A/N: this is a sequel to chapter 62

I still don't own Bones.


Her big day had come and gone and Christine was finally able to catch her breath. She'd graduated from the university with a bachelor's degree in criminal justice and was ready to start the next phase of her life. She had done a lot of research the last few months about job options, making sure she understood what the CIA and the FBI were all about and what jobs were available at those agencies.

Her father's story about killing a Serbian General for the CIA had given her a lot to think about and she had called her 'Uncle' Danny with a lot of questions. He reminded her that there many jobs available within the CIA and no one expected her to be an assassin. That sentence had sent a chill down her spine and she had ended the conversation.

"Assassin? Was my father an assassin? He was an Army Ranger following orders. Uncle Danny . . . No, my father was a Ranger and they did what they could to make people safe. He was no assassin." Christine resented what Danny had said, but perhaps it was what she needed to hear. Her father had tried to tell her that she might not be CIA material and after studying the agency, she knew he had been right. She wanted to make a difference at home, in the U.S. and working for the FBI would help her with her goals. The CIA filled an important role for the United States but she couldn't help them do it.

She found her father in the den sitting on the couch watching the Phillies and Astros game. He was leaning towards the television, one hand holding a bottle of beer and the other hand clenched in a fist. Uh oh. This doesn't look good.

"Dad, can we talk?" Though she had seen him several times since their argument they had both been careful about what they said to each other and she wanted that to stop.

"Sure Honey." Booth turned down the sound and stood up to face his daughter. The game wasn't going the right way and he didn't think he was going to like how it ended anyway. "So, you have your bachelor's degree . . . how does that feel? I felt relief when I graduated, but then I'm not as smart as you are. Still, no more tests and papers to write. That has to feel good."

"Relief . . . yes, that's what I feel and . . . well, I feel free for the moment." Christine walked over to the chair next to the fireplace and sat down. Once her father was seated, she smiled at him. This wasn't going to be as awkward as she had thought it would be. "Before I graduated, I studied job opportunities and believe me there are a lot of interesting options out there when you have a bachelor's degree in criminal justice . . . I wasn't really leaning towards anything in particular but, well, now that I've got my degree, I've had several job offers and I've been looking them over carefully . . . It's a big decision."

Not sure where this was heading, Booth knew that Christine would have to choose the job she wanted and not what he wanted. Strangely enough, he knew he could live with whatever she chose because it was her life to live. "Sure it is . . . You know cops don't really make a lot of money. You'll never get rich working for the CIA or the FBI and even less if you choose the Philly P.D. or some other police department."

"Oh, I know." Christine knew she had been blessed when it came to her education. Her inheritance from her Grandpa Max had paid for it and she had no student loans hanging over her head like a Damocles Sword. "If being a cop is the route I take I can truthfully say that as long as I can pay my bills and save a little each month, I'll be fine. Of course, benefits are important too and well, I want a job that makes a difference. I want to help people . . . One of the jobs I've been looking at is Forensic Science Technician."

Surprised, Booth leaned forward and stared at his daughter. "You mean like your Uncle Hodgins? You want to be a squint?" That surprised him. His daughter had never really cared for the science classes she had to take in high school. "If you think that will make you happy then go for it. Your Mom will be happy. I don't think she wants you to get shot at."

"I know, but . . . um, I said I'm looking at that option. I didn't say that was what I plan to do." Christine wanted to choose something that made a difference and being a squint might be what she was looking for if 'Plan A' didn't work out. She just wasn't totally sure yet.

"Oh." Rubbing his chin, Booth wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to try to influence her, but then again, he had a lot of experience working for the FBI and with The Jeffersonian and he might have the answers she was looking for. "Well, um . . . why are you thinking about being a squint . . . a forensic science technician?"

That was a good question. "Well, I want to help get justice for victims of crimes. I've watched you and Mom and Uncle Hodgins and Aunt Angela and Aunt Cam and well, everyone at the Lab and the agents at the FBI that I know and I've seen what you all do. You work long hard hours, but you help find murderers and kidnappers . . . There are awful people in this world that treat other people like they're trash to be used and thrown away. Those victims . . . those human beings deserve to be given their dignity back. They deserve to have justice and I want to be part of that, but I'm not sure if I would be a good FBI agent or not . . . Yes, I've decided that the CIA isn't really what I want to do."

Thank God. Booth really didn't want to influence his daughter in her career choice, but he thanked God she wasn't going to join the CIA.

"To tell you the truth, I plan to try out for a job as an FBI investigator. but if I can't cut the mustard, if I can't pass the training to get there then maybe I can train to be a squint like Uncle Hodgins." Christine was proud of her parents and her aunts and uncles. "I know I could never be a forensic anthropologist . . . I think Hank would be a good one, but not me and I sure don't want to go back to school and get another degree . . . anyway, Uncle Hodgins makes a difference too. With his help, with Mom's help you close cases and get justice for those that can't get it themselves. I want to be part of that if I fail at Quantico."

Brennan had been standing in the hallway listening to her daughter and husband talk. "What makes you think you won't pass the required training to become an agent?" Curious, she entered the living room and stood near the fireplace.

"Actually, I think I can, but I'm thinking about what I would do if I fail. You always have to have a back up plan." Christine laughed. "Grandpa Max always said you have to make contingency plans just in case plan A fails. It's important to have a plan B and a plan C. In fact, he said it was critical to have those . . . He told me that he'd failed at a lot of things in his life, but he always had an alternate plan to help him out if he failed. Planning ahead keeps you from floundering and making critical mistakes."

Surprised, Brennan walked across the living room and sat down next to her husband on the couch. "My father gave you advice and you remembered it?"

Amused, Christine smiled. "Grandpa Max was full of advice. He showed me how to pick a lock on a door just in case I ever needed to know how. He showed me how to drive a car . . ."

"What? For God's sake you were seven years old when he died." Booth was outraged.

"Don't worry Dad, Grandpa Max drove me out to a farm owned by a friend of his and we drove in a cow pasture. I didn't hit any cows or fences . . . He wanted me to know the basics in case I ever needed to drive someone to the hospital or to just get away from something bad. He said in an emergency like that, the cops would forgive me. He tied blocks on my feet so I could reach the pedals . . . He was a lot of fun. I still miss him."

Not amused, Booth leaned back against the couch and crossed his arms. "If he was still around, I'd wring his neck."

"Booth, Max was correct. The driving lessons might have been useful . . . although I do remember you stealing your father's car when you were 16 Christine and tried to drive it to New York before you were caught." Now that she remembered that particular adventure, she found herself very annoyed with her father.

Holding up her hands, Christine shook her head. "Okay, okay, no need to dwell on the past. I said I was sorry when I did that and I'm grateful Dad got me out of that mess . . . I think we've lost the point of this conversation. I've applied to the FBI and I'm going to Quantico for training starting at the end of the month."

His anger gone, Booth stood up, walked around the coffee table and hugged his daughter. "Congratulations, Honey. I don't think you're going to have any trouble. You're smart like your Mom and me and you've heard us talking about cases for years. You're already ahead of the game and you know how to shoot a gun. Those lessons I gave you are going to come in handy."

A little nervous about her daughter's future, Brennan knew that Christine had to make her own decisions and it was up to her family to support her. "Congratulations, Honey. I think you will do very well."

"Thanks Dad. Thanks Mom . . . Oh and Dad, just so you know. I don't plan to work for you. No offense, but I need to spread my wings and well . . . you know."

"That's okay, Christine . . . Did I mention I've been offered the job of Deputy Director of the FBI?"

Not surprised, Christine hugged her father. "Oh well, I tried."


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