Thank you for your continued interest in my story.
I don't own Bones.
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Staring at his cup of coffee, Booth thought about Kosovo, about Iraq, about Afghanistan. It seemed that he had lost more than a few friends in his life and some of them had been almost like brothers. It pained Booth to think that such fine young men had lost their lives and wouldn't have the things in life that he did.
Looking at Gordon, Booth said, "I'm a lucky man. I have a wife that loves me. I have a six year old daughter who is really a great kid. She never gives me or Bones any trouble. Well, I mean for a kid. You know most kids do stuff; but, she doesn't do bad stuff, just kid stuff. I have a great job and I have a lot of friends. What more can a guy like me ask for?"
Sipping his wine and watching Booth's face over the rim of the glass, Gordon asked, "A guy like you?"
Frowning, Booth said, "What?"
Putting his glass down, Gordon said, "You said a guy like you. What do you mean a guy like you?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Booth looked away towards the front of the building and said, "I've killed a lot of men in my life. If it wasn't for Bones, I'm pretty sure that I'd be alone in this world. Not a lot of women are interested in staying with a guy that has that much blood on his hands. My nightmares alone have been enough to scare off women I've tried to have relationships with. I've had a few women try to stick it out with me; but, they wouldn't marry me. Hell, they recognized damaged goods when they saw it. The only one that's ever given me a chance is Bones. I know a good thing when I have it."
Shaking his head, Gordon said, "You aren't damaged goods, Booth. You're a man with a violent past; but, that is because of the jobs you've had. You were a sniper in the army and in the FBI. It was your job to eliminate evil men. That's what you did. You removed a cancer from society. Someone has to do that and you were the one who did it. That doesn't mean you have blood on your hands. You're not a killer Booth. You're a good man who has done an impossible job. You haven't done anything wrong and you have nothing to be ashamed of."
Looking back at Gordon, Booth said, "I'm not ashamed of what I've done. I just, um." Not continuing, Booth moved his right arm up and rested his forehead against his open hand.
Looking at Booth, Gordon said, "Do you have a lot of nightmares?"
Nodding his head, Booth said, "Sure. Once or twice a week. Sometimes more."
Lowering his head and trying to see Booth's expression, Gordon sighed and said, "Are you upset about killing the bank robber yesterday or is this about Sherry or both?"
Removing his hand from his face, Booth looked at Gordon and said, "Both. I'm tired of being the go to guy when the FBI wants someone dead. I love my job and I don't mind the idea of killing someone if they're threatening me or Bones; but, I don't want to shoot someone whose just standing there. That guy I shot yesterday was just standing there. He wasn't threatening my life. I just stood on the roof across the street and shot him. I don't want to do that anymore."
Moving his wine glass back and forth on the table in front of him, Gordon said, "But he wasn't just standing there, Booth. He had a child in his arms and he was threatening to kill the child. You did what you had to do."
Shrugging his shoulders, Booth said, "You don't think I know that? I know that. It's just, he was so surprised when I shot him. He didn't see me. He didn't know I was even there. He was alive one minute and the next minute he was dead. Surprise."
Shaking his head, Gordon said, "It shouldn't have been a surprise to him. He had to have known that taking a child hostage was going to turn out badly. Have you considered that the man was trying to commit suicide by cop?"
Sitting up straight, Booth said, "What?"
Sighing, Gordon said, "You heard me. You know that happens all of the time. The man wanted to die and he was too much of a coward to take his own life. He knew that taking a child hostage and threatening to kill the child was dangerous. I put it to you that he knew that and that he was counting on you or someone like you to kill him. He didn't give a damn who helped him die. He didn't care if it would effect anyone else. He was a very selfish, self-centered man who used you to end his life. I believe you are a victim of suicide by cop."
Frowning, Booth asked, "Do you really think that's true?"
Nodding his head, Gordon said, "Yes, I do. You did what you did because it needed to be done. You were manipulated by a coward to do his dirty work for him. You have nothing to feel guilty about. If you hadn't killed him he would have killed the child to force you to kill him anyways. You just did what he wanted. It makes you and the child the victims, not the bank robber."
Nodding his head, Booth said, "I'll have to think about that. Yeah, I'll have to think about that a lot."
Looking at Gordon's wine glass, Booth said, "Thanks. I'd never thought about it like that."
Smiling, Gordon raised his wine glass to his lips and drained his glass. Putting his glass down, Gordon said, "About the seat belt thing. I think you need to talk to Dr. Brennan about your distrust of seat belts. You need to be honest in your conversation and not be afraid to tell her why you hate seat belts. There might be room for compromise if you will just talk to her and listen to what she has to say."
Picking up his now cold cup of coffee, Booth drank the rest of the coffee and put his cup back down. Looking at Gordon and smiling, Booth said, "Thanks, Chef. I always feel pretty good talking to you."
Nodding his head, Gordon Wyatt said, "Well, I am the best Chef slash psychologist in the D. C. area even if I do have to say so myself.
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Reviews would be welcome and greatly appreciated. Thanks.
Here is a little irony for you. My car was totaled last week when a woman ran a red light and smashed into my car. She hit the drivers side of my car and spun my car so that I went from facing South to facing East. My car was totally destroyed and I walked away without a scratch. Of course, I was wearing my seat belts. Don't you just love those little ironies that invade your life from time to time?