I decided to add one more chapter to this one in which Booth now comes to Gordon Gordon for some advice. Thank you for the incredibly humbling response to the original chapter to this one. This will indeed be the last chapter to this, and it, too, is open ended, but that is by design. I want to be able to have a story that discusses the drawback of logic, not give a resolution to a problem we each would enjoy seeing resolved on the show. I hope you enjoy this one. Gregg.
Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Gordon Gordon was not terribly surprised to see Special Agent Booth come into his establishment a few days after Dr. Brennan. He'd been expecting it, actually. Those to were so predictable that it was amazing that they had managed to remain relatively unscathed for as long as they had. But there was no denying their underlying talents, and also their deep bond that somehow allowed them to "channel" each other, for lack of a better phrase. He was certain that with these two, if they ever got together, and he hoped that they will, he would be the recipient of their visits quite often. Such Alpha personalities as a couple were bound to seek out assistance in the rough patches.
"Ah, Agent Booth!" Gordon Gordon said with enthusiasm. "Please have a seat! How about a nice appetizer of Lamb Fries?"
"Sheeps' balls???" Booth said with genuine horror in his voice. "Hell no, Gordon Gordon! A nice juicy steak will do nicely."
Gordon Gordon sighed. "Why do I even try? You do realize that this is a gourmet kitchen, with gourmet meals being prepared?" he asked, trying for the dramatic. Agent Booth was always an interesting individual to draw into odd situations.
"I built you a brick barbecue at your house, Doc," Booth replied, not at all repentant. "I would hope that that would be worth a slight lowering to the level of a steak and potato meal once in a great while. Besides, I'm here on business."
"Business? A catering job perhaps? A wedding reception for you and Dr. Brennan?" he threw in the blatant zinger wanting to see the reaction. He got it very quickly. The slump of Agent Booth's shoulders, the scowl on his face, and the look of a thoroughly rejected man.
"No, Sweets screwed that one up," Booth said bitterly.
"And how may I ask did my former colleague make a mess of that?" Gordon Gordon asked. He was curious as to Agent Booth's perspective of that night.
Booth spent a bit of time giving his rendition of the day in question, beginning with the discussion on the way to therapy, all the way to the disastrous confrontation with Bones afterward. He didn't leave anything out as far as he could tell, and during this he had his salad, which he grudgingly ate, and then his steak and baked potato arrived as he finished the rendition. He looked down at the steak and smiled.
"Now that's a meal, Gordon Gordon!" he said with a certain teasing arrogance.
"Sadly, that's a debate we will have to postpone until another time," Gordon Gordon sighed. He would love to engage in a discussion of the virtues of gourmet meals versus this standard fare which passed for good eating to so many, but Agent Booth was here for something totally different, and much more important.
"This is great!" Booth said as he took a bite of the steak. He was very discriminating about his steaks.
"Thank you," Gordon Gordon said, a bit of amusement in his voice. "So you decided to take a chance that Dr. Sweets was correct." He saw another slump of the shoulders.
"Yeah," Booth said as he took a sip of water. "He was so... I don't know... sure of himself, I guess. All I know is I was shot down and I've been miserable ever since."
"What about your subconscious?" Gordon Gordon prodded.
"What?" Booth asked, confused. Not that that was surprising as he was always confused when discussing things with Gordon Gordon.
"I've listened to both you and Dr. Brennan describe what happened that night..." he began.
"Bones came to you?" Booth asked, startled.
Gordon Gordon smiled. He wouldn't ordinarily divulge such information, but it wasn't revealing a confidence, per se, and there was a point to this. Besides, he wasn't a practicing psychologist anymore. Right?
"A few days ago," he informed Agent Booth. "The interesting thing is that you did not pick up on something very significant that happened on your way to Dr. Sweets' office."
"Nothing happened on the way to Sweets' office," Booth said with a stab at his excellent steak.
"I beg to differ," Gordon Gordon countered. "She implied very strongly that she loves you."
Booth almost choked on his steak and had to take a few drinks of water to settle down. He coughed and huffed, clearing his throat so he could speak. "Now, Doc, I was there, okay? I can guarantee you that Bones did not imply anything about loving me. If she had I'm pretty sure I would have been doing a touchdown dance right then and then told Sweets' to go fuck himself when he said I needed to be the one to make a move," Booth countered. He didn't ordinarily use that kind of profane comment, but he was still pretty pissed at Sweets over this whole mess. He was also aware that Bones had had lunch with Hacker the other day and that really pissed him off.
"Think for a moment," Gordon Gordon halted the mini tirade. "You were concerned about the issue of Dr. Sweets thinking that the two of you are in love, and were pressing the issue with Dr. Brennan about whether you should tell him it may be a mistake, even though it isn't."
"Yeah," Booth admitted. "I didn't want Bones to freak and run."
"Understandable," Gordon Gordon conceded. "But she told you when the subject was brought up that it didn't matter, that that wasn't what was wrong with the book."
"So? Bones told me she loves me like a partner. An atta boy sorta way," Booth cringed as he said that last, knowing that when she'd said it she'd been echoing his idiotic statement from a moment before that when he'd tried to get up the courage to tell her he loved her when she got back from Guatemala. Her statement had been as much a lie of understatement as his had been. He'd seen it in her eyes that night.
"But Dr. Sweets' book was very clearly discussing romantic love, Agent Booth, and Dr. Brennan said that that wasn't the mistake," Gordon Gordon told him. "And the rendition that I have heard from both of you was almost identical, even down to the basic descriptions of your feelings that day. She was clearly implying that she is in love with you."
Booth took a few more bites of his steak while he pondered that. He could see the point, but one thing bothered him. "Then if that's the case, why am I miserable and trying to move on instead of being happy with Bones?" he asked a touch petulantly.
Gordon Gordon reached over to a tray that had been set down for his inspection. He picked up a piece of raw beef, red and a little bloody. He always inspected all meats before use. "You did the one thing that you shouldn't have. I told you that you should be patient, and have hope. Instead you seared her."
"Don't you mean scared her?" Booth asked.
"No, no," Gordon Gordon chuckled. He loved metaphors and was now going to get to use one. "Think of Dr. Brennan's emotions as this piece of raw filet minon. Like this piece of meat, her emotions over the years have become raw, tender, and somewhat bloodied. You've provided a means for her to develop more positive emotions and feelings, but those old wounds are still there, just under the surface, like this bloody piece of meat. Think of your sudden move just after your meeting with Dr. Sweets as placing a piece of raw steak on an exceptionally high heat, searing the outer surface quickly, but leaving the bloody center still there. It's quick, and painful, like the loud sizzling of the skillet or other searing surface. Think of what that would do to those raw, bloody emotions just beneath the surface of Dr. Brennan's mind."
"Fuck," Booth said, not even really aware of his use of such a strong epithet, though it was rather appropriate considering the plummeting of his stomach at that moment of realization. "I burned her."
"A rather apt metaphor," Gordon Gordon conceded. "For Dr. Brennan to be truly ready, her emotions need to be slowly healed, the bloody mess and raw flesh slowly given a distinctive color all their own, made whole, if you will. Not to speak ill of my colleague, but Dr. Sweets did both of you a grave disservice, and you did Dr. Brennan a disservice by not continuing the healing process."
"Is there still hope?" Booth asked, utterly too sick to his stomach to finish the steak.
"I believe so," Gordon Gordon told him. "Dr. Brennan reverted to her defense mechanism: logic. She is just now learning that it also has a very dark side with consequences. Give her time to deal with this."
"I don't know if I can," Booth said in a much quieter voice.
"May I ask why not?" Gordon Gordon asked, though he was fairly certain why.
"I told her I needed to move on," Booth replied. "I've been trying, and she knows that. But I also know she had lunch with that idiot Hacker the other day."
"And you're jealous?"
"Not exactly. I opened the door to Bones dating again, so I expected something like this," Booth admitted. "But Hacker is out for only one thing, and that's to get Bones in bed. Bones is very open about her desires and sexuality, and has no problem with the idea of casual sex, but I don't know if I can handle her being with my supervisor. It was bad enough seeing her with Sully a couple of years ago."
"There's nothing I can do about that," Gordon Gordon replied. "I can tell you what I told her. Every defense mechanism has it's dark side, and it's weaknesses. Her's was logic being applied to emotions, and yours is a stubborn pride that is being applied to a situation of your own creating. This may or may not work out, but the two of you need to be honest with each other at some point. Otherwise this will end in disaster. For both of you."
Booth sighed. "It sure seems to he heading that way," he commented. "Bones is scared that we won't be able to work together because of this, and I told her we could, but I just don't know. She could see the doubt in me when I paused after she asked that."
"Skepticism is a normal reaction to emotional turmoil," Gordon Gordon explained. "It allows us to examine what is happening, and learn from our mistakes."
"What if we can't learn from this mistake?" Booth asked the one question he was the most afraid of having an answer to.
"That, I'm afraid would be up to the two of you," came the answer. "Both of you know what you each want, and need. No one can supply the answers for you. But the two of you need to resist letting the darker side of your emotional security blankets, if you will, dictate how you make those choices."
"No more searing," Booth nodded, using the metaphor that Gordon Gordon had used earlier. He was pleased that this was one of those rare conversations where Gordon Gordon was a bit clearer in what he was getting at.
"Exactly," Gordon Gordon replied, his usual smile now firmly in place. After this he was going to break open a fine bottle of wine and ease the tension that was forming. Dealing with these two particular people was a headache of epic proportions.
Booth pushed his plate back and stood up. "Well I gotta go," he said with a smile. He may not feel like smiling, but he did feel better than he did when he came in. Not much, but a bit.
"Are you sure I can't interest you in some freshly prepared Lamb fries? They're quite good," Gordon Gordon said as he popped one in his mouth and ate it contentedly.
"I'll leave that kind of stuff for you, Doc," Booth said as he mentally vomited at the sight of a guy eating the testicles of a Lamb. "Thanks for the help, Doc," he said as he left that sight rather quickly.
Gordon Gordon grinned. His two friends were so predictable it was almost humorous. It would be if the stakes weren't so high this time around. He hoped that they would decide to give what he had told them serious thought and consideration. Their darker sides were emerging in their personal defense mechanisms, and it could end what had become a friendship, a relationship, of incredible importance to both of them. He turned to one of the chefs and looked with a disappointed countenance. "Redo that batch of Lamb fries," he said with a sigh. "They were a bit underdone." Inside, though, he was happy to get back to his passion. Being a chef, and enjoying the final presentation of his, and his staffs' efforts. Unfortunately the final presentations of his previous profession were far less obvious, and never really complete. Ah well. In cooking as in psychology he would continue to strive to bring his subjects into the light. He made his way to the center of the kitchen and continued on his vigil, and as he did so, he wondered if anyone else from the Jeffersonian or the FBI would show up.
A/N: I hope that this one was worth adding a second chapter. I added the last sentence in case the urge to write another companion chapter strikes me. Thank you for all the great reviews of the first chapter. Gregg.
