A/N: for this chapter we have Booth, Gordon Gordon, a sports bars, and a 'piece of jewelry'. I bent the rules on the piece of jewelry bit. You'll see what I mean...

Gordon Gordon Wyatt shuddered a bit, feeling slightly self conscious as he stood in front of the All Stars Tavern that Friday evening. Spending happy hour in a rowdy sports bar was hardly his cup of tea, and yet, there he was, in deference to one of his favorite patient's wishes, willing to enter just such an establishment in order to partake in some 'fun'.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he sighed as he contemplated the locale. In reality, Booth was no longer one of his patients, since he was no longer practicing psychiatry, having put his time to better use in studying the culinary arts, but the FBI agent had stubbornly refused to give up seeking his counsel. It was quite understandable, of course...almost predictable. Given the younger man's severe childhood traumas, he'd often found it difficult to trust people, particularly men, so once that bond of trust was established with someone, he was loath to give up that sort of dynamic in a friendship.

And so, as a favor to his dear friend, Gordon Gordon squared his shoulders and walked into the noisy pub, only to have his senses bombarded with the garish lights, harsh odors, and loud sounds associated with such a venue. It was so very different from his beloved Le Coupole, and he wished Booth had consented to meet at the quiet, elegant restaurant instead, but he soon realized that the tavern's raucous atmosphere was to serve as a sort of camouflage for their meeting. The men could have an intense conversation here...perhaps even express some strongly felt emotions...and with all the commotion surrounding them, no one would be the wiser.

A quick scan of the room led him to join his friend at the bar. "Good evening, Booth…"

"Hey, Gordon Gordon. Glad you could join me." Booth held up a finger to get the bartender's attention. "Whatever my friend here wants…"

Unsure of what was the appropriate beverage, the psychiatrist shrugged slightly. "I'll have a Guinness, my good man…"

Grimacing slightly, the bartender nodded. "Coming right up…"

Booth chuckled softly. "Ever the proper Englishman…"

"Except that Guinness is Irish, but that's a minor detail." Gordon Gordon sipped his stout with satisfaction. "So...it's been a while since I've seen you, Booth. How have you been? How is the lovely Dr. Brennan?"

"We're both fine...couldn't be better." Grinning happily, Booth took a drink from his beer bottle. "In fact, we're in what she calls 'a committed monogamous relationship', and we're gonna have a little girl join our family in a couple of months…"

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!" Gordon Gordon raised his glass to give a toast. "Here's to a happy, healthy child…"

"Yeah, thanks." Draining his beer, Booth grew pensive. "I mean, Bones and I are fine, but…" He studied the label on the empty bottle. "...my dad died a few weeks ago, and it's dredged up all sorts of negative shit for me…"

Taking a handful of peanuts to munch on, Gordon Gordon nodded. "Yes, I imagine so. Did you see him or talk to him before he passed?"

"Nah...I didn't even know he was really that sick, okay? My grandfather just showed up at the diner one day, saying that my dad had died from liver failure at the VA hospital in Philly. I guess all the drinking he did finally took its toll." Exhaling slowly, Booth shook his head. "I mean, I'm not sure what I would've said to him anyway...but it probably wouldn't have been anything good, so maybe it's just as well I wasn't there. It wouldn't have been right for my last words to my dad to be full of hate...even if it was how I felt. Maybe some things are better left unsaid."

"I suppose that's true." Gordon Gordon studied his companion intently. "However, now you'll never have any closure for that relationship…"

"Yeah, well, maybe that closure shit is overrated, okay? I mean, I've kinda made my peace with what happened between us over the years…"

"Still…" The chef shrugged with a sad smile. "I believe it would've been useful for you to confront your father...to let him know that you've realized that you didn't deserve to be abused...that you weren't at fault…"

Booth hesitated slightly, hoping to find the right words to explain what he felt. "Yeah, that's true...but I've also come to realize that maybe what happened wasn't entirely my dad's fault, either. I mean, yeah, he was a sorry bastard, and part of me will never forgive him for what he did to my mom, to Jared, and to me. He tore apart our family…" Groaning softly, he clenched his fists. "...but over the years I've also learned about PTSD and how it affects people…"

Gordon Gordon nodded. "And you believe your father was thus affected by something that happened during his military service?"

"Yeah, I do. There was an incident in 'Nam...he and his RIO Tommy Carter bombed an innocent village by mistake...he was the pilot on that mission and they ended up wiping out the place...basically nothing was left of it, and most of the people who lived there were killed. That mistake was covered up by the brass...the whole fortunes of war shit...but I think it ate at both of those guys for a long time, so they both tried to make it go away by any means they could. Carter, the guy who was the RIO on that mission committed suicide a few years after he got back from the war, and my dad did basically the same thing...his massive guilt drove him to drink himself to death over a period of several years." Booth paused long enough to order another round of drinks. "At the time, in the late sixties and early seventies, nobody really knew much of anything about PTSD, okay? Guys were just left to deal with their problems however they could...and so my dad drank too much and beat the shit out of the people he was supposed to love. I guess it never occurred to him to get any help for his alcoholism from AA or the VA or anywhere else...and in the end, he ended up alienating everyone except maybe my Pops…"

"How very sad." Gordon Gordon sighed softly. "So now what? Do you feel as if his death has stirred those horrible memories of abuse in you? Do you have your own painful stress issues to deal with now?"

"Maybe some…" Booth took another sip of beer. "Bones has helped me deal with some of it." Seeing his friend's surprise, he couldn't help but chuckle. "I know, right? Bones using psychology is hard to imagine, isn't it? And she'd deny it, because instead she used some timeline mumbo jumbo shit on me, but it was psychology all the same."

Gordon Gordon laughed quietly. "Perhaps all of my work as a psychiatrist was not in vain…"

"Perhaps. Anyway, since my dad's death, I've experienced some sadness and some anger, just like most guys do when they lose someone in their life. I'm still mad as hell at my dad, but I keep working at it, okay? And it maybe it doesn't hurt quite as much as it used to, and maybe some day I'll get to a point where thinking about him doesn't set me on edge like it does now."

"I think that's a worthy goal, and I imagine you'll be successful in attaining it." Gordon Gordon cleared his throat as he set aside his empty glass. "So…"

"So why did I want to see you in person in such a noisy bar? Yeah, I get that." Booth pulled a box from his jacket pocket. "You see, I need some shrinky advice. What do you think I should do with this?"

The chef exhaled softly as he looked inside the small case. "Your father's Purple Heart, I presume?"

"Yeah." Sniffling softly, Booth wiped his eyes with a napkin. "I know what it took for him to earn that...after all, I have one of my own...but every time I look at it, all those memories come rushing back at me like a tidal wave, you know? Like if he'd never gone to 'Nam...if he'd never seen action...how would things have been different for our family? Would my life have been normal?" Biting his lip, the agent shrugged nervously as he looked up at his friend. "I know that's crazy, but…I don't think I can stand to have that thing around...sitting somewhere in my house..."

"Because it serves as a trigger for all of those emotions you've had pent up inside over the years...emotions you've only recently been able to face on your own. Quite understandable." Gordon Gordon closed the box and put it between them on the bar. "I suppose you've offered it to your grandfather or brother…"

"Pops gave it to me because his place is too small to keep a bunch of stuff, and Jared has already said he wants nothing to do with anything from my old man. I guess I could give it to Parker, but then I'd feel like I'd have to explain some things, and I don't know if he's old enough to hear all of that shit right now. On the other hand, I can't just throw it away or give it to some stranger...my dad shed his blood to earn that medal, and even if he was a nasty goddamn son of a bitch, as a former military man myself, I have to respect that."

"It is quite the conundrum." His expression thoughtful, Gordon Gordon ran his fingers over the small box. "Why not do this? Put it away somewhere...perhaps in a safety deposit box of some sort...some place where you won't see it all the time, but where you can get to it when you feel your son is old enough to understand your father's circumstances."

"Kind of like locking away the bad memories…I like it."

Gordon Gordon nodded slightly. "Exactly. As you've said, you are slowly healing from your childhood traumas, with Dr. Brennan's help, and eventually there may come a day when thinking about your father will have no effect on you at all...and at that time, perhaps you'll be able to look upon this medal with pride instead of anger, and you'll be glad that you've retained this memento of your father's military service."

Booth flashed a sheepish grin as he picked up the box. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. In fact, it seems like a pretty obvious solution, you know? I wonder why I didn't think of it…"

Gordon Gordon offered a smug smile. "Perhaps your negative emotions were getting in the way of your problem solving processes...or perhaps you were merely looking for an excuse to spend the evening with your favorite chef…"

Booth chuckled as he scraped the label from his beer bottle. "That must be it...I just missed seeing you. So how are things going at the restaurant? Still serving all those weird 'funny bush' things?"

The chef laughed out loud. "Do you mean 'amuse bouche'? Of course! My restaurant's current bill of fare offers an amazing array of delectable fungi as the starting course for a fabulous meal. In fact, I'd be delighted if you and Dr. Brennan would join me for dinner at Le Coupole some time next week…"

"We might just take you up on that." Tipping his beer bottle towards his friend, Booth smiled. "I'm sure Bones would love it."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to seeing her." Offering a sly wink, Gordon Gordon pointed at a menu. "Now, speaking of funny bushes, Booth...let's have another beer, some stuffed mushrooms, and some hot wings…"

"Sounds like a plan." Booth raised his beer bottle towards his friend. "Thanks a lot, buddy…I feel a lot better about things, and I appreciate it."

"My pleasure, Booth. Surely you know I always enjoy talking to you."

"Even when I tell you all my problems, even though you're not my shrink any more?," Booth laughed.

"Oh, especially then. After all, although I'm not your shrink any more, I am still your friend..., " Gordon Gordon chuckled. "...and, when it comes to listening to problems, that's what friends are for…"

Smiling at his friend, Booth nodded in agreement. "Absolutely, Gordon Gordon...absolutely."

A/N: Please note: I'm not making any excuses for the behavior of Booth's father. It was atrocious even if he did have PTSD.

There is nothing in the Bones 'canon' that expressly states what happened to cause Booth's dad to be so awful to his family, but in my mind PTSD because of what happened to him in Viet Nam is as good a reason as any.

If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it.