A Boy From Philly (Rated M, friendship, fluff, angst)

He knocked lightly on the door frame. The woman didn't turn around. She hardly noticed the noise. She was too focused on the steady whoosh of oxygen through the nasal cannula.

At sixty-seven she looked so frail. So tired and wasted and it tore his heart out to see his mother like that. Of course, if truth be told, he was used to seeing his mother like that. Strong when her husband was away, but weak when he was near.

He blinked. A distant memory bubbled to light. A memory so full of pain and hurt that it took every bit of his strength not to be fall to his knees from it.

Her hands plunged into soapy water. Bits of food clung to the dish. She scrubbed it off with her thumb nail, gave it a rinse under steaming hot water and placed it on the rack with the others.

A boy of ten sat at the kitchen table coloring a Superman color book with deep concentration that caused his lips to purse.

His mother dried her hands and sighed. She turned to her son and smiled, a hand resting on her skirted hip, "Did you get your homework done, Seeley?"

"Yeah," he replied absently, not raising his head or crayon.

"How about your chores?" The phone rang and she walked across the kitchen and answered the phone. "Yeah. Hold on." She covered the mouthpiece. "Your dad's gonna be home any second. You should get a move on." She uncovered the mouthpiece, "Hi, Beatrice. Just about to start supper. You?"

The door swung open. The boy watched his father cross the kitchen, set his stained white-turned-gray plastic cooler on the table. He ruffled his son's hair. "Hey, boy." His breath was heavy with a certain familiar odor. His next destination was the Frigidaire. Jars and containers jingled as the door jerked open. "Where's dinner, Nan?"

"Just a minute, hun." She then whispered quickly to her friend, "I should probably go."

"Hell yes, you should go." He reached out and took the phone from his wife and hung it on the receiver.

A pink blush grew on Anne's neck. "You didn't need to do that, Mike. I was going to hang up."

"Yeah. After you talked shop with the girls and started telling Barb all about how I smack you around. That's what it is, isn't it? You tell her I hit you, don't you? F-ck!"

"Alright, now you're just being paranoi--" She didn't finish the sentence. Her eyes grew slightly wider when she realized she had crossed that line. That indefinable line. The line that was so thin that it was often penetrated before she had a chance to stop herself.

He simply gritted his teeth.

The boy in the corner quietly pushed back his chair and slid under the table. He made himself as small as possible and hoped that everything would blow over. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"So you think you're Queen of the Whole Damn World, now, don't you?!" Mike Booth never hesitated to his his wife. His hand was swift. It shot out and made perfect contact with the porcelain white skin of Anne's right cheek. She covered it with a shaking hand.

"Ow! Th-That's not what a meant!" She fought back tears.

"That's a bunch of cock-sucking bull-shit, Nan!" He stalked away from her and went back to the refrigerator. "F-ck my balls. I told you to pick up some Bud, right?"

His eyes shot to the woman who now shook head to toe in the corner of the kitchen.

"F-cking cunt sack of shit."

"I'm sorry. I just got busy. The boys needed to get to baseball earlier today and you wanted the dishes done. I- I didn't have time to swing by the store. I can do it now if you want."

"I can do it now if you want," he mocked.

"There's no need to degrade me," she muttered.

"Degrade you? Is that what you tell Beatrice? I degrade you? F-ck me, Nan! Go burn a f-cking bra!"

"I-I'm just saying that--" Her bottom lip trembled, unsure of how she should go about the whole thing.

He whipped the phone off the receiver and backhanded her with the phone, splitting her cheek open.

Seeley sunk lower and held onto the leg of the table. Some day, he told himself. Some day he would be bigger than his dad.

"Ah!" Her trembling fingers touched the bloody tissue on her cheek. It was only a fraction of a second before Mike wrapped the yellow cord around her neck and shoved her roughly against the wall.

"Please--" She sputtered, hot tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Dad?" Three sets of eyes went to the doorway. Six year old Jared stood there, eyes brimming with tears. "Just leave mom alone, OK?!"

The phone dropped to the ground. Mike began to move toward his youngest son, eyes trained, a deep crevice digging between his eyes.

"No! Mike, no! He's just six!" His wife begged.

Seeley knew his mom was right. Jared was just six. Hardly old enough or big enough to protect himself. He scrambled from beneath the table and grabbed the nearest thing. A half-full glass of milk, which, thanks to baseball practice, he quite accurately chucked at his father's head.

Blazing eyes settled on the elder Booth brother.

Now a man, he stood at his father's hospital room door. He rapped again softly so as to not frighten his mother. Several silent seconds passed before he finally spoke. "Mom?"

She turned and smiled genuinely at Booth. She stood. Her once red hair was now white. Her hazel eyes were as bright and alive as ever. Spirit. Anne Booth had spirit. And spunk. What kind of woman would she have been if she had never married Michael Booth? Probably the same kind of woman that was on her son's #1 speed dial. Fiery and precocious. To her sisters and mother, that was the saddest thing of their 15 year marriage. The fact that she had gone from wild and fun teenager to guilt-ridden and broken woman within a matter of years.

"How's dad?" He asked as he embraced his mother.

"Breathing," she replied seriously, but her eyes glinted slightly. Maybe there was a little fire in there, yet. "The oncologist should be in any minute." She smiled at her son. And she felt the usual swell of pride. Her son. The boy she birthed was now a grown, handsome, successful FBI agent. And better yet, he was caring and intelligent, sweet and faithful. What a blessing! Despite the pain she'd endured to raise her sons right, she was confident that she had done something right with Seeley Booth. "How's my FBI agent son doing?"

He smiled and sat beside her, pulling up a stool and rolling it next to his mother's seat. He shrugged. "It's going fine. Cullen keeps offering me promotions, so it must be going fine."

"Offering? You're not accepting?" She looked at him quizzically.

Booth smiled, "I'm happy where I am, mom."

She nodded knowingly. "It's that partner of yours."

"Bones?"

This time she smiled at him. "Temperance is a wonderful young lady."

"Yeah, she is. But that's not why I haven't accepted. I really like my job, mom. Maybe I'll accept his offer when I'm too old to run." A cocky grin.

She smiled and chuckled lightly. Then her eyes fell on Mike. His skin was gray. He slept lightly. His bottom lip poked out unnaturally, it was the color of an eggplant. "I was wondering if you would help me go through my own Last Wishes and Final Arrangements."

Booth tipped his. His teeth gritted together, "Mom, you're sixty-five."

"Sixty-seven. And it's obviously not too young for your dad to die."

A measuring minute or two passed. Booth's eyes fell on his father. Gray. Ill. Dying. Then he looked at his mom again. "OK, mom," he replied softly.

She swallowed. She got that 'brave' look on her face that he was so acquainted with. "If it helps you any, I've already given it quite a bit of thought."

He looked over at his mom. He sighed and reached for her hand. Once chubby, now it seemed so much thinner. He ran his thumb across her knuckles.

"IV fluids and tube feeding only."

"Mom--"

"I worked Hospice Care for twenty years, hun. Nothing's more painful than dehydrating to death." She sighed and looked at her ex-husband. A man who, despite her better judgment, was somebody she had always loved. Her hand stroked his gently. "Under no circumstances will I be on life support. Unless it's something curable like pneumonia or something. I just don't want to be a burden to anyone."

"You're not a burden, mom. You never have been. You never will be."

She smiled softly. The smile faded. "You deserved a better childhood, Seeley. You deserved a normal childhood."

He leaned forward, elbows on knees. His face close to hers. "I'm beginning to think there's no such thing, mom. Everybody has their issues. Sometimes it's just what you do with the hand you're dealt."

"You're awfully philosophical, sweetie. Been spending time with that genius partner of yours, huh?"

"She hates psychology. I'm sure philosophy isn't too far off."

She squeezed her son's hand, simultaneously releasing Mike's.

A soft rap at the door. Both sets of eyes raised and watched as a young doctor, mid-thirties, brown curly hair and brown eyes entered the hospital room.

"I'm Dr. Sweeney. I'll be looking after Mike's oncological needs." She held out a hand. Booth gripped it and smiled. Anne gripped it and smiled.

Dr. Sweeney looked around for her stool. Booth realized it was under his own bottom. "Sorry," he raised to a half stand.

"No. No, keep it. I'll just stand. This will just take a minute."

Booth sat and held his mom's hand.

"This is my son, Seeley," Anne spoke.

"Nice to meet you. Anne, Seeley, Mike. Dr. Sweeney. Or Rachel if you like. We might be getting to know one another pretty well." She stood by Mike and checked his vitals. "Has he woken up at all?"

"Um, just for a minute. He wanted a sip of water." Anne.

"Good, good. Has he complained about pain at all?"

"Earlier this morning. A nurse came in and gave him something."

"Hydromorphone and morphine. That'll sedate him pretty good," the doctor smirked.

"I'll say," Booth muttered.

She looked him a question.

"I've been shot. A lot. Blown up, stabbed, burned..." This time a look of a amused disbelief. "I'm an FBI agent."

"Well, then I guess you and morphine have an intimate relationship."

Booth chuckled. "Yeah. I tried to bring her home to meet the parents, but that's when I realized that our relationship was watery."

"You're funny," she smiled. Then she became serious and pulled out the tablet in her hands. "Are you up to speed on your dad's condition?"

Mother and son exchanged looks, "Not... not really. Just lay it on me, doc. Tell me everything."

"Everything? OK, I'll just give you the low-down. Alcoholism is linked to a number of cancers. Most notably the larynx, colon, esophagus, and liver. Apparently your dad doesn't like doctors or scientists. So," she scanned the folder. "When your dad was admitted in May, he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Colorectal Cancer. It wasn't long after that we discovered it had become Metastatic."

"What--What's that?"

She hugged the folder to her chest. "Metastasis involves spread of cancer cells through the bloodstream, or the lymph system. Distant, or metastatic spread generally occurs when cancer cells break off from tumors and enter the bloodstream, travel to other organs, and continue to grow into new tumors"

"So he basically had cancer all over the place when he came in," he finished with a resigned air, running one hand through his hair.

"I am so very sorry," Dr. Sweeney said sincerely. Then after a beat, "If you have any more questions on your father's condition, please feel free to call me. I make sure I'm always available for my patients and their families." She took out a card and handed it to Booth. Anne was crying into her sleeve by that moment.

Booth reached over and rubbed his mother's back slowly, quietly letting her sob. Rachel rose and walked toward the door.

"Wait," Booth said, turning to Dr. Sweeney.

She turned and looked over her shoulder.

"How... how long?"

"Weeks. Days. Not very long at all. I'm sorry."

Booth bit his lip and pulled his mother closer into a hug.

"Maybe I'll accept his offer when I'm too old to run."
Made me hate to think where'd he learned to run and why. This was good and sad. And whereas usually I'm always all about life, I was glad to hear of his father's short life expectancy. It feels like a simple fact to me--You don't hit. I get that they feel weak, and so try to place other people below them, etc. etc. but it's so fundamentally wrong. Why must the weak victimize the strong?

Anyway, excellently written.

I agree, excellently written, as always. Ma, you've got a way with words! Your stories are always well done. Kudos!


Random thing...I was watching the first season finale just now...and one of the crew guys who is examining Bren's family car...I'm pretty sure he's 'Chip' from the elevator episode. Pretty sure. Maybe. Possibly. Perchance. I'm shutting up now.

Thank you. I started brain-storming this story a while ago. But I only started to write it after my mom's health issues (more recent issues, that is) came to light. I think this story will be heartwarming and sweet. It'll be bitter-sweet at times, too. But I think it'll become a good one.

ForensicMama wrote:I think it'll become a good one.

Me too!
It's so sad what happend to Booth as a child......
But it's written really good....and I love his mom.....
Maybe we will even get some B/B in there?
It's okay if not, but I think it would make his mom happy.....to see that her son is happy....

that was just so brillaint, sad and wow. I loved it and its really well written x

It's so hard to read domestic violence. But there's Booth, protecting his baby brother; he started young. Thanks, Mama. I'll be looking forward to the rest of it.

Thank you all for reading. I'm sure some of this will be bitter-sweet. But I'm really excited about this. It's a different tone than I usually write in a story.

Part II

Booth sunk lower into the waiting room chair. In his right hand was a cup of lukewarm hospital coffee.

He took a sip and grimaced. I take that back. Luke-warm and burnt hospital coffee.

Anne had gone home to take a nap before taking the night shift, leaving her son to watch over his father for a few hours.

His father was in his room having his colostomy bag changed and therefore he was not welcome. Mike Booth may have been dying, but he knew enough to save his son the embarrassment of that particular process. Not to mention, a very feisty older nurse quickly shoved him out of the room.

Either way, Booth had seen enough gruesome grossness in his twelve and a half year career to last him a lifetime. He wouldn't have stayed if someone had payed him. Nobody needs those memories to be among the last ones they have of their father.

The clocked on the opposite wall ticked-tick-ticked around its center point.

"Woah! We're half way the-ere! Woa-oh! Livin' on a prayer!" A few nurses turned toward the phone that was making all of the racket. Bones had messed with his phone before the summer hiatus, switching his ring tone from its business-like preset tone to Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer. An interesting choice of music. One which Booth didn't try to psychoanalyze. It wasn't much of a surprise. Bon Jovi, that is, wasn't a surprise. He knew that Bones was a closet 80s rock-a-holic. "Take my hand, we'll make it I swea-ear! Woa-oh! Livin' on a prayer!"

Nah. Brennan wasn't the type of woman who sent secret messages via musica to her partner.

"Sorry," Booth said, standing. "I'll just take this--" Glares all around. "Yeah."

He pressed the little green glowing phone button when he got outside. The summer sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. So that would put it roughly at 7:30 PM.

"Hey, Bones."

Brennan was rolling a bag into the back of her car. She lifted it and placed it into the back of her Toyota. "Three rings?"

"Huh?"

"It took you three rings to answer." She slammed the back of her car.

"Sorry, Bones. I was in the hospit--a library." Nice recovery. And he knew it.

"Wait. No. You were going to say a hospital. Why are you at a hospital?" She climbed into the Toyota and started the engine. "Is Parker OK?"

"Yeah, yeah. Parker's OK."

"Rebecca?"

"Yeah."

"Jared?"

"Look, Bones--"

"It's your mom, isn't it?"

He couldn't help but to crack a smile, "No, Bones. It's not my mom."

"Oh." She had figured it out and Booth could tell from the way she uttered that syllable. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"How do you know it's not a broken hip or something? He's sixty-eight." Booth spotted a discarded cigarette that was still glowing on the sidewalk. He smudged it out, pressing one hand into his pocket.

Brennan backed out onto the main road and began to drive toward 295 South. "Taking into account the fact that he is an alcoholic, the fact that you left for your vacation two days early, and that you've been in a hospital ever since, I'd assume that it's something... serious. It is, isn't it?"

Booth turned toward the doors in time to see a woman in sweats and holding a tiny newborn being wheeled out by a nurse in Spongebob scrubs. The doors slid open. A bright-eyed husband pulled up in a Kia Sedona and ushered her toward the car excitedly. Such a stark contrast.

"Yeah. Yeah it is." Temperance Brennan. She never ceased to amaze him. One minute she was completely naive to the emotions and inner-workings of others. The next, she was reading him like some sort of anthropological book. "For someone who doesn't read people very well, Bones, you sure do pretty well at reading me."

Something in his voice made her do a U-Turn. "What hospital are you at?"

"Thomas Jefferson. Why?"

"Will you be there three hours from now?"

"Probably not. Bones, you don't have to come here."

"But I think I should."

"When does your flight leave?"

"It doesn't matter. Where are you staying?"

"Mom's."

She smiled, "And where exactly is 'Mom's'"?

"I'll text you directions. Bones, you don't have to do this."

"Who else will be there for you? Logically speaking, Booth, Jared is utterly dependent on you. You're probably comforting your mother through this all, and you need a friend." It didn't make too much sense to her. Even with all of her logic. But she had lost her own father once. She had lost her mother. How different would life have been if she had Booth as a friend when she was fifteen?

"Bones. I've got friends in Philly."

Silently, she replied, "But you don't have a Bones."

Booth smiled and shook his head. The sky lit afire as the sun disappeared, hitting the apex of the hills. "No. I guess I don't."

"I'll be there in a few hours."

And now it's Bones turn to come to the rescue. I like it, Mama!

like the different tone. glad that she is going without being asked.

Part III

It might sound impossible, loving someone that has hurt you your entire life, but it was a reality for Seeley Booth. And it was most definitely a reality for Anne Booth. With the only exception being that Booth loved his dad, and Anne was in love with her ex-husband. She always has been. And it might be safe to say that nobody was more crushed when Anne and Mike divorced than Anne herself.

While Booth napped on his mother's couch, waiting for his partner to arrive, every dream was plagued with a dad-themed nightmare. Some were bitter-sweet. Others were just plain horrific.

When he was eleven years old, and still sadly pre-pubescent, his mother pulled in front of Mountain View Middle School in their old brown Station Wagon. Well, is old now, but it was nice then. Another one of those, "I'm sorry; I'll never hit you again" rewards from Mike.

It was a hot day in May, almost unusually warm, but Nan was wearing a long sleeved- turtle neck shirt. Large 80s-style frames obscured most of her face and her long hair was let down. She either looked like a bank robber... or a victim of abuse.

And he remembered it clearly. School was coming to a close. And Jared was being a pest. The boys ran out of the school, their Nike shoes, shoes that their family couldn't afford, but Mike insisted on purchasing, hit the pavement as they ran side by side arguing. One hitting the other. The other hitting back. Seeley gave Jared a good shove. He tumbled into the grass.

Seeley laughed. Jared was quick to call him the worst thing he could come up with at seven years old.

"Stupid head!"

That wasn't enough to provoke young Booth. "Yeah, well you're the reason we don't have a little sister. One look at you and mom said, 'No more kids!'"

Jared gritted his teeth and within seconds, the two boys had tackled one another on the front lawn of the Middle School. Parents and children who were waiting for buses split like the Red Sea, pointed, looked shocked. A few teachers began to move toward the tussling brothers.

Anne quickly jumped out of the vehicle and ran toward the boys. Her worst fears were coming true before her eyes. They saw their father hitting them and now they were passing along the violence. She tried not to think of that, though. It was too hard to think that she could have fault in how her sons were acting out by staying with their father.

"Stop!" She yelled. "Seeley! Jared! Knock it off now!" She jogged across the lawn and grabbed hold of Seeley's arm, since he was on top, and yanked him to his feet. "What are you doing?'

"You are the sister!" Jared shrieked at Seeley.

The elder brother wriggled out of his mother's grasp and pounced on Jared once again. All of the fury and rage over the past decade of his life were over boiling. "I hate you! You're stupid! And ugly!"

"You're stupid!"

"You're a f-cking cunt!" Where had Seeley heard those words before?

"Stop! Stop right now!" Anne yelled. She grabbed hold of her son's arms. One hand on Seeley, the other on Jared. Somehow, Anne was knocked off balance with an elbow to the face. Sunglasses went in one direction, Anne went in another.

She fell backward and Booth knew immediately that he had caused physical pain to his mother. Such guilt. Such tremendous guilt. The self-proclaimed protector had become part of the violence.

He quickly got off his brother to help his mother.

She was on the ground. No more sunglasses to disguise the large black bruise that covered her left eye and most of her cheekbone.

And he realized what was beneath the sweater. Beneath a thick layer of synthetic fibers was a broken woman who was covered in bruises.

A knock at the door roused him from the dream. He sat up on the couch and ran hand through sleep-ruffled hair.

He opened the door for Brennan.

She stood in front of him wearing what she normally wears on a dig. Green cargo pants, a tank top, and white over-shirt.

"You didn't have to dress up for me," he teased, taking her bag.

She only smiled and pushed past him, "This is what I always wear on digs."

"What about Belize?"

Instead of sitting down, she began to look around the small living room. It was about as big as her bedroom. Smaller, actually. "Belize will wait. I'll email Professor Ruiz tomorrow. I wasn't going to be the only forensic anthropologist, anyway." She came across a photo on the mantle. Two boys. The oldest one, obviously Booth, was around eleven. Hair parted in the way that he parted it when they first started working together. Jared's hair was crew-cut. They looked like miniatures of themselves. "You were cute, Booth."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he muttered as he sat on the sofa.

She turned toward him, "What's wrong? I mean, besides the obvious."

For a moment, he pondered whether or not he should divulge more information about his past to Brennan. He shook his head, "Just can't sleep."

She sat beside him, photo in hand. "I'm sorry." What else could she have said? "Where's Anne?"

"Hm?"

"I wanted to finally meet her in person."

"She's at the hospital sitting with dad."

"She is?"

He looked up at her curiously.

"I just don't understand, I guess."

He laughed, "Me, neither."

"I thought they were divorced."

"Yeah, well, they are. Sometimes that doesn't make people stop loving each other." He rose and grabbed Brennan's bag. "You can take the spare room."

"What? It's only 10:30."

"Yeah. Bedtime."

She shook her head, "I'm a night-owl. I don't go to bed until one or two." Then she grinned, "You should show me around Philadelphia. Wanna get some drinks?"

He chuckled and pointed at her, "You know what, Bones? You're a girl after my own heart."

"Woman," she corrected him.

He just smiled as he led her out the door.

---

"You'll like this place, Bones. Trust me."

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Well, as it turns out, there's something better than waking up with a migraine."

She stopped in front of the glowing sign, "Ice cream?"

"Bassett's, Bones." He opened the door for her.

She didn't budge. "It goes straight to my thighs," she muttered.

"Well, if it does, I've never noticed." Flirtatious smile.

She rolled her eyes slightly and they entered the ice cream parlor.

Even at a quarter after eleven, a few people were still ordering ice cream.

"I don't get it. Nutritionally speaking," she began.

"Bones, people don't always think about nutrition when they're having a sugar craving." He looked over at her. Her blue eyes were studying the menu. And he couldn't help but to smile. He had felt so lonely for the past week, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders once again. Just like when he was a child. It was like he was reliving his childhood all over again. And he hated it. Seeing his mom break down in front of him day after day. And he had to be the pillar. The only pillar. And it was far from easy. He was glad that Bones was there. Even if Belize had to wait its turn.

"Booth?"

He blinked.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm just glad you're here, Bones. You're right. I've been needing a friend."

She smiled back at him, "OK. Now, tell me what to get."

"Well, as it turns out, you can get your alcohol and eat it, too here."

"What?"

"Rum Raisin's my favorite, but Champagne Sorbet's pretty good."

She moved her eyes back to the menu. "I can't choose."

"How about, you get one and I'll get the other."

"I don't see how that solves my conundrum."

"Well, if I get one and you get the other, then you get to try both."

"Sounds like a deal."

I'm glad she chose him without him asking. I would really like to see more of Bones being there for Booth. A more equal friendship is necessary before a great relationship. Poor Booth having to relieve it all, I'm glad there's someone to just love him whom he doesn't have to be strong for.

I'm glad you like it!

Part IV

Their voices invaded his dreams. One minute, he was swinging on the rope. Back and forth, over the water and back to shore. And in the next, his mom and Brennan were walking through the woods, arm in arm, talking about banana bread ingredients.

"My gran always used fresh walnuts. She picked them and toasted them herself."

"When I was 27, I went on a dig in Cairo. The locals showed me how to toast locusts."

Anne laughed lightly, "You'll have to show me that particular skill some day."

"Locusts aren't as abundant in the states."

Booth's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his mother's laughter.

Brennan noticed him stirring. She walked over, banana bread muffin in hand, and sat beside him on the couch. "Muffin?"

"Thanks, Bones."

"Woah," she covered her nose. "Dinosaur breath."

"Dragon breath, Bones."

She looked confused. "Dragons are mythical beasts. Dinosaur breath makes more sense." Her eyes were teasing.

"I guess it does." He reached for the muffin. "Mmm. Good."

"Tempe helped me make them." Anne came in. She wore a worn pink bathrobe that tied below her ample breasts. She planted a solid kiss on Booth's forehead. "Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning and a strange woman was in my kitchen."

Booth chuckled. "Sorry, mom."

"Eh. No matter. I just figured that you were picking up cute nurses."

"Mom. You have no idea how disturbing that whole scenario sounds."

"What? Nothing's disturbing about it. You're a handsome, successful man. All you need is love, right?"

"Mom, I'm not about to go picking up oncologists in the hospital where my dad--" His eyes met his mother's. "Never mind. These are good, Bones."

She smiled, "Thank you." Brennan's eyes momentarily traced her partner's muscular chest. They bounced back to his face. What? She's not dead.

Anne stood and smoothed her robe. "I need to go over that paperwork with you sometime today. I just-- would like to get it out of the way."

"We can do it now, Mom."

She looked between Brennan and her son. "I'm not so sure Tempe would feel too comfortable..."

"Mom, if you're alright with it, I'm sure Bones is. I tell her everything anyway."

"And visa versa," Brennan added.

Anne still looked uncomfortable.

"You know what, Booth? I think I'll just jump in the shower while I still have a chance. " She stood and left mother and son alone.

Anne laid her hand on Booth's knee. "I don't mind that you tell Tempe everything. I... I know it doesn't make any sense, but I feel more comfortable doing this alone."

"It's OK, Mom." He wrapped his arm around his mom and pulled her into a side-hug.

"Wooh! Tempe wasn't kidding, sweetheart. You smell like morning butt."

Booth laughed as he watched Anne cross the room. She came back holding a folder with her insurance carrier's name scrolled across. Her fingers shook ever so slightly as she took the paperwork from the folder. She laughed sardonically. "I hate doing this."

"Then don't."

Her hazel eyes lifted to his. "But it's something I need to do." She paused as she laid everything out on the coffee table. "My cardiologist--" She ran a finger under her nose and breathed deeply in and out. "My heart isn't healthy, Seeley. Not much of a surprise, I guess."

"Mom--" It was a surprise. Booth had had no idea that anything was at issue with his mom's health. Yes, she was overweight. But she always had been, as far back as he remembered. And, as far as he knew, she hadn't taken so much as a Bayer, let alone heart medication.

"I'm not lying or exaggerating, hun. Last year I was hospitalized."

"What?"

"I thought I was having a bad case of angina, so I saw my doctor. I had a heart attack. Mild. It was mild."

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

"You were working--"

"I would've dropped everything, you know that."

"In London."

Booth sighed and ran a hand over his 5 o'clock shadow. "I would've come home, Mom."

Several seconds passed. Booth heard the water from the shower turn off.

"What do you want, Mom?"

"Did you know that half of all people die when they have a heart attack?"

"Mom--"

"And 85 percent of people who die from coronary heart disease are 65 or older." Her eyes followed a butterfly that fluttered on her geraniums outside the window. "I won't be one of those women who live to be a hundred. I really don't want to be, either. I don't want to be senile when I die." She sighed and looked back at her son. "I'd like to be able to say good-bye."

Their backs were to her, but Booth could feel Brennan's presence. She stood in the hallway, holding a towel to her hair.

"OK, Mom. What can I do?"

"Just make sure that my last wishes are respected."

"OK."

"I'll make a photocopy of this at the hospital. You just need to sign here and I'll need an alternate way that the hospital can contact you."

Booth sighed and took the pen from his mom's withered hand. He quickly signed the paperwork like his hand was on fire, like he was somehow signing away his mother's life. No life support. No oxygen. Just food and water.

Nan reached up and rubbed her son's back, her hand slipped around his neck and she pulled him close, kissing his cheek. "You don't have to do this."

"I'm the only one who can really do this. Knowing Jared, he'd probably keep you alive to reach that hundred-year mark." He chuckled. "Maybe you should have Jared do this after all."

"I don't think so." She laughed.

Brennan smiled from the hallway. It was heart-warming to see Booth and his mother together. She realized how much she had missed not having a mother of her own. But at the same time, it was painful knowing that Booth would soon be facing yet another death in his life. And he wasn't fifteen. He'd had more than thirty years to get to know his mother inside and out. In one way, that was good. In another, it sounded so much worse than losing her as a teenager. Losing someone who you had gotten to know as an adult just sounded so much worse for some reason.

She slipped behind the bedroom door to finish drying her hair.

I don't know yet what Anne did, but she sure did something to raise that boy right. He was headed for hell in a handbasket at an early age, but look how fine he turned out! And Tempe's dealing with some of her own stuff too. Thanks, Mama.

I really love that story....of course I love most of your stories so it wasn't a surprise for me .....
It's good that Bones decided to come and be there for Booth.....
And she seems to get along well with his mom....they even made muffins together.....
Can't wait for more!