I thought there was a lot going through Booth's head in that evening scene with Dr. Wyatt, not the last one but the other one, that we didn't get to hear. This is what I think he thought.

"Do you think about suicide often?" Dr. Wyatt pierces me with his eyes.

I'm stunned into silence for a moment. I can't believe he just asked me that.

Suicide? No.

Putting aside for a moment the fact that I'd go straight to Hell…No.

"Suicide? Me? No. No never." I shake my head emphatically.

Take my own life? How can he even suggest it?

I couldn't leave Parker here. This world pulls no punches, I could never just abandon him to it. I want my son to be strong…but not because he has no other choice. Not because he's all alone with no one to protect him.

It's not just Parker, there's Bones too. She needs me. She'll never admit it, but the woman is a walking magnet for trouble. I know she can take care of herself, heck, she could probably jujutsu the stuffing out of half the Agents at the Bureau, but she still needs me. I'm one of her closest friends. Bones is dead scared that everyone she cares for will leave her. I couldn't do that to her.

Dr. Wyatt is giving me this knowing look. What? What does he think he knows?

"And yet you sometimes think Howard Epps had the right idea jumping off that balcony?" He says. What kind of question is that?

Me? Think about suicide? Absolutely not.

Sure, I've seen things I'd rather forget. Done things I wish I hadn't…but that doesn't mean I want to kill myself.

Maybe it's a lot to handle sometimes. Maybe the weight of what I know, what I'm responsible for, maybe sometimes it's near crippling.

It's possible that sometimes I think about the lives I've taken and wonder if the priest really meant it when he said I was forgiven. If it's even possible to forgive the sins I've committed.

But definitely not suicide. I can cope.

Not with gambling anymore, although that worked rather well.

No. Nowadays I can do other things to take the darkness out of my mood when I start to feel overwhelmed.

Like after the Charlie Kent case, I went to the gym and punched the body bag until my knuckles bled. Or I can go to Wong Fu's and Sid can give me a takeout bottle full of that mystery drink that knocks me out as soon as I step inside my apartment.

There's always the firing range, a place I tend to frequent after a particularly intense argument with Bones, the kind where we've both said things we shouldn't and neither have the will to apologize. Seeing the holes I make in those targets, nearly on top of each other they're so close, that usually brings back my focus, I know I'm in control.

Sometimes a call from Parker or even my favorite Forensic Anthropologist is enough to lighten the weight in my chest.

And if all else fails, I can always crack jokes.

"It was a joke, okay? It was a joke." I tell him in a tone that allows no room for argument.

It was a joke…one I wish I found a little easier to laugh at.

So tell me what you thought. :)