I really don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooo

Parker was unpacking his bags while his little sister sat on his bed swinging her legs back and forth. "Parker . . . can I tell you a secret?"

Curious, Parker placed his pile of jeans in the dresser, closed the drawer and turned to face his sister. "Chrissy, you can always tell me secrets . . . what's going on?"

"Well . . . um, well . . . Mommy and Daddy aren't normal. That's what Emma said." Her best friend had told her that on the last day of school before summer break started and it had been worrying her ever since. "Emma says that her mother says Mommy and Daddy are weirdos because they work with dead bodies and stuff like that."

He could see the child was embarrassed and it infuriated him that an adult would pass along vicious gossip to their child knowing that it could get back to the butt of her maliciousness. "Sweetheart, your parents are not weirdos. Believe me." He walked over to the bed and sat down next to the little girl. "Their work is important, okay? . . . When someone gets killed . . . Do you know what I mean by killed?" Not sure what an eight year old child knew about the world, Parker hoped he didn't have to explain what murder was to his sister.

"Yeah, that means that someone murdered them." Christine wasn't deaf and she'd heard her parents talk about murder and bodies since she was a baby. "Mommy looks at the body and finds out who they are and why they died. Daddy arrests the bad guys who did it."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what they do." Relieved, Parker placed his arm around her shoulders. "Look, your Mom and Dad work for the FBI and they have a hard job. When someone is murdered, your parents look for the bad guy who murdered that person. They're heroes not weirdos. Emma's mother is jealous of Bones and Dad. She doesn't know how to do the stuff they do and that makes her want to call them weirdos but if someone was killed in her family, she'd be screaming for your parents to help her find the bad guy . . . Just ignore people like that. They don't know what they're talking about."

Slowly nodding her head, Christine felt like her brother knew what he was talking about since he'd known their parents longer than she had. "I told Emma Daddy and Mommy aren't weirdos, but well . . . she said they are and that made me mad . . . Emma isn't my friend anymore."

"Listen Honey, Emma was just repeating what she heard. Don't hold it against her." Parker had been bullied by two of his best friends when his father had been put in prison for murder. They had made his life miserable and he'd avoided those boys as much as possible the summer his father was falsely imprisoned. When his father had been exonerated and he'd turned out to be a hero, those same boys had tried to pretend their abuse had been a joke. That had ended their friendship permanently, but Parker regretted losing friends like that. They had repeated what their parents had said and Parker knew it. He hoped his sister didn't lose her best friend because Emma's mother was an ass. "Sometimes, adults say things that aren't true and kids hear it and repeat it. Emma is your best friend and I'm sure she didn't mean to be mean to you. Why not give her another chance?"

"Well . . . maybe." Christine trusted her brother, but her feelings had been hurt and it was hard to forgive. "Maybe I'll try."

Pleased, Parker stood up and continued to unpack his bags. "Good for you. Really. Just give her another chance. She's your best friend and a lot of us don't have one of those."

"Okay."

Ooooooooooooooo

Parker was visiting his father for the summer and the teenager was feeling a little anxious. This was his last summer as a child, at least that was what his mother had told him at the airport. At the end of the summer, he was going to be entering college and he still wasn't sure what he wanted to major in. He'd chose writing classes, psychology and history classes for his first semester hoping they might give him insights about people in general, but he was having doubts about being a writer someday.

His stepmother was a successful novelist and he'd always admired her for that. He'd read all of her crime novels and found them fascinating. His mother hadn't let him read them because of the sex scenes until his senior year in High School, but once he'd started reading them, he couldn't stop until he'd read all of them.

He wanted to emulate Brennan, but she was a genius and he knew he wasn't. He'd won several awards for his writing while he was in High School, but he knew the real world was brutal and mediocre writers couldn't earn a living. He wanted to be a reporter and write novels on the side, but he wasn't sure if he was good enough to do either successfully.

"What inspired you to write your first novel?" Parker was in the kitchen, helping Brennan prepare dinner. "Did the story idea just pop into your head, or did something trigger an idea?"

"I'd say working with your father on our first case inspired me to write a novel." Brennan was peeling carrots for a salad. "Before I worked with Booth, I worked for the Jeffersonian as a forensic anthropologist. I identified human remains for them. The United States Army and police coroners from around the country sent the Jeffersonian remains that they couldn't identify. It was my job to find their identity and how they died. I was very successful. I'd never thought about using my skills to help law enforcement identify the bodies of murder victims in current or cold cases until your father talked me into helping with a cold case."

Parker sliced an onion for the stir fry Brennan wanted to do while he listened to his stepmother. "But what gave you the idea for the book? I know your novel wasn't a rehash of your first investigation with Dad."

"I suppose my work at the Jeffersonian inspired me." Brennan paused and stared at her stepson. "After our first case was completed, your father and I didn't work together again for another year . . . One day, I was working on identifying a set of remains that the Phoenix Police Coroner had sent me and when I discovered the cause of death, I thought her story should be told. Her case was interesting and it might be a good story line for a crime novel. I wrote numerous notes about the way the victim was killed and possible scenarios that lead to her death. I wrote so many notes that when I was through, I'd found that I had written most of the novel . . . I talked to Angela about my story and she gave me some ideas to incorporate in to the novel. At that point I realized I needed to write the novel and try to publish it since it would be an excellent way to teach forensic anthropology to those who were curious but didn't have the time or money to take forensic anthropology classes. Writing my novel made learning entertaining."

"That makes sense." Parker appreciated Brennan's explanation, but he didn't see how that would help him. He wasn't a scientist and didn't have the brains to be one. "Thanks."

Sensing that Parker was troubled about something, Brennan placed her knife down and turned to face him. "You've been asking me a lot of questions about writing this summer. Am I giving you the information you need? You know you can ask me anything."

"Thanks." Resting his knife on the cutting board, he stared at the slices of onion while he thought about what questions he wanted her to answer.

"Writing novels isn't easy, Parker." Brennan wanted Parker to understand that her novels were hard work. "I have to do a lot of research before I start a novel. Most of the crimes I create in my novels are based on what I have found while working on remains that I have identified for the Jeffersonian. I don't use cases I've worked with your father since those usually end up in the news. A good mystery is just that. The reader shouldn't know how the novel will end before he or she begins to read it. That wouldn't be very entertaining."

Turning to face her, Parker nodded his head. "Yeah, I can see that . . . You know I want to be a reporter . . . at least I think I do, but I also want to write novels. Not crime novels and definitely not romance novels, but I think historical novels are so interesting and I'd like to try writing those, or maybe novels about famous situations . . . I'm just not sure I'm good enough."

Her hand on Parker's arm, Brennan could see the boy was filled with doubt about his future." Parker, you're a bright and intelligent young man. I've read some of your stories . . . those you've allowed me to see and I can see signs of brilliance in your words. A little more research would have tightened your stories, but I must say I found them very entertaining. Don't doubt your ability to write. You have the skills you just need the experience . . . Remember, I wasn't a world famous author overnight. It took time and that came with my second novel. I made the New York Times Best Seller list and that generated interest overseas."

Grateful, Parker stepped closer to Brennan and hugged her. "Thank you, Bones. I really needed to hear that." Feeling a little more confident, he stepped back, picked up his knife and began to slice a bell pepper. "Mom reads my stuff, but well . . . she's my mother and mothers are supposed to think everything their kids do is great . . . You're honest. Dad says you're the most honest person he's ever met and if you say something then you really mean it."

Flattered that Booth had said that to Parker, Brennan smiled. "My mother told me numerous times when I was a child that it was easier to tell the truth than to remember a lie . . . Of course, she and my father robbed safety deposit boxes in banks . . . It's still good advice even if she didn't follow her own advice very often."

Parker knew about the history of Brennan's parents and always found it to be exciting. "Well, she probably only lied when she was trying to get into the safety deposit boxes . . . I mean, stealing was her job and you do stuff for your job you might not do in your private life." It was an awkward piece of logic, but it was the best he could think of at the moment.

"Um, yes, perhaps." Turning back to the carrots, Brennan finished peeling the last one. "I think your first year at the University will help you decide what you want to do. If you decide to start a novel, I hope you'll let me read it and perhaps offer some constructive criticism."

"Really? Thanks Temperance, I appreciate the offer." Happy he'd had this talk with Brennan, Parker didn't feel as nervous about school anymore. He knew he had Brennan and his father on his side besides him mother and that would really help when things were coming at him fast.

Oooooooooooo

Sitting next to her brother while they watched a movie, Christine sighed and turned to face her brother. She glanced at Hank who was lying on the floor, staring at the screen and she knew he wouldn't pay attention to her. "Parker, I talked to Emma today. I went over to her house and . . . well, she said she was sorry for calling Mommy and Daddy weirdos. She said she told her mother that I was mad at her and Mrs. Carson told Emma that she was sorry for talking about my parents like that. She told Emma she got a speeding ticket a couple of days before summer break and she was mad and she remembered that Mommy and Daddy work at the FBI and she just said what she said because she was angry. She didn't mean it . . . Mrs. Carson apologized to me too. Not just Emma."

"Well, good for her." Relieved that Mrs. Carson could admit she'd done something wrong, Parker hugged his sister. "So, you and Emma are best friends again?"

"Yes . . . she's coming with us this weekend when we go to the water park."

"Good, I'm glad you got your best friend back." Parker sighed. I wish I still had my best friends.

Ooooooooooooooo

Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.