(After season 12)
I decided to write a Halloween story. I hope you enjoy it.
I don't own Bones.
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Driving along the country road, his lights on high beam as he wound his way through several bends in the road, Booth was startled when he heard his four-year-old son scream from the back seat.
"Stop Daddy . . . Stop Daddy . . . Stop Daddy."
As quickly as he could, Booth pulled over to the side of the road as his son continued to scream for him to stop. Close to panic, Booth scrambled out of the truck, moved to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door and unbuckled his son from his seat. "Hank . . . Buddy what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Checking his son's arm, legs and torso, looking for any injuries that would have caused his son to scream and cry, he was unable to find anything wrong.
Weeping, the child clung to his father and started to hiccup. "Daddy . . . Daddy . . . Daddy . . ."
"I've got you Hank. Tell me what's wrong, Tiger. Tell me what's wrong." Booth held the child tightly against his chest as the boy continued to sob. "Shh . . . Shh . . . Daddy is right here."
Calmer, the boy pulled away from his father and pointed across the road. "Daddy, look Daddy." Tears still falling from his lashes, the boy sobbed. "Help him Daddy."
His gaze moving to where his son was pointing, Booth could see some red lights in the woods in the distance. They were faint as numerous bushes were between him and whatever he was seeing. Carefully, he checked to see if traffic was coming toward him, saw the road was empty and hurried across the street. Once he was on the other side, Booth tried to move through the bushes, using his body to shield his son from being whipped by the small branches. Several feet from the road, he found a car with the front end buckled against a tree. Placing his son on his feet near the car, Booth leaned over and held his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't move, Hank. I need to open the car door. Just stand right there."
The boy safely out of the way, Booth yanked open the front door of the patrol car and found a Sheriff's deputy leaning over a deflated air bag and the steering wheel. There was blood running down the man's face and he appeared to not be breathing. Cutting the seatbelt holding the deputy in place with a pocket knife, Booth pulled the man from the car and laid him on the ground. Making sure his son was still where he was supposed to be, he placed his hand on the man's neck and didn't feel a pulse. Placing his ear against his chest, he didn't hear a heartbeat. Quickly going into action, he began CPR.
Not sure what was going on, Hank watched his father doing odd things to the man on the ground and started to weep again. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, so he stood where he was.
After a few minutes, the deputy started to breathe again much to Booth's relief. Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, he called 911. "I'm on 613 between Seven Corners and Annandale. I found a Sheriff's deputy car in the woods. The deputy needs help. He wasn't breathing when I found him and I did CPR. He's breathing right now, but he needs help . . . FBI Agent Seeley Booth. I'm driving a black SUV with D.C. tags. I'm parked across the road from the accident. I'll wait until you get here . . . I'll wait." The call ended, Booth checked the deputy and was grateful that the man was still breathing. Standing, he walked over to where his frightened son was standing and picked him up. "Let's go get a blanket from the truck . . . You did really well, Hank. Thank you for staying where I told you to. You're the best. I can always count on my little man."
Holding onto the front of his father's shirt as he was carried across the street, he clung to his father, while Booth retrieved a blanket from the back and carried it over to the Deputy. Once the injured man was covered, Booth walked back to the road and waited for help. He was afraid that any emergency vehicle that came by wouldn't stop. He wanted to watch the deputy, but he was just one man and he had to prioritize his actions.
While he waited, Booth retrieved a bottle of water from his truck and gave some to his son. The boy was calmer and his tears had dried up. After he checked on the deputy, he noticed a car pull up behind his truck.
A young man and woman exited their car and approached Booth. "Hey are you okay?"
Pointing over his shoulder, Booth let them know what was going on. The young woman hurried to check on the deputy and called out. "I'll stay here until help arrives."
Standing next to Booth, the young man sighed. "I hate this road . . . Look I think the cops are coming."
A flashing light could be seen down the road moving towards them. Once the Ambulance and the Sheriff's car was pulled on the side of the road, the EMTs quickly went to work while Sheriff Abrams talked to Booth. "What happened do you know?"
Rocking his son in his arms, Booth nodded his head. "My son and I were on the way back from Seven Corners. I went and checked on an Army buddy of mine this afternoon. On the way back . . . when we got to this section of the road, my son yelled for me to stop. I guess he saw the car in the bushes. I stopped and found the car and the deputy. He wasn't breathing, so I gave him CPR and got his heart started again . . . It's a good thing my son saw the car because I didn't notice it."
Puzzled, the Sheriff turned and stared at the spot in the bushes where the car had gone in. "How did he see the car from the road? I can barely see the lights from here."
"I don't know. He just started yelling for me to stop and I stopped." Booth stared at the bushes and squinted. "Weird. I guess he was just looking at the side of the road as we passed."
Shortly, the EMTs wheeled Deputy Claiborne from his car, through the bushes to the side of the road where their ambulance was parked. As the gurney was pulled by Booth and his son, the Deputy opened his eyes and smiled at the child. "Thanks Hank." Unable to keep his eyes open, the deputy closed them and went back to sleep.
Startled, Booth stared at the deputy. "Um . . . okay that was weird . . . how did he know my son's name is Hank?"
Smiling at the deputy, the little boy was relieved. "He wanted me to stop Daddy. I stopped." The man in the road was safe and Hank wasn't afraid anymore.
Filling a chill run down his spine, the Sheriff stared at Hank for a few moments. "Um . . . I'm not going to ask . . . I have a deputy on the way. He can take care of the car." As he spoke a patrol car appeared around the bend of the road and parked behind Booth's SUV.
With a strange glance thrown at Hank, the Sheriff walked over to the patrol car, explained what was happening to the deputy, walked over to where the EMTs were getting ready to load up the injured deputy into the ambulance and asked them a few questions. Satisfied, he walked back to his car and followed the ambulance as they pulled away from the scene of the accident.
The young couple decided to leave, bid Booth and his son good-bye and were on their way too.
Since the deputy was busing inspecting the damaged patrol car, Booth decided it was time for him to leave too. Once they were standing next to the SUV, Booth opened the door, placed the boy back into his safety seat and stared at him. "Hank, how did the man ask you to stop? Did you see the lights of his car in the bushes?"
Giggling, Hank covered his hand with his mouth for a few moments. "No Daddy. He was standing on the road and yelling for me to stop."
"Um . . . okay." Since the deputy had been trapped in the car and unconscious, Booth knew what Hank was saying was impossible. "Right . . . well, let's go home. The next time I go check on Adam we're going to take another road . . . yep."
"You're funny Daddy." Hank had been afraid when the terrified man had shouted for him to stop, but now that he had talked to him and the man thanked him, he knew that everything was okay. His Daddy had fixed it.
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Happy Halloween everyone.