(Season 10)
A/N: this is a sequel to chapter 73. It's a bit longish.
I don't own Bones.
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She watched him as he struggled to come to grips with all the changes in his life. So many things had happened in the last four months that even Brennan had a hard time excepting it all, but her husband had been the focal point of Durant's ire and Booth had suffered the most.
Attacked in their home, their house completely destroyed, shot and seriously wounded, thrown in prison where he had been constantly abused had left Booth a man who had little trust for anyone. Add to that, his grandfather had died and their friend Sweets had been murdered.
He was living in a new home that he had not had a say in purchasing. Many of his things had been destroyed in the attack and only some of his antiques and collectables had been saved. Brennan had taken his cameras to a restorer who had successfully saved them, but so many of his things could not be saved and she knew he missed them.
When Glen Durant had been taken down and everyone had time to breathe again, Brennan had noticed her husband take the time to search the house one Saturday morning, pulling out drawers, opening closets, inspecting the garage. She knew he was trying to find out what he still had left of his personal possessions and it made her sad that he was discovering that she hadn't been able to save very much.
Booth had changed and that change was hard to understand. He tried to pretend he was alright, but Brennan knew that he wasn't. He no longer went to church, he didn't sleep more than five hours at night. His nerves seemed to be on edge and any sudden movement by anyone near him tended to cause him to react in a defensive manner sometimes startling that person and giving them a small fright.
What worried Brennan the most was the fact that he didn't talk about his grandfather. He hadn't visited the man's gravesite since he had come home and any mention from her about Hank usually caused Booth to leave the room. All of these things worried her. She needed to get Booth to accept the changes in his life, but he seemed more interested in ignoring the changes instead.
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Not sure what he wanted to do for the day, Booth sat on the couch and stared at the large uncovered picture window. He really hated the fact that the window was so large and it exposed him to anyone that happened to be in the back yard. An enemy could easily shoot out the window and step right inside. Why Brennan bought this particular house was beyond him. The glass wall in his bedroom was rather voyeuristic and he had to remember to close the curtain every night before he went to bed.
He knew that she had done her best and the house she had bought was in a great neighborhood with a wonderful public school and a prestigious private school too. The front and back yard were large and it had a lot of shade trees which helped cool the house in the blistering summer. Still he had loved the old house and the new house left him feeling cold. Many of his valuable and not so valuable possessions were gone and he knew he wouldn't replace them. He had searched the house to see where his things were and to his sorrow he found out that little had survived the destruction of the mighty hut.
Durant had done a good job trying to destroy his life. Booth blamed him for so many things and the deaths of his grandfather and his friend, Sweets could also be laid at the traitor's door. He was sure that Pops had died from a broken heart. He had not been a robust man for the last year and when Booth was almost killed and imprisoned, he was sure the old man had had enough. How much sorrow was a man supposed to take? Hank Booth had had to accept that he had a monster for a son. Instead of being able to retire and enjoy that retirement, he had to take in two young boys and raise them. These young men had also been a constant source of worry to the old man and Booth was afraid the last four months had just been too much for his grandfather.
Perhaps if his father had been a decent man, Hank could have travelled and seen the world. If he hadn't had to worry about two young men in the military, he could have had a happier life. One grandson dishonorably discharged, one grandson eventually imprisoned for murder, what had that done to such a kind hearted soul? No wonder he had died. No wonder he wanted to move on to be with his wife. Booth felt that he had been a burden and it shamed him that his grandfather had suffered so much grief in his life because of him.
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Brennen returned home and found her husband in the living room, doing nothing. She had had enough of his brooding and she was determined to do something to fix the situation. "Booth, Christine is with Max for the weekend. I need you to come with me."
Puzzled, Booth looked up and saw his wife standing near the counter holding her purse and car keys. "Where do you want to go? I'd rather just stay home. I've had a hard week."
Not to be put off, Brennan shook her head. "Come with me, Booth. We're going for a ride." When he didn't stand up, she set her jaw and decided to push him harder. "Get up and come with me, Booth. You aren't doing anything important that you can't come with me."
Her harsh tone was rather surprising and Booth wondered if he was about to lose his wife. "Sure, why not. It's not like I have a say in what happens to me anymore."
His words were harsh, but void of emotion and Brennan knew what she had planned was needed. "Yes, you have no say in your life. None at all . . . Do you really believe that?"
"I'm not sure." And he wasn't. He had meant the pronouncement to be scathing sarcasm, but now he wasn't so sure it wasn't the truth. "Maybe." Standing, he moved over to the front door. "Let's get this over with."
"What exactly do you thing we are going to get over, Booth." Brennan wasn't sure what Booth was thinking, but his attitude was bizarre and hostile and she didn't understand why. After Durant had been arrested, she had assumed that her husband would adapt to his new situation, but so far she had seen little effort on Booth's part. He had lost trust in almost everyone in his world except for her and that worried her. He had to adapt, he had to learn to trust again. Why couldn't he see that?
"I don't know, this is your idea not mine." Booth was growing impatient. "You ordered me to come with you . . . Let's get this show on the road or let me go back to what I was doing."
Her frustration level was growing and she decided that her plan was a mistake. "Never mind Booth. Go back and sit down. Stare out the window . . . I'm trying to help you, but apparently I don't know how to do that . . . I can't help you." Filled with sadness she walked down the hallway, entered their bedroom and decided that Booth would have to help himself. She clearly didn't have the skills that were needed to guide her husband away from the path he had chosen to take. She just hoped his path didn't diverge too far from hers.
He hadn't meant to upset her, but at the moment he didn't know what he was supposed to do to make her happy. Booth had thought that once he had found out who had tried to destroy his life, he could move on, but now he knew that wasn't possible. Too many people had let him down. Too many people had treated him like a murderer and a betrayer and now that it was proven he wasn't those things, his betrayers expected him to forgive them. Everyone expected him to go back to the way things had been before.
What a joke. Everyone at the FBI expected him to be the man he was before his life was turned upside down. They wanted him to pretend that they hadn't betrayed him, almost killed him, destroyed his house, imprisoned him, beat him, humiliated him, kept him from his family, kept him from his grandfather's funeral and murdered Sweets. He was the one that was supposed to forgive them and trust them. It was such a bizarre joke. His life was a joke and no one could see that but him.
Staring down the hallway, Booth was torn. Should he apologize to Brennan or should he just let it go? He wasn't angry with her and yet he was. His wife was on his side and she had saved his life of that he was certain, but even she expected the old Booth to just appear. The old Booth is dead. Why can't she see that?
Guilt starting to build inside, Booth finally jammed his hands in his pants pockets and walked down the hallway to their bedroom. Scanning the room, he found his partner sitting on the chair near the bed, flipping through a photo album. Everyone is obsessed with the past, even Bones.
"I'm sorry." Booth removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms against his chest. "You wanted to go somewhere and I should have just gone with you. It's not like I have any major plans anyway . . . I didn't mean to upset you."
She closed the photo album and placed it on her lap. "Your world is too small, Booth. You have decreased the size of your world so that it just has room enough for you and me to stand in it . . . that of course is a metaphor since we aren't really in a bubble, but you know that . . . You only trust me. Don't you see how dangerous that is? Don't you see you can't do your job at the FBI if you can't trust anyone?"
"I thought you wanted to go somewhere?" He didn't want to talk about trust or his job or forgiveness. He just wanted Brennan to accept that their world had changed and that the old world was gone. For the last few weeks he had tried to pretend that everything was okay and that he was fine, but as the days crept by, he was finding it harder to do. He didn't know what to do to make her see that what they had was enough.
Since he was now willing to go with her, Brennan decided to not question why and just follow through with her plan. "Good, let's go." As she walked past her husband, she paused and kissed him. "I'm trying to help you, Booth. Let me help you."
Booth returned her kiss and smiled. "I don't need help, I'm fine." He saw the look on her face and he knew that he had disappointed her. He had been doing that since he had forced her to leave the Mighty Hut before it was attacked and he was still doing it. He just didn't know what to do about it.
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As she pulled in the driveway, Booth stared at the house and wondered who lived there. "Why are we here? Who lives here?"
Ignoring his questions, Brennan left her car and walked up the front walk to the front door. Reluctantly, Booth left the car and moved down the sidewalk wondering what this visit was all about. As he approached the door his wondering ceased when the door opened and Julia Cullen smiled at her guests. "We were wondering if you were going to make it. Sam is in the back grilling. I'm so glad you could join us for lunch." Julia stepped past Brennan and hugged Booth. "I am so happy to see you, Booth."
Surprised that he had been invited to a barbeque by his old boss and his wife, Booth wondered why Brennan hadn't just told him. He wouldn't have turned down the invitation. I think. "Thank you Mrs. Cullen."
"Julia . . . please." Julia had always liked Booth and she had allowed herself to love him as a dear friend after he and Brennan had helped her daughter Amy. Amy may have died, but the woman who had caused her death had been convicted and was still in prison. She would always love both Booth and Brennan for that. "You know Sam is retired and not your boss anymore. Just call me Julia. I insist."
It made him feel uncomfortable and somehow it felt disrespectful, but he would try. "Alright." As he and Brennan followed Julia into the house, he noticed the neat living room, the soothing colors of the walls and the furniture and the portrait of Amy on the wall above the couch. He still felt bad that they couldn't save Amy from her cancerous death, but they had saved a lot of lives during that case and for that he was grateful.
Passing through the kitchen, they all stepped into the backyard where Sam Cullen was lowering the hood on a large gas grill. The patio was wide and partially covered in shade by a large oak tree not too far away from where the patio ended. The patio was covered in stones and contained a wrought iron table and matching chairs. The grill was located on the edge of the patio and there was a wooden bench next to it that held the ingredients for barbecuing. It was a nice patio and Booth felt a little envy. Maybe I can do this at the house.
Sam smiled at Booth and moved to meet Booth near the table. Reaching out, he shook the agent's hand. "I'm glad to see you, Booth. I knew your people would find a way to spring you from prison . . . I tried to see you a couple of times, but each time when I got to the prison they said you were in isolation for some infraction . . . it was bullshit of course . . . I'm glad you're okay." He pointed at the chairs next to the table. "Have a seat. Want a beer or a Coke? I have wine and of course water."
"A beer would be good." As he sat down, he glanced at Brennan who was staring at him. He still wasn't sure why he was here, but it wasn't an unpleasant surprise.
Sam retrieved a beer from the house for everyone and joined his wife and his guests at the table. "I really wanted to help you, Booth, but once I retired I didn't have any pull anymore. I thought somethings were a little odd at the Hoover and the Justice Department before I left, but I could never figure it out and I thought it was just the times were changing. Boy was I wrong."
"It's probably a good thing you left when you did." Booth sipped his beer and placed the bottle on the table. "You might have ended up being burned somehow if you had stayed. Durant was trying to change out the old guard. The only one's he couldn't control was the Directors of the FBI and the CIA. I don't know if he even tried . . . a lot of traitors were uncovered . . . a lot." It was still upsetting to him just how many traitors had been caught in the FBI let alone the other agencies in government.
Julia wanted to move the conversation in a new direction. "Your grandfather's gravesite service was very nice. The bag pipe player playing 'Amazing Grace' made me cry."
"You were at the funeral?" This surprised Booth greatly, but then again up until now, he hadn't asked about the funeral, so he didn't know what kind of service Brennan had arranged.
"Oh, of course." Julia reached over and patted Booth's hand. "You couldn't be there and we wanted someone from the FBI to be there, so Sam and I made sure we were at least at the gravesite service. The priest did a wonderful homily and the flowers on the casket were so beautiful. It was a lovely service."
Booth turned to stare at Brennan. He had assumed that the funeral had been simple. Apparently not. "It sounds like it . . . I tried to go, but I couldn't get permission . . . My lawyer told me about Pops' death . . ." He didn't trust himself to say anything else.
Brennan finally spoke. "Caroline, Hodgins, Angela, Cam, Max, Jared and Padme made it to the gravesite service . . . I was going to tell you about the funeral and the gravesite service, but you didn't want to talk about it when I tried . . . I didn't want to upset you and force the issue . . . I have pictures if you'd like to see them sometime." This was why she had brought Booth. Julia and Sam had agreed to her plan and now it seemed to be getting the reaction she had hoped for. They had agreed to talk about Hank and the funeral to help him get closure and thankfully Booth was listening. Maybe he could get past his guilt for not being with his grandfather when the old man died. It had been Sweets who had explained to her why Booth was avoiding anything to do with Hank's death and funeral, but he had been unable to come up with a plan to help Booth. Of course, he was murdered shortly after Booth was released from prison and she no longer had his input into anything. This was Brennan's plan.
"You had two services?" Booth was a little confused. He hadn't expected any service and now he was being told there had been two.
She wished that Booth had wanted to talk about Hank earlier, but this was better than never. "Yes, the service at the funeral home was for anyone who wished to attend. I didn't expect anyone, so I was surprised when it ended up being well attended. Even my interns came. Hank's friends from his retirement home came. I think he would have been pleased to see the turnout . . . the gravesite service was for our family. Mr. and Mrs. Cullen were welcome of course. No one from the FBI bothered to show up at the funeral, so their presence was appreciated."
It didn't surprise Booth that no one from the FBI attended his grandfather's funeral. Still he appreciated the Cullen's showing up. "Thank you for going."
"Nonsense." Sam leaned back against his chair and glanced at his wife before turning his attention back towards Booth. "Of course we went . . . of course once we were there we realized that we had placed a target on our backs, but it turned out to be amusing. Some men in black started following us around as soon as we left the gravesite, so we decided to make it hard on them. We went up to Montreal to visit my sister. We just got back last week. It was a nice vacation, so no regrets."
So his grandfather's service had been contaminated by Durant. Booth was furious, but he kept that fury reined in. The people sitting with him had been there for his Pops even if he couldn't be. "Durant was dangerous . . . He's going to fry. Caroline says there are enough charges against him to make sure that happens."
"Yes, we know. He's a traitor and he deserves a traitor's death." Sam got up and checked the food on the grill. The aroma of cooking meat and grilling vegetables filled the air and Booth's stomach growled.
Amused, Julia laughed. "I know I'm hungry too." Julia stood up and walked into the kitchen to fetch the salad, paper plates, knives and forks they would need. She and Sam would take their time to allow Brennan and Booth to talk privately.
While Sam and Julia prepared to serve lunch, Booth moved one chair over and placed his hand on his wife's knee. "I should have asked about Pop's funeral. I assumed that you didn't have a service since you don't believed in God."
"But you and Hank do." Brennan shook her head. "I followed the customs of your faith."
"Thank you, Bones." He felt bad for doubting Brennan. He felt worse that he hadn't visited his grandfather's gravesite yet. "Maybe we could go visit Pops tomorrow morning."
She was glad to hear of his plan. "He loved you so much, Booth. He was so proud of you and he had a lot of faith in my abilities to prove that you were an honest man . . . He was getting old and he was tired. I think he would have tried to stay longer, but he was ready to die."
"I thought he . . . I loved him . . . He saved my life when I was a boy and I loved him so much." Booth felt a tear slide down his face and he hurried to wipe it away. He didn't want to cry in front of the Cullens'. He would mourn at the gravesite, but not at a barbeque.
Brennan clasped his hand. "I have pictures of the funeral. You couldn't be there, so I made sure you would be able to see some of it that way. When you're ready to see them let me know."
She always amazed him. "Not now, but maybe someday . . . someday."
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