Booth sat at his kitchen counter, staring into his glass of scotch as he swirled it gently. It was late, and the house was finally quiet. What a day…another new murder case, complete with a set of godawful remains, the SUV had broken down in the middle of a busy intersection during rush hour, Aubrey was out for at least a week with a bad case of the flu, and Booth had been stuck with a rookie agent as a temporary partner. He grimaced as he took another sip of his drink. And now this. Jesus…
He turned slightly as he felt a gentle hand on his back. "Are you alright, Booth?" Brennan frowned slightly as she rubbed her husband's shoulders. "It's midnight. Maybe you should come to bed and try to get some sleep."
He reached up to stroke her hand. "Yeah, okay. I'll be there in a few minutes." He smiled faintly at his wife's look of concern. "I'm fine, really, Bones. It was a rough day at work today, you know? Those remains were terrible…all stuck to those rocks like that in this heat, and that horrible smell...I'm having a hard time getting that crime scene out of my head." He ran his hand across his chin as he shook his head. "Seems like stuff is just piling up on me this week…" He sighed as he took another sip. "And, then this evening…" He ran a knuckle under his eye to wipe away a tear. "Reggie called me this evening…."
"Your mother's husband?" Brennan was surprised. "That's unusual, isn't it? We haven't heard from them for several months...not since Jared's memorial service."
"Yeah, my...stepfather. God, that still sounds strange, doesn't it?" Booth sighed as he poured himself another drink. "You're right. We haven't heard from them for quite a while. I guess I should've called them sooner to see how they were doing, but I got busy with work, and...you know, things have always been kinda awkward between my mom and me." He nervously ran his fingers around the rim of the glass. "Anyway, when my mom was at the memorial service, I thought things were a little bit off with her, you know? She'd forgotten that we named the baby Hank, and she couldn't remember Padme's name at all. Mom didn't even seem to remember that Jared had ever gotten married. She got really flustered and angry at the reception afterward because Reggie asked her how old Jared was, and she couldn't remember. I didn't think that much about it at the time, because of everything that had happened. I just figured she was still upset about Jared's death, and that she was taking it really hard. She hardly spoke to me the whole time I sat next to her at the reception, and I thought maybe somehow she still blamed me for his death." Another tear trickled down Booth's cheek. "It seemed like she was angry with me over how Jared had died and that I couldn't find a way to prevent it from happening. I couldn't make her understand the situation, you know? I tried to explain things again, but it was like she shut me out...she didn't want to listen to what I had to say."
"I'm sure she doesn't blame you for what happened to Jared, Booth. The things that happened to him were mostly of his own doing and out of your control. She knows that." Brennan sat down next to Booth. "But I don't understand. These issues seem to be normal reactions to stress and grief. Why would these things be a cause for concern?"
"Well, what I didn't know at the time was that these issues have been an ongoing problem for her. My mom has been having memory problems for quite some time now...things like forgetting Reggie's name, and the names of his kids, even though she's known them for years. She's forgotten how to fasten her bra and how to tie her shoelaces, and I guess she's left the stove on a couple of times after cooking dinner. They were lucky she didn't burn the house down. She left the water running in the bathtub one day and flooded the upstairs bathroom. She can't remember her own date of birth...or the words to her favorite songs..." Booth drained the Scotch from his glass and set it down on the bar. "So she went to the doctor about three weeks before Jared died, and the doctor told her that he thought she was beginning to exhibit the symptoms of a form of dementia. When Reggie called tonight, he said the diagnosis has been confirmed. She has a form of senile dementia. She's only 68 years old, so they were shocked by what the doctor said, and they were still trying to figure things out, like whether or not they wanted to make arrangements for home health care to help Reggie take care of her. This usually happens to people who are older than she is..."
"Oh, Booth...I'm so sorry." Brennan reached over to clasp her husband's hand. "That's terrible news. Did Reggie say how advanced her disease is?"
"He says that the memory loss has increased dramatically, even over the last few weeks, and that the doctor isn't sure why. The doctor wanted to know about her medical history, like if she had ever suffered any sort of head injury. Reggie didn't know, and Mom can't remember, so he called me to find out some stuff about what happened to her in the past. That meant that I had to tell Reggie about my dad beating my mom and throwing her down the stairs." Booth stared at the kitchen counter as the memories of that event played out in his mind. "Reggie knew she'd been abused by my dad...he thought that's why Mom was so skittish about getting married again...but he had no idea about the extent of the abuse. Jesus, it was so hard for me when I had to tell him about that night…"
"Booth, that wasn't your fault, either. You were only a child at the time…" Brennan rubbed his shoulders again, trying to comfort him. "It's possible there may not be any link between her previous head injury and the dementia. The doctor is just trying to understand her health history."
"I know, but having to relive that whole thing when I talked to Reggie...it was like I was ten years old all over again. I guess I never got over what happened that night completely, and then, right after that happened, she left us...she left me and Jared alone with my dad, knowing he was violent. God, I hated my dad for that, and I think I hated my mom, too." Booth shook his head. "I know that none of it was my fault, but occasionally I still feel like should've done something differently. Gordon-Gordon explained it to me…why I still feel that way..."
"When did you see Gordon-Gordon? I thought he was in France, teaching at a cooking school." Brennan's brow furrowed as she considered what her husband had told her.
"This was a long time ago, when I shot that clown's head on the ice cream truck. When Gordon-Gordon first asked me about my dad, I told him that Dad and I were 'tight', which was a lie, and he knew it, but he let it ride so we could work on the actual reason I was there to see him in the first place. Later on, he called me on the bullshit about my dad...he said the way I answered that question so quickly showed him that I had learned early on to hide the abuse I was taking because I felt like it was my fault, and he was right..that's exactly how I felt. I remember thinking if I could just be a better kid, or a better student or a better athlete, my dad wouldn't be so angry with me, but it never worked out that way. Gordon-Gordon said a lot of abused kids feel that same way, but he helped me understand that it was never my fault...it was all on my dad. Eventually I was able to get to a point where I could come to terms with what happened, even if I couldn't completely get over it. My dad had a lot of problems, like alcoholism and PTSD, and he was never able to get any help with them. I like to think that someday I'll be able to forgive him completely, and maybe my mom, too, for leaving me in that situation."
"You know what I think of psychology, but it seems that talking to Gordon-Gordon has helped you quite a bit over the years, Booth."
"Yeah, Gordon-Gordon is a great guy. I still get emails from him once in awhile." Booth got up from the counter and put his glass in the sink. He stood there for a moment, gazing out into the darkness beyond the kitchen window, shaking his head. "God damn it! I feel so sorry for Reggie. He loves my mom so much...he has for years, I guess, and now he has to just stand by and watch as she fades away, and there's not a damn thing he can do about it...nothing he can do to help her except to just be there for her. I don't know how he's gonna be able to handle that."
Brennan wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "Your mother is lucky to have him, isn't she?"
"I think so. He wants me to come up next weekend so that I can check out the assisted living center that he's chosen for Mom. I'd just be gone for the day. Reggie says it's important to him to get my approval of the arrangements. He's gonna move in there with her after he sells their house."
"I think you should go, Booth. If nothing else, it may give you some peace of mind, knowing what kind of care your mother will receive."
"Yeah, you're right. Okay, I'll go out and see them next Saturday." Booth smiled as he pulled Brennan into his embrace. "I'm so lucky that I have you. Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
Brennan chuckled. "Perhaps, but I don't mind hearing it again. Come along, now, Booth. You need to get some sleep. You have to go to work tomorrow, remember?"
"Oh, alright, if you say so." Kissing her, he laughed. "What do you think...maybe a bit of love and romance to help me sleep?" He twitched his eyebrows as he flashed a dimpled smile at her.
"Only if you promise to be good…" Brennan said with a twinkle in her eyes.
He took her hand as they walked toward their bedroom. "I promise...I'll be very, very good…"
A/N: Well...what do you think?
