I apologize for leaving this story for so long. I just got wrapped up in everything else, and then I lost focus of where I was even going with this story until I reread all my chapters and remembered. I hope to keep updating it more regularly. I hope you guys are still interested in this story. I understand if you're not since it's been so long. Anyway, it's gonna probably make you cry again. We're delving into the reason why Max turned to the life of crime.

Brennan avoided the journals for a bit after reading about Randy's death. She felt as though it was a death she had experienced too even though she knew that was ridiculous. Russ had come and gone a few times since, and Brennan knew she couldn't keep being short with him. It wasn't his fault their father died. She was doing some cleaning while Hank attempted to help with the dust pan in his hand when Booth came home with Christine from school. Brennan could tell he had something he wanted to tell her, so she encouraged Hank to go see if his sister would play with him while she went to talk to Booth.

"What happened?" she asked Booth when they were alone in the kitchen.

"Her teacher finally told me what happened," he answered. "How Travis heard what he did. She said he wasn't willing to share until recently."

"Oh? How?"

"Gloria was talking about it to Tony. It would appear that you helped put one of her friends away, so she's a little pissed at you for it," Booth said, crossing his arms.

"Who? Who did I put away?" Brennan asked, frowning.

"I don't know. The teacher said Travis didn't hear the name of the friend, but apparently she was blowing off some steam because Travis was bragging about how smart Christine was, and Gloria vented to Tony and said those horrible things about you because she's jealous and angry that Christine is smarter than their son. She knew we weren't married when we had Christine because you were pregnant during her friend's case and had no wedding ring on."

"She sounds like a tiresome woman," Brennan noted.

"Well, Travis and Christine seem to be buddies again, so I don't think it's affecting Travis too much," Booth said.

Brennan did not like this Gloria woman at all. She hoped she would never have to run into her again.

"You're thinking about punching her in the face, aren't you?" Booth asked, grinning.

"No," Brennan lied. He laughed out loud.

"Sure," he teased. He hugged her tightly, and she couldn't help but laugh a little with him. He knew her so well.

...

"What is this?" Angela asked the next day. She was over at Brennan's place visiting. Hank was out with Hodgins. Brennan looked to see Angela holding her father's journal.

"It's nothing," Brennan answered, snatching it back. Angela raised a brow at her.

"Is it your fantasy journal or something?" she asked, teasing.

"No," Brennan shook her head. She gripped the journal tightly. She couldn't bring herself to read anymore of her father's pain right now, but she left it sitting out as a reminder that it was still there, waiting for her.

"Well, what is it?" Angela asked, laughing.

"I don't want to say."

"Really? Now I'm even more intrigued," Angela said. Brennan didn't know why she hadn't told Angela about the journals. She knew her friend would understand and even be fascinated. Brennan just didn't want to reveal her father's secrets to anyone else other than Booth. She knew eventually Russ would read them, but he was family.

"They're really nothing, and I'd like to not talk about it any further," Brennan said.

"Okay," Angela agreed, letting it go. She knew it was something important to Brennan, though, but she also knew her friend would tell her when the time was right. Brennan put the journal away, and they started chatting about Michael Vincent and Christine and other things. Together they tried to figure out who Gloria's friend was, but they couldn't. Brennan herself forgot about the journal for a while, and it was nice.

...

Booth was at his desk when someone knocked on his door. He looked up, frowning. He did not recognize the man standing there.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I was told I could find Dr. Brennan's husband here?" he asked.

"That would be me."

"Perfect," the man grinned. "May I?" He gestured to the chair in front of Booth's desk.

"Sure," Booth agreed. He was cautious, unsure of what this man wanted.

"I bet you're wondering who I am," the man said, getting comfortable in his chair.

"Kind of," Booth admitted.

"Well, when I heard about Max's death, I debated about whether or not I should come out of the woodwork, but it just kept eating at me, you know? So here I am."

"And you are?" Booth asked.

"Oh, right," the man laughed. "I'm Dave. Dave Getty."

...

Brennan tapped the journal with her fingers. Even though she was afraid to read more, she had to know what was going on. She flipped it open to where Max started writing again after he'd written about Randy dying.

September 4, 1957

I didn't go back to school. Beth didn't even put up a fight. I'm running this farm now, and she knows she can't do it alone. Ruth was disappointed, but she also understood. I have to say, I haven't quite been myself since Randy died. I know Ruth understands and is trying to be there for me, but I feel so lost that I don't even know how to be me anymore. Our relationship is kind of on a break, and it was my idea. I told her she could date someone else, but she told me to not be so stupid and to realize that she wasn't going anywhere. I don't know why she's staying. I'm afraid to ask.

Rascal sits by Randy's chair every morning, waiting for the treat that's never going to come. I wish he'd stop. I know it was a routine for him, but it hurts to see him still have hope that Randy is going to come back. Randy is never going to come back.

Beth cries every day. I know she tries to hide it from me, but I see and hear it. Sometimes I go to comfort her, and sometimes I leave her alone. She lost her greatest love, and I don't know what to do or say to make her feel better. I don't think anything could.

October 9, 1957

You're not gonna believe who walked up our driveway today. I was feeding the cows when I heard this whistle, and I had to stop and collect myself because I had not heard that whistle in a lot of years. Rascal started to bark and run towards where the noise came from, and I turned to see my old friend, Dave, standing there looking at me with that stupid smile of his on his face.

"You look like shit," he commented.

"You still look like an ass," I retorted back. Then we both laughed. I stopped quickly because I hadn't laughed in God knows how long. It felt strange and almost like a betrayal to our grief that hangs over this place like a heavy cloud.

"How the hell are ya?" Dave asked after he came over and man hugged me. I felt a little overwhelmed seeing him again. I hadn't seen him since before my family was murdered by my father. I wondered if he knew.

"Not gonna lie, it's been tough," I answered.

"Ruth told me," Dave admitted.

"You still talk to her?"

"Yea. We write about once a month. We agreed to keep in touch when I moved away. Congratulations on being her boyfriend, by the way. I never saw that coming."

I didn't comment on this. I didn't know how to feel that Ruth kept in contact with Dave and hadn't told me.

"Come on," Dave said. "Let's go for a drive."

So we did.

Dave told me he was signing up to go to Vietnam. Now, Dave is two years older than me, but he had been held back in school two grades, which was why we were in classes together back in the day. He just turned 18, and he's ready to go fight. I have to admit, I am scared for him. We had a good talk today.

"Ruth told you where to find me?" I asked him as he drove. He sucked on his cigarette before answering. I never thought he'd smoke. He was always so fussy about germs and being healthy before.

"Yea. To be honest, I was going to come a while ago, but after hearing about your adoptive dad, I figured you needed your space."

"I'm sure she told you way before that," I scoffed.

"I am a lousy friend, okay? Let me be the first to admit that," Dave laughed. "But I'm here now."

"Yea, to say goodbye."

"Thanks for the confidence," he snorted.

"It's Vietnam, Dave. I've heard stories."

"I still have a bit of luck in me," Dave said, shaking his finger at me. "You'll see."

We spent the afternoon together reminiscing about old times, and I was sad to see him go when the day was over. I said this last time, and I will say it again. I feel like I will never see Dave again.

...

"Dave Getty," Booth repeated.

"I don't suppose ol' Max ever talked about me," Dave mused. "We were sort of friends, but I knew I got on his nerves a lot. I whined a lot. I was the oldest kid in the class with no one to be friends with, and Max stuck with me despite it all."

"When is the last time you saw Max?" Booth asked.

"A year ago actually," Dave answered, rubbing his chin. "It took a lot of years for me to track him down again, especially with his name changing and all. It was a fluke that I even found him again."

"He never mentioned you."

"I figured. I'm sorry he's dead, though. I thought he'd outlive us all. It seemed to be the way with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first his family, then his adoptive parents, then Ruth...I mean, God how much pain can one person get dished in their life?" Dave asked. "Everyone he loved just got ripped away from him. I was surprised to see that he didn't just off himself you know?"

"He had Russ and Temperance," Booth pointed out.

"I discovered that, yes. I didn't know he had kids. He'd hang on for them, I know. He was always a loyal kind of guy."

"Temperance would really like to meet you I think," Booth said. He refrained from calling her Bones to save the confusion.

"Yea?"

"Yea. She found Max's old journals, and you were mentioned in them a lot in the beginning."

"Shit, really?!" Dave hooted. "Oh yea! I think I still have mine! Our teacher made us write in them every day. I stopped when we no longer had to do it of course."

"Temperance has learned a lot from them."

"She would," Dave nodded gravely. "His life was like a damn drama with more low points then high points."

"So when did he turn to crime?" Booth asked, curious. Dave rubbed at his face again.

"Honestly? I didn't even know until we talked a year ago. I asked him the same question, and his answer was: after Beth."

"After Beth what?"

"Died."

"Oh."

"It was devastating, you know? Beth didn't deserve to go out like that, and it was like it was Max's final straw, you know? Being a good person wasn't working out for him, so he decided to go dark."

Booth swallowed. He wondered just when it all started and when Beth died and how.

...

Brennan skimmed forward through the next couple of journals. They didn't say much. Max talked about the farm. He talked about Rascal. He wrote how Rascal then got hit by a car and died. Brennan took every loss of her father's as a hit to her heart. She wondered how her father even got up every morning. Max wrote that he and Ruth were on again off again for a bit. Then Ruth was going away to college. Max hadn't finished his high school degree, and he was still working on the farm. Even though Brennan knew that Max and Ruth got married, she still felt on edge reading about how their relationship was so fragile. Then, she reached an entry that made her heart almost stop.

July 23, 1959

I am on the run. I don't know where to go or what to do, but I'm just running. I have left it all behind me. I didn't even leave Ruth a note. I don't even know how to describe what happened, but for Beth's sake and memory, I have to. I just have to.

I came home two days ago to find the barn on fire. I ran to start to fight it when I saw the windows smashed of our home. I just knew something was wrong. I ran inside, and I found Beth on the floor bleeding. Someone had worked her over pretty good, and she was left for dead. I picked her up in my arms, not believing that this was happening. Beth did not deserve this. She is a good person. Was. Shit. She was a good person.

I am having a hard time focusing right now, but I have to try.

"I love you, my son," she said to me as she started to choke. I cried and said her name over and over again, begging her not to leave me. She touched my face, and then she was gone. Enraged, I set her down gently and took in what had happened around me in the house. It was obviously a robbery. I went to where Randy kept his gun, and I loaded it and went outside. I had a hunch that the robber was still there, and I was right, but there were two of them. They were loading their car behind the burning barn when I approached them, and I didn't even stop to think.

Reader, I shot them both in cold blood. Then I ran.

August 2, 1959

I'm hiding in a motel. I keep moving from motel to motel, waiting for the police to come find me. I know they have to know it was me. They probably assume I went mad. Well, I was mad. Now I'm just lost, sad, and empty. I lost Beth. I wasn't supposed to lose Beth. I hope she's with Randy. I hope Randy isn't disappointed with the way I turned out. I'm not special, and he shouldn't be proud of me. I don't know how I could have ever thought I could be different. I am 18, and my life is in shambles. My father's genes are running through my veins. I'm no different than him now, and that makes me very sick inside. You'll have to excuse me. I'm going to go be sick for real just for thinking about it all.

...

Brennan's hands shook as she lowered the journal. Her father's first murders were to avenge the death of his adoptive mother, Beth. Was this where it all went wrong? It had to be. Brennan couldn't stomach anymore. How Ruth found Max after this and became involved in the world of crime with him, she didn't know. She assumed Max would fill in the blanks the more he wrote, but she couldn't read it right now. She dropped her head into her hands and started to cry. Why couldn't her father have had something go right for once in his life?

"Hey, Bones?" Booth called from the door. She looked up at him through her teary vision.

"Yea?" she managed to say.

"There's someone who wants to meet you," he said. She wiped at her eyes quickly. She wished he had given her a head's up about company coming.

"You okay?" Booth asked, seeing her face now.

"Yes. I just read some more terrible things that my father endured," Brennan answered.

"Oh. I was hoping you hadn't gotten to that part yet," Booth said.

"Wait, how do you know what I'm talking about?"

Booth hesitated before standing aside to let the man behind him come in.

"Temperance, meet Dave Getty, your father's old friend from school."