So I need the disclaimer. I somehow forgot that I don't own a million dollar enity. Oh the things that slip my mind! I don't own Bones in any way.
The Choice of a Family by ASC 12
"Well when will you be done?" Booth asked tired of waiting already. "Fine, I'll just go alone. No it's fine Sweets never mind."
Booth hung up on Sweets and he knew it was a touch childish. He thought about calling the psychologist back and apologizing but he wasn't sure how to go about it. Just because Sweets takes off a few hours to go help some kids at the outreach center doesn't mean you need to get mad at him. Booth wasn't sure if it was his conscious telling him that or if it was Angela, Brennan or Cam, the ABC's of his life.
Booth wanted to admire Sweets for his work with the kids but mostly he was just angry about it. They had real cases to solve, real matters that could be helped despite Sweets philosophy that everyone can be saved. Booth wasn't so sure that included a lot of kids too ingrained in a certain life that did not accept change easily.
"Derek," Sweets began but was interrupted.
"It's D-Dog man!" The kid interrupted.
Sweets wanted to add many comments about how silly and stupid that sounded but he advised himself against it, he was trying to win over the kid's trust after all.
"Okay, D-Dog," Sweets continued.
"Man, you just sound stupid when you say it." The kid got up and left.
Sweets wanted to drop his head on the table and hammer his clipboard with it. Don't these kids know they are shooting themselves in the foot? He wondered to himself but the phrase "young and dumb" came to mind as well as "invincible and untouchable." If these kids didn't seek counseling they would be picked back up and sent back to juvenile detention.
Sweets recalled one of many conversations with Booth in which Booth reminded him that he couldn't help anyone who didn't want it. The phone call a few minutes ago with Booth seemed to hammer home the point of where Sweets time was needed. But Sweets was tired of finding the guy who did it, not stopping him at a point in life where he could make that change.
Sweets knew how his life was growing up and if it had stayed that way, surrounded by violence that he too probably would have ended up either dead in an ally with a needle in his arm by high school or a kid getting in every fight he could find. He hoped he had the patience his parents had with him.
"Hey, you Dr. Sweets?" The young man asked standing before him. Sweets looked up and offered a casual smile.
"Yes, I'm Dr. Lance Sweets." Sweets had decided to leave off his association with the FBI which went as far as to not bring his ID, gun or suit with him. He sat casual with jeans, Converse and non-descript tee.
"They told me I had to come and see you. I'm Barry. Barry Jones."
Sweets wanted to ask why no nickname. He shuffled thru his paperwork and quickly located one on Barry Jones or Barry Jaybird as it suggested. Sweets didn't think it was very flattering or a very well-constructed nick name. He noted though that the kid had told him his real name, suggesting he wanted very little association possibly with that life. Sweets felt enthusiastic about the possibility he might be able to help someone.
"Well Barry, can I call you Barry?" Sweets asked and the kid nodded. "I'm Dr. Lance Sweets and I'm assigned to you. I'd like to help, if I can."
"What do you do?"
"Well I'll be candid with you Barry." Sweets said guessing the kid was tired of being given a run around, a common problem with the kids in this program. "You have been selected for this program because you're at risk of falling into gangs and some behaviors that could lead you down the wrong road. If you continue to meet with me and we talk about things, maybe we can find some opportunities that will lead you to some good choices, a good life and out of jail."
The kid thought it over. "Like what kind of opportunities?"
Sweets had to smile as the kid was considering. Sweets saw himself chipping into the kid, bringing him back from the dark side.
Booth had the suspect arrested and in the back of the police cruiser. He had done it without Sweets help but it may have helped to have him there and then he might not have a sore shoulder. He looked forward to his tub with his jets later that night. Still he couldn't resist the thought that the kid he just arrested was 22 with roughly four pages of a rap sheet on him. He wondered if there might be something to what Sweets was doing and vowed to give the kid some space.
Sweets was beside himself excited but he hid it pretty well. He make eye contact with Barry when he came back but kept his cool.
"So Barry, what kind of stuff have you gotten involved in?" Sweets asked.
"You've got my record don't ya?" Barry asked and Sweets noticed a slight edge to Barry's voice.
"Yeah, I just didn't know if you knew what all the terms and stuff were on here, how old are you? Twelve?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"Well that's pretty young to have a full page of a rap sheet. It's nothing that would keep you out of a good school for now, petty stuff." Sweets said glancing at it though he had read it over a dozen times before.
"What good schools?" Barry asked thinking of how that's where he was recruited.
"Well if I can give good recommendations you could get transferred to a better school with tuition assistance."
"My mom ain't got the money for that stuff."
"Well, let's talk about your mom. What does she do for a living?" Sweets could tell by his reaction that it wasn't good and that he didn't want to talk about it. "Is your dad around?"
The kid laughed out loud at that one.
"My dad wasn't around when I grew up. My mom, she had problems too." Sweets said in half a truth and half lying. His parents weren't around sure, and his foster parents were disastrous to be kind in terms but Sweets wasn't about to pour his whole life onto this kid. Sweets would be more than happy to keep it from everyone had Gordon not spilled the beans as much as he had.
"So, what made you a doctor?"
"I got taken out of that family, a nice social worker found me a new a family and they helped me to become a doctor, to want to help people who are stuck in a bad situation like I once was."
"That's why you do this?" Barry asked, his voice softening.
"Yes. So that's why I'm trying to find out what I can do to help you."
"Oh. Can you get me a new family?"
Sweets wished it would be that easy. "Not exactly, but we can work something out. Does your mom need help?"
"She's on it again. She's been gone for days." Barry said and Sweets knew that a kid shouldn't have to worry about a mother being strung out for days.
"If your mom isn't around then I can check into getting you into a home." Sweets said though he often had reserves, as well as scars, from foster home memories.
"Nah, I don't want none of that. I can take care of myself."
Even if Sweets fast tracked the whole process it'd still take a while to get a 12 year old into a home. They weren't as easily helped as smaller children, who were even difficult at that. He decided to focus on the task at hand.
"What do you like to do, maybe we can get you into some programs. Do you like basketball, art?"
"I like to draw." Barry said with a small smile.
Now there's a start Sweets said digging in.
"What's the kid's name?" Booth asked at the coffee maker the next day.
"Barry Jones." Sweets said pouring a cup.
"And you ran his record right?"
"Yes Booth I ran his record." Sweets answered as though 'dad' was asking him if he gassed up the car before a long road trip. "It's small stuff, breaking and entering and stuff."
Booth almost spit out his coffee. "That's not small stuff Sweets."
"Well he broke into places where no one was there, they weren't residences and he was one of five kids. He just went along with what the older ones were doing."
Booth had asked about this project to make Sweets see Booth was okay with it. But now he was just getting a bad feeling.
"Booth it's fine, the kid wants help. I'd like to help someone for once instead of interrogate or charge them with a crime."
"Okay Sweets, if you say so." Booth couldn't argue with that but still his gut said it was a bad idea.