"The Sins in the Father"

"City-wide storm preparations are under way as Ida downgrades in intensity but is still forecasted to bring significant amounts of rain to the DC area."

Aubrey shut off the morning news and headed out. He had a crime scene to get to, and hopefully the FBI and Jeffersonian teams would get everything tagged and catalogued before the rain started and compromised evidence. He hit the button on his key fob to unlock his car when a voice from behind stopped him in his tracks.

"Hello, James."

Aubrey turned around, jaw going slack in shock. "Dad."

Philip Aubrey had had some work done, altered a few of his features, but Aubrey would recognize him anywhere.

"Been a long time," Philip said.

Aubrey drew in a breath and pulled out his handcuffs. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

"Is that any way to greet your father?"

"You're under arrest," Aubrey pressed.

The pressure of a gun barrel jabbing into his back made him go rigid. He'd been so focused on his dad, he hadn't seen the two other guys coming around the back of his car.

"We'll take those," one of the thugs said, taking the cuffs from Aubrey and then yanking the agent's arms back to put them on him instead.

Philip took his car keys and popped the trunk.

"What do you want?" Aubrey asked tautly.

His dad didn't answer, just pulled out his FBI field jacket from the trunk. The second goon fished Aubrey's cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it in. Then they shut the lid and headed toward a nearby van, dragging Aubrey along with them.

"Dad—" Aubrey faltered as he was shoved into the back. The guy with the gun climbed in with him, while Philip sat up front in the passenger seat and the third guy got behind the wheel. Then they were driving away.

"What do you want?" Aubrey demanded more urgently.

His dad craned his neck to look back at him. "The FBI has been systematically freezing my accounts. I need cash."

Aubrey gaped at him incredulously. "You can't seriously expect the FBI to pay a ransom."

The guy with the gun smirked.

"We're smarter than that," Philip said.

Aubrey flicked his gaze between his dad and the gunman. "Then what is this?"

"All in good time, son. But for now, how have you been?"

Aubrey sputtered at his dad's audacity. "You should know; you were having me investigated," he bit out.

Philip's brows rose. "You know about that? Of course you do, probably worked that case. My information only goes up til Frank got himself murdered. Things still going well for you, then? What about a girl? There wasn't one in the file."

Aubrey shook his head in disbelief. "I am not doing this."

"Don't tell me you pitch for the other team."

"I'm handcuffed and your buddy has a gun pointed at me; you expect me to make small talk?" he rejoined.

Philip shrugged and faced forward again.

The rest of the drive was silent. Aubrey only got glimpses through the front windshield as they left the urban center for a more densely wooded area. The van finally came to a stop and they got out in front of a cabin. The dude with the gun grabbed Aubrey's arm and hauled him out of the van, then jabbed him with the barrel to usher him inside. By the looks of the place, it hadn't been used in a while. It was run-down, with a thick layer of dust in the corners and a musty smell. There was a sofa with several holes and protruding stuffing that Aubrey was dumped on. It was so squat and sunken that there was no way he'd be able to leverage himself back up with his hands behind his back.

His dad came over and Aubrey reflexively recoiled, but Philip dug around in his pockets until he found Aubrey's FBI credentials.

"Get comfortable, kiddo," he said, pocketing the creds.

"What are you planning to do?" Aubrey asked again.

"The FBI has loads of cash from criminal seizures just sitting in a warehouse," Philip answered. He then picked up the field jacket he'd taken out of Aubrey's trunk and slipped it on.

Aubrey could only stare at him in stupefaction. "They're not just going to let you walk out with a bunch of evidence."

"Sure they will. I've got the badge and paperwork," Philip said with a smirk. He then leaned down to take Aubrey's holster and Glock.

Aubrey had a terrible, sinking feeling about this. "When did you go from being a white collar criminal to using guns?"

"Not long after my own son turned me in," Philip replied coldly. "Now sit tight and don't try anything. Doug here doesn't have any qualms about shooting people."

Aubrey watched as his dad and the other guy walked out, presumably for the FBI warehouse. He flicked his gaze to the guy left behind, Doug, who took a seat across from Aubrey, gun hanging casually in one hand. The look in his eye suggested he'd actually enjoy if Aubrey tried something. Not that he could.

He was in big trouble here, and he had no idea how he was going to get out of it.


Booth entered the lab and jogged to catch up with Angela who was just swiping her way up onto the platform.

"Hey, Booth," she said.

"Hey."

"Booth, what are you doing here?" Brennan asked.

"I came to get an update on the case since Aubrey hasn't bothered to give me one."

Cam looked up from the remains she was examining. "I haven't seen him today."

"What? He was supposed to cover the scene where the remains were found."

Cam straightened. "He never made it out there. Have you tried calling him?"

Booth had, but after going unanswered twice, he'd decided to just come down to the Jeffersonian himself. He pulled out his phone and tried again. But again, the phone just rang and rang and then went to voicemail. His gut was giving him a bad feeling.

"I don't like it," he said. "I'm gonna go by his place, make sure he's okay."

"I'll go with you," Brennan offered. "I can't do anything until the bones are de-fleshed anyway." She pulled off her gloves and headed off with Booth.

Outside Aubrey's apartment, Booth recognized the agent's car parked on the curb.

"Perhaps he's ill," Brennan posited.

"He would have called in sick," Booth replied.

He knocked on Aubrey's door, waited, then knocked more loudly. There was no answer. He tried the handle; it was locked.

"See if you can find a manager," he told Bones.

Mouth pursed, she went off to do that while Booth searched the obvious places for a spare key. Of course, Aubrey was too smart to leave one lying around.

Brennan returned with a manager, and since he knew Aubrey was a federal agent, they didn't have to go through the trouble of getting a warrant to convince him to open the door.

The place was empty, and there was no sign of foul play. Booth tried Aubrey's cell again, wondering if it was somewhere in the place, but it didn't ring.

"Booth," Brennan called from the kitchen.

Booth went over to the table where she'd opened a file folder, and inside were multiple surveillance pictures of Aubrey.

"Someone was watching him," Brennan said.

Booth turned the file folder over, the name niggling at his memory. "Frank Kwiatowski…"

Brennan's brows furrowed. "The fixer who investigated people?"

Booth grabbed the file and flipped through it until he found the client info sheet. It belonged to Philip Aubrey. "We knew Kwiatowski had a file on Aubrey's dad, but Aubrey didn't want to read it. Except now it looks like Philip Aubrey wasn't the subject, but the client." He pulled out his phone and started scrolling rapidly through his contacts. "Karen Delfs worked that case with us. She read the file."

The phone rang a few times before being picked up.

"Agent Booth," Delfs said in surprise. "What can I do for you?"

"That case with the fixer who had files on people he was investigating," Booth said without preamble. "There was one on Aubrey."

"Yes…"

"You knew someone had been hired to follow a federal agent and you didn't say anything?" Booth accused.

"Agent Booth, the fixer was no longer a threat to anyone, and there wasn't anything in that file that was actionable. I still gave it to Agent Aubrey so he would be aware of it." She paused. "Has something happened?"

"Aubrey is missing and we found this file in his apartment."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I wish I could help, but there wasn't anything in that file about where to find Philip Aubrey."

Booth let out a frustrated sound. "Yeah, okay, thanks." He hung up.

Brennan was looking at him carefully. "You think Aubrey's father came back?"

"I don't know, but I don't like this. I'm putting an APB out on him. You call Angela and see if she can track the GPS on his phone."

While Booth called in the All Points Bulletin on the missing agent, Bones got on the phone with Angela.

"Angela says his phone is nearby," she relayed.

"What, in the apartment?"

Brennan quickly hit the speaker button.

"Just outside," Angela's voice came through.

Booth's bad feeling was getting worse and he did a quick search for a spare set of car keys. He found them in a kitchen drawer and then hurried back outside. He unlocked the car, though a cursory look didn't reveal the cell phone. Booth braced himself as he went around to the trunk. To his relief, there wasn't a body in there. But to his growing dread, the cell phone was.

"That body back at the lab is gonna have to wait, Bones," Booth said. "I'm mobilizing everyone into the search for Aubrey."

Brennan just nodded, looking equally grim at the situation.

Unfortunately, there were no security cameras in that spot that could show them what happened, and Booth was forced to return to the office to oversee the search efforts. Brennan came with him, claiming she was of no use at the lab without a skeleton to examine, not that she could do much at the FBI, except be ready for when they got a lead.

Caroline marched into Booth's office and handed him a printout of a security camera image. "One of Philip Aubrey's aliases was used two weeks ago coming into Miami International Airport," she reported.

Booth took the photo and studied it. "So he is in the country."

"None of this is conclusive, but with Aubrey missing, it sure does stink of something."

Booth's desk phone rang, and he hurried to pick it up. "Agent Booth. What? You're sure? Okay, I'll be right there." He hung up. "That was the FBI evidence warehouse. Aubrey was there."

Caroline furrowed her brows. "For what?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

He headed out with Brennan and drove straight to the warehouse to speak with the clerk that had called him.

"Agent Aubrey was here an hour ago," the man said. "Took out a large amount of cash for an FBI operation."

Booth shared a dubious look with Bones. "There's no operation," he said.

"He had the paperwork," the clerk said defensively.

Booth frowned. Why would Aubrey steal money from FBI evidence? The answer was easy—he wouldn't. "Agent Aubrey, tall, scrawny guy," Booth said. "Young."

The clerk's mouth turned down. "No, this guy was much older, gray hair."

Booth had a sinking feeling as he pulled out the security still of Philip.

"Yeah, that's him."

Booth shook his head in agitation. "That's not Agent Aubrey."

"Hey, he had the credentials and ID," the clerk insisted. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Booth turned away from the guy, in no mood to make him feel better about handing over evidence to a criminal. "Philip would have had to take Aubrey's credentials," he said to Brennan.

She looked concerned. "Do you think he'd hurt his own son?"

"I don't know. But at least this place has security cameras everywhere. We'll get Angela on the footage."

The two of them left and went to the Jeffersonian next. By the time they arrived, Angela had already accessed the security footage from the warehouse and parking lot. She had queued up the time stamp where Philip was seen leaving the warehouse with three duffel bags. And there was another guy with him, who was not Aubrey.

"Philip's not working alone," Booth said aloud.

"I'll access traffic light cameras and ATMs," Angela said. "See if I can trace the path their vehicle took."

Booth nodded, unable to do anything but stand there and wait tensely, and hope this panned out quickly, for Aubrey's sake.


Heavy rain was pattering on the cabin roof when Philip and the other guy returned with three duffel bags.

Doug rose from his seat. "Did you get it?"

Philip dropped the bags on the floor and bent down to unzip one, revealing bundles of cash.

Doug grinned and pulled his gun. "Then we don't need him anymore."

Aubrey tensed as the barrel swung his way.

"Hold on," Philip said. "I'll deal with him."

Doug shot him a skeptical look, then lowered his weapon and gestured for Philip to go ahead.

Aubrey stared at his dad in mounting uncertainty; he had Aubrey's own gun on him. Philip stared back at him.

"Not here," he said. "I'll take him out to the woods and do it there. Make sure he won't be found for a while. If ever. Then I'll be back." Philip paused, then added, "Or I'll just take my share right now and be done with it." He picked up one of the duffels. "So neither of you gets it in your head to cut me out."

Doug raised his gun again, this time at the old man. "You wouldn't be getting soft, now would you? Considering he's your kid."

"He's also the one who turned me into the feds," Philip rejoined and reached down to grab Aubrey's arm and haul him up off the sofa.

Aubrey kept his mouth shut as his dad dragged him outside to the van and shoved him into the back. Philip tossed the duffel in next to him and slammed the door shut, then went around to the driver's seat. Once they were driving away, Aubrey shifted to face the front.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

Philip's eyes flicked his way through the rear view mirror. "What do you think I should do?"

Aubrey's heart was hammering against his rib cage in time with the rain pounding the roof. Was his dad really going to kill him? "So far you're just guilty of robbery," he pressed. "But murdering an FBI agent—they will never stop hunting you for that."

His dad didn't respond.

Aubrey swept his gaze around the back of the van, searching for anything he could use to help himself, but there was nothing. The van slowed and came to a stop and Philip got out. Aubrey tensed, pulse racing as his dad came around and opened the side door.

"Get out."

Aubrey watched him warily as he scooted toward the edge. Philip grabbed him to haul him the rest of the way out and then gave him a shove to the wet ground. Aubrey looked up at his dad in terror, waiting for this final act of familial betrayal.

But Philip turned and shut the van door, then started back toward the driver's seat.

Aubrey blinked in bewilderment. "Wait, you're just going to leave me here?" he asked incredulously, pushing himself upright with his hands still cuffed behind his back.

Philip paused and looked back. "I'll give you a fighting chance, since you're my son and all." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handcuffs key, which he then tossed into some bushes. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

Aubrey gaped at the man as he climbed back into the van and drove away. He shouldn't have been surprised, really, that Philip Aubrey was a selfish son-of-a-bitch. Aubrey supposed he should be more surprised his dad hadn't killed him. Not that leaving him cuffed and stranded in the middle of the woods in the pouring rain was much help.

Aubrey got to his feet and shuffled over to the bushes where the key had landed. He used his shoe to brush branches and sodden leaves out of the way until he found the key. It was then a struggle to get it in his hands and fitted into the cuffs with the cold rain and mud making his grip on the metal slick and he couldn't see what he was doing. His clothes were soaked by the time he finally got the handcuffs off, and from there he didn't quite know what to do. He had no idea of direction, and with the heavy rain and pewter sky, there was no way of locating the sun and figuring out which way he needed to go. So he had no choice but to follow the tire tracks back toward the cabin. It'd risk running into the other two robbers, who wouldn't hesitate to kill him, but hopefully Aubrey would find a road or another way out before that happened.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the deluge had washed out the tire treads. He tried to keep going in a straight line, but it wasn't easy as the storm got worse, lashing his face with biting wind and sharp rain. His suit and dress shoes were not made for hiking, and he slipped in the mud several times. He'd probably be better off finding shelter, not that there was anything he could see. And he knew enough about severe weather to know that standing under a tree when there was a chance of lightning was not a good idea.

He stumbled through some foliage, only for his leg to suddenly jerk sideways as the earth gave out underneath him. He yelped as a landslide swept him down a steep declination and into a gulch. His head struck something hard and everything went black.


Booth led a tactical team up the drive to an old cabin in the woods. Thanks to Angela and a massive coordinated effort across several law enforcement agencies, the SUV Philip Aubrey had gotten into at the FBI warehouse had been traced up here. Armed with full gear, Booth and the team made their approach. Sure enough, the SUV was parked in front of the cabin, its hood popped and two guys arguing by it.

Booth gave the signal and the team advanced, shouting and catching the two men off guard. They were taken without a fight, and Booth bypassed them to enter the cabin. It was empty. He stormed back out to the detained suspects.

"Where's Aubrey?" he demanded.

"That bastard double crossed us," one of them snarled.

"Not Philip, his son. Where is his son? The FBI agent you kidnapped!"

"Philip was supposed to take care of him, but he double crossed us. The two of them were probably in on it the whole time."

"Shut up," the second guy hissed.

"Agent Booth." One of the tactical team members came over with one of the duffel bags taken from the evidence warehouse. "Thin cash layer on top and then this underneath." He lifted the first few bundles to reveal regular paper.

"Looks like the SUV engine was sabotaged," another agent put in.

"No honor among thieves," Booth commented, then turned away from the suspects. It didn't sound like they knew anything about Aubrey. He pulled out his phone to call Caroline.

"What do you got, cher?"

"I need a search for every one of Philip Aubrey's aliases at all the train and bus stations and airport."

"Done. What about Agent Aubrey?"

"Still no sign of him." Booth glanced back at the two suspects. "Philip's accomplices think Aubrey helped his father escape."

"Do you think that?"

Booth's mouth thinned. "No, I don't. But I don't like the alternative either."

"Well, with the storm, most of the transportation hubs have been delayed. Let's hope we catch a break," Caroline said.

Booth hoped so too.


Aubrey woke to throbbing in his head and pain radiating throughout the rest of him. He tried to shift to alleviate it, only to cry out as his knee flared with agony. It was wrenched, but worse than that, the other couldn't seem to move at all. Aubrey struggled to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows. Water was running around him, submerging his shin, but he could see the mound of mud burying him up to his hip on that side. He tried to pull his leg free, but with his other one damaged, he couldn't get the proper leverage. He pushed at the mud, to no avail, and eventually collapsed back against the incline from dizziness. The steepness of the gulch gave him some elevation, but with the heavy rain, the water level was going to rise quickly. If the elements didn't get him, the floodwaters could.

He rallied himself to try to get free once more, straining until he almost passed out again.

This was bad, really bad.


Booth and Brennan walked into the holding room at airport Customs Enforcement where Philip Aubrey sat—alone. With all flights cancelled, it'd been easy for Customs to arrest Philip in the airport terminal. But he'd been traveling alone, and there was still no sign of Aubrey.

"Where is Aubrey?" Booth demanded angrily.

"To hell with him," Philip retorted.

Brennan stared at the man coldly. "Did you really kill your own son?"

"James turned on me," Philip replied. "What do I owe him?"

Booth surged forward and seized the man by the front of his shirt, hauling him up out of the chair and slamming him against the wall. "Where is he?!"

"I dropped him off in the woods," Philip finally answered. "If he has any grit, he'll find his way back." He shot a dry look at Bones. "I didn't shoot him."

Booth shoved Philip away from him.

Brennan's brow furrowed. "Being out in the woods in this weather is treacherous," she said. "He could get lost or injured very easily."

Philip huffed. "Well, that isn't my fault. I couldn't have accounted for a storm."

"It's been on the news all week," Booth snapped.

"I haven't exactly been watching TV," Philip said sardonically.

"No," Brennan put in. "If you had, you would have realized all the flights out of the area would have been cancelled. You deserve to be caught for your stupidity."

"Where exactly did you leave Aubrey?" Booth pressed.

"How should I know? Just somewhere west of the cabin."

Booth jabbed a finger at the old man. "If anything happened to him, I will make sure you pay for it."

He then turned and strode out, waving at the agents outside the door to go in and take Philip into custody. "I'll call search and rescue," he said aloud, pulling out his phone.

"They may not be able to fly in these conditions," Brennan pointed out.

Booth's mouth thinned into a grim line as he made the call.

It took some calling around, but he eventually found a pilot willing to take them out. Booth and Brennan stopped back at the FBI to change into field gear before meeting the helicopter on the roof and then making the flight out to the cabin. From there, they started a concentric search of the area. The wind had fortunately died down, but the rain was still pummeling hard.

Booth anxiously scanned the terrain below. "This is like looking for a needle in a haystack," he said into the headset.

"Actually, a needle in a haystack would stand out," Bones replied. "A better analogy would be looking for a needle in a needle stack."

Booth shook his head in exasperation and resumed his visual search.

"Wait," Brennan said a few minutes later. "I think I see him!"

Booth leaned over to look out her side. Sure enough, he spotted a person down in a gulch. "Take us down!" he yelled to the pilot.

The helicopter landed as close as it could, and Booth and Brennan both leaped out and sprinted for the gulch.

"Aubrey!" Booth shouted when he saw him. The water was up to his chin and his eyes were closed, but he roused at Booth's voice as the two of them slid down into the gully.

"My leg's stuck in mud," he said, teeth chattering. "I can't get out."

Booth dove his hands under the surface to feel around. When he bumped into a bony knee, he grabbed it, but Aubrey suddenly cried out. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"Wrenched that knee," he choked out. "Other one's buried." Water splashed into his mouth, making him sputter. His voice quavered as he looked up at Booth. "There's no t-time, is there?"

"We're getting you out," Booth said staunchly.

Brennan wedged herself in behind Aubrey, forcing his head up at an awkward angle to keep him above the water level.

Booth found the mound of mud and clawed urgently at it, but it was too thick and heavy from being waterlogged. "I need a tool," he said, tearing himself away. "I'll be right back."

"Bring the medical bag back with you!" Brennan called.

Booth scrambled up the slippery slope and back to the helicopter where he grabbed a rod type of instrument and the medical bag. "We need more rescue personnel," he told the pilot.

"They'd be twenty minutes out."

Booth gritted his teeth. "That's not enough time."

He turned and rushed back to the gulch, shimmying down the declination. He dropped the bag next to Bones and plunged back into the water. Brennan dug out a field intubation tube and quickly dismantled it.

"Hold the tube in your mouth and breathe," she instructed Aubrey.

His eyes were wide and terrified as she slipped the tube into his mouth, then held the other end up and far enough away from the water, angling it so it wouldn't catch the rain. A few moments later, the rising water level coursed over Aubrey's face, completely submerging him.

Booth's heart rate kicked into overdrive as he frantically dug at the mud around Aubrey's leg. He finally got far enough that he could reach Aubrey's ankle, but then he had to work his shoe off to get his foot out. But he was free, and Booth grabbed at his arm to heave him up out of the water. Aubrey sputtered as he broke the surface and spat out the tube, and Booth and Brennan struggled to drag him up the incline and away from the floodwaters.

"Hey, Aubrey," Booth urgently patted the young man's cheek. "Stay awake."

Aubrey moaned.

"Booth, you should carry him," Bones said.

So Booth pulled Aubrey over his shoulder into a fireman's carry and they hobbled their way back to the helicopter. Once there, they buckled him in between them and the pilot lifted off to fly them to the hospital.

Brennan pulled open one of Aubrey's closed eyelids to examine his pupils, even as he moaned and tried to loll his head away. "Concussion," she deduced. "Radio ahead and inform the hospital he's also suffering from hypothermia," she told the pilot.

Booth's heart jackhammered in the staccato rhythm of the chopper's blades as he kept one hand on Aubrey's shoulder and the other braced across his chest. "We got you," he kept saying. "You're gonna be fine."


Booth sat by his friend's hospital bed. Angela had brought him and Brennan a change of clothes while Aubrey was treated in the ER. The concussion was minor, but the wrenched knee might need surgery. The doctors were going to wait, though, as Aubrey had developed a fever and the doctors were pumping him full of antibiotics to combat whatever gunk he'd picked up from almost drowning.

The figure in the bed shifted with a moan. Booth straightened and watched as Aubrey's eyes slowly peeled open.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

His face scrunched up. "Like a mountain fell on me."

Booth's mouth quirked; at least he had his sense of humor. "You'll be feeling like crap for a while, but you'll be fine."

Aubrey frowned deeply. "How did you even know where to find me? Did my dad call you?"

The tentative hope in his voice made Booth's stomach sink. He knew he couldn't lie.

"No, he didn't. When you didn't show up for work this morning and I couldn't get a hold of you, we put out a search. Found out your dad was in the country, then that your credentials had been used to get him access to the FBI warehouse. Oh, and we're gonna talk later about you not telling me your dad had hired someone to follow you."

Aubrey looked away at that. "He wasn't even in the country at the time and the fixer was dead. There wasn't anything to do about it."

"Still, you tell me these things," Booth insisted. He paused, then asked, "So what happened?"

Aubrey sighed. "I was on my way out to go to the crime scene when my dad just showed up outside my place. I tried to arrest him, but he had two friends with guns. They took my field jacket from my car and shoved me into a van, drove to a cabin. I was just kept there while my dad robbed the FBI." Aubrey faltered then, his eyes taking on a wet glimmer. "For a minute, I thought he really was going to take me out into the woods and shoot me. But apparently he doesn't have the stomach for hands-on killing. Murder by storm proxy," he snorted humorlessly.

"He claimed he didn't know about the storm," Booth said gently.

Aubrey swallowed hard. "So, you caught him?"

"Yeah, he's in custody. So are his two accomplices. Your dad double crossed them, took most of the cash and disabled their vehicle. We caught them at the cabin. Philip was caught at the airport when his flight was cancelled due to the storm."

Aubrey shook his head. "He never was a criminal genius." He hesitated. "I suppose I should feel a little better that my dad didn't anticipate me getting caught in the storm and almost dying."

"No, you shouldn't," Booth said firmly. "What he did was wrong, and there's no forgiving it. I'm really sorry, Aubrey."

The kid tried to shrug it off, though it had to be devastating. "I owe you and Dr. B my life. Thank you."

Booth nodded.

Caroline arrived then, changing the room's atmosphere. "Well, you are looking mighty peaky," she commented at Aubrey. "But I'm glad you're alive, cherie." She held up a large brown paper bag. "I brought you some chicken noodle soup from the diner."

"You didn't happen to bring fries and a burger with that?" Aubrey asked hopefully.

She snorted. "The doctors approved soup. Be grateful I brought you a version better than the hospital's."

"I am, thank you," Aubrey quickly amended.

Caroline set the bag on the hospital tray. "Some for you too," she told Booth. "Can't have you catching cold after that water rescue."

"Yeah, you don't have to stay, Booth," Aubrey put in. "You should get home."

Booth shook his head and stood up to unpack the soup. "I'm right where I need to be," he said.

Aubrey gave a small smile in obvious gratitude.

He may have had a deadbeat dad like Booth and Brennan, but that was what this motley family was for.