A/N: Thank you to all for the encouragement and reviews. This one is a result of JAG'ed Bones in the Cackett suggestions. Early in season 11.
His cell rang, "Booth" he answered with his customary greeting, not bothering to check caller id.
A British accent replied, "Ah, Agent Booth. Delighted to hear your voice again. It's been far too long. I am sorry to trouble you, but I am in need of your assistance."
"Chef Gordon Gordon. " Booth was glad to hear from the psychiatrist turned chef, but felt a pang of guilt. The last time he had talked to the man had been the phone call to inform him of Sweets' murder a little over a year ago. "How can I help you?"
"If it's not too much trouble, I would prefer to talk in person. I am afraid it's a rather delicate matter. Would you mind popping around 3 o'clock? "
"You're back in DC? " Booth was surprised. Wyatt had returned to England shortly before his and Bones' wedding due to his sister's illness.
"Yes, I returned two months ago, I apologize for not contacting you sooner, but opening a new restaurant is a bit of process."
"New place? Give me the info."
Booth walked into the kitchen and sniffed appreciatively. It was between the lunch and dinner service, but whatever was on the menu for this evening smelled delightful. The place was a buzz of activity with the Chef barking out instructions. He stopped when he saw the agent, shaking his hand warmly in greeting exclaiming, " Thank you so much for coming. Tell me, have you had lunch?"
"Um, yea, I had a bite earlier. " His lunch had been a cup of ramen noodles out of the vending machine. " You had something you needed my help on?"
The chef looked at him skeptically as Booth's stomach rumbled. "Well, whatever you dined on earlier, it seems to have been unsatisfactory. Come sit. My situation can wait and is best if you are in the proper frame of mind. That is assuming you don't have pressing business at the FBI?" Booth shook his head, they had closed a case yesterday and the since it was his first week back, he didn't have a backlog yet. "Excellent, chef's table please!" He clapped his hands and immediately sous chefs set up a small table in the center of the kitchen, water was poured and small plate of God only knows what was placed in front of the agent.
Booth knew better than to ask. He just popped the bite in his mouth. He grinned, whatever it was it was good. "So, what brings you back to DC?"
"My sister has sufficiently recovered and I find that the American palate is much more conducive to creativity than the British one. I mean, you Yanks do have some tastes that can not be forgiven, pigs in a blanket for example, but for the most part you are far more adventurous in your dining."
Booth shook his head, "It's probably best that you didn't make the wedding. I don't think I could have remained polite as you insulted God's perfect food at the reception."
"We will have to agree to disagree on that topic. I was sorry to have not made it to your nuptials, but family duty called. After so many years in the making, I'm sure it was quite the celebration. And belated congratulations on the birth of your son. He's what, 4 months old now?"
"Yes, how'd you know?"
"Well despite the fact that you haven't responded to my emails for a while Agent Booth, I do have my sources. And you have my sympathy on the loss of your brother. "
Soup was placed in front of him. He took a spoonful as a stall tactic as he formulated his response. "Thank you. I'm sorry for ignoring your emails. If it helps, it wasn't personal. After Sweets died I let a lot of things slide. "
"Understandable, given the turmoil in your life at the time. Prior to your imprisonment Dr. Sweets and I corresponded frequently regarding his book on you and Dr. Brennan. Once you were jailed, the book was obviously not a concern, but he kept me abreast of the events. In a six month period if I recall, you lost your grandfather, your home, your health, your freedom, your trust in the FBI and your government, and your best friend. You seemed to have coped well enough, so I will not begrudge a lack of correspondence. "
Booth snorted. "Your sources overestimated my coping abilities. " He focused on his soup, a roasted squash concoction that made him actually like vegetables.
The chef looked at him intently, " Please enlighten me. I was under the impression that you are currently a functioning member of society, happily married and a devoted father. "
"I am now." He sighed, " 7 months after I got out of jail I started gambling again. I lied to Bones about it for a month till she caught me and threw me out of the house. We're back together, and I've been sober for 6 months, but I came damn close to losing everything. "
"I see. Well, I still stand by my assessment. " He took in Booth's stare. " By your timetable, your sobriety started right about the time Dr. Brennan gave you the ultimatum. Am I correct?" Booth nodded. "So, when faced with the consequences of your regrettable choices, you immediately took action to repair the damage. "
"Regrettable choices? That's quite the euphemism. " Booth said incredulously as his empty soup cup was removed and replaced with a plate of sliced filet, garlic mashed and roasted beets.
"Alas, I can see this is another topic where I fear we will not come to agreement. So, let's change course shall we? I understand you've recently returned to the FBI? And Dr. Brennan to the Jeffersonian? "
"Don't you have something you need my help on? "
"Yes, yes, of course in due time. But since I'm indulging your preference for meat and potatoes, please indulge my curiosity."
Booth had to admit it was the best beef he'd had in a while, so he gave Gordon Gordon a brief summary of the events - the burglary which resulted in Jared's death and his injury, the confusion in the identification of the body, his hospitalization and the decision to return to their old jobs.
"Were you and he close? "
"Not really. We were when we were kids, but as we got older we drove each other crazy. We had a falling out a couple years ago. "
"Your childhood closeness no doubt as a result of being united against a common enemy" the chef surmised, and it was confirmed by the agents slight nod. "But obviously you had mended your differences since you were working with him at the time of his death."
Booth paused in between bites. "Sort of. " He debated on elaborating, but he trusted Gordon Gordon and he was very aware that his life was complicated right now - new routine at home, sorta new job, his brothers death, just recovered from a significant injury. While he currently didn't feel the need to gamble, he desperately wanted to minimize the chances of dealing with that demon. If talking to a chef could stop an emergency phone call to his sponsor he'd talk. "Jared had a habit of getting into trouble and I had a habit of bailing him out. He also had an alcohol problem. He tried, but never kicked it for very long. When he was sober I'd help, but if he was drinking I wouldn't and then he'd get pissed at me. "
"I see. How many times had he fallen off the wagon so to speak? "
"This was his fourth go around. He was sober for a couple of years, then when he and his wife started having problems he started drinking again. Then it seemed like every 6 months or so they'd swap between on again/off again and so would he. Was never clear to me whether he drank because they had problems or they had problems because he drank. "
"And were you angry at him for drinking?"
"Sad is probably closer to it. I just wish he could have gotten it together. "
"Do you feel guilty about his death?"
He opened his mouth to say no, when he caught the chef looking at him knowingly. He sighed, "A little bit. I know there was nothing I could have done once the shooting started, but I keep wondering if there was something I could have done to not have him in that room."
"Interesting. "
"You know, I really hate it when you shri.. chefs say interesting. " Booth sounded slightly annoyed.
"Well, from everything that you've told me, this was all Jared's idea. The only reason you got involved is that he got a conscience when he found out that the the ultimate goal was selling a list of undercover agents to the highest bidder and asked for your assistance. Yet you feel like it was your fault he was there. "
"He was my little brother. I've been taking care of him since I was five."
"And what about Dr. Sweets?"
"What about him? " Booth snapped.
"He was your little brother too, metaphorically speaking. Was it your responsibility to protect him?"
Booth's jaw tensed. "Yes. "
"And do you think you failed?"
"I think it's safe to say I made some mistakes there. I should have issued the warrant. "
"Ok, if I can summarize here. From you point of view, you should have done more to protect Jared and Dr. Sweets deaths, even though they were grown men. In the case of Jared, he deliberately put himself in a dangerous situation, and in the case of Dr. Sweets there was no way of knowing that his actions were dangerous. Did I misunderstand?"
"No, but..."
Gordon Gordon held up his hand, "Would you expect Christine to be responsible for Hank?"
"Of course not."
"Tell me, who protects you?"
Having a hard time keeping up with the chef, Booth said tersely "I can take care of myself."
"Might I suggest you do a better job of it?"
Now he was completely lost. He just stared at Gordon Gordon.
The chef added gently, " Or at least have the same expectations of yourself as you do others. You've been blaming yourself to some extent for actions of full grown adults. You have taken responsibility for your brother from a very young age, even though you would never dream of asking your daughter to do the same. You've expressed disgust with yourself when you admitted to a gambling relapse after 11 years of sobriety and a series of horrific life events. However, you seem to have given your brother multiple attempts to get his life in order. "
Booth hung his head in his hands, "I hurt a lot of people".
"Yes, yes of course, and that isn't trivial. By all means hold yourself accountable for your actions. But perhaps you should forgive yourself for them as well. " Deciding he'd given the agent enough to think about he motioned to Booth's plate and continued "Now if I do say so myself, those potatoes should not go to waste. " He got up to fix himself a cup of tea.
Booth finished his lunch and found his empty place replaced with a slice of apple pie and a cup of coffee. He could not contain a grin of delight. Gordon Gordon exclaimed, "Ah yes, at last we get to the matter on which I require your assistance." Seeing the agents confused expression, "You see, my pastry chef has been experimenting with a new recipe for apple pie. I'm afraid it's a dessert that I don't particularly care for, so I require your expert opinion on whether it is acceptable."
"You called me here for a pie problem?" Booth took a bite, closed his eyes and sighed.
"Yes, I need to know if the blend of sugar is correct, and whether or not there is a proper ratio of cinnamon."
He took another bite, letting the pastry melt in his mouth. "It's perfect. But then you knew that."
Gordon Gordon smiled. Of course he had known. Just as he had known that the agent might have been able to decline an invitation to come around and chat, a request for help would be responded to immediately. And while he wasn't a psychiatrist any longer, nor did he want to be, the agent didn't need psychiatric help, he just needed a friend. "The chef will be experimenting with cherry pie in two weeks. Would you mind lending your expertise again? Say 3 o'clock?"
Booth sipped his coffee, "I can do that."
