So, um, hi. It's been a while. I've missed you guys. I've missed this piece. Apologies for the (huge, inexcusable) delay in getting this written. I know I've left this hanging, and I totally get if nobody is reading/cares to read this any more. It's kind of an epically long thing, and it's pretty easily forgotten. But, if you're still interested, it's still here. I love this story (despite my flirtations in other realms lately) and I hope you still do too. I'm not crazy about this chapter and the way the ending plays/reads, in particular (I hate saccharine and it kind of feels saccharine), but I got this finished, finally, and I felt like I owed it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or the song "Life's a Song," by Patrick Park.
Chapter Fourteen
How Strange It Is Just to Be Alive At All
"Thanks for helping with this, Seel," Jared said, lifting another box. "You really didn't have to, what with everything going on with Rebecca."
Booth ignored the implication that if his ex-girlfriend weren't currently dying, he would be obligated to spend one of his few barely-free weekends moving his brother into an overpriced Dupont townhouse. "Of course. It's a really nice place, Jare." And it was. Great location, on 17th and Q, quiet but still near plenty of good restaurants, a nice gym that Dylan would soon basically move into about two blocks away. The furniture had been delivered two days ago, but this was the first time that Booth had seen the place.
"Thanks," he grinned proudly. "Keep New Year's cleared, by the way. We're going to have a housewarming thing."
He grimaced. He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure that Jared's was the seventh invitation he and Bones had received for ridiculous New Year's celebrations, most of them due to one or both of their jobs. "We'll pencil you in," he said. Personally, he just wanted to watch movies and eat popcorn at home.
"How, uh, how is Bex?" Jared asked tentatively.
Now Booth actually grimaced. "The surgery was on the 3rd," he said. "It, uh, didn't go too hot. The doctors told her a few days ago that it was, you know, terminal." He still had trouble wrapping his head around that idea.
"Meaning, it's going to kill her."
"Yeah," he said shakily. "She … we … haven't told Parks."
Jared nodded. "Come on. Let's go." He shoved the box away from his body and grabbed his leather jacket.
Five minutes later, they were at The Front Page, not Booth's favorite bar in DC by any stretch (largely because he did not love Dupont the way half of DC did), but it worked because it wasn't too boozy at this time of the day, so Jared wouldn't be completely tempted.
"How's she taking it?" Jared finally asked, sipping his water.
"I don't know," Booth replied. "She … she's Bex. She wants to handle this, without me. I mean, hell … I haven't even talked to her yet; Brent told me when I dropped Parks off yesterday." He and Bex had been over for years and there was no love lost and there was absolutely no doubt that Bones was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but stuff like Becca cutting him out of crap like this often made the sting of her years-old rejection feel fresh. Becca's refusal of his proposal had come on at the end of his long, long skid during his 20s and early 30s, and had made him feel like a failure for months. And her refusing to talk to him about stuff like this, while he totally got it, was also very frustrating. It just compounded his feelings that he wasn't sure how to treat her — she had made it perfectly clear that he was just her ex-boyfriend, but then they had Parker, and years of tangled friendship/love/something-that-was-neither. He couldn't quite talk to Bones or Sweets or anyone else about it, but he wasn't sure if — and how — he should say goodbye. And he felt like saying goodbye was important. Plus, the not knowing what to do or how to act was really throwing him off. After all, he was Seeley Booth, and that meant something.
"Do they know how terminal?" Jared asked.
"You either are terminal or you're not, Jared, it's not like it comes in degrees."
"I mean …" he hesitated, "terminal-by-Christmas, terminal, or, you know, everyone's-dying-one-day, terminal?"
He shrugged. "They offered her Hospice, which they only give when they think there's less than six months to go. So, June." He paused to thank the waitress as she dropped off their two Heidenbergers. "Personally, she's … I'm just really hoping she lasts a few more weeks." It was something he didn't really say out loud.
"Till Christmas?" Jared asked. "God, how's Parks taking Christmas, this way? And you? You love Christmas."
It was true. If there was one irrefutable truth in the universe, it was that Seeley Booth loved Christmas. He loved taking Park and Soph to get the tree, loved decorating the house while singing off-key, loved driving two hours to pick up Hank to celebrate, loved the awkward conversations with eggnog-drunk Russ Brennan, loved Parker's aggrieved-almost-teenager hatred of Christmas, loved whining until Bones gave in and made him the special Christmas meatloaf, even loved Bones's rants about factory farming as she made the damned meatloaf.
But he wasn't sure how to handle this. Bones had sensibly proposed a joint Christmas thing, like Thanksgiving, but logistics weren't the problem. The problem was not making this the most depressing Christmas outside of Dickens while simultaneously making sure that Parker didn't get his hopes up and ask for a Christmas miracle, Cindy Brady-style.
"He's not taking it well. We'll probably do it altogether again —" Bones had called it 'Stepmom style,' and it was so weird of her to know a years-old chick-flick reference, "but he's not going to want to celebrate. He doesn't know about the diagnosis, but he … he thinks she's going to die, I'm pretty sure." Parks had been strangely calm since the surgery, but also very buttoned up. He didn't really talk to Booth, just really to Bones, which made Booth feel just a little adrift. He did his homework, rarely talked at dinner, called or visited his mom most days without an argument, but the fiery fight that had been boiling over since the diagnosis was gone. He'd accepted it, which was way worse than any of his mouthy outbursts from the last few months.
Just as Jared was shrugging sympathetically and he was biting into his burger, he got a text from Becca. Free for coffee? My house. Hmm.
"Gotta go," he said, throwing down more than enough to cover both of them.
"Work?" Jared asked, surprised.
"Nah, Bec." He raised his eyebrows and swayed a little on the balls of his feet.
"Whoa. Yeah, go."
"Awesome. Bones or I will call you and Dylan about dinner this week," he said.
The drive to Tenleytown was quick and painless, but he spent a good 10 minutes in her driveway, staring out the window, mentally psyching himself up for the visit, wondering what Becca possibly wanted. The day was one of those Saturdays streaked with D.C.'s pre-Christmas specialty combos of snow and slushy ice, and he couldn't help think it was a bad sign.
"Hey, Seel," she said, tiredly opening the door and stepping onto tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He could tell, by the look on her face, that she knew exactly how long he'd been waiting out there. Her petite frame was thinner than ever, her size-small T-shirt huge, even her leggings loose. "Come on in. Do you want tea?" There was no way she was more than 90 pounds. Her mussed hair was wrapped loosely in a scarf, like she'd been sleeping and just woken up. He used to think that the scarves were something cancer patients only wore on TV to cover the actresses' hair, but Bex had cultivated a collection.
"Nah, that's chick stuff," he said easily. "Can I brew up a coffee? You promised me coffee."
She shrugged. "You know where everything is." She led him into the kitchen, one hand lightly against the wall for support.
As he puttered around, pulling and stuffing filters, measuring out grounds, pouring in the water, he wondered how exactly to start the conversation. Luckily Bex started it. "How's work?" she asked. Okay, a non-starter.
"Work's good. Busy," he said neutrally, automatically checking his Blackberry. Just nine emails. "Kind of the usual." The task force thing was starting soon, there were at least 8 crises on a daily basis, an annoying pushy chick reporter kept calling him about domestic spying. Yep, the usual. "Where's Brent and Parker? Hockey?"
"Yeah," she said. "I asked Brent to take him to the mall afterwards to get him a new pair of basketball shoes."
He turned, curious. "Is everything alright?"
"Well, besides the fact that I'm dying," she said shakily, setting her teacup down. It clattered loudly, and a little liquid slopped over the side. She wiped it clean with her index finger.
"Hey, hey," he said, sitting down as soon as he could. "Bex, I'm …"
"Don't. Don't say you're sorry or … whatever. Please, just … don't," she said. "I'm trying to not think about it. You know, people, they sometimes get admitted to Hospice two, three times, they sometimes go years after a terminal diagnosis. So … don't. Besides, there are bigger things to worry about, to be scared about, than dying," she said, and she rearranged her features into something resembling impassivity. "Like this. We have something to talk about." She placed a manila envelope on the table, sliding a sheath of papers out. "I talked to my lawyer, like I said, he looked at everything and tightened it up a little. There's just … there's just some things that need your signatures."
"What do you mean, signatures?" his jaw tightened.
"Remember, from a few weeks back? I told you I was having the lawyer check everything out?" she said, slightly irritated.
"Yeah, but Bex, I figured that you'd have me call the guy or somethin'," he started, licking his index finger to thumb through the 40-some-page document.
"It's pretty basic stuff, just solidifying everything we talked about when we both got married," she said. "It's … you have sole custody, though I'd like … I'd like you to let Brent see him, when he wants. Temperance could adopt him pretty easily at that point … just in case something happens to you. If you two choose not to go that route, and something happens to you … Lisa gets him," she took a deep breath. "Then his college money, all my savings, whatever, anything, goes into a trust for him, with you and Sarah as joint executors, with the money released on his 18th, 21st, 25th, and 30th birthdays."
"No visitation for Brent?" he asked, taking a sip. It was a little weird. Plus, he wondered how Bones would take the suggestion. Somehow, he wasn't sure she'd be completely OK with it.
"The lawyer … the lawyer suggested that I not … that I not legally tie him to Parker. He says that if we want things to work out, he relationship needs to be mutually desired and not legally mandated. Given everything Parker's been through we don't want custodial complications. And I see his point," she said, taking a very shaky breath. The implication hit him like a sucker-punch: The lawyer didn't trust Brent to stick around in Parker's life, and neither did Bex, apparently. Bones, on the other hand — "It's safer this way, apparently. Legally." Becca wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "It'll also make it easier for Temperance to adopt him, if there's not a split custody thing to deal with. Anyways," she flicked her hand at the papers. "You know the drill."
"Bex, I'm …"
"Don't."
"Fine. Have you … talked to Brent?"
"Yes. No. Kind of. It doesn't matter." She shook her head a little, "Anyways. Please just sign these so I can take them back to the lawyer on Monday. He'll fax you over a copy." She stood up. "Thanks."
"You haven't talked to Brent about this?" That bothered him, though he didn't know why. Maybe he should talk to the guy.
"No, okay, Seeley? It's … really hard. I'm afraid … I'm afraid that once I'm gone, Parker being here, being an obligation, will just make him … sad. Remind him of things, stop him from moving on," she paused. "It's hard to ask him that question. It's hard to talk to him about that. Hell, it's even easier talking to you, since I barely like you, and I don't particularly want to talk to you right now. Brent, on the other hand, is my husband." She eyed Seeley warily. "And you can't talk to him either."
There wasn't really an answer to Rebecca's honesty. He glanced the documents over quickly, but he trusted Becca, and signed where the little neon-blue Post-It arrows told him to. "So, Christmas?" he said.
"Yeah. Why don't I get Parker in the morning and bring him over to you guys in the afternoon?" she asked.
"I was thinking … we do it like Thanksgiving," he said, standing too. "Get everyone together. I think he'll like that."
"I'll … I'll talk to him," she said, actually physically trying to push him out.
"Wait, Bec, wait," he said, planting himself so she couldn't push him out. "Look, I know … I'm a complication for you. But I thought … I thought after all these years we were at least friends." That was kind of a stretch, and she looked like she was about to point that out, so he quickly continued, "And I want my friend to know that I'm sorry, and what the doctors said this week sucks, and that I'm here, if she wants to talk." It sounded terrible, even to him.
She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, crossed them again. She sighed. "If I have weeks, months, left, I … don't want to have regrets. But I don't want to make a big deal out of it, you know? I don't want to be that person who holds their own funeral and writes letters to high-school frenemies forgiving them for sleeping with their boyfriend. I don't want to have this Moment where I settle things and then I live for another six months. Yes, I'm dying, no, I don't know when, no, I'm not sure I'm completely okay with it yet. I don't think I'm ready for … that talk with you. So yes, I just don't know, Seeley."
He exhaled. He wanted to … he didn't know. He wanted all of this not to be happening. He wanted the diagnosis to be wrong. He wanted his smart-mouthed know-it-all ex who pushed him around and gave him hell about custody back. He wanted a lot of things. "Alright. You know where I'm at." He kissed her cheek and started to leave.
"Seeley," she called, and he turned. "I'm … I'm talking to Parker tomorrow night. Before he goes back to your house. I'm not going to say terminal because it's not like there's a date, but I'm going to tell him about the latest results. I think … that shrink friend of yours would probably say we should all be there, right? Can you and Temperance both pick him up? I want to talk to him first but … after."
He nodded, unable to speak. "Of course," he managed.
She sighed. "I'm … I'm not okay with all this yet, but I will be," she said. "I … have to be. I know Parker is going to be taken care of and … that's what matters, so I'm okay. Ok?"
He paused. "Yeah," he said. "Okay."
He drove home, his jaw twitching every so often. Bones and Sophia were in the kitchen, Bones attempting to teach Soph how to stir cookie batter for Christmas cookies. It was funny only because Bones didn't have a domestic, well, bone in her body, but she was completely enthusiastic and into baking anyways.
"Hey," she said, pulling Sophia off the chair she was standing on and moving over to kiss him. "Sidwell called — the student/parent interview they want to do is on Wednesday, is that good? I know the timing isn't ideal …"
He paused. He wasn't a huge fan of having Parks interview right now, what with Becca and all, but apparently there was no other way around this kind of private-school crap. "Yeah, I'll have Danielle clear my schedule," he said.
She tilted her head, smudging flour off Sophia's cheek. "Are you OK? Was Jared being an asshat again?" He almost had to laugh at the oddly formal, parroty way she aped the slang.
"Nah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I went over to Becca's… She had some papers for me to sign."
"Oh?" she asked. "What kind of papers?"
"Custody, stuff for what happens, stuff like that," he sighed.
"Didn't you two work that out when we got married?" Bones said, a little uncertainly. "I didn't … realize it was up for discussion."
"It's not, I signed everything. We'd … discussed it, but this just makes it permanent. Legal mumbo-jumbo."
"Are you going to have Caroline look it over?"
"She's a prosecutor."
"I know. Are you going to have Caroline look it over?" Bones smirked, watching as Sophia ran off.
"Probably," he sighed. "Anyways. We … need to talk." Bones cocked her head. "Becca … is talking to Parker tomorrow about the terminal diagnosis. She thinks we both need to be there."
"That … sounds appropriate," Bones said, still giving him a look. "I think it'll help Parker." He wasn't quite sure where her changed attitude had come from this past month, but he was grateful. "There's something else, though. You're carrying your shoulder oddly."
He shrugged off this observation, because it was so Bones, to think that something's off not because of his face or anything but because of how he was carrying his damned shoulder.
He hesitated. "Becca … Becca's not giving Brent any visitation rights, anything, in the will," he started.
"Oh."
"She says … she says that the lawyer says it has to be mutual, you know, Brent and Parker, continuing to be in each other's lives. She's worried that Parker will … upset Brent. Remind him of her, you know. She's afraid he won't want to stick around."
"I don't see why he wouldn't. He's been around for years at this point. Longer than me."
"No, not longer than you," Booth said, temporarily distracted. "They didn't start dating till we'd been together for about two and a half years."
"They were married for two years before we started dating," Bones pointed out.
"Ok, maybe, whatever, kind of, but not the point," Booth said. "I think he'll be around, I see her thing about not obligating him, but that's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"If something happens to me," he started, "if something happens to me, then Parker goes to Aunt Lisa."
"I didn't think he liked Aunt Lisa."
"He doesn't. She's horrible." How Becca, who was tolerable, if formerly flaky, was related to Sarah and Lisa was still beyond him.
"Then that makes no sense."
"She's been his backup legal guardian since he was born."
"If … something happened to you and you died in a few years, and he was living with us, wouldn't it make sense for him just to stay with me? Especially since he's always lived here and Lisa lives in New Jersey?"
"Delaware."
"Still. Wouldn't it be better for him to stay in DC if you die?"
"Who says I'm dying?"
She shrugged, looking pretty uncomfortable. "You have a dangerous job and a propensity for unnatural heroics. It's a possibility that I've considered far, far too many times."
He was a little taken aback. "Bones, now that you're out of the field — no heroics."
"Still," she looked surprisingly agitated. "But that still doesn't answer the question: Why couldn't he just stay with me? Or even with Brent?"
"Well," he started, "you'd have to adopt him."
Bones went quiet. "I can't just be made his legal guardian?"
He shook his head — he actually knew this answer. "For that you'd have to wait until I'm dead, and any rights you'd have would end when he turned 18, so he'd be responsible for himself at that point."
"How is that any different from the rights Lisa in Delaware would have over him?"
He shrugged, unclear. "I'm not sure, not a lawyer. I could see if I could change my will and make you the legal guardian instead of Lisa, but that's not really the point." Or at least it wasn't his point.
"Then what is the point?"
"That adoption feels more permanent than 'legal guardian,'" he argued. "It's more secure."
"Legally, there's no difference," she said, and he realized that she would definitely know, given her childhood. "For instance, Hank was your legal guardian, he didn't adopt you."
"Yeah, you know, I really don't want my history repeating with Parks," Booth said. "And it feels different, not that it is different. That's what's important. It feels more official."
"You want me to adopt Parker, once Rebecca is dead?" she asked.
He flinched a little, but stayed firm. "Yeah. Yeah, I do," he said.
"Can I think about it?" she finally said.
He sighed. "Yeah, Bones." He'd expected that. He wasn't quite mad, but disappointed. Knowing Bones, it was probably just that she was worried about Rebecca.
"I just need to consider it," she insisted.
"I know. You wouldn't be Bones if you didn't." He said it without any acrimony. It was true.
"Alright," she said. "We made Christmas cookies. You should have some." She trailed off after Sophia slowly, a little unsure.
Later that night, as they lay in bed, Bones asked, "Booth?" real softly.
"Yeah Bones?" he croaked, shifting to face her.
"What are we telling Parker tomorrow?" she whispered.
"I … don't know," he said.
"Are you okay with that?" she asked, perching her head on her hand.
"I don't know," he finally said. "Whatever Bec wants."
"It's just … that's not something you're usually comfortable with, and you've been off the last few days, so I just wanted to … check."
He shifted so he was on his back, flexed his shoulder blades against his pillow. "I don't know. She … doesn't want sympathy, and doesn't want help, so I … don't know what to do. She says she's coming to terms with it, but I think she's just … angry, and she won't talk to anyone about it. Even Brent."
"I'd be pretty mad if I were her," Bones acknowledged. "It's nothing to do with you, you know."
"I know, it's just …"
"You don't like not knowing what to do."
"It's not just that, it's more than that …" he struggled to find the right way of putting this.
"Can you … tell me?" she asked.
"I'm not … You know that I'm crazy, can't live without you, kind of forget what I'm thinking when you walk in a room and smile at me, want to be with you when I'm 90, in love with you, right?"
She giggled throatily, nudging him with her ankle. "I know, Booth." She looped her foot around his calf.
"Good. Just in case I don't tell you enough," he stroked her cheek. "It's just … Becca and me, we're ancient history. And you know that. But right now … she doesn't know how she wants to be treated, or treat me, but … I don't know, either. I care about her but she's not my friend, I mean, we hardly ever talked before she got sick. And I don't know what to think about her, or say, and it just … it sucks. All around. And tomorrow we're basically telling Parker to forget it, there's no hope, and he's eleven and it's his mom, you know?"
"Yes. I do," she said. "Parker is a … bond that's unable to be replicated, between you and Rebecca. And even if you haven't been romantically involved, or even really friends, for well over a decade, she's important to you. She's important to me, because Parker's important to me. But given the anthropological newnesss of the convoluted familial bonds at play, I don't think there is a socially sanctioned appropriate response. Whatever you do, you do, and that's okay. You just … you have to be okay with that ambiguity."
"What do you think I should do?"
"Among which options?"
"I … don't even know," he shifted. "If she was a friend, I would let her do her own thing. Visit when she wanted, stay out of her hair otherwise. If I were a good friend, I'd try to help her out, bring her things, talk her through stuff. If it were you — well, god, Bones, I don't even want to think about that."
She was quiet. "For what it's worth, I don't think she fears death anymore, not the way you do."
"I'm not scared of dying," he started, but was silenced with one of her looks.
Ignoring him, she continued, "I think she's mostly scared for Parker, and worried that it'll hurt, and scared about leaving people behind," Bones said slowly. "Her response has shifted to essentially dealing solely with Parker's well-being. So, if I were giving advice, I would say … just try and make sure she knows Parker's taken care of. And then otherwise just … try and be considerate of what you think she would want. You're good with people, Booth. You're good with Rebecca. And she trusts you, she's not scared of leaving you the way she's probably worried about Brent and Parker."
Silence hung between them for a minute. "I'm sorry I ever accused you of not understanding people," he finally cracked.
"I don't understand most people, not one-on-one, not usually," she confessed. "But you — I get you, I think. I want to understand you. And Parker, I get Parker. And Rebecca … I can put her together easily, right now. As a scientist, a mother, as someone who cares about Parker, I can understand that."
He looked at her wonderingly, trying to figure out when Temperance Brennan had become his rock. About a decade ago, he decided. He kissed her temple once more before falling asleep.
The next day, he waited till his breath turned frosty and Bones nudged his arm before knocking on the door to Rebecca's. Brent opened it, somewhat deferentially. "Bex and Parker have been upstairs for about a half hour now," he said. "Would you … like anything to drink?"
"I'd love some tea," Bones said. "In fact, I'll get it. Booth, mint tea?"
"Bones, that's girly," he groused.
"It's good for you," she replied, disappearing into the kitchen.
"So, ah, how's it going?" he finally asked Brent.
The other man shrugged. "As well as it can be, I guess," he said slowly. Brent was a few inches shorter than him, a little stocky, with spiky dirty-blonde hair. He was a former minor-league baseball player, and for some reason he looked like it, though Booth could never explain how.
"You still working?" Booth ventured.
Brent stiffened. "I take care of Rebecca, Seeley," he said.
Booth was a little taken aback. "Hey, man, I know," he said.
"And Parker, too," Brent added. "I'm crazy about the kid."
"He's a great kid," Booth agreed. "He … really, you know, loves you too."
"Becca and I talked about the will," Brent said. "I want to see him."
"Of course. Absolutely, yeah. We'll work something out." Even though Brent had freaked and flaked in the face of cancer, he was still a good guy. Really. Booth just didn't particularly trust him to stay around — no fault of his own, but it was going to happen.
"You know, I'm not really crazy about the two of you talking about me like I'm dead already," Becca called drily from behind them. "It can give a girl a complex," she smiled cheekily.
They turned. "Hey, Bex," Seeley said tiredly, as Brent kissed her temple. Bones wandered in, handing him a large mug of the damned green tea.
"Did you talk to Parker, Rebecca?" Bones asked.
Rebecca nodded, her face tight and white. "Yeah. He — took it a little hard. He asked me if I was dying. I said I didn't know, but it didn't look good. He's — he's upstairs." She sniffed a little. "He — he wants to talk to Bones."
Bones looked surprised, then shook her head firmly. "No. No. He is a minor whose prefrontal cortex is still underdeveloped."
"What?" Brent asked.
"She's saying he doesn't know what he wants," Booth translated. "Bones, c'mon …"
"No. He doesn't have a choice. You need to go talk to him, Booth."
So, a little reluctantly, he climbed the stairs up to Parker's room. When he cracked the door, he saw Parker lounging moodily on the bed, a blue glow from his laptop illuminating his face. "Hey," he said dully. "I asked for Bones." His face was dry, impassive. That fact that Parker had remained almost absolutely stoic for the last four months impressed — and scared — Booth.
"I know, she's downstairs. She thought I should talk to you first," Booth said uncertainly.
"Well, all I really wanted to talk about was treatment stuff. So. I guess I'll go downstairs and talk to her there," he shifted, shutting his laptop.
"Really? That's all you wanted to talk about?"
"Yes. I want to make sure that the doctors really knew what they're talking about," Parker shifted up. "Because they haven't been right about much so far. They didn't catch it, they didn't treat it right, they could be wrong here. There could be … something else, you know."
"Parks …" he said, settling on the bed. But then he stopped. "I'm sorry. About all this. Do you have any questions? Non-squinty things your old man can handle? You can talk to me, you know." His voice took on a whine slightly more plaintive than he would have liked.
Parker was quiet. "Where do you go, when you die? Like, your body."
Booth sighed. Of course Parker would start out with a question like that. Of course. Booth believed your soul went to heaven, your body stayed on earth, the whole Catholic canon. But Parker lately had been pretty reticent to accept things on faith and, especially, to deal with the more stringent aspects of religion. Booth got that, he did — everything that Parker was supposed to just take on faith just wasn't that present — but it made explaining these things tough.
"I'm … not sure," Booth started. "And I really don't think we should be thinking about that right now."
Parker sighed. "I just want answers, Dad. Honestly."
"Well, I don't know, bub," he said, thinking of what he had felt after his own mother had died. He'd been a little older, the circumstances had been a little different, but still. "But the thing that's really important — and I mean really important — is that nobody's ever really gone, so long as you keep thinking about them. If, when your mom goes, when I go, the thing that's important is that you keep thinking about that person. To keep remembering them. To wonder what they'd think. That's the important part. That's how they stay around. I … still think about your grandma, you know. A lot."
"You do?"
"Yeah. I think you two would have gotten along," he smiled. "She liked pranks. Little pranks, you know, like the stuff that makes you laugh." Truthfully, the facts surrounding his mother had faded, over the almost thirty years since her death, the details dissolving at the corners. He remembered sounds, shapes, smells, but, rarely, anything concrete about her. He remembered even less about the days and weeks after her death. Those were facts, though, that he would never share with Parker.
"Do you ever think about dying?"
"All the time. You know my old job. Bones's old job." It was a dodge, but a truthful one. All he thought about these days was death and dying.
"No, I mean, what it feels like. To die."
Booth tightened his grip on the edge of Parker's comforter. This was the closest they'd ever come to discussing his past as a sniper. "I … don't know. I … think it's quick."
Parker nodded, his Adam's apple tight. "We should get going," he said, heavily. "I wanna go home."
Becca looked concerned, but let him go pretty easily. They detoured to Ben's for dinner but as they walked into their home later that evening, Parker suddenly slipped one arm around him, and his other around Bones. They both leaned into him in response, almost lifting him up.
Parker basically didn't speak for the next three days.
"He's honestly pretty numb," Sweets analyzed over burgers a few days later, as they caught up with Sweets' latest report. "All things considered, he's asking a lot of questions, not getting into too much trouble, still somewhat engaged with his mom. But it seems like he's shutting down a little to cope."
"And that's a good thing?"
Sweets shrugged. "It's a normal thing. It's going to get worse before it gets better. When's his Sidwell interview?"
Booth grimaced. "Tomorrow," he said. "I mean, I'm worried about it — sorry," he checked his cell phone as it started to buzz. Damn. It was Hannah Whatserface, the reporter that wouldn't stop bugging him. How the hell she'd gotten his number, he had no idea. "I should get this interview, before it blows up in my face," he said.
Sweets nodded. "Sure, yeah, take your time."
The interview was pretty stagnant — basically all he could do was refer her to the press office and the general counsel — and he was quickly back to his pie. "So this Sidwell interview," Sweets prompted.
"What about it?"
"Do you want it to go well?"
He shrugged. Honestly he hadn't actually given the whole public-private school debate thought in weeks. "I want what's best for Parker and Sophia," he finally said. "If this is it, then yes." He paused. "I'm just worried about too much changing for Parker at once."
Truthfully, it was a lot to change for him too.
The interview went well; it barely registered for Parker, who was sent to his own room to interview. He, Bones, and Becca — who he hadn't expected to be well enough to attend but she was; just wrapped in about a dozen cardigans — were taken to a conference room with huge windows overlooking the barren, icy grounds. It would be a gorgeous view in the spring. Booth wasn't really paying much attention either; he talked mostly about how his job was dangerous and he'd prefer if Parker were somewhere safer than a public school with cops and a metal detector. Becca talked some about the changes Parker was going through and how the stable school community appealed to her. Afterwards they took a tour, and Booth couldn't help but catch Becca's lingering, wistful looks as she stared around.
Bones had to dash back to the museum after the interview, so he was alone with Becca and Parker. They'd called Parker out of an entire day of school for this, and suddenly it was only 1:00 and he needed to get back to work but he felt like this was an opportunity he shouldn't waste, and he didn't know what to do.
"So what did you guys think?" he said as they left the pristine, secured campus.
Parker picked at the hem of his shirt. "I liked it," he finally said, and Booth could hear the honesty in his voice. Parker had loved his friends, loved Janney, had been excited for Deal, but now, he'd confessed to Bones a few weeks earlier, all his friends knew him as the kid whose mom was dying. He no longer liked going over to his friends' houses after practice, after school. His teachers were treating him differently. Booths weren't conspicuous men. Parker would be sad to leave and scared for a new school but was also ready for a fresh start.
Becca nodded. "It's pretty perfect," she said, and there was no bitterness in her voice.
He nodded too. "I liked it," he finally admitted. "We'll see. Anyone up for ice cream?"
Becca wasn't (it's December, Seeley), but she was up for cupcakes, so after a pit stop on M Street he drove them back to Becca's, where Parker was staying for the week, to grab his hockey gear and drop off Becca.
As Parker was running in to get his stuff for practice Becca hung back for a second. "So, Christmas," she said. "It's a week away."
"Yeah," he breathed. "How do you want to handle it?"
"Honestly?" she said. "Can you drop Parker off after Mass" — that had been his thing with Parker, always — "and then he can do Christmas morning with us, then we do a big lunch, with all of us, around two or three maybe, and then you take him for presents at your place?"
He nodded. "Sure. Are you going to be up for cooking?"
"I'll order in," she said. "And — can you bring him back to sleep at my place that night? It can be later."
He nodded. "Sure."
"Are you guys still planning on going to Italy?" They usually took a trip the week after Christmas; last year they'd taken the kids to Argentina.
He shook his head. "Not this year."
"That works then," Becca said, slowly. "Alright."
"Okay," he said.
"And I do — I do really liked the school," Becca added. "I can't believe my kid might end up going to the same school that the president's kids do, though."
He grunted in agreement. "We've come a long way, haven't we? South Philly for me, Trenton for you …"
"I think my mom would be amazed," she smiled. "Anyways. Here comes Parker. Max's mom is bringing him back after practice. Have a good day at work." She slowly lifted herself from the car.
It wasn't a good day — a car bomb exploded outside Miami International that afternoon, so he spent the next few days basically living at work and trying not to verbally flip off any reporters on CNN. Without even noticing, it was suddenly Christmas Eve. Parker had spent most of the week after his interview with Becca, who had miraculously been feeling better; Bones was supposed to pick him up since he was stuck with Homeland Security. She'd been busy at work, he knew, and he felt guilty for her having to do so much at home lately but — terrorists. Airport. Bombing.
When he arrived home, with barely 10 minutes to spare before leaving for Christmas Eve Mass, even he had to admit that he looked like shit and probably a little like a madman. As he scooped Soph up for a kiss, she wonderingly rubbed at his five o'clock shadow before wrinkling her nose and twisting herself down from his embrace. "I know, baby," he said in response. He looked over at where Bones (who still refused to go to Christmas Eve Mass, claiming it felt like lying, even if she couldn't articulate who she was lying to) was sitting by the tree, carefully adding bows and tags to a pile of last-minute presents. "Parker's upstairs," she said. "We were a little late picking him up from Rebecca's so I told him to take a shower first."
"Sounds good," he said, scooping Soph up again, just to make her giggle. "Don't you look pretty, baby girl? Don't you look pretty?"
"Silly daddy," she laughed, again pushing at his beard.
"I got the message loud and clear, Soph, you want daddy to shave," he giggled, rubbing the beard just under her chin.
"Tickles, daddy, lemme down," she giggled, again escaping with the skill of a Houdini.
"She's growing up," Booth smiled as the girl ran to Bones, who scooped her up and sat her on her lap to help with the bows.
After a quick change of suit (despite Sophia's preferences, there was no time for a shave), he quickly rapped on Parker's door with a "Yo, Park! We gotta get."
There was silence, then he could practically hear the eye-roll. "I'm not going, Dad," he yelled. "Have fun."
"What the —" Booth made a move to open the door, only to find it locked. "The hell, Parks? Open the goddamn door and get your ass out here, alright?"
"I told you, I'm not going!" Parker yelled back.
"Parker, this isn't a matter of discussion. Get — your — ass — out here, right now, or I will break down your door."
There was a silence. Booth contemplated how dads who didn't have a police badge and the resources of the FBI behind them parented teenagers. Finally, there was a click, and Parker's slimming face appeared. "Bones doesn't go because she thinks it's dishonest when she doesn't believe in God, I don't believe in God either, right now, so I'm not going either." He quickly relocked the door before Booth, speechless, could formulate a thought.
Bones appeared at the end of the hallway, probably having heard his commotion, then quickly assessed the situation. As Booth futilely pounded the door some more, she finally said, "Look, why don't I talk to him? You take Sophia, go to Mass, I'll talk to him."
"Because he'll listen to you," he said, without thinking. It wasn't meant to be vicious; honestly, Parker kinda listened to Bones more these days, and that goddamned hurt: Not only was Parker his first (though he would never say that; barely admit to thinking it), but Parker was a son and sons and fathers were supposed to have a bond.
Hurt flickered briefly across her face, but she remained composed. "I don't know if he will," she said, "But right now what he wants is to make you angry and to make you late for Mass, and he's accomplishing both of them right now. So yeah, you go and I'll see what I can do."
He knew she was right, so he just rolled his eyes, grabbed Soph, and quickly kissed Bones on the cheek. Slightly irritated, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down for a longer kiss. A little debased, he left for Mass.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it was not for Bones and Parker to slip into his pew halfway through "O Little Town of Bethlehem," with Parks in a suit and Bones in a green velvet wrap dress that made her hair look shiny. Parker even leaned over, on his tiptoes a little, and said, "I'm sorry, Dad." Un-freaking-real.
"What did you say to him," Booth said, later, sitting on their bed with his tie and shirt undone.
Bones had been in their closet, came out with her dress half-unwrapped and her gold dangly earrings in her hands. She shrugged, placing the jewelry on the dresser. "I offered to go with him. I said … I don't know. I said that right now we do things to help out our family, even if we don't necessarily believe in those institutions anymore, and that maybe by doing that, we see if it helps us feel any better too." She sat down, a knee on either side of his thighs, hands looped around his neck for support. "If his one argument was that I wasn't going I figured I would remove that."
"Why'd you have to send me away, though?" he groused, cupping her waist to steady her.
She shrugged. "I don't know, Seeley. It's just … you're both angry, these days. Angry all the time, at everything. Hopeless. Rebecca said, once, that the only thing Parker wants to do is to grow up to be like you and that she didn't want that, and I didn't get it but … it's true. Parker's exactly like you, in temperament, and he wants to grow up to be exactly like you, but, Seeley … you went through some terrible things as a child, as a teenager, as a young man; and a mother … she doesn't want her own child to go through those things. It's selfish, but it's true. And right now, Parker's trying to make himself suffer, he's trying to make everything hard for himself. And the easiest way to do that, that he can control, is to make you angry and pick a fight." She stroked his shoulder a little, curling and uncurling her fingers against his trapezius. "So I'm sorry, because I know you think I … interfered. And that you think I'm trying to take Parker …"
"I don't think you're trying to take Parker," he interrupted, but everything else was kind of spot-on. And he couldn't help but be a little happy that Bones had, indirectly, referred to herself as Parker's mother. It was complicating, but still. It was there.
"But you're … angry that I defused a situation with him?"
"I'm angry that he seems to be preferring you," he finally confessed. "I mean, hell, Bones … I can't even keep Parker in line."
She nodded. "He'll come around, Booth. He's angry. But he's not mad at you."
"I know," he nodded, kissing her temple. He got a good look at her. She looked tired. He felt overwhelmed with guilt — just add Bones to the list of people he wasn't helping. "I like that … I do like that you're good with him," he ventured.
She shrugged. "I just tried to calm him down. I think I did. I told — I told him that you needed him, too. That … you're having a hard time with this too. He knows, he's just … tired. Booth, he's tired."
"Me too, Bones. Me too." He paused for a second. "How are you?" he asked.
She looked up. "Less tired than you two," she finally replied. She kissed him, then climbed out of his lap. "You two — I think you'll be fine. I really do."
"Doctor Temperance Brennan, taking things on faith?" he teased.
She colored, just a little. "This is based on past observances of your behavior," she retorted, before smiling, and going back into the closet. When she emerged — in a red teddy, a Santa hat, a nervous smile, and a Merry Christmas — all thoughts of Parker were quickly chased away.
The next morning, after letting Sophia unwrap one present, they headed over to Tenleytown. Becca had been on a bit of an upswing since the Sidwell interview; she was hopeful, a little. Her color was a little better, she'd gained a few pounds, was wearing a pretty silver and black dress with leather boots. She still wore about six cardigans, but even they were festive. When they entered, there was some jazzy Christmas stuff playing from the entertainment center.
"Looking good, Bex," he said, kissing her cheek.
"Feeling good, Seel," she beamed back.
The dinner was just the parents, Parker, and Sophia; they had plans with Jared, Dylan, and Hank that night, her family and Brent's were all in town on the 26th, Bones' family would be coming the weekend of New Year's, though hopefully leaving by the evening of the 31st so Booth could finally freaking sleep. Becca's good mood at her good health seemed to rub off on everyone, and Parker seemed lighter, somehow. Afterwards, there were presents — lots of presents. He and Bones had gotten stuff for Becca and Brent, that was traditional, and they'd even gotten some clothes and toys for Sophia as well, which was nice.
"Seeley —" Becca hesitated, "Seeley, I left your gift upstairs. It was too big to carry down. Come with me?"
"Sure," he said. Sophia was on his lap, so he passed her to Bones, who barely looked over as he kissed her cheek — she was pretty busy listening to Brent and Parker explain Madden to her.
Becca took the stairs deliberately, and led him to the guest room (which was mostly used for storage, anyways), where she immediately took a seat in the oversized armchair. She couldn't stand for long stretches of time anymore. "It's silly, I know, but I — I didn't want to give you this stuff … in front of Temperance and Brent," she bit her lip.
At some earlier — much earlier — point in his life, he would've expected a really hot striptease. Instead, he waited, a little awkwardly, until she pointed at a stack of unwrapped photo albums, topped by a thin wrapped package, sitting in the corner. "First, those — those are for you," she finally said.
He picked them up, finally chose to sit on the ottoman. She curled her feet a little more to make room for him. "These are — these go way back," she said. "Some are for you, and some — some I want you to keep for Parker."
"Aw, come on, Bex, I thought you were having a good week," he groaned.
She looked him straight in the eye, kind of looking like Bones a little. "That's not going to stop the inevitable, Seeley," she said. "It just makes … it makes today better."
He opened the first one. He actually remembered it. Becca's mom had been way into photos and scrapbooking, had use all those girly borders and stupid stickers and thought bubbles, building those real elaborate things. This one was probably one of those, filled with pictures of the two of them — younger, happier, unburdened by life, bad-haired — smiling at each other. In one, he had picked her up and thrown her, fireman-style, over his shoulder, with the other fist pumping the air. He remembered that day — pick-up game of football against her burly half-Polish half-Irish cousins. He flipped to the next page. Them slow-dancing at Sarah's wedding. Napping, cuddled together, in her mom's house. He flipped again. Her, four months pregnant, showing off the ultrasound to her mom.
"I know — I know when I turned you down, that you thought it was about you. About how you weren't a good provider, how your shit really wasn't together," she started. "I just wanted to say — it was me. It wasn't you. Or, it wasn't all you, and that I'm — I'm sorry, if I blamed you for things over the last decade. For making things harder. You're a good father, Seeley. Just don't … don't feel so guilty all the damned time, OK? I trust you. Parker's going to turn out great and that's — that's going to be on you."
His eyes were a little wet. Dammit. "No, Bex," he said, "That'll all be on you."
He picked up the next book. A Parker baby album. "He was such a fat baby," Rebecca murmured. "I was worried." Together they silently flipped through the next several years of Parker's life, though the albums stopped around age seven. "And this one — this one I found," she said, finally handing him the wrapped package. It didn't take an FBI badge to know it was a picture.
It was, but one that he hadn't seen before. Parker must've only been a few months old — Becca would barely let him see the kid, let alone spend the night — but he was cradled against Seeley's chest, both of them totally zonked out. Booth wore a Steelers muscle T, and Parker had onesie that read, "Someone who loves the Steelers loves me." They had identical expressions on their faces.
"I took this photo, I just never gave it to you," she said. "I remember walking past the couch and at first being angry that you'd fallen asleep while holding the baby, and then I was just — I don't know. Struck. And even if we weren't together and we weren't ever going to be together, we had this kid together, and that was amazing and I — I just took the picture. And I held onto it, even if those days weren't exactly easy, you know? It was just — you gave me something really, really good, Seeley. And this photo always reminded me of that. Even when you were being a total jackhole."
He hugged her, fiercely, then; there weren't any words, really. He didn't know why, but somehow, even though he should be fighting Becca, arguing with her to stop thinking this way, her words were a balm.
They settled back into the couch cushions, arms crossed, not touching. "I lost him once, you know," he said, finally able to confess a years-old sin. It must've been Christmas, 2005. The year he was four, y'know? It was the year I was locked in that damn lab with Bones all Christmas. I was running all over the Macy's right by the FBI building and the only thing I could think was, Christ, Becca's going to take my gun and shoot me," she smirked a little, next to him. "And you know where I found him? In the jewelry area, trying to charm the lady into giving him a necklace to give to you."
He could feel her smile against his shoulder. "I bet it almost worked, too," she said.
"I mean, Becca — I gave you just as much crap as you gave me. I wasn't — I wasn't the nicest guy to be around, the easiest guy to be around. I was … angry, a lot, and …"
She shook her head. "You know what? None of it really matters now, does it?" She turned. "Anyways. That's your second gift." She pointed to the corner.
"Your rocking chair?" he said. Becca's father had been a recreational carpenter; had built the rocking chair for Becca when Parker was born.
"Yeah," she said. "I'd always planned on rocking Parker's siblings in it; you two should use it. For Sophia. For the next one, if there is one." Her voice was matter-of-fact. There was nothing wistful or hard about it.
He swallowed. "It's a beautiful rocker," he finally said. It was.
"Mom? Dad?" Parker knocked, then opened the door. "Sorry, Brent and Bones just want to know if you want any of the cheesecake? They're about to split the last slice."
"No, they can go ahead," Mom said. "C'mere, Parks, take a look at these."
"Whaddaya got?" Parker clambered up.
"Baby books," Becca said, and laughed when Parker wrinkled his nose. "Come on, you were cute."
"I was a fat baby," Parker countered.
"Yeah, that too," Seeley snorted.
Parker sat between them, and for a few quiet minutes they just flipped through baby pictures as Parks groaned and faked total horror. After two books, though, he said, in a voice that made it clear the idea surprised him too, "Let's take a picture. Right now."
It was Becca's turn to groan. "Pa-arks."
"Come on," Parker said, fishing the camera out from Becca's messy bed. "Family picture. Well —" he paused to correct himself, "a picture."
"We're a family, still, always, Parks, you know that," Booth said, but his words didn't matter, because Parker was climbing back between the two of them, angling the camera up, instructing them to say cheese. They obliged, because that's what parents did. Parker smiled when he saw the image. "Not bad," he said.
Becca peeked at it too. Smiled. "Not bad, at all."
He left the two of them alone for a bit, went downstairs to talk to Soph and Bones. They had to get going pretty soon, the four of them, anyways; had to get home for Hank and Jared and Dylan (why Jared couldn't host the freaking meal for once, he'd never know). As soon as Parker and Becca, both with slightly wet eyes, traipsed down the stairs again, Brent started Bones and Parker pack up the car, leaving Booth alone with Becca, one last time.
"Becca —" he started, but she held up a hand.
"Don't, Seeley," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Today was nice. Really nice."
"It was," he said. "I'll bring him back over tonight, ok, then pick him up on the 29th, alright?"
"Sounds good. Just — take care of him, OK? Promise me that. Don't let … don't let him …"
"I won't," he said, hugging her again. "Bye, Bex. Merry Christmas."
"Bye, Seeley. Merry Christmas."