Thank you for your continued interest in my story. I appreciate it.

I don't own Bones.

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His knife slathering a large pat of butter on his toast, Booth smiled as his sleepy son entered the kitchen. "Hey Parker, decided to get up?"

Running his hand through his hair, the pre-teenager yawned and then complained. "Mom usually lets me sleep as long as I want when I'm not in school."

Brennan striding into the room behind her step-son, patted the boys' shoulder as she walked past him. "It's 8:30 a.m. Parker. I didn't want you to waste your day."

Still not quite awake, Parker moved over to the kitchen table and sat down. "Okay . . . okay. What's for breakfast?"

Amused, Booth stood up, walked over to the counter and brought back a plate filled will waffles and a plate of bacon. "Your old man made your favorites." Placing both plates on the table, Booth smiled as Parker picked up two waffles and a handful of bacon and dumped them on his plate.

Hungrier than he realized, Parker started cutting up his waffles. "Cool. I usually eat cereal."

Pleased, Booth sat down, put two waffles on his plate and the rest of the bacon. "Pops ate earlier. He's downstairs watching the news. If you want to you can hang out with him today or I thought maybe we'd go to the hockey rink and practice a little hockey."

Surprised, Parker blurted out, "You can play hockey?"

Not sure he liked his son's response, Booth frowned. "Why not? I'm not an invalid you know."

After carrying a bowl of fruit to the table, Brennan sat down next to Booth and placed her hand on his knee. Squeezing it, she looked at Parker and then back at Booth.

Shrugging his shoulders, Parker poured syrup over the pieces of waffle on his plate.

His eyes darting towards Brennan, Booth sighed and turned back to look at his son. "You know Buddy . . . I probably should talk about what happened to me."

Filled with hope that his father would quit trying to protect him, Parker placed his fork down and clasped his hands on his lap. "I wish you would Dad."

Nodding his head, Booth moved his plate to the side and clasped his hands on the table before him. "Okay, I know you know some of this, but, well . . . last May I was involved in a trial of a serial kidnapper and murderer. She had an accomplice that we didn't know about and he thought I was on to him, so he broke into my apartment and shot me. He hurt me pretty bad . . . The only reason I'm alive is because Bones came over to practice our testimony for the trial." Turning to smile at Brennan, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "She found me, called an ambulance and took care of me until they got to me. She saved my life." Kissing her again, he turned to face his son. "Like I said I was hurt pretty badly."

Not really sure how much to tell his son, Booth continued. "I didn't know if I should tell you about everything that happened because I didn't want to scare you, but I've been reminded that you aren't a little kid anymore and that you deserve to know what's going on."

His tongue darting out, Parker licked his bottom lip. "I'm not afraid Dad if I know the truth."

Aware his son was growing up, Booth felt a sense of loss somehow. "I was shot in my right lung. The bullet damaged it and it's not like the movies. You don't just get up from the operating table and everything is fine. I had to have months of therapy and . . . well, I couldn't really do my job at the FBI anymore. I was lucky and got a great job at the Jeffersonian and well, I'm actually pretty happy there. I get to see Bones every day and we even work together sometimes when the District police asks us too. It's actually a pretty sweet job."

Parker bit his bottom lip as his father spoke to him. When Booth finished, the boy realized that he hadn't told him everything. "Mom said you were in an automobile accident and you were hurt pretty badly. Is that why you limp now?"

The decision made for him, Booth nodded his head. "Yeah . . . but there's more to the story." Pausing, Booth drank some orange juice and then placed his glass down on the table. "I was kidnapped by another man that was working for the Gravedigger. She was the serial murderer we were trying to convict when I was shot . . . Anyway, this man kidnapped me and forced me to drive north. He wanted me to drive him to Canada. I thought that he was going to kill me and then come back for Bones so I deliberately wrecked my truck to stop him. I . . . uh . . . I was hurt again only this time, it was worse. I damaged my right leg and did more damage to my right lung, so I had to recover from that and let me tell you this has been a long recovery . . . I'm still taking therapy for my leg once a week and twice a week for my lung. I'm always going to have a limp which isn't a bad trade off considering I thought I'd never walk again. Also, my lung is never going to be right again and I have to be careful not to overdo it. If it's really cold I have a hard time breathing, so that's why I had that spell in the garage yesterday. I should have worked on the yard a little at a time and not done everything in one afternoon. I paid for it and I scared you and I'm sorry."

Relieved to know the truth, Parker swallowed. "Bones says you're not going to die soon."

Calmly, Booth smiled at the boy. "Not if I can help it, Sport. Bones watches me like a hawk and calls me on it I'm doing stuff I shouldn't. It can be a little irritating but . . ." Feeling her elbow him, Booth laughed, grabbed her hand and kissed it. "But she's only looking out for me."

Glad that Booth had been honest with his son, Brennan smiled at him. "I really am."

Squeezing her hand, Booth asked his son, "So do you have any questions?"

Parker folded a piece of bacon while he thought about it. "No, I'm good."

Picking up his fork, Booth was relieved that his boy seemed to be alright. "Well good. I'm glad we had this talk."

Her spoon scooping out some fruit onto her plate, Brennan was happy that Parker had taken the knews so well. "Perhaps we can make the hockey rink a family outing."

A piece of bacon on it's way to his mouth, Booth paused his hand. "That sounds great. I'll see if Pops wants to go with us. Maybe we can eat lunch out too."

Eagerly, Parker tried influence his father. "Pizza, Dad. Let's get pizza."

Amused, Brennan shook her head. "I'm sure the acorn didn't fall far from the tree, Booth."

Surprised, Booth turned to admire Brennan. "Hey, you got that one right. Way to go with the pop-culture reference, Bones. That was pretty good."

Pleased, Brennan smirked at Booth's response. "Yes, I have been googling them. There are so many of those, so I don't understand how you can possibly know them all."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth informed her, "You just do . . . well not all of them, but I know most of the popular ones."

Brennan shook her head, sad that she would never be as proficient as her husband. "They seem to proliferate with each successive generation."

Unconcerned, Booth winked at his son. "Yeah, that's part of the fun. The younger generation comes up with sayings so they can confuse their parents and irritate the shit out of them. It's all part of the war between the generations."

Impressed with his explaination, Brennan nodded her head. "That's true. I never thought about it like that, but that seems very true and very insightful."

A smirk on his lips, Booth decided to remind her. "I do have a college education even if it's not a doctorate."

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