minute?"

As the rest of his team headed toward the bleachers, Parker slid in Coach's direction. "Yes, sir?" he asked, taking off his helmet.

"That was so damn fine footwork out there, Booth. You and your dad been practicing in the off-season?"

Parker shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Kinda. He's busy, and I'm only over there part of the time. We made it out last weekend, though. Does that count?"

"Yeah, it does. Listen, a few of the other mothers e-mailed me to tell me about your mom, an' I just wanted t'make sure she's OK, that you're OK. So …?"

"Am I OK? Yeah. I'm fine."

"And your mom?"

"Well, she's a month into chemo. It kinda kicked her ass for a while, but she's had the last week off for running tests and she starts back up Monday. Things are fine."

Coach nodded. "Glad to hear it. Looking forward to seeing all your folks on the sidelines. And tell your mother she's got a damn fine center forward on her hands."

Parker grinned. "I will, sir. Thanks!"

And they were fine. Mostly. Mom was pretty sick, just kind of like with the stomach flu all the time, kind of — the one day she let him come along and see chemo, the nurses said she was one of the "hardest hit." She said she was fine, but she mostly puked and slept and drank water and took pills, and sometimes fought with her sisters. He spent most nights at Dad's now. He felt bad, but staying at Dad's was just easier. At Mom's, he always had this … headache. And he always wanted to yell at someone (mostly Aunt Lisa or Aunt Sarah. They didn't come every weekend now, after Aunt Sarah took him to Dad's after they got into a fight and then Dad yelled at her good.). At Dad's, things felt normal, and that made him angry, if he thought about it. So he tried not to. Which sometimes only made him angrier. And then Bones and Dad had gotten into that stupid fight, which would have been fine (it was Bones and Dad, they were going to fight but they were ridiculous, always doing PDA, and Dad was always smiling now) but then Dad was mopey and Sweets got involved and Gordon-Gordon cooked and Hodgins sucked at Wii Boxing.

He didn't really horse around in the locker room, showering and dressing really fast. Surprisingly, Mom was there with Aunt Lisa to pick him up. "Hey!" he called, shoving his bag into Aunt Lisa's arms. "I didn't know you'd come, too." Aunt Lisa or Aunt Sarah usually picked him up alone, as Mom was sick and unable to drive because she was getting this side effect called "chemo brain" that made her kind of forgetful and blonde. "Are you feeling OK?" Her eyes looked really, seriously red.

"I'm feeling pretty good this afternoon, I thought we could all do dinner and a movie. Brent's going to meet us," Mom said, hugging him. "How was practice?"

"Pretty good," Parker said, skipping off the curb. "I'm still awesome."

"You really shouldn't say that, Park," Aunt Lisa said, though she looked like she might be smiling. Maybe. Looking at his mom and her sister, he realized that the reason Aunt Lisa probably was always so upset was that Mom was so much prettier than her. Mom still had all her pretty hair, and even though she was too skinny and looked tired, she still looked happier than Aunt Lisa. And Aunt Sarah had not kept her figure after his four cousins.

"Ah, come off it, Lisa. He is pretty awesome at hockey," Mom smiled. "How was school, bub?"

He rolled his eyes. "Pretty boring today."

"You say that every day."

"That's cause it's always boring. It's so easy but they won't let me talk in the middle of class. We had the math bee test today, though. I messed up some of the triangles, I think, but I know I got the algebra. And they'll have to put me on, I'm the only one who can do stuff with x's and y's at the same time."

"Did you pick up that form in the office about the soccer banquet?"

"Yeah, it's in my bag. Is everyone coming?"

"We'll call your dad tomorrow, double check."

"Dad wouldn't miss it," he said. Dad and Bones never missed crap like sports banquets.

"We'll just make sure he doesn't have to work," Mom said. "Brent and I are going, and Aunt Sarah will be down that weekend."

"Where do you want to eat, Parker?" Aunt Lisa, who was driving, asked.

"Mandarin Palace!" he said. Mom grimaced a little. "Maybe not? Will that be bad for your stomach? I thought this week was supposed to be better, that's all. And you like Chinese." he said.

"No, no, it's good. It's good," Mom said. "Don't forget, Parker, you have that test tomorrow morning."

"Test?"

"For the schools? Temperance said it wasn't a big deal; you just answer the questions. We should probably get you to bed early though. Dad said he or Temperance will pick you up at 9:30."

"You know, Parker, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," Aunt Lisa said, and Mom jabbed her.

He shrugged. "I don't really care where I go to school next year. Dad says I can stay on the same hockey team, and everyone knows you make all-new friends in middle school. Mrs. Butterfield was telling us today how all her friends in middle school went to different elementary schools. Plus, I can take Chinese at school next year, and then I can have my Sunday afternoons back. Plus Dad said he'd let me go to China." Yeah, he'd kind of miss his friends if he went to a new school, but it wasn't like he was moving. Plus, he wouldn't have to wear a uniform. He'd checked.

"Just remember how much this school is going to cost your parents before you sign up for it," Aunt Lisa cautioned.

"Bones gave me a book for a reason," Parker said. "It all goes towards school. I already tried using it to buy an Xbox." He had, too. Bones had been pissed.

"Parker's right," Mom said quickly. She seemed tireder for some reason, and he felt bad, because Dad said he needed to do everything he could to make sure Mom had it easy. "It's not really going to cost anyone anything, thank God, so let's just drop it, Lise?"

Dinner was pretty fun, Mom and Lisa relaxed and everyone told stories. He did an impression of Chris Paluska crashing at hockey practice, which was pretty good (if he did say so himself), and made Mom and Brent crack up a lot. They went to the movie, the latest Sherlock Holmes sequel, which was only OK and Mom fell asleep. Brent shook her gently awake, and they went for ice cream before going home.

Dad picked him up the next morning, Sophie in the backseat. He was dressed normally, for once, in his FBI hoodie and jeans.

"Sophie's coming to the test?" he asked.

"Nah, you — Bones just had to go into the museum today, take care of some crap. We've got to do the grocery shopping while you're at this thing. If it's nice in the afternoon, we're going to the zoo."

"Ming Ling!" Sophie called, giggling delightedly.

"You're going to go see Ming Ling?" he asked her, amused.

"Yeah. She live zoo," Sophie explained knowledgably. "And Foo Lan too. You?"

"Nah, not this afternoon," he said, and Sophie just kept babbling. "Did I talk this much as a kid?"

"Honestly? I don't think anyone talked this much as a kid. Cept maybe Bones."

"Where is this test?"

"National Cathedral School," Dad said.

"And it shouldn't take too long?"

"Nah, you're out by 12. It's just one of those tests like you do every March."

He pulled the soccer banquet form out. "Mom wants to know if you're coming."

Dad looked over. "Yeah, that should be OK. Gimme a copy?"

Dad was right; the test was easy. He got every one of the math questions right and probably all the science too. China, watch out for Parker Michael Stinson Booth, he thought.

As they were driving up to Mom's, she came out onto the porch; obviously, she'd been watching out for them. Dad noticed this too, and he parked the car, grabbed Sophia, and walked him up.

"Should you be outside with bare feet, Bex?" he asked.

"Hello to you too, Seel," she said, smiling a little. "I'm fine. Quit it."

"Fine," he grumbled. "How'd the tests go this week?"

"Fine, everything's … fine," Mom swallowed. "I just wanted to talk to you about this week and timing and stuff. We've got sandwich stuff if you want something. I realize that it's probably been about two hours since you ate, so you must be starving."

"Three actually; you got roast beef?" Dad did the Booth grin. Mom rolled her eyes and shoved them both inside.

"Park, why don't you take Sophia into the living room while Dad and I hash out the schedule stuff and make lunch? I think the DVD of Finding Nemo is still around."

"Nemo!" Sophie shrieked. He looked between his two parents suspiciously, but took Sophie's hand.

Once Sophie was safely plopped in front of the DVD, he tried sneaking over to the kitchen to hear what Mom and Dad were really talking about, but the angles were all wrong for being stealthy, and all he could see was them making sandwiches. Damn. He shuffled back and pulled Sophie onto his lap. She grabbed his nose in thanks.

Lunch was pretty quick, and Dad and Sophie peaced out, Dad telling him he'd come by the next night after dinner.

"Is everything OK?" he asked Mom suspiciously.

She sighed and looked away. "Sit down, Park."

He sat, his arms folded. "The cancer?"

She nodded. "I needed to tell your father. They did tests this week, you know. To see how things were going. Full-body scans, blood tests, everything."

"Not enough went away."

"No, Park," she said. "It grew."

"It grew?"

"Yeah."

"But they've been treating you for almost two months!"

"I know. They're going to mix up treatment, do something a little stronger, and if stuff isn't better by Thanksgiving time they're going to do another operation. Cut some more out."

"So you're going to be sicker this month?"

"Not necessarily. My side effects — the puking, the sleeping, the chemo brain — don't have anything to do with how well the treatment is going. It's just my body doesn't like these medicines. So even if the next ones are stronger, they might like them better. Does that make sense?"

He nodded. "Where is it, now?"

"Where is what?"

"The — cancer."

"Lungs, mostly, is what they're concerned about. And my liver." She stared at him. "What are you thinking, Park?"

"What?" he looked up quickly.

"What are you thinking, Park?" she asked gently.

"What am I thinking? Oh," he said. "Nothing, really."

"You don't have any questions."

"Are you ok? Does it … hurt?"

"I don't know if it hurts yet, Park. We'll see. Personally, I'm hoping that the stronger stuff works and that it doesn't make me feel this bad. And I think that could happen."

"You aren't —"

"I am not worried. I am not scared. The doctors are on top of things. They know what's going on now."

"Dad said I should ask these things."

"And I appreciate it. I really do. Am I happy with these results? No, I wish things were getting better. But we're trying something new and we're going to hope it works. It's not your job to worry about these things, OK?"

There was nothing that he could say, so he didn't. "Ok," he said.

"Your job is to be a kid. And speaking of that, why don't you call up Tyler or Carter or Mitchell or someone and hang out? It's been a while."

So he did that, because Mom asked him too, and the next day he hugged her tight and told her to kick chemo's butt and that he'd come over after school on Tuesday. He did his math homework with Bones and convinced Dad that even though it was almost November they could totally still run in the morning, and played with Asta and talked with Bones and Dad about what to maybe do for Sophie's birthday in a few weeks and then fake fell asleep on Bones' couch so she would wake him up and take him to bed. He had some questions for her.

Sure enough, when she shook him 'awake,' he just turned and said, "Bones? Can we talk?"

"Of course, Parker," she said, hesitantly sitting next to him.

"What's that word for what you are? When you don't believe God exists?"

"Atheist."

"No, the other one. The one that's more about science."

"Rational empiricist?"

"Yeah. What happens when stuff doesn't behave rationally?"

"You just have to wait a while longer, do more research, observe more data. Eventually a rational answer becomes clear. Are you struggling in science class?"

"No, I aced the nervous system. What I'm saying is — my mom's in chemo, you know that, right?"

"Yes," she smiled.

"Right. So the chemo isn't working. But they did the surgery and they did a lot of chemo and it made her pretty sick — so why isn't it working? Because it should, rationally."

Bones was quiet for a minute, looking at him carefully. "I don't know. Maybe it needs to be observed for a greater length of time. Or maybe, while it appeared to be the rational course of action, there was in fact a better path. Your dad said they were changing her chemotherapy regimen."

"So, rationally, this one should work?"

"Parker, I don't deal well with hypotheticals and leaps of faith. If this is the right treatment, then yes, it will work. If not, the doctors need to keep trying. She's got a lot of doctors who care very much."

"What if this isn't the rational choice?"

"Well, then, they'll do surgery, Parker."

"What if that doesn't work?"

"You can't … you can't build a case on that many hypotheticals, Parker. That's not the way logic works; in fact, it is the opposite."

"No, I'm saying …" he trailed off, trying to find the right Bones-language. "Why did your mother die?"

"She died because she was in an altercation with a very nasty man and he hit her with a pole. She thought she was fine when she was in fact not, and she died of the injury several months later."

"But that's not a reason why."

"Parker…I don't view things as spiritually or overtly moral, nor do I profess to understand everything through logic. My personal philosophy is on everything having a reason, which, given enough time, can be discovered. I find that fact beautiful in its possibility. But perhaps you should talk to your father."

"No!" he said, a little louder than intended. "I mean … Dad always says 'it's part of God's plan, even if we don't know it yet.' But why would Mom getting this sick be part of anyone's plan? He says the reason his mother died was so that he could eventually find you and Sophie and me but that doesn't make any sense."

"You're right. That's not the reason his mother died; she died in an auto accident caused by a drunk driver. If anything, his mother's death just caused severe guilt and even familial strife, which was very difficult for him to overcome. And my parents' departure put me into some very unpleasant situations, and left me alone at a crucial time in my social and intellectual development. Your father is a good and kind and honorable man, and everything did turn out acceptably for both of us, but it was very difficult in the beginnings."

"Right!" he said, glad Bones understood. "So his reasoning doesn't work. So I thought I'd try yours."

"I'm afraid mine isn't much more help, Parker. The only comfort and advice I can offer you is to live now, with the facts, and not to focus on the hypothetical situations. That doesn't help anyone. Does that help?"

It didn't, but he said that it did. His head was beginning to hurt again.

Love? Hate? How realistic of an 11-year-old is Parker? How are Booth, Brennan, and Becca?