AN: Uhm...hi? It's been a while. I wrote a thing. Hope you like it.


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Forward Operating Base Zadkiel

Kunar Province, Afghanistan

0600

In the dim pre-dawn light of a new day, a lone figure sat on a bench outside of the FOB's command center listening to the loud haunting and melodic voice of the Muezzin, reciting the Adhan to the people. The Islamic call to prayer alerted villagers to Fajr Salat-morning prayers, the first of five that will be recited throughout the day.

Dressed in a newly-pressed Army Combat Uniform and a clean pair of tan Bates combat boots, he watched as soldiers ran by for morning PT, acknowledging those who bid him morning salutations. He took deep and cleansing breaths as he watched the sun slowly begin to rise from behind the Hindu Kush mountain range for the last time.

Aside from the sounds of shoes pounding the gravel roads, all was calm. There was no intermittent gunfire, no explosives being detonated, no steady cadence of a helicopter's rotary blades, or no bom of an Air Force jet breaking the sound barrier.

The silence was soon broken as a familiar battle-tested UH-60M Blackhawk, nicknamed Charon by its flight crew, came flying into view. A grin came across the soldier's face as he watched the helicopter begin to descend and finally land a mere fifty yards away.

Once the landing gears touched down, the port side cargo door slid open and a soldier dressed in an A2CU Flight Suit, jumped out. Walking over in long-confident strides, the soldier removed an olive green HGU-56/P ballistics helmet from his head, revealing a shock of copper red hair.

"Good morning, Sergeant Major Booth," the blue-eyed soldier greeted with a salute.

"Lieutenant Trapper." Booth returned the salute as the younger soldier moved to stand at ease. "We're ready for take off when you are."

Booth nodded and moved to gather his things. 1st Lieutenant Guy Trapper, a St. George, Utah native and flight surgeon from the US Army Medical Corps, currently serving with the 1st Battalion, 82d Combat Aviation Regiment, watched with veneration as the veteran NCO took one last look around before giving Forward Operating Base Zadkiel a farewell salute.

Despite his deployment being cut short, Trapper knew that it had been one hell of a rotation for the sergeant major, and that he was more than ready to go back home. Trapper waited patiently as Booth slung his tactical backpack over his shoulders and reached down to grab the strap of his duffle bag.

Once both men were at Charon, Booth hauled his bags into the cabin, stowing them under the rear troop seats. Climbing in and sitting in a forward-facing middle troops seat, he nodded to the crew chief, Sergeant Sasha Dos Santos in the left side gunner seat checking the M240 mounted outside of the cargo door's open window.

When Booth finished harnessing himself, Trapper handed him a matte black ballistics helmet, making sure that the communication system was working properly. He chuckled at the maxillofacial shield's custom paint job, which were drawn in the form of a skull.

Trapper made sure Booth's communication system was plugged in before he sat in the right door gunner seat. Giving the signal, Charon began to take off for Bagram Airbase.


With the sun continuing to rise, Booth put his sunglasses on as they cruised at 8,000 feet. As they flew over one of the many villages, he gazed out of the open cargo door and spotted a large group of worshippers in the square, kneeling in prayer. Charon flew over the green fields in the Watapur District and continued over the pristine icy waters of the Pech River. Kunar Province was quite beautiful with its mountain terrains, green valleys, and rivers running and cutting through the fifteen districts

"Your son must be excited to have you home early, Sergeant Major," Chief Warrant Officer Laurel Keller remarked from the pilot in charge's seat.

Booth smiled. "Parker doesn't know that I'm coming home. I'm going to surprise him at the next Capitals game against the Blackhawks in a couple of days. He won a contest that the D.C. public schools put on. All of the kids in elementary, middle, and high schools across D.C. who win the Academic Excellence Award at their respective schools have their names placed in a drawing. If their name gets picked, they win a bunch of prizes. One of them is the ceremonial puck drop at a Capitals home game. Parker won."

"Whoa. Your boy must be really ecstatic. I'm jealous," Captain Troy Kengo commented from the co-pilot seat.

Booth chuckled. "His mom told me that he's been practicing for the past week so he doesn't mess up. It'll be exciting. I can't wait to finally see my boy."

"Hooah Sergeant Major. Let's get you home."


"Stop messing with your hair," his mother playfully chided. "You look fine, sweetheart."

Parker glanced up and saw his mother standing in the doorway over his shoulder in the mirror on his dresser. When he turned to look at her, Rebecca saw the sadness in her son's eyes and her heart ached for him.

She walked forward and engulfed him in a tight hug. "I know you miss him."

Parker held onto his mom for dear life, trying hard not to cry and ruin the cashmere sweater she was wearing. "I wish he was here to see this," he choked.

Rebecca pulled away and gently placed a hand on her son's cheek. She knew how much he missed his father. Since his departure, Parker had shot through puberty and started to look a lot more like Seeley. It was freaky how that happened. Those close to them would tease that the two could be identical twins, separated at birth and years apart.

Parker's personality traits began to mirror his father as well. He had that same strong Booth protectiveness. Like Seeley, Parker was tough and rugged on the outside, yet soft and warm on the inside. He was very loving and friendly to all, but he kept himself guarded, choosing a small number of friends over a large group of them.

She tapped the spot where Parker's heart was. "He may not be physically here, but he's in here."

Parker simply nodded. "I know."

Rebecca hugged her son once more, kissing him on the forehead. "Come on, we need to leave in five minutes."

Parker turned back and glanced at the picture taped to his mirror in the upper right hand corner. It was a picture of him and his dad before he had left for the airport. His dad had a bright smile on his face as he held a laughing Parker in a playful headlock. It was one of his favorite pictures.

Parker looked at a set of his dad's dog tags hanging from the left side of his mirror. Between the two tags was a gold cigar-style Special Forces ring, a gift from the Commanding Officer upon his dad's first honorable discharge from the Army.

The top of the ring had the Special Forces crest. The Special Forces patch with the Special Forces, Ranger, and Airborne tabs were on the left panel and the Senior Parachutist badge on the right panel. His dad's name was inscribed on the inside of the ring in a loopy script. The dark antique finish made the gold of each panel of the ring stand out brilliantly.

Parker was gifted the ring on his tenth birthday and held it high regards. He took great care of the piece, made sure it stayed on the chain, and never used it. Parker lightly ran his finger over the ring before gliding his thumb over the raised embossed lettering of the dog tags.

Booth

Seeley, J

159-09-2310

A Positive

Roman Catholic

He carefully removed the chain from its perch as if it were a precious diamond and put it around his neck, tucking it into his red Capitals Hockey shirt. Wearing his dad's dog tags and ring made Parker feel close to him when he was tens and thousands of miles away.


High above the sellout crowd, standing on the Verizon Center's catwalk, Booth stood with the Capital's Senior Vice President and Chief Marketing Officer Joe Dupriest. Two soldiers from Fort McNair checked and double-checked Booth's harness and the rigging system for his rappel down to center ice.

"Okay, Sergeant Major Booth. After the singing of the national anthem, Al Koken will introduce your son and he will walk out to center ice. Al will ask Parker a few questions, and at Specialist Dao's signal, you'll rappel down to do the ceremonial puck drop with your son."

"After the puck drop, the two of you will be escorted to Suite 101, where you will join your family and friends for the game," Joe Dupriest instructed. "When the game is finished, you're all invited to the Capitals locker room for a meet and greet with the team."

Booth raised his eyebrows in amazement. "Wow, thank you Mr. Dupriest. This is fantastic. It really means a lot to my family and I."

Joe shook his head. "No, thank you, Sergeant Major, for your service." Joe shook Booth's hand and they all wait for the evening's festivities to start.


"Here to do tonight's ceremonial puck drop, Jefferson Middle School Academy's Education Excellence Award winner, Parker Booth!" Capitals Broadcaster Al Koken announced to the crowd.

The crowd cheered as Parker, now dressed in a #8 Alexander Ovechkin jersey, nervously stepped out onto the black carpet. He made his way down to center ice where Al Koken, Ovechkin, Jonathan Towes, the on-ice officials for the night, and two cameramen were waiting. He nerves eased and he smiled widely when he noticed Ovechkin and Towes tapping their sticks on the ice with smiles on their own faces. Arriving at his marker, he shook hands with everyone there. He was so excited to shake hands with some of ice hockey's best players that he was sure that he might faint.

Al patted Parker on the back. "Thank you for joining us tonight Parker. Before we begin, is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"

Before Parker could even nod yes, one of the media guys handed him a microphone and Al shot off his first question. "How does it feel to be an Academic Excellence winner?"

"Honestly, I'm still in shock. But it's an awesome feeling. I couldn't have done it without my mom and dad, Dr. Brennan, Max Brennan, and the rest of the Jeffersonian team, who're always pushing and encouraging me and taking the time with me so I may have a quality education."

"I hear that you are a multi-sport athlete. You play club ice hockey, and soccer, baseball, and indoor track for your school. Which one do you enjoy most?"

"Definitely hockey," Parker laughed as the crowd erupted into loud cheers and applause at his answer. Ovechkin and Towes tapped their sticks on ice again as both teams on the bench tapped their sticks against the boards.

"You were awarded some scholarship money towards your future college education. Do you know what you plan on studying at this moment?"

"Aeronautical Engineering," Parker answered without skipping a beat. "It's something that I have been interested in since I was five. I'd very much like to design future air and spacecraft."

The crowded clapped and cheered again. "Very impressive," Al said with a laugh. "Hey Northrop Grumman, you might want to give Parks a call in about twelve years."

"Okay, final question; who is your hero and biggest inspiration?"

"My dad. He's the kind of guy who will give you the shirt off his back and lend you a helping hand. He always makes sure that everyone else is taken care of before even thinking about himself. He taught me to always believe in myself, to fight hard, and always stand up for what I believe in."

Al placed his arm around Parker's shoulders. "Excellent words from a phenomenal young man. Now, I understand that your dad has been away for the past seven months?"

"Yes, sir," Parker replied proudly. "My dad is in the Army and is currently serving in Afghanistan."

"If you can say anything to your dad right now, what would it be?"

"I would just say that I love him a lot, that I hope he's staying as safe as he can, and that I can't wait until he comes home."

"Well Parker, we will personally make sure that message is sent to your dad," Al Koken said with a faint smile as he looked up at the crowd. "In fact, ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming home Sergeant Major Seeley Booth!" he announced with gusto.

Parker gasped as everyone in the Verizon Center stood, erupting in a thunderous applause and chants of USA! USA! USA! He looked around trying to spot his dad. When he saw rope dangling from behind him on the jumbotron, he turned in time to see his dad rappelling down from the catwalk. Dropping his microphone in shock, Parker immediately burst into tears.

Booth felt the sting of tears in his own eyes when he saw Parker. As soon his boots touched the carpet, he quickly unlatched from the rope. He strode over to his son who launched himself into his arms.

"Please tell me that I'm not dreaming." Parker sobbed.

"You're not dreaming," Booth replied, his own tears now flowing down his cheek. "I'm really here. I missed you so damn much."

"Missed you too. I love you dad."

"I love you, too, son."