This story was inspired by the story "Sound of the Sea" written by Dgschneider. She wanted me to do a story about PTSD. I hope you like it.
I don't own Bones.
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She knew what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was. Of course she did. She had never been diagnosed with it herself, but deep down she knew that she had probably suffered from that affliction when she was younger. Her childhood starting at age 15 had been filled with horror. Not the horrors a soldier sees in war, but what does that matter?
Take a child from her home, her parents gone perhaps dead, her brother feels overwhelmed and he abandons his sister, giving her to the state and the horror begins. Place that unfortunate waif into foster homes that should never have been allowed to take children into their houses and the nightmare continues. Foster parents that think nothing of beating her and in the end almost killing her by locking her in the trunk of a car for several hours. Those are the horrors that one never thinks can happen, but it does.
Once removed from that house of terror, because how can you really call that a home and given in to the care of another set of foster parents the child considers it a step up, but not by much. Those guardians are indifferent to her and after providing her with the basics of life, ignored her. They lived in another county so the awkward teenager is placed into a school that subjects her to hate filled loathing by school mates that don't understand this poor unfortunate soul and the horror never seems to end.
And yet it does. She grew up and aged out of Foster Care. She worked hard, earned scholarships and through perseverance became a leading authority in Forensic Anthropology. She was sought out by Universities to come and work for them, but the pinnacle of the scientific community wanted her and so she became employed by the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington D.C.
Her nightmares had been many while in Foster Care, but away from the system they started to fade. Her guarded behavior on the other hand did not. How does one trust humanity when you've seen the worst it has to offer? How do you let your guard down and trust people when you've rarely seen kindness or trust in return? She had no family and no friends and she was alone.
Perhaps you do it one person at a time.
Angela was the first real friend she'd ever had. She was a wild spirit raised by her loving father, but her childhood was spent in an unusual environment. Angela was raised with loud music and screaming fans and in hotel rooms and tour buses and yet she was kind and compassionate and a gifted artist. This free spirit saw something in Temperance Brennan that no one else seemed to see and drew the scientist into her circle of friendship. Angela protected her friend and helped her to learn how to navigate in the world when no one else ever bothered to try. She wanted Brennan to learn that there was more to life than bones and death. There is also life and hope and perhaps in the end, happiness.
Booth was her second real friend. It didn't start out that way, but as the years progressed, they became friends and ultimately best friends. Like most friends, they slowly learned each other's history and were appalled with what they had learned. These friends seemed to complete each other. They were two sides of a single coin and together they were a valuable unit. A coin worth a lot more than mere appearance showed to the world.
Booth discovered that Brennan suffered from horrible nightmares and most of the time after such a horrifying dream, she would flee to the Lab where she would work to escape her dark thoughts, her dark dreams. Over the years, Brennan would learn to call her friend to let him know where she was and why and being the good friend that he was, he'd arrive early the next morning at the Lab, loaded down with coffee and food. He would make sure she ate and later that day, Booth would find a way to get her to go home early and rest.
The Federal Agent wasn't a stranger to nightmares himself. Raised in a home filled with hate, Booth's father suffered from PTSD and he turned his rage and fright outward towards his family. His affliction was chronic and never seemed to get better. Edwin Booth had flashbacks to that time in his life when he was shot down over Vietnam. He relived his harrowing walk across a countryside filled with people that would have liked to have seen him dead. Badly injured and afraid, it had taken him days to make it to safety and he mentally relived that experience on and off again for the rest of his life.
Edwin Booth was a frustrated man, forced to give up flying and to become a barber. It was a fall from heaven and he never truly recovered. He learned to hate his life and with it his loss of control. He felt helpless and when he drank and that was often, he took his self-loathing to a new level and beat his wife and children. In a bizarre way, he felt in control when he drank. He was the king of his castle, all hail the king. His word was law and like most tyrants, he used the sword of wrath against those he had control over. No one was safe in his kingdom.
Booth escaped that household when his grandfather saved him and his brother from a father bent on killing his oldest son. Booth was grateful to his grandfather and loved the man as a son does a father and yet he didn't completely escape that house of hate that Edwin Booth had built so easily. Booth suffered from terrible nightmares and it was months before they stopped. It took the love of an old man to help him. When he screamed in the night, his Pops would rush into the bedroom and pull his grandson into his arms. He would hold the weeping child and calm him with soothing words. He never lifted a hand in anger towards his grandsons and slowly those children began to heal.
Hank Booth knew that his grandsons were marred by their father's rage and he prayed that all would be well and for a while it seemed his prayers were answered. Seeley got a scholarship to Penn State, but lost it due to an injury. A poor boy from Philadelphia with little hope for a higher education, he joined the army and he flourished. He found his calling and as awful as most civilians would have deemed it, it was a calling that his country needed. He was good at shooting. He was good at infiltrating enemy lines and taking out evil men that needed to be erased from the face of the earth. He had a unique skill and Seeley Booth was proud to serve his country.
At the age of 19, he was captured by the Republican Guard during Operation Desert Storm and that captivity almost cost him his life. He was brutally beaten and his feet were broken. In a few short days, he was traumatized and more than once he prepared himself to die. In the end, he was rescued and brought back to the United States where his feet were repaired. He would always have a reminder of those short terrible days because his feet would forever feel pain when he stood up or walked, but he was alive and that was more than enough. A terrible ordeal for a young man to live through and yet he was never bitter about it. He accepted it and moved on.
Except in his dreams. His nights were filled with beatings and pain. His dark nightmares were filled with horror and fear. To his consternation his dreams became a jumble of beatings by his father and the Republican Guard. He had little defense and had to ride them out as they came, but after a while his nightmares became intermittent instead of constant and he felt himself lucky. He could live with a few nightmares and he continued with his life.
Brennan's partnership with Booth meant that she was exposed to dangers she had never dreamt possible. Over time, she was kidnapped twice, shot and stabbed once. She was threatened by evil men and psychotic women and her nightmares returned. While she had Booth to talk to, her nightmares usually faded with the night, but still the return of her nightmares meant that she would never be free from her past.
During a dark period in her life, she suffered in silence and alone. She went on a dig to Maluku, away from her best friend and her confident. Sometimes her nightmares would wake up the entire camp and more than once her fellow scientists tried to broach the subject of her dark dreams only to be told by her that her private life was private.
Booth was also in a bind that eventful year. He shipped off to Afghanistan as an instructor and as an advisor, but that didn't free him from the perils the rest of his unit was in. More than once he'd been called upon to use his skills as a sniper and the body count on his cosmic balance sheet grew. The sheet grew lopsided in a negative way and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The good he had done as a Federal Agent was undone while on his tour of duty. With no one to talk to about it, he suffered in silence during the day. His nights were shared by his roommates because much to his embarrassment his nightmares returned in full force.
Now his dark dreams were filled with broken feet, torturers and his father. Added to them were the times he'd been kidnapped, shot and threatened as an agent. The damage done to Brennan was mixed into that inky soup and it was a miracle he remained sane while he struggled with his orders to train and to kill.
He connected with a reporter and through her friendship, his nightmares seem to become less strident. They didn't entirely disappear, but they were fewer and for that Booth was eternally grateful. Hannah was his attempt to move on from the love he felt for his partner. Everyone needs someone to connect to, someone that cares whether you are alive or dead, sick or well, happy or sad and Hannah was his connection, his shield from the darkness that his life had become.
Once they were home again, Brennan returned to being a partner and a friend to Booth, but something was missing. Their spark seemed to be muted. Their misfire in front of the Hoover was forever hanging over their heads and Booth's girlfriend was proof that life was volatile and ever changing. Not always in expected ways.
Booth used the love of his girlfriend as a shield. He used it awkwardly and relentlessly. His heart had been broken and he was determined to shield that broken heart from everyone. He couldn't fix it, but that didn't matter to him. As long as it wasn't further damaged then that was all that mattered to him.
Brennan's heart was also broken. She had missed her chance and she knew it. She admitted it to the one she loved the most, but it seemed to be too late to change that. She too would have to live with a broken heart, but she had changed and unlike her partner and friend she would not shield it from the world. She was done with that. Her world had changed and her with it.
After her temporary breakdown, she found that her nightmares had all but stopped. She was comfortable with herself for the first time in her life. She had built a wall around herself and used it for most of her life and it had brought her nothing but loneliness. She was determined to not end up like Lauren Eames. That cardiologist had been untouched by the world and disappeared quietly from that world, not missed and unloved. Brennan would not go that way. She had her friends and her family. She loved one man and that man was no longer available, but that didn't matter. She still had her friendship with him and that was her most valuable possession. She would wait and see what the future would bring, but it wouldn't be done alone. She would never be alone again.
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I hope this story makes sense. This story is four chapters long. Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.