Booth stood fidgeting for a few minutes before going in. "Hey, Aldo."
"Hey, Booth. How you doing?"
"Can't complain." Booth took a seat at the bar.
Aldo laughed. "Very funny. The only time I see you is when you've got something to complain about. I know about everything that's happened to you this past year. It's been a rough one. What'll you have?"
"Scotch. I've been able to handle most of what happened by myself."
"You really think so?"
Booth ignored the question. "Anyway, remember that kid Sweets? He was murdered, you know, and I can't seem to move past it. It's affecting my relationship with Bones."
"There's been lot of guys killed in battle under your command, Sarge. Why was this so different?"
Booth took a drink of his whiskey and exhaled slowly. "It was senseless. There was no purpose in it. And I was supposed to be there. He was just doing me a favor…"
"Lots of young men die for no good reason. It's random chance...no rhyme or reason. Fortunes of war, right?"
"This was different. I could've prevented it. It should've been me instead of him."
"But it wasn't, and you feeling guilty won't change that. Maybe it bothers you so much because Sweets reminded you of your own mortality, or maybe he reminded you of all those young guys like Teddy who died in the line of duty. Maybe it's part of God's crazy plan. Who knows? But you're still here. You can't give up because someone else died. You gotta keep going.
Booth sighed. "Bones says I gotta talk to someone about this. Can that someone be you?"
"Your wife is one smart lady. Yeah... I got some time... it can be me." Aldo poured another shot for Booth and one for himself. "So….tell me about Sweets..."