What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

Ch 11: That Time Booth Got Shrinked By a Chef

As the excited buzz of the kitchen filtered over them - although, really, it was more like a dull roar, Booth though - he could only focus on one thing - the terribly wonderful, exciting and nerve wracking, awesome and intimidating thought that had dominated his every waking moment over the past three months. And, the thought that had consumed Booth more than anything? It was possibility that what Booth knew he wanted more than anything else - for Brennan to love him - might even have the merest possibility of, at some point in this world, becoming a reality. The notion startled him a bit, as each new person caused him to reevaluate its potential - Cam, Avalon Harmonia, and now Chef Gordon Wyatt. The last person's opinion, especially, had unsettled him. As Gordon Gordon had quite simply said, it was almost too much. Having experienced the wonder of his relationship with Brennan in his dream world, Booth knew what loving her was like and having her feel the same way about him. He'd spent weeks after he came out of his surreal coma dream trying to make his peace with knowing that love and having lost it. And, for a while, Booth had fooled himself into thinking he had done a pretty good job forgetting it. But, now that so many others were saying the real Brennan might feel the same way about him? Well, now, Booth was scared to admit that such a possibility might even exist in this world. He didn't know if he could ever make his peace with never having experienced the feel of utter happiness and fulfilled contentment that she made him feel if he started to hope again about the possibilities.

No, Booth thought sadly. It's not possible, it wasn't real, and I can't start that again-

Returning to his attention to the conversation at hand, Booth looked up at Gordon Gordon and insisted on the only fact that he knew he could to retain his sanity. Sadly shaking his head, Booth told the psychologist-turned-chef, "She doesn't love me." Gordon Gordon returned Booth's intent gaze, but said nothing in response. Knowing that Gordon Gordon wasn't going to concede to him in this - because, well, Gordon Gordon never had, and never would - Booth reluctantly caved... just a bit. With a weary sigh, he opened the lid to his own proverbial Pandora's Box as he then amended slightly, "I would know if she loved me."

Knowing he had pushed Booth as far as he could, Gordon Gordon nodded and said, "May I counsel patience on this front." He leveled his gaze at Booth to make certain the FBI agent understood what he was saying. "Hope… and patience."

Smiling slightly, Booth nodded, almost imperceptibly as Gordon Gordon approved of his assessment. Maybe it's not a Pandora's Box, after all, Booth thought. Realizing he had had about all the true gut-wrenching emotional admissions that he could stomach in that moment, shifting his mood, Booth said cheerfully, "Right so, about my marksmanship certification – any advice?"

However, the chef-turned-psychologist would not be cowed. At Booth's query, Gordon Gordon became even more firm in his tone as he vigorously replied a response that let Booth know he wasn't ready to let the prior topic of their discussion go- even if Booth was. "Grow a set! Be a man, step up!" Booth stared at Gordon Gordon in disbelief. Shaking his head, Gordon Gordon took a more rational approach. "She's your partner, for heaven's sake. The job you do together is highly dangerous. She counts on you for protection." At this, he looked at Booth, hoping the FBI agent understood what he was trying to tell him without being too obvious. Sighing, Gordon Gordon knew subtle wasn't going to work with Booth. Quite bluntly, he said, "So, you'd damn well better protect her!"

At last, Booth managed to reply. "So, that's your big psychiatric advice-just "grow a set"?

Gordon Gordon smiled, at last hoping that Booth had grasped the fundamental truth he hoped to impart to his former patient. "Indeed." Booth tilted his head at Gordon Gordon's words, and added wryly, "When it comes to a man and his gun, a woman is the natural cure. Take Dr Brennan to this, um, this shooting event of yours." He paused, and then said quite confidently, "You won't fail in front of her, trust me."

Booth shrugged his shoulders as he laughed slightly and said, "So, let me get this straight, Gordon Gordon. You think my issues on the gun range are curable if I've got a reason to make it count… because I won't have any problems… umm... shooting my gun, if Bones is around?"

"Precisely," Gordon Gordon said. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Now, you know how I feel about all this psychology crap, but I gotta ask… isn't that a bit too Freudian to be a coincidence?" Booth asked.

Considering his words, Gordon nodded after a moment. "As I think I've said before, and as I'm sure to say again, Freud has largely be discredited in many arenas of current psychiatric and psychological theory. But, some images are just too iconic and pervasive to be so easily dismissed."

Shaking his head, Booth still didn't seem to be accepting of the backhanded analogy that Gordon Gordon had attributed as the root cause of his marksmanship issues. "I understand what you're saying, but I- I just don't think that it's really that simple, Gordon Gordon. I mean, it's not like I've been feeling…well, you know-not… well, err, manly because of anything to do with Bones."

Sighing, Gordon Gordon said, "I have quite a lot to do before the dinner rush, so let's cut to the chase, shall we, Agent Booth? You're in love with Dr. Brennan. I think we can both agree that we've established that much, at the very least. So, let's go a step further shall we? Because you can't demonstrate your love for her, and fear doing harm to your professional partnership and personal friendship by attempting to clarify where you stand with her - an issue that has been at the root of your interpersonal issues with Dr. Brennan before, I might remind you - you feel impotent."

"Whoa!" Booth said. "Impotent? Who said anything about anyone being impotent?"

"I believe I just did," Gordon Gordon said dryly.

"I'm not impotent," Booth intoned. "I'm not."

"As you say," Gordon Gordon said with a shrug.

"Well, I do," Booth said. "I do say, and just so there's no confusion, I'll say it again. I'm not impotent."

Suddenly, Gordon Gordon shook his head emphatically. "Fine. Then, don't wait for tomorrow."

"Uh, what?" Booth said.

"If you're not impotent, and you're just as much of a manly man as you claim to be, then go find Dr. Brennan, right now. Go find her, and shag her senseless. You'll do right on the range in the morning if you follow either of my suggestions. But, really, Agent Booth, in either case, you must make a decision and do what you want to do. There's no other way to live, really. If there's one thing leaving the FBI taught me, a person must do what they need to do to be happy."

Caught off guard by the psychologist-turned chef's slight rant, Booth warily offered, "And, you think… uh, me and Bones… umm-"

"Shagging?" Gordon Gordon supplied.

Booth nodded. "Uh, you think that would make me happy?"

"You, Dr. Brennan, me, half the staff of the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian and the J. Edgar Hoover Building," Gordon Gordon mused. He paused for a minute, and then smiled as he said, "So, what say you, Agent Booth? Are you ready to finally grow a set... or what?"

-TBC-