Happy Veterans Day everyone. To all those who have served, thank you.
I don't own Bones.
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The nightmare was the same one he'd had for years, but this time he had two frightened boys in the house with him. When he woke he found his oldest grandson standing in the doorway. The look on the boy's face made Hank both sad and angry. Carefully, he sat up, leaned against the headboard of his bed and slowly rubbed his face with his hands. Fully awake he spoke quietly. "Its okay, Seeley. It was just a bad dream. I guess you're just going to have to get used to them since I don't have any control over them. I'm sorry."
The young boy inched into the bedroom and stood half way between the bed and the doorway. His body was tense and the old man knew that his grandson was prepared to run if he had to. Seeley wanted to help his grandfather, but he wasn't sure how. "Are you . . . do you need a drink of water? Sometimes I'm thirsty when I wake up from bad dreams." His voice was quiet, but filled with kindness.
Hank smiled at the boy and kept his voice soft and even. "Thank you, Shrimp. I think I am thirsty."
Glad he could help his grandfather, the boy walked out into the hallway and across to the bathroom where he pulled a paper cup from the dispenser sitting on the sink, filled it with cool water and carried it back into his grandfather's bedroom. Careful not to spill any of the water, he gave it to the old man. "Here Pops."
Carefully, Hank took the paper cup, drank the water and handed the empty cup back to the boy. "Thank you, Seeley. That was really refreshing."
Proud that he had helped his grandfather, the boy threw the cup into the waste basket next to the dresser and turned to look at the old man. "You . . . you were upset and cried for someone named James."
"James Rawlings." Hank knew exactly who his dream had been about. "You've heard me tell you about my friend James. We've visited him at Arlington a couple of times. Now that you're living with me, you'll get to visit him every year during Memorial Day."
Booth nodded his head. "He was killed by the Germans."
"During the war, yes." Hank sighed. "Come here son." The old man patted the side of the bed and waited to see what his grandson would do. Seeley and Jared had only been living with him for three weeks and both boys were still skittish around adults. "It's okay. I just want to talk."
A little wary, the boy moved closer until he was standing next to his grandfather. Hank pointed towards the chair next to the bed and smiled. "Take a load off for a couple of minutes."
The boy moved back and sat down. "What was your dream about?" The boy was curious and hoped his grandfather would tell him.
"Well. You know about James and I being shot while we were guarding a crossroads." Hank really didn't like to talk about it that much and he usually kept the story rated G so that he didn't upset his grandchildren.
Booth nodded his head. "James was hurt bad and you were hurt some too."
That period in time seemed to never leave him, but Hank knew it was because it had been a traumatic time for him. "Yeah, James died in my arms, so at least he didn't die alone. I . . . he was a great friend . . . He didn't have any relatives, so after the war, imagine my surprise when I was given his Purple Heart to keep. The idiot had made me his heir and after the war I had to take care of his personal property. He didn't have much. I didn't expect them to give me his Purple Heart, but I was James' family . . . Just remember that, Shrimp. There are different kinds of family. You don't have to be related to someone to be family. James was like a brother to me and that's how he thought of me."
"Can I see his Purple Heart?" Seeley stared at his grandfather with a hopeful look on his face.
Hank pointed at the dresser. "Sure you can. It's in the second drawer from the top under the jacket I keep there . . . Go ahead, it's okay."
Booth moved from the chair and walked across the room, opened the drawer and removed the slim box he found under the olive green military jacket he found there. Glancing back at the old man, he stared at him asking silent permission to open the box.
"It's okay, you can open it." Hank watched the boy open the box and stare at the medal. "I hope you never get one of those Son. I . . . I just hope you never get one."
A quick nod of his head, Booth closed the box and placed it back where he'd found it. "Dad has one too."
"I know." Hank sighed. "He was hurt pretty badly when his plane was shot down over Vietnam . . . its part of the reason he is the way he is I guess. Your Dad never could accept that his career as a pilot was over when that happened to him. Some guys can move on and others can't. Remember that Shrimp. When things go bad it's just better to just move on. Don't try to force the situation to change because it won't."
"Okay." Booth moved back over to where his grandfather lay. "Would you like some more water?"
Hank reached out and patted his grandson's shoulder and felt sick when the boy flinched. "No, Shrimp, I'm fine. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll be okay."
His small hand reached out and patted the old man's blanket covered leg. "Okay. I hope you don't have any more bad dreams, Pops."
"Thank you, Son." Hank watched the young boy leave his room and closed his eyes. "Edwin, if you were here, I'd beat the shit out of you. You had no right to treat those boys like you did. No right at all."
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A few years later, Hank sat in a hospital room at Walter Reed Hospital while his oldest grandson recovered from his third operation on his feet. While the young man slept, a man entered the room with Seeley's surgeon and two other men wearing dark suits.
"Mr. Booth, this is Vice President Quayle." Dr. Hebert smiled at the old man and pointed at the sleeping young man in the bed. "He's here to see your grandson, Seeley."
The Vice President walked over to the bed and shook Hank's hand. "I've brought something for Corporal Booth." The man smiled, opened a slim box, removed a Purple Heart and placed it on the chest of the sleeping soldier before him. "We're grateful for fine young men like Corporal Booth, Sir. It's an honor to present this medal to him." The Vice President handed the box to Hank and smiled. "We couldn't do what we have to do without brave young men like him."
Hank took the box and stared at the medal. "I never wanted him to earn this particular medal."
The Vice President nodded his head. "Yes, I imagine so. I hope he recovers quickly." Turning he left the room leaving the old man and the wounded young man behind.
Hank sighed, picked up the medal and placed it back in the box. "I really hate that you had to earn one of these, Seeley. I hope you never earn another one." The old man sat down and placed the box on the small table next to the bed. "I'm here when you wake up, Son. I love you and I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."
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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.
A/N: if you are curious about James Rawlings and Hank Booth's service during World War II, check out my story "Memories".
The Purple Heart is a United States military decoration awarded in the name of the President to those wounded or killed while serving, on or after April 5, 1917, with the U.S. military.