Heat

Summary: Five times Seeley Booth didn't want to be comforted, and one time he did. This fic should really have Hank tagged as a character, but he's not on the list. What's up with that? Booth has shot people for less than that kind of disrespect to Pops! Anyway, we begin in 1980s Pennsylvania.

Spoilers: For the whole fic, through season 10. This chapter through season 5 or so.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. I am not making any profit or doing anything other than amusing myself.

1. Pennsylvania

For a few years after his mother left, he held out hope that things would get better. Sometimes that hope seemed justified. The Phillies won the World Series and he was there to see it with his dad. It was the fantasy of every kid in the world, or at least every kid in Philadelphia, come to life. That alone kept him hanging on for months as he was holding up his arms in a futile attempt to ward off his father's fists.

When he lost hope, he hung onto Jared. Jared was a baby. (Jared always felt like a baby to Seeley no matter how old they both got.) Jared couldn't handle their father all on his own. He needed Seeley for a little while longer.

When Jared wasn't enough, either, Seeley comforted himself with the fact that there would be an end.

Their father owned guns.

He knew how to shoot- quite well, in fact, by the time he reached the ripe old age of thirteen. He rolled his eyes at the irony. When his father was sober, he praised Seeley's natural talent with a gun. "My Seeley shoots better than half the men in uniform," Edwin Booth would boast to the regulars at Burke and Payne Barber Shop. But only when he was sober.

Edwin Booth was almost never sober the summer that Seeley Booth was thirteen.

Father Matt, the head of the Booth brothers' school, said that suicide was a sin, but Seeley was past caring. Hell wasn't going to be worse than five more years of beatings and screaming and constant dread in the pit of his stomach. Life wasn't going to be a picnic when he turned eighteen, either. He didn't have the money for college. He wasn't good enough for the military.

That was what Seeley focused on when Edwin lost his temper.

Some day, Edwin would leave the guns unlocked, or Seeley would get better at picking locks.

Some day, Seeley would shoot himself in the head and it would all be over.

He dreamed of it on the hot August night that Jared whined too loudly about not getting the ice cream he had been promised. Philadelphia in August was a special kind of hot and Seeley could hardly blame Jared for being irritated about the ice cream. Truth be told, he could have done with some himself. But Seeley was smart enough not to complain about the broken promised.

Jared would have been smart enough not to complain on most days, but he was only eight, and eight-year-olds were forgetful. When Seeley had been eight, he'd been innocent enough to think that everything would be all right if only the Phillies did well in the playoffs. So Seeley couldn't really blame Jared for his moment of weakness even as he shushed him frantically.

"Shut that kid up," said Edwin.

"He's shutting up, sir," Seeley returned. Usually the sir was helpful. Usually Edwin took it as a sign of respect.

That night wasn't usual. The heavy, suffocating August humidity had taken its toll on Edwin, too. "Sir?" asked Edwin. "You making fun of me, Seeley? You mocking my service to our great country?"

"No, sir," said Seeley instinctively. He bit his tongue hard when he realized what he'd done.

Edwin took off his belt.

The blood drained from Seeley's face. He was used to Edwin's fists, but the belt was a different story.

"Hands against the table, Seeley," said Edwin. "Shirt off."

"It was me, not Seeley!" Jared objected loyally, as if Seeley was going to let his younger brother be the one to take the beating. Seeley was older, and soon Seeley was going to be gone. Jared would take all the beatings then. It was unfortunate but Seeley didn't see another way.

So Seeley submitted.

He wasn't sure how much time passed between the first blow and the moment that Edwin grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head, hard, against the kitchen wall. Jared's screams in the background seemed to belong to another time and place. He felt bile rising in his stomach, but his consciousness was elsewhere for the actual act of vomiting.

The pain in his head increased. His body ached.

Edwin barked that Jared should clean up the mess. Jared sniveled that he would.

Jared didn't even do a bad job of it, really, and Seeley fuzzily thought that they had made it through another day successfully when he and Jared dragged themselves upstairs to their bedrooms.

Edwin was back at the bar.

The house was quiet.

Jared deserted his own bed in favor of Seeley's almost immediately, and Seeley didn't have the heart or the energy to tell him to get out because it was much too hot to share a bed. He listened to Jared sniffling tearfully beside him until he fell asleep.

The next voice Seeley heard was familiar and comforting.

That didn't mean he wanted to wake up.

A gentle, calloused hand rubbed his shoulder. "Come on, Shrimp. It's going to be a long day."

They were all long days. He couldn't keep a groan from passing his lips.

"Maybe we'd better get you to a doctor," the voice mused.

Seeley's eyes flew open. His father would not like that at all.

"I'm up," he croaked hastily. He sat up so quickly that his head spun as his feet hit the floor. "Pops?" he asked when he managed to focus properly on his grandfather's face. "When did you get here?" He looked at his bed; Jared was gone. "Where's Jared? Is he all right?"

Hank fixed Seeley was a penetrating look that Seeley didn't like at all. He loved Pops, but at the moment he just wanted to lie down again and sleep until his body didn't feel like one giant bruise. "Jared is downstairs eating breakfast," Hank said quietly. "Why wouldn't he be all right, Seeley?"

Seeley clamped his lips shut hard. Edwin had always made it clear that what happened in their house stayed in their house. He would not appreciate it if Seeley regaled Hank with tales of the previous night.

"I see," said Hank, as if Seeley had answered his question. Had Jared said something? Jared was smarter than that, except when he wasn't. That was the problem with little kids like Jared. "How are you feeling? Do you need a painkiller?"

"No," Seeley lied. He'd grab the bottle of Tylenol from the bathroom himself. There was no need to confirm anything that Hank might think he knew.

"Then get dressed and eat and start packing." Hank flashed a bright smile at Seeley that Seeley couldn't help returning. "You and Jared are coming to stay with your grandmother and me for a while."

"Really?" Seeley couldn't hide his delight. He loved visiting his grandparents and hadn't expected to see them again so soon after they'd spent Fourth of July week together. On a more practical note, the bruises on his back might get a chance to heal before something set Edwin off again. Like Edwin, Hank was tough and strong and had spent years in the military. Unlike Edwin, Hank almost never lost his temper.

"Really." Hank ruffled Seeley's hair and kissed the top of his head. Seeley was old enough to object to that kind of thing for form's sake, but no one was around to see so he didn't bother. "Hustle up, Shrimp."

A few hours later, Seeley and Jared piled into the cab of Hank's truck. Hank told Jared that he should sit in the middle because he was the smallest, but when Jared complained that he wanted to sit by the window, Seeley volunteered to take the middle seat.

He didn't volunteer because he felt safe pressed against his grandfather's side, he reminded himself sternly. He volunteered for some other reason. A good reason. Taking care of Jared and making sure Jared had whatever he wanted was a good reason.

He watched his grandfather's hands on the steering wheel and noticed for the first time that Hank's knuckles were bruised. Just like Edwin, Hank had hit someone last night. Since that someone wasn't Seeley or Jared, Seeley didn't really care.

They drove west out of the city and stopped twice in Lancaster County: once for the ice cream they hadn't gotten the day before (now Seeley really thought that Jared had told Pops absolutely everything) and once for homemade root beer from one of the roadside stands that seemed to appear every mile or so. Jared asked why the Amish all made root beer, and Seeley didn't hear Pops' answer because his head was pounding again.

Damned if he was going to ask for more Tylenol, though. He had made his decision. He clenched his jaw against the pain, told Jared to take his turn in the middle, and leaned his head as close to the open window as he could. He barely noticed as they left Amish country and wound their way to his grandparents' house.

He blinked in confusion when the truck stopped and nearly fell to his knees in his grandparents' gravel driveway when Jared leaned over him to open the truck's passenger side door.

"Are you okay, Seeley?" Jared asked with real concern.

"Fine," Seeley answered through gritted teeth.

Jared looked singularly unconvinced.

"Go find your grandmother," Hank ordered Jared. "I'll take care of Seeley."

Jared hesitated.

"I'm fine. Go," Seeley barked, and Jared went.

Hank draped an arm over Seeley's shoulder and steered him to the swing on the front porch. Seeley had loved that swing back when he'd been Jared's age and younger.

"If there's a breeze anywhere today, it'll find us here," said Hank as he sat beside Seeley and gave the swing a push. The air on his face made Seeley feel a bit better, but his stomach lurched again at Hank's next words. "I know your father hits you sometimes, and that is not acceptable." There was no room for argument or denial.

"Is that what Jared said? Jared's a little kid. He exaggerates."

"Jared's a little boy now, but sooner than any of us think he'll be a man. I wouldn't want to see him grow into the kind of man who wouldn't do whatever he could to help if his brother was in danger."

"I'm not in danger," Seeley objected. "It's been really hard for Dad since Mom left. Jared doesn't remember her so he doesn't get that. And sometimes when he thinks about Vietnam…" Seeley wasn't precisely sure what the Vietnam War had to do with this, but he knew that it was something. "Anyway, he does the best he can."

"You love your father, don't you?" Hank asked so quietly that Seeley almost didn't hear him.

"Of course," said Seeley. There wasn't any other option. When someone asked whether you loved your family, you said yes.

"It's going to be hard on you not seeing him," Hank said, and Seeley wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

"Why won't I see him?" Seeley asked, not sure whether he was happy or sad. "How long are we staying here? School starts next month."

"I think we'd better register you and Jared to go to school around here."

Seeley shrugged. He'd changed schools half a dozen times, bouncing between public schools and Catholic ones. It never bothered him. He made friends easily, but didn't like to stick with them long enough to have to explain why he never invited them to his house. I'm afraid Dad will get drunk and hit me in front of you just didn't roll off the tongue when someone angled for an invitation.

"But Dad's coming back?"

"I don't know, Shrimp. He had to leave unexpectedly."

"Without saying goodbye?" Seeley mentally shook himself for asking such a stupid question. His mother hadn't said goodbye, either.

"It was last minute. It was lucky that I was in the area to bring you and Jared home right away."

Home. Was this home now? Seeley decided that he wouldn't ask because he didn't want to know the answer. "Jared didn't call you?" he asked instead.

"No," Hank confirmed. "Look, I want you to start making a list of things you need that we didn't bring today. Write it down every time you notice that you don't have something. I'll either drive back to your dad's house and get it or we'll get you something new."

Seeley nodded his agreement. His head didn't hurt any longer. Everything felt better at his grandparents' house.

Even though Hank had told Seeley and Jared that they would be living with their grandparents for the foreseeable future, for the first week Seeley couldn't convince himself that this was anything beyond a visit. Every time a car passed, he expected to see Edwin behind the wheel; Edwin knew perfectly well how to find them, having grown up in this house himself.

It truly hit him that his world had altered irreparably when his grandmother escorted him, along with Jared, to the pediatrician's office for a back-to-school checkup. Seeley got one shot; Jared got three. Neither Seeley nor Jared had ever been bothered by vaccinations. Unlike their father's fists, the prick of a needle didn't hurt for long.

The doctor asked the usual questions about whether they could see and hear and whether anything hurt. Those questions were easy. Yes, yes, and no.

"Are you afraid of anyone?"

Seeley couldn't help catching Jared's eye to remind him not to answer. Unfortunately, the doctor noticed.

"Who are you afraid of?"

"The nuns at my old school," Seeley answered hastily. Both Jared and the doctor laughed, and Jared, who had a disconcerting way of charming adults, convinced the doctor that that was really all either of them had thought about when they'd heard the question.

"What sports did you play at your old school, Seeley?" the doctor wanted to know.

"Basketball and baseball."

"No football?" The doctor sounded surprised. "An athlete like you?"

"My old school didn't have a football team."

"Eighth grade at your new school does. Do you want to try out? I'll sign the paperwork that you're okay to play football if you decide that you want to."

A wave of excitement broke over Seeley. He couldn't wait to play football. And basketball. And baseball. He loved being recognized, on sight, as an athlete. He was ready for a new church, and a new school, and new teachers and friends and teammates that his grandparents would let him invite to visit on Saturdays.

He was practically skipping as he left the doctor's office. Jared caught his good mood, and as they headed to the schools for registration their grandmother remarked that she'd never seen two boys so happy to have gotten booster shots.

Seeley's new school was a bit smaller than his old one, and there was something more relaxed about it that came with being in the suburbs rather than the city. The eighth graders didn't have much say in what classes they took, which was fine because Seeley didn't care very much anyway. He did happen to meet the math teacher who doubled as the eighth grade basketball coach; the man's eyes lit up when Seeley told him that he played point guard.

Yes, Seeley was going to like it here.

Then it was time to go to Jared's elementary school. Seeley waited in the office while Jared bounced through the halls and charmed every teacher he met. He wanted a minute alone to bask in the glow of the way the basketball coach had looked at him. An athlete like you? The doctor had said. Seeley was going to break records. Maybe he'd go to college after all. Maybe he'd go on an athletic scholarship.

Apparently the secretaries in the inner office didn't realize that Seeley had stayed behind, because as soon as Jared's happy shouts retreated down the hallway, the gossip began.

"Two boys? At their age?" one whispered far too loudly.

"They're their own grandchildren. I went to school with Edwin Booth. I heard that he's one of those men who wasn't quite right when he got home from Vietnam. What else were they going to do?" The second voice was kinder, but only slightly. Seeley flinched at the mention of his father. It hadn't quite occurred to him that people in this area knew Edwin and would look at his sons accordingly.

"I suppose. Jared is a sweetheart, at least."

"Oh, he's adorable."

"And he's young enough to bounce back from whatever happened with his parents. He won't give the Booths much trouble. But a teenage boy coming out of a bad situation? One who's already built like a Mack truck? I don't wish dealing with that on anyone, let alone two people who should be enjoying their retirement in peace and quiet. No one likes thirteen-year-old boys. They're the worst."

"Thirteen-year-old boys don't even like themselves."

She wasn't wrong.

"Edwin will probably come back for them anyway."

All of Seeley's thoughts of sports and friends and college scholarships faded as quickly as they had come.

Things weren't really any different than they had been a week before.

He'd been too much for his mother, who had been an artist not meant to be tied down by children.

He'd been too much for his father, who had been driven to drunkenness and fits of temper before leaving without a word, just as his wife had done.

Naturally he would be too much for his grandparents.

And then Edwin would come back, angrier and drunker than ever before.

That evening, when his grandparents took Jared for a walk around the neighborhood to say hello to a family just returning from a vacation, Seeley begged to stay behind. He claimed that it was too hot to go outside, and everyone accepted the excuse.

His grandfather, like his father, had been a military man. His grandfather, like his father, owned guns.

It only took ten minutes to find the box that he was sure contained firearms. Seeley swore under his breath. Like Edwin, Hank was very conscientious about keeping weapons under lock and key.

Seeley left the box on his bed and went looking for the key. He found a set of keys in a junk drawer in the kitchen, but none of them seemed to fit. He snarled with frustration. This was the perfect situation. He had no future, but Jared did, and Jared was with people who could take care of him. Their grandparents would be so attached to him by the time Edwin came back that they would beg to keep him. It would be easier with Seeley out of the picture.

"What are you doing, Shrimp?"

Shit. Seeley hadn't heard Hank approach. Edwin had had the same quiet walk. Seeley wondered if they'd learned it in the army or if it was some weird hereditary thing that he and Jared had missed.

"I wanted to see your guns," he said, trying to sound innocent.

"Mmm-hmm," murmured Hank non-committally. "Why didn't you ask?"

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Let me be very clear," said Hank, and Seeley felt a thrill of terror. Disappointing Pops was almost worse than infuriating Edwin. "You will never touch a gun without supervision. I know that Edwin taught you to shoot, and if that's something that you want to do I will take you to the range for target practice myself. I'm going to replace that lock with one that doesn't have a key so that you won't be tempted. Regardless, do not try this again."

"No, sir," Seeley replied ashamedly.

"I don't want you to be hurt, Seeley, and I don't want you to hurt anyone else."

"I'm a good shot," he protested, although he wasn't sure why.

"You're good at practically everything, and all of that goes down the tubes if you accidentally shoot yourself."

Seeley nodded. He couldn't explain that it wouldn't have been an accident if he had followed through and shot himself. Looking at his grandfather's worried face, he didn't know whether he would have done it.

"We love you. Your grandmother and I, and Jared, and your parents, too, even though they aren't here. We couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. It was bad enough seeing you with belt marks on your back. Do you think I want to see you with a bullet hole through you?"

"No."

"Go down to the kitchen and wait for me."

His grandparents' kitchen didn't look anything like his father's kitchen, but Seeley couldn't help imagining himself taking off his shirt and bending over the table and waiting for the sting of the belt.

When Hank arrived, he glanced at Seeley but didn't say anything. Instead, he removed bread from the breadbox and butter and cheese from the fridge. It was the strangest start to a lecture Seeley had ever experienced.

"... You're making grilled cheese?" he asked when the suspense got to be too much.

"I make the best grilled cheese in the world. Of course I'm making grilled cheese. Would you tell Michaelangelo not to paint?"

"I didn't say you shouldn't," said Seeley, who figured that he was in enough trouble as it was. "I was just surprised."

"Surprises can be good. I have one for you and your brother tomorrow morning. It will be a very, very cool surprise."

"Nothing's cool," Seeley retorted. "It's ninety degrees outside."

Hank turned and winked at him before dumping the grilled cheese on a plate and pushing it in front of Seeley. "You need your energy if you're going to play three sports this year. Although my understanding is that the basketball coach would like to lock you up to keep you safe until basketball season. Imagine if I'd let you shoot yourself. He'd probably shoot me."

"I'm sorry," said Seeley, and he was.

"I want you to know how to handle a gun. Jared too. It's an important skill, but it's not one that you can practice on your own until you're older. Much older. Old enough to enlist."

"You think the army would take me?"

"They'd be thrilled to have you," said Hank. "Personally, I'd like you to go through college first, but I'd be proud of you either way."

It seemed possible again. Seeley bit into the grilled cheese to avoid saying anything.

The grilled cheese was delicious.

"This is amazing, Pops."

"Of course it is," said Hank, as if it was borderline offensive to remark on something so obvious. "Do you know who John Wilkes Booth was?"

"Fucking traitor assassin," Seeley muttered.

"Don't use that language around your grandmother," said Hank mildly. "Or your teachers. Or in church."

"I won't."

"Good. You know that we're related to him?"

"That's not our fault."

"No, but it's the first thing people think of when they hear the name Booth. That's one more reason to be careful around guns. The most important thing is safety, but you don't want to follow John Wilkes Booth's legacy, either."

"I'm not a traitor!" Seeley snapped.

"No. Nor is anyone in our family, living and dead, other than that one man, not since Junius Brutus Booth left London and set his sons up to perform Shakespeare for illiterate miners."

"That sounds really boring."

Hank playfully tousled Seeley's hair. "They were the greatest acting family of their day. The one I like is Junius' son Edwin."

Seeley let the grilled cheese fall from his hand back to the plate. He had never thought about why his grandfather had named his father Edwin. He had limited himself to wondering why he'd gotten a ridiculous name like Seeley while his younger brother had gotten the completely normal Jared.

"As I was saying," Hank continued, content that he had Seeley's attention, "The Booths were great actors but Edwin was the greatest. He founded an actors' club in New York that's lasted a hundred years so far. They say he played Hamlet better than anyone else. There's a statue of him in Manhattan and a fountain dedicated to him in front of a courthouse in Maryland. He's the reason there's a Booth Theatre on Broadway."

Seeley considered that. He didn't like plays, and musicals were worse. "Still sounds boring," he informed Hank.

"In 1864," Hank went on, "Edwin was on a train platform in New Jersey. Tell me, Seeley, why does New Jersey exist?"

"To keep the crap in the Atlantic Ocean off of Pennsylvania," Seeley answered eagerly. Every science teacher in Pennsylvania taught his students that much.

Hank grinned. "Correct. Naturally, it was crowded because people wanted to get the hell out of New Jersey. One of the people on the platform was Abraham Lincoln's son Robert. The crowd was pushing and shoving and Robert fell off the platform. Just as he thought he was going to go under the wheels of the train, someone pulled him to safety. He looked at the man and saw that it was the most famous actor of the day- Edwin Booth."

Seeley shook his head. "That's too much of a coincidence."

"Truth is stranger than fiction. Edwin didn't know until later who he'd saved. It comforted him when his brother John Wilkes assassinated President Lincoln."

Seeley shrugged. Jared screwed up sometimes, but Seeley was pretty sure that he didn't have to worry about Jared assassinating President Reagan.

"You said that it wasn't our fault that we're related to John Wilkes Booth. You're right. What one person in a family does reflects on his family, but it doesn't make everyone else the same. Do not ever be reckless or rash with a gun, Shrimp."

"I won't," said Seeley.

He wondered again whether he would have followed through if he had gotten the box open. He hadn't wanted to die at precisely that second, after all. He had just wanted to be prepared for his father's return.

Then Hank asked whether he thought the Sixers had been right to draft Charles Barkley, and Seeley's mind was elsewhere for the rest of the night. He almost forgot that he'd been promised a surprise the next morning.

"Put on your jeans," Hank instructed Seeley and Jared, and they complied with little argument even though it was too hot to wear anything other than shorts.

They did, however, object when they saw their winter jackets in the back of the car.

"Maybe Pops has heatstroke and it made him stupid?" Jared theorized.

It seemed as likely as anything to Seeley as they drove to a college several towns away.

"I know you said you wanted me to go to college, but aren't I a little young?" asked Seeley.

"It's never too early to start preparing," said Hank noncommittally. He swung the car down a hidden, tree-lined road.

It was Jared who caught sight of the sign first. "Blevins Rink," he read aloud, and it all made sense. The jackets. The promise that the surprise would be cool.

"We don't know how to skate, Pops," Seeley told Hank apologetically. There were plenty of places to play basketball and a few to play football or baseball, but the only rinks Seeley had seen in his life had been on television.

"But you love the Flyers. You don't want to learn?"

"I do," said Jared eagerly.

"Good," said Hank. "Grab your coat. It'll be cold inside."

Even when they stepped inside, Seeley didn't put on his coat. After two weeks of a heat wave, it was nice to be a little bit cold. He had never felt air conditioning like this before. A few of his friends had heavy air conditioners hanging out of the window of one room of their houses, and that one small room would stay cool as long as it was shut up tight. The rink was huge and open and full of deliciously frozen ice.

The instructions flew at him thick and fast. The skates were to be one size smaller than his usual shoes. He was going to wear figure skates for his first lesson because they were more stable, but he could switch to hockey skates later. He was going to fall, everyone did, and when it happened he should fall to his side and land on his hip if he could manage it. To start, they would march onto the ice and gradually would start to glide without any effort at all. When he was ready to stroke, he needed to remember to push sideways with the inside of his blade rather than backwards with the outside.

He tried to remember everything while Jared and Hank were busy flirting with the girl who handed them their skates.

"My friend Joe arranged this special for me," Hank was saying. "I couldn't have afforded it otherwise. Every Sunday at church, I ask the good Lord why he didn't make me rich instead of so damn handsome."

The girl laughed.

"Really, Pops?" chimed in Jared. "I ask God the exact same thing."

The girl laughed harder and told Jared to lace his skates more tightly.

Seeley made a face at their refusal to take this seriously and stepped determinedly onto the ice. Hank's friend Joe skated hastily to his side and began to coach him. "Small steps at first. Don't fight it when you start to slide, but don't try to push it yet, either."

The instant that he felt himself gliding across the ice for the first time, Seeley knew that he was hooked.

Then he fell.

Then he got up.

To be continued, a decade or so later, in an undisclosed location…

Note: This was supposed to be one of those 5-and-1 oneshots, but once the first part hit 5000 words I thought it would be better as a 6-shot. So here we are despite my promise to swear off multichapter fics.

Special thanks to the person or people who were so thorough about the Booth family page on Wikipedia. :)