Booth knew something was amiss as soon as he unlocked his front door. His mind racing, he set down the groceries he was carrying, dropped his keys on the table by the front door, and drew his weapon.

As he moved through the house towards the faint noise and light coming from the den, his mind was racing with possible scenarios. However, the sight that awaited him was not what he expected. Sitting on his couch was his partner's father.

As Booth entered the room, Max looked up. "You know, I don't think Tempe would like it if you shot me."

Booth sighed and holstered his weapon. "Why do Brennans keep breaking into my house?"

Max smiled and took a sip of his beer. "I needed to talk to you, and I figured sooner or later you'd show up here."

"You couldn't have picked up the phone? Or, you know, knocked on the door?"

"Hey, you can't expect an old guy like me to sit on the step and wait for you to get home. I figured this would be more comfortable." Max leaned back and crossed one ankle over his other leg.

Giving in to the inevitable, Booth sat down. "Fine. What do you want to talk to me about?"

Max's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Actually, it's more of a warning. Look, I don't know what's going on between you and my daughter, but you and I need to get a few things straight."

"We're just part..." Max raised his hand, cutting off Booth's explanation.

"Look, you both say you're just partners, and that may be true, but she trusts you. Depends on you. Cares about you. And you let her think you were dead for two full weeks.

As soon as I heard that you were dead, I tracked her down. She was at work, claimed she was too busy to talk to me, but she looked awful. She obviously hadn't slept, her hands were rubbed raw, and her eyes were swollen."

Booth felt the guilt roll over him, and he opened his mouth to speak only to have Max cut him off again.

"I waited outside the lab until quitting time. She never came out. Around midnight I went back inside and dragged her home. She stayed for a couple of hours, but by 4 a.m. she was back at work.

Over the next two weeks, I watched her grieve. She followed her usual routine - work, karate, the shooting range, that other weird martial art she likes so much. On the outside she seemed to be coping. The difference was that she never stopped. She ate regularly, but only for fuel. She worked longer hours than usual. She fit in extra karate classes. She went for a run every night in the dark - and she's too fast for me to keep up with. I actually think she would have welcomed an attacker - it would have given her an outlet.

Whenever I asked, she said she was fine, but the truth is that she spent all of her energy trying to exhaust herself so she wouldn't hurt so much."

"I told the Bureau that she needed to know I wasn't dead! They didn't tell her!", Booth finally managed to interrupt long enough to point out.

Max sighed. "I know. But neither did you. Here's the thing, Booth. I like you. I think you're a good man. I'll be forever grateful that you took that bullet instead of her. But don't screw up like this again. "

With that, Max finished his beer, then got up and walked out of the room.

Booth sat, stunned, as he heard his front door open and close.