(After 'The Male in the Mail')

This story was suggested by Shiloh99. I hope this is what you wanted.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dr. Lance Sweets had been away for two weeks and was glad to be back home. The conference he had attended in Atlanta had been as boring as he had feared it would be. He loved the city of Atlanta and that had been the third time he had been there, but that hadn't helped being around deathly boring people who seemed to think they were God's gift to psychiatry and seemed incapable of hearing the views of anyone who disagreed with them. The fact that he was a lot younger than the average psychologist that had attended the conference hadn't helped either. Sweets was used to Booth calling him a kid, but he expected respect from his peers and hadn't got it. Annoyed, he had returned home in a sullen mood.

On his first day back at work, Sweets was getting a cup of coffee from the break room when he overheard one of the agents talking about Booth's father dying. Alert, Sweets shamelessly listened in on the private conversation, but didn't learn much else. Apparently, Brennan had mentioned it a crime scene the previous week, but Booth had stopped her from talking about it. Typical, just what I would expect.

Concerned that Booth might not be handling the death of his father in a meaningful way, Sweets decided to pay a visit to Booth's office and see if the man wanted to talk.

Relieved to see the agent at his desk, Sweets entered the room and closed the door behind him. "Booth."

Surprised to see the younger man, Booth looked up from a document he was writing and noticed the closed door. This can't be good. "What do you want? I thought you were in Atlanta."

A little nervous, Sweets adjusted the knot on his tie and walked closer to the desk. "I'm back. Um . . . I found out about your father and I want to offer my condolences."

Wary of Sweets' motives, Booth leaned back against his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Alright."

"And . . . um, if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you." Sweets saw the hardened look on the agents face and he knew he might only have a few seconds before Booth threw him out. "I know you didn't care for your father, I get that, but he was your father and . . ." He didn't get to finish that sentence.

"Stop right there." Angry, Booth stood up and glared at his younger friend. "I don't want to talk about my father. He was a piece of shit and I don't care if he died. He doesn't mean anything to me. Not one thing."

Swallowing, Sweets knew he was on shaky ground now. "Yes, I understand, but the man did have an influence on your life at a young age and . . ."

"Influence? Yeah, if you think beating the shit out of me, my brother and my mother was influence. He was a drunk and a loser and I stopped caring for him when I was nine years old. I don't want to talk about him now or ever. Now get out of here before I throw you out."

He knew it was a mistake when he said it. "Booth, he was your father."

Stepping around his desk, Booth walked over to where Sweets was standing and pushed him towards the door. "Out before I embarrass the hell out of you."

Aware that Booth was in a rage, Sweets knew it was time to leave. "I'm going." After the door was open, he paused before he stepped outside. "I'm in my office if you need to talk."

His anger barely under control, Booth walked over to the door, pushed Sweets into the outer room, locked the door and turned to face his desk. Afraid that he was angrier than he should be, he sat down on the chair near the door and stared at his pictures on the wall. He knew Sweets meant well, but at the moment every sympathetic word about Edwin Booth's death to him felt like a knife in the back. "I'm glad the sorry bastard is dead. I'm glad."

Ooooooooooooooo

Jared felt a little strange about his father's death. He remembered the beatings and he had a scar on his back that reminded him of his father's brutality, but he had also been four years old when he went to live with his grandfather and most of his memories of his parents were hazy. He couldn't remember what his mother looked like since she had left when he was three years old and he barely remembered his father's face. There were pictures of them both in Pops' photo albums, but he never looked at them. He didn't live in the past. Life was hard enough living in the present and if he was going to have a future, he couldn't dwell in Edwin Booth's house of pain.

He had debated going to the funeral and in the end, he had stayed away. Jared had called his grandfather to check on him and had offered to come and see him, but the old man had told him he was fine. Hank had expected Edwin's death for quite a while and he had made peace with that before his son had died of liver failure.

That was a reminder that alcohol had been the poison that destroyed Edwin Booth's life and helped make the lives of his family such a nightmare. Jared had given up drinking after he had been kicked out of the Navy and he had met Padme. He knew he was probably hard to live with, but he wasn't about to turn into his father and make his life worse.

Standing in front of Booth's apartment door, Jared stared at the number fixed in the middle of the door and debated whether he was making a mistake being there. Before he could change his mind, the door opened. "Jared . . . Booth is in the kitchen." Stepping around him, Brennan smiled. "I have some work I need to finish at the Lab."

Once he was alone in the hallway, he entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He noticed that there were some changes in the apartment, a few of the things in the living room probably belonged to Brennan and that was to be expected. At the kitchen doorway, Jared noticed Booth loading the dishwasher. "I guess I'm too late for dinner."

Startled, Booth turned to stare at his younger brother. "I have some left over carbonara in the fridge if you want some."

Sitting at the table, Jared folded his hands on the table. "Sounds good. Does that come with a Coke or tea?"

"I have water." Booth knew his brother was trying to stay away from alcohol and approved. Making a plate for his brother, he popped the food in the microwave for a couple of minutes. When it was heated, he placed the plate on the table and grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. "I don't have any soda right now and I drank the last of the tea with my dinner. I have to go grocery shopping this weekend. I got water and I got milk." He didn't mention the wine or the beer.

"Water's good." Lifting the fork, he tasted the pasta. "Hey, Grams' recipe."

Now settled at the table, Booth nodded his head. "Yeah, she made the best carbonara."

"Yeah." Easting in silence, Jared flicked his eyes between his plate and his brother. He wasn't sure if he should mention their father and his brother's silence didn't help.

"Pops called and let me know about Edwin." Finished eating, he picked up the plate and walked it over to the dishwasher where he deposited it. Turning to face his brother, he saw the straight line of his mouth, the hunched shoulders and knew the man was angry. "I know you don't want to talk about him, but I need to talk about him to someone and you're the only one that will understand. You don't have to say anything, just let me talk . . . okay? Please?"

Reluctantly, Booth nodded his head.

Glad his brother was willing to listen, Jared sat back down and faced Booth. "I knew he was sick, Pops told me . . . I didn't go to the funeral. I didn't see the point, but now . . . I think I should have been there for Pops."

"Pops didn't have a funeral for Dad. He had a gravesite service, but it was quick and no one was there but Pops and me and Bones." Booth saw the look of surprise on his brother's face. "I hated the guy, but Edwin was Pops' son and I couldn't let him bury Edwin by himself."

Embarrassed, Jared folded his hands on the table and stared at them. "Yeah, I get that . . . I hated Edwin so much. He . . . He wasn't my father, Seeley. That man was never my father. Pops was my father. You were my father, but Edwin wasn't anything to me just a monster who hit me when he wasn't hitting you . . . Seeley, I can't even remember what he looked like. Pops has some pictures and I could look I guess, but why should I? Why should I care that I don't remember what he looks like? I don't remember what Mom looks like either. Seeley . . . I think something's wrong with me. I just don't love my parents and . . ."

"No, nothing's wrong with you." Booth could see that his brother was upset, but he wasn't sure if he could help him. "Look, you only lived with Edwin for four years, you were just a little kid when Pops took us away from Dad . . . Edwin . . . anyway it's understandable that you don't remember him or Mom. As for not going to the funeral, Bones and I were there so Pops wasn't alone. I don't think Pops expected you to come, in fact he said he was surprised I came . . . We listened to the priest say a few words. Pops threw some dirt on the casket and we left. Pops didn't cry, but I know he was sad. He has reason to be, he's lost his son. He's outlived both of his children and no parent expects to do that . . . Edwin wasted his life. He had a family and he mistreated us. He couldn't give up drinking. He loved liquor more than he loved us. He drove Mom away then Pops took us away from him and still he wouldn't give up drinking. Nothing got through to him. Hell, he destroyed his liver and he still didn't stop drinking until he was in the hospital dying. You don't owe him anything. I don't owe him anything."

Jared listened and he knew his brother was right. "I did cry a little when I found out he was dead . . . I'm not sure why."

Since Booth had shed some tears as well, he understood what his brother was talking about. "You cried because Edwin could have been your father but he wasn't. He could have tried to give up drinking and he could have been the father we needed, but he didn't think we were worth it. That's hard to take . . . Don't feel guilty about not remembering Edwin. Don't feel guilty because you didn't love him. There was nothing to love. You have me and Parker and Pops and Bones. We're your family. No matter what happens, we're your family. Don't forget that."

"I won't, thanks." Jared felt alone sometimes. He loved Padme and he was determined to make his relationship with her work, but he knew he could never have a child and he knew that Padme wanted one. Even though he wasn't drinking, he feared the demon inside of him might reappear and he didn't want to have a child if and when that happened. He couldn't do to a child what his father had done to him. He wasn't his father. "Thanks for talking to me. I needed someone . . . I needed you to listen to me."

"Yeah. Bones listened to me when I needed someone to hear me. We all need someone that will listen to us."

Ooooooooooooooo

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