So against my better judgement, I have attempted to write a Bones fanfic. Why, I have no idea as I don't presume to even come close to what some of the amazing writers around here are capable of. Unfortunately, this little snippet grabbed hold of me and refused to let go. This is just a conversation between Booth and Max that I have been wishing we could see onscreen in some form ever since Max came back into Brennan's life. And don't getg me wrong, I don't hate Max; in fact I kinda like him but I don't think he really gets just what leaving his daughter really cost her and I think Booth would be just the one to enlighten him. I hope you like it. And I've got one not quite so angsty that I'm planning to start soon.

It was late on a Friday night and The Founding Fathers was packed with weekend revelers, eager to blow off work-week steam. Booth sat alone at the end of the bar, a beer and shot of scotch before him. He ignored the occasional glances in his direction, most from women unable to ignore the handsome man who clearly needed "comforting."

He knew he was out of place here, alone on a Friday night, but he just didn't care. He was leaving tomorrow and he'd wanted to pay one last visit to all the people and places that made D.C. home to him.

He'd been to the diner for a last piece of pie.

He'd been to the Jeffersonian for a last cheeky, knowing look from Angela, a last conspiracy theory rant from Hodgins, a last "don't call me Camille/don't call me Seeley" go-round with Cam; a last goodbye with the squints who somewhere along the way had become not just his friends, but one of those other kinds of families.

He'd been by Sweets' office to teasingly remind the young psychologist not to ignore his curfew and to eat his veggies so he could grow up big and strong.

He'd been by Caroline's office, expecting another rant about running away but surprisingly, the normally opinionated and brassy attorney had offered nothing more than a heartfelt "Godspeed Cherie" and a gentle kiss on the cheek.

He'd said his goodbyes to all the people and places that would fill his thoughts and heart while he was in Afghanistan.

Since he would see Parker before he left the country that was a goodbye that thankfully could be put off for a couple of weeks. So that left just one more goodbye, and it was that particular goodbye which had caused him to order a second and now a third shot of his favorite single malt scotch, long after he should have been home, enjoying what would probably be his last decent night's sleep for a very long time.

He picked up the shot glass, twirling it absently. As the amber liquid swirled gently, each wave seemed to unleash a snapshot of the past, sending a slideshow of memories across his mind's eye.

Memories of a first meeting and a first success. Of saving lives and saving each other. Of late nights and paperwork. Bad coffee and Thai food. A pig and a Smurf; trivial gifts that were anything but. Of a little black dress and a vixen named Roxie. Of a red clown nose, a blue lab coat. Of auburn hair, porcelain skin, and piercing, heartbreaking, soul shattering blue eyes. Memories of Bones.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the memories, but they continued on in a continuous loop, seeming to taunt him. He slammed back the shot and signaled the bartender for another. If he couldn't stop the memories himself, he'd let the liquor do the job. The shot was placed before him and it quickly went the way of its predecessors.

"You know what they say; "beer with liquor, never sicker." Max plopped into the seat next him.

"Nobody says that," Booth replied, signaling the bartender yet again.

Max shrugged. "Well, you might when you wake up in the morning. Beer please, whatever you have on tap," he said to the bartender who had decided not to move too far away from the guy who didn't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.

"What are you doing here Max?" Booth slugged back his scotch; then picked up his neglected beer. Taking a long pull, he grimaced. It had grown lukewarm while he'd been slamming back shots. "Another one for me too please," as the bartender placed a beer in front of Max.

"Another shot too, Agent Booth?" The bartender had been working there for years and was familiar with the FBI guy and his partner. He figured her absence tonight might be the reason the man before him had started knocking back shots at an unusually quick rate. The guy's normal routine might be a beer or two; then he and his lady scientist would be on their way.

"What the hell. No reason not to," Booth answered morosely.

"You're going to seriously regret this in the morning," Max said, taking a sip of his beer.

"What are you doing here Max," Booth repeated, an edge to his tone and a slight slur in his words.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend?"

"Who the hell ever said we were friends," Booth practically snarled at the man. The booze and the memories and the thought of the goodbye still left to be said had put him in a nasty mood and he figured Max was as good a recipient of that mood as anybody.

Max held up his arms in mock surrender. "Sorry, my mistake. We're not friends; got it. We are, however, two men who have the same woman's best interests at heart, so I gotta ask, as her father, what the hell are you doing Booth, letting her run off to that Malalulu place?"

Booth's head jerked up and he leveled a piercing glare at the man.

"It's Maluku, you idiot. And don't talk to me about Bones. You don't know anything about it. Where she goes and what she does is none of your damn business." He grabbed the glass in front of him and downed the shot. He was dangerously close to losing his temper and it was taking every ounce of control he had not to knock the guy off his barstool.

Max sized up the man sitting next to him. Booth was clearly drunk, or well on his way and he was also clearly not in the mood to be pushed but Max had come up against his share of nasty drunks in his day and had never backed down. He wasn't about to start now. Not to mention, he felt his own flash of anger at the guy's temerity. Tempe was his daughter; where did this guy get off, telling him she was none of his business?

"What do you mean; it's none of my business? Of course it's my business; I'm her father."

Booth snorted. "Yeah, and a hell of a father you turned out to be. Abandoning her so she could live with the foster parents from hell; robbing banks, gutting people and stringing them up like fish, allowing her to nearly be charged with murder all to save your worthless ass." He clapped and gave a mock bow. "You're father of the year, Max; break out the plaques and champagne."

"You think I don't know all that Booth? You think I don't feel guilty everyday for what I did to her? I ruined her life. Trust me; I get it."

Booth slammed down his beer mug, ignoring the liquid that sloshed on the counter and begin to drip onto his jeans. Standing so fast that his barstool crashed to the floor, he rounded on Bones' dad and stopped just short of putting his fist through the guy's teeth. Ignoring the startled looks of the patrons and staff plus the menacing look of the bouncer who had left his post near the door, Booth invaded Max's space and brought his face dangerously close to the older mans'.

"Lemme tell you something Max. You don't get shit. You have no idea what you did to that woman when you walked out on her all those years ago."

"And I suppose you'd be happy to fill me in. Go ahead Booth" he held out his arms in a welcoming gesture, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "enlighten me."

Booth stepped back, and shook his head as if to clear it. Beating the shit out of Bones' dad would not make their goodbyes any easier. The last thing he wanted was to have Bones pissed at him before they separated for a year. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a couple of bills and threw them on the counter.

"Sorry for the disturbance Mike; won't happen again."

The bartender smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it Agent Booth; no harm done. You take care of yourself over there and when you get back, come in and I'll buy you a burger and beer, on the house." He paused. "Hey man, you ok to drive?"

"It's a deal Mike; thanks. And don't worry," he pulled out his car keys and tossed them to the bartender, "I'm gonna walk; I could use the fresh air. Charlie will come get the car tomorrow."

The two shook hands and Booth turned to leave, only to find his way blocked.

"Get out of my way Max."

Max held his hands out in a conciliatory manner. "Come on Booth, lemme give ya a ride a home."

Booth sidestepped him and headed for the door. "No thanks Max. And besides, I'm not going home; I'm gonna go see Bones."

Max grabbed Booth's arm. "Uh uh Booth, you're in no condition to go see Tempe right now. What? You want her last memory of you before you go showing up drunk on her doorstep. You don't want that Booth, and neither would she."

Booth wrenched his arm free and strode outside, Max right on his heels.

"Booth, come on….."

Booth turned around and gave Bones' dad a slight shove. Had it been anyone else, the guy would be out cold on the concrete by now but Booth was trying desperately to keep a grip on his emotions out of respect, and love, for Bones.

"How many times do I have to say this Max? Don't talk to me about Bones. And don't try to tell me what she wants or act like you give a damn because if you did, you wouldn't have abandoned her 19 years ago."

Max felt a frisson of anger starting to unfurl in his gut and reminded himself that this was not only his daughter's partner, but also, if he were ever forcibly held at gunpoint and made to admit it, the man he someday he hoped to call his son-in-law. But that didn't mean he had to take stand there and take the guys' crap. He was Max Keenan, for God's sake! He straightened from the brick wall he had been shoved against and looked Booth in the eye.

"How many times are you gonna keep throwing that in my face Booth? Trust me when I say, I get it. So let it go."

Booth was incredulous. "Let it go? Let it go?" he repeated. "As long as you're around and everyday I have to see her wondering if today is gonna be the day you disappear again, I'll never let it go. And trust me when I say again Max, that you don't get shit. You don't get that you crushed that girl. You crushed her and it's a miracle how she ever became the woman she is today."

The tight grip he had been holding on his feelings was suddenly unleashed and all the pain and anger he had been trying hard to ignore came spilling out. He knew he was tired. He knew he was hurting. He knew he was drunk. He also knew he suddenly didn't care. All he wanted, right at this moment, was to break the man who had broken the woman he loved.

"You don't get that she shut down the day you left. Yeah, her heart kept beating and she kept on breathing but in every other way? In every other way she's still that 15 year old kid wondering what she did wrong that made her parents and her brother leave her.

You don't get that she's terrified to love anyone or let anyone love her. Even her friends, people who would die for her; I think she's still afraid every day that they're going to suddenly decide she's not worth the effort. Why the hell do you think she's leaving?"

Max looked at him, confusion etched on his face.

"The dig. She said it was a big deal."

"The dig," Booth snorted. "Yeah, okay, the dig is big; I'll give you that. But that's just part of it."

"Then what's….. I mean…. why? Booth, what the hell are you trying to say?"

Max was truly not getting it and Booth wanted to pound the man's head against the wall.

"It's too much," Booth yelled. "She can't handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Us! Me and her! Her and Angela and Hodgins and Cam and Sweets. She let us get too close; she let herself need us and she doesn't know how to handle it. So she's running; trying to get back to that place when it was just science and that was enough. And you know why Max? Because science and anthropology and all that other stuff is safe. It can't hurt you. It can't break you. But stuff like love and friendship and family? If you let them, those things have the power to destroy you. And nobody knows that better than Bones. So instead of staying here and letting herself be loved and cherished and needed, and letting herself do those same things in return, she's running."

"Jesus Booth, you make it sound like she's…" Max almost hesitated to say the word out loud.

"What Max? Make it sound like she's…afraid? She's not just afraid, you jackass, she's terrified!"

Your daughter can go off traipsing through jungles, escaping people who want to kill her. She can face serial killers and psychos and even beat the shit out of them if she has to. She can do all that and never fucking hesitate. Never give it a second thought. But tell her you love her and want to spend the rest of your life proving it to her and she freezes. Gets a look of absolute terror on her face and says she can't do it. But you know the worst part of it. The absolute hell of it?"

His voice caught and tears came unbidden to his eyes.

"She wants that too. She wants love and laughter and all that other stuff the rest of us take for granted but she thinks she can't. I stood there and listened to her telling me that she can't change; that she couldn't do it and it broke my fucking heart. She's so goddamned terrified, that she's made herself believe she's incapable of love. Bones, your daughter, the bravest, most loving person I've ever known, is scared. To love."

The words came out on a strangled sob and he looked up to see his own tears, reflected on Max's face. He stepped close and Max didn't even bother to back away.

"Do you get it now Max? Have I enlightened you enough? Do you get what you did? Why I'll never be able to let it go? You left her to keep her safe. But she was the one who paid. And you know what she paid with Max? Her heart."

He shrugged; a bitter look in his eye. "You did manage to do one thing right though, I'll give you that."

At Max's questioning look, he gave a smile though there wasn't a trace of humor in the slight curve of his mouth.

"Changing her name; cause I tell ya, having to call her Joy would have been the ultimate in cruel irony."

He finally stopped and looked at Max, gratified by the pain he saw in the older man's eyes.

"I….I didn't know, I mean, I, I'm sorry, I'm so…..I, my God,...I knew what we did was wrong, but I…I didn't know Booth. Not really, I didn't know," Max hung his head, the things Booth had told him still echoing through his brain and he wanted to weep for what he had done to his daughter.

Booth looked at him, disgust evident on his face and in his voice.

"Well now you know Max. Now you know." And he turned and walked away, leaving Max alone. And shattered.