(This story takes place after "The Pinocchio in the Planter".)
This is my first attempt at fan-fic. Let me know what you think of it. Thanks.
I don't own Bones.
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Sitting in Sweets office always made Booth feel uncomfortable. He didn't have a lot of control when it came to what happened there and he hated the idea of not being in control. Besides, Sweets was just a kid. What did he know about life. Sure, he had a hellacious childhood, but he was adopted by loving parents when he was six years old so he turned out all right.
"Agent Booth." Sweets knew that Booth hated to be there, but he had a job to do. "I asked you to drop by this morning because I noticed that you didn't want to cuff a suspect yesterday because he was dressed up as a clown. I feel that you need to come to grips with this fear you have of clowns and very soon. If you don't you could end up getting killed by someone dressed up as a clown. Your phobia is endangering your life and the life of your partner."
Furious, Booth glared at the younger man. "Look Sweets, I am not afraid of clowns . . . I . . . I just don't like them or trust them."
"What's not to trust, Agent Booth?" Sweets didn't believe Booth for a minute and he was afraid that Booth really was in danger. "Clowns live to entertain and help people have fun. Don't you think you're carrying this dislike of clowns too far? After all you did shoot a clown once."
Outraged, Booth placed his clenched hands on his thighs and tried to control his temper. "If you're talking about the plastic clown then forget it. It wasn't real and I was just annoyed with the loud racket it was making. It isn't like I really shot a clown that time." Booth stood up and flashed his charm smile. "Okay if we're done, I have to go."
Holding up his hand in aggravation, Sweets shook his head. "Wait a minute, not so fast . . . That isn't what I'm talking about and you know it."
Aggravated, Booth sat back down and sighed. "Look Sweets, I have shot a real clown before, but the perv deserved it. He was kidnapping young girls around Halloween and killing them. He tried to kill Bones and then he tried to kill me. Of course I shot him . . . Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same." Satisfied that he'd answered Sweets, Booth stood up and glanced at the door. "I'm leaving now. I have a mountain of reports to go through and this is just wasting my time."
"Agent Booth, please sit back down." Sweets' own aggravation was growing, but he knew he had to take control of the meeting and Booth was really making it hard for him.
"You're being obtuse on purpose. Now look . . . I know that you didn't want to cuff that clown at that "Honesty" meeting yesterday and then you had me interrogate him. That is avoidance . . . I'm here to help you. Why won't you let me do that? Please . . . admit that you have a problem . . . tell me why you're afraid of clowns?'
Booth's frustration was growing. After he checked his watch, Booth sat down and tried to make his young friend understand. "I am not afraid of clowns, Sweets. Clowns just aren't my thing. You aren't too crazy about mice and I respect that. Do you see me bugging you about why you hate mice? No, you don't. Now please . . . can I go?"
Sweets knew that Booth was embarrassed, but he was determined to make the agent listen to him. "I'm not worried that my dislike of mice is going to get me killed. I'm pretty sure if someone dressed up in a mouse costume it wouldn't bother me because I'd know it wasn't real. You on the other hand are afraid to be around people dressed up as clowns . . . That could get you killed, Booth . . . It could get Dr. Brennan killed. Now, I insist that you let me help you . . . admit that you are afraid of clowns."
His anger barely under control, Booth seriously considered hitting the younger man. As he sat there glaring at his friend, he saw a look of fear mixed with concern on Sweet's face and that made him reconsider. "Fine . . . fine, you want to know why I'm afraid of clowns? I'll tell you, but if you ever tell anyone about my reasons, I will fill up your apartment with mice once a week for a month . . . When I say you can't tell anyone, that especially means Bones. Got it? I don't want her worrying about it."
With a look of fear on his face, Sweets swallowed. "You . . . um . . . you wouldn't really put mice in my apartment would you, Agent Booth? I'm just trying to help you. You know that. I'm not the enemy here."
Booth felt ashamed that he'd frightened the younger man. He just wanted to leave and go back to work. "You want to know why I don't like clowns? Okay fine . . . I'm going to tell you, but it's just to stop you from hassling me about it, so listen up . . . When I was seven years old, I was invited to a birthday party at an amusement park by my best friend, Fred Feight. The kid loved the park and he wanted to have his birthday party there. His parents agreed and they invited 10 other kids to the park for the party. My parents didn't want to let me go the party. They didn't think Fred's parents could keep track of 10 kids and they thought it was stupid to try. I had to really beg to go and they finally decided to let me go the party."
He paused and adjusted his tie. Booth noticed his hand was shaking and that just made him angry. "At first it was a lot of fun. We rode the rides . . . ate a bunch of junk food . . . Then . . . then Bobby Hinish decided that he wanted to go the fun house. None of us wanted to go, but Bobby insisted, so we decided that we would all go in . . . I mean, what the hell, it was a fun house. At first it was okay, but then they must have had a power failure because all of a sudden everything went black . . ." Booth was speaking so softly that Sweets could barely hear him. "I mean no lights at all. You could hear people yelling outside so we knew it had to be all over the park." Booth leaned forward. "Have you ever been in a fun house when the lights were completely off? Man I have to tell you, you wouldn't want that to happen to you as an adult. Imagine if you were seven and that happened."
"Hold it Agent Booth." Sweets held up his hand. "Didn't Fred's parents go into the fun house with you? That sounds pretty irresponsible to me."
Annoyed because Sweets interrupted him, Booth leaned back against the couch. "Mrs. Feight was claustrophobic, so she refused to go in with us. Mr. Feight said he needed to go to the restroom and he would catch up with us in the fun house. Now do you want to hear the rest fo the story or can I just go now? I have work to do and this is pointless anyway."
Sweets knew that Booth was struggling, but that part of the story seemed kind of crazy. "Sorry Agent Booth . . . I just couldn't believe adults would let a bunch of little kids go into a fun house by themselves."
Booth shrugged his shoulders and plowed ahead with his story. "Well . . . anyways, Gary Bedford started to cry because he didn't like the dark. We kind of kidded him about it, but after awhile we all started to get scared too. I mean the lights didn't come on and it was so dark we couldn't see our hands in front of our faces. We called out to see if Mr. Feight was nearby, but he didn't answer so we knew we were alone . . . All of a sudden we heard Casey scream. I mean . . . it was a scream of terror. I yelled for him to stop it because I thought he was just freaking out, but he kept screaming. It was dark, but I ran towards where I thought he was and ran into someone big. Whoever it was, he had Casey in his arms and he was whispering to Casey to shut up . . . at least I think he was . . . I could hear his voice, but I couldn't see him and well he had to be holding Casey because well I could tell . . . It really freaked me out. By then the other kids were running around, crashing into walls, crying, yelling . . . Wow, it's a wonder I didn't do the same . . . In fact, I don't know why I didn't.
He was struggling to tell his story, but Booth knew he had to tell all of it. "Anyways, I tried to pull on Casey's legs to get him out of the arms of whoever had him, but Casey started kicking his legs and he hit me in the head. I got knocked down and Casey was yelling so loud I thought he was being killed or something . . . The next thing I know the lights came on and I saw this really big clown standing in front of me holding Casey. When the lights came on, he dropped Casey and took off. Man, we were all so scared and we took off in the opposite direction. Wherever that clown went, we weren't going in the same direction. When we got out of the fun house we told Mr. and Mrs. Feight what had happened. They said we were being a bunch of sissies and were letting our imaginations run crazy, but we saw what we saw . . . They refused to tell anyone about it and then decided the party was over and they took us home . . . I never told my parents. They would never have let me go to another birthday party again if I had. Plus my old man would have . . . um, you know."
Sweets had actually been horrified at what he heard. He shook his head and spoke softly. "I think I would be afraid of clowns if that happened to me too. Still it was just a fun house."
"Ha!" Booth smirked at the younger man. "Like you, when I had time to think about it in the light of day, I thought the clown was just part of the fun house too. He was supposed to scare the shit out of us . . . We had just let our imaginations get away from us that's all. At least that's what I thought until the next week, when I saw a newspaper on the coffee table in our living room . . . You have to remember I was only seven, but I could read stories in the paper if they weren't too complicated. The paper had a picture of that clown I saw, right on the front page . . . The headlines at the top of the paper said, 'Killer Clown Caught at Fun House'. I read the article the best that I could . . . It seems this clown kidnapped a six year old boy from the fun house at the amusement part, raped him and killed him. Someone found the clown standing over the boy's body and hit him with something and then called the police. The clown confessed that he had murdered the boy and he'd tried to do it the week before during a blackout at the amusement park. Now do see why I hate clowns?"
Sweets saw that look of horror on Booth's face and knew that the man had been traumatized as a child and he should have had help to deal with it. "Wow, I think I hate clowns too, Agent Booth."
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