Note: And now for a different approach to the aftermath of the finale.

What if: Max found out about the canceled wedding?

AU? No

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"Thanks, Charlie."

Booth wove his way through the desks toward his office, his attention still on the case file in his hands. He shut his door and took a step towards his desk before he noticed that there was someone already sitting in his chair..

"Come in, Booth."

The file dropped to his side as he stared at Max. "This is my office", he replied. "You don't get to invite me in."

Max didn't reply, just nodded towards the guest chair. "Have a seat."

It was probably easiest just to go along with whatever Max had in mind. Booth tossed the file on the desk and sat down. The guest chair was all wrong – a little too short, with the arm rests in the wrong spot. He glared at Max..

"I'm sitting."

Max nodded. "I see that."

Booth squirmed impatiently as the silence between them stretched to one minute, then two. Finally, he could wait no longer. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

Max picked up a pen and started to unscrew it. "I know a lot of people."

"I'm sure you do", Booth answered.

"I worked at the Jeffersonian for a while", Max continued.

"Are you trying to apply for a job?", Booth asked. "Because you need to go to the third floor. But I should warn you, we don't hire felons."

Max smiled, just a little. "My point, Booth, is that I know people. People at the Jeffersonian. People who know what's going on."

"Great", Booth answered irritably. "Always good to know people who know what's going on. Do you have a point?"

Max pulled the two pieces of the pen apart, to reveal a sharp stiletto. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and picked it up, testing the weight.

"A few days ago, I heard an interesting rumor", he said. "The Jeffersonian was fairly buzzing with it. The bone lady and her FBI agent partner were getting married. Any idea how that one got started?"

Booth didn't answer – he had no idea what to say, how to explain what had happened.

Max continued, "But … a day later, things changed. There were new rumors – the FBI guy had called it off, told the bone lady he didn't want to marry her."

He stood and walked towards Booth, the stiletto still in his hand. "That true, Booth?"

Booth gasped for air, as if the walls of the room were closing in on him. "Max...", he managed to say, then trailed off into silence.

"I know better than anyone that Tempe can take care of herself", Max said. "She had to, when she was much too young, and she's never failed. So I didn't do anything when you broke her heart and told her you were in love with someone else."

He tossed the stiletto from hand to hand in a practiced move. "I stood by when you moved in together, and I welcomed my grandchild, even though my daughter wasn't married. I know, she says it doesn't matter, that it's just a piece of paper, but you and I know that it's a symbol, a sign that two people want to build a life together." He took a step forward, and Booth scooted back. "She loved you, and you loved her, and I love her enough to let her figure it out for herself." He grinned, and Booth could see why he was a successful con man. "Besides, Tempe knows how to hold a grudge, and I had no intention of giving her an excuse to stop letting me spend time with that beautiful baby."

When he stepped forward again, Booth was trapped against the wall. Max leaned forward, letting the tip of the stiletto press against Booth's chest. "But now, Booth? Give me one reason why I should let you live."

"You're in FBI headquarters", Booth squeaked. "You can't possibly think you'll get away with killing an FBI agent."

Max shrugged. "I've been in prison before."

"You promised Bones you wouldn't kill people anymore."

Max raised one eyebrow. "You think she'll hold me to it after what you did?"

Booth glanced at the door, praying for an interruption. Max pressed a little harder, just to get his attention.

Booth's shoulders slumped. "I love her", he said.

The pressure eased, just a little, as Max tilted his head and asked, "So what's all this about?"

"I can't tell you", Booth answered.

"I'm fairly certain you can", Max answered.

"No", Booth sighed, dejected. "I really can't."

Max took a step back, and the hand holding the stiletto dropped to his side. He picked up the discarded pen casing from the desk and expertly concealed the weapon, putting the pen in his shirt pocket. "Figure it out, Booth", he advised. "Soon. I'm not a patient man."

Booth nodded, and Max walked out of the office, whistling a jaunty tune.

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I love Max.

And I'm not sure what's next, so let me know if you have suggestions. (Yes, I'm still working on a sequel to Keep On Trying. That's a possibility - if it starts cooperating.)