This was an idea that was originally suggested to me by a couple of different people and I have decided to write it as several chapters, each one covering a specific part of the day and an incident. As many of you know, I've incorporated Booth's Pops, Hank, in several of my stories. I always enjoy writing the character, and am now doing this one, a day in the life. It takes place, to start with, at the assisted living home that he resides in. It also assumes that Booth and Bones don't go away for a year at the end of season 5. I hope you enjoy it. Gregg.

Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

With a small growl Hank Booth reached over and turned off his thoroughly annoying alarm. 0530 hours. Ever since he'd been in the military in WWII and Korea he'd gotten up at 0530. Call him crazy, or just a creature of habit, but it felt right to him. Even after his heart attack and bypass surgery he'd followed his personal schedule, though a tad slower. With a groan, and a deep sigh, he sat up and stretched, or at least what his body allowed for stretching these days. Getting old sucked!

Looking over at his bedside bureau, he looked fondly at the several pictures sitting there. One, of course, was of his late wife. He missed her every day, and especially every night as he fell asleep alone. The next one was of Shrimp and Parker. God he was so damn proud of his Grandson. Little Parker was growing up fast and was a chip off the old block, so he was equally proud of his Great-Grandson. Next to it was a picture of Jared and his fiancée Padme. For a lot of years he'd been worried that Jared would never grow up and find himself, but getting booted out of the Navy was the best thing that had ever happened to that boy, and Hank was enjoying getting to know the new Jared Booth. The final picture was of Shrimp's Bone Lady. Temperance. Now there was a real pistol! Spoke her mind and didn't give a damn what anyone thought, except if it was Shrimp's opinion. He liked her a lot and hoped that she and Shrimp would get their shit together and see what everyone else did. She may have rejected Shrimp a couple of months ago, but he knew better as to her real feelings. Shrimp's, too.

Within half an hour he was showered, shaved, and dressed. He had the coffee on, too. Black and strong. None of that fancy, namby, pamby crap for him. A latté? An Espresso? What happened to plain old fashioned black coffee to get the day started and your engine running? Is that too much to ask? Evidently if that so-called coffee stand in the main lobby and the activity rooms were any indication. So he made three big pots of coffee each morning. One he drank by 0900. the other two he used to fill three stainless steel large thermi that he carried with him during the day so he could have his black coffee instead of trying to explain to these young upstarts what coffee really is.

While frying his bacon and eggs, his one refusal on the damn diet that the doctors had him on now, he opened his cell phone and pressed one on the speed dial. He loved the modern technology. He could be down town enjoying a shave and a haircut by a REAL barber in an old style barber shop, yet still call Shrimp and give him what for about that Bone Lady of his.

"Hello?" came a very frustrated voice. It sounded tired and in a hurry.

"Interrupt any crocheting, Shrimp?" Hank boomed wickedly. One of these days the boy would take a hint and hook up with that gorgeous Temperance Brennan.

"Pops!" Booth whined.

"What?" Hank feigned innocence. "Can't an over eighty guy ask if his nearly forty year old Grandson is getting any crocheting in?"

"Pops, you've been spending way too much time with Bones," Booth protested.

"Well, that just says you're not spending nearly enough time with her," Hank retorted gruffly. "And whose fault is that, huh, Shrimp?"

"Bones," Booth replied. "She rejected me, remember?"

"No she didn't," Hank bluntly told him. "You just think she did."

Booth sighed. "I was there, Pops," he said calmly. "Believe me. She rejected me."

"Did you tell her you love her?" Hank demanded.

"Uh..."

"Did you ever stop and think that following the advice of a cracker jack box licensed head shrinker like Sweets may not be the smartest thing to do?" Hank pressed.

"Well..."

"I asked your Grandma any number of times to go out with me before she agreed, and then I had to propose three times before she made me the happiest guy in the world," Hank told his rather pessimistic, yet entirely too noble, Grandson. "Your Bone Lady knows she wants to be with you, but you scared her and said it all wrong, Shrimp."

"Pop, I gotta go. We have a case," Booth said firmly.

Hank was no dummy. He knew that Shrimp was wanting to end the conversation, so he let him. He'd given him something to think about, after all.

"Okay, Shrimp," he said with a smile. "Tell Temperance she owes me a game of Dominoes."

"Will do, Pops. Love you," Booth said as he hung up.

Hank smiled. Shrimp had messed up a couple of months before, but Hank knew that Temperance was going to come around sooner or later. He'd call her later in the day and plant a few thoughts into her head. For now, he had some bacon and eggs waiting for his undivided attention.

By 8 Hank had had his breakfast, his short, but productive, rush to the "Throne Room" to take care of the effects of said breakfast, and was now sitting down to watch a rebroadcast of the previous evenings Phillies game. Those new fangled DVR's were the best thing since sliced bread in his opinion. If he had some plans, like some "crocheting", he could always record the game and watch it without any commercials whatsoever. At 8:15 precisely his cell phone rang and he smiled. Right on time, as always.

"Hello, Sweetheart," Hank said as he opened the phone.

"I still do not understand you and Booth's penchant for nicknames," Temperance Brennan said with an exasperated sigh. "Have you taken your pills?" she asked, getting to the point of her call.

"I just did a few minutes ago," Hank replied. Temperance called him every morning exactly 8:15 to check up on him and make sure he'd taken his pills. At first it was annoying, but then he realized that it was her own way of showing she cared. It also wouldn't keep him from calling her later since he wanted to keep that pretty little head of hers on the right path, namely to his Grandson. "Have you told my Grandson how you really feel about him?" he asked, like always.

"I am still trying to come to some conclusions," she replied, as always.

"Just remember what I told you about regrets, Sweetheart," he reminded her.

"Do you have any regrets?" she asked suddenly.

"About my wife?" Hank asked. He chuckled a bit mirthlessly. His gruff voice took on a tender quality for a moment. "Quite a few. I think the biggest one is that no matter how many times I told her how much I loved her, and how much she made life worth living for me, I didn't tell her nearly often enough. That's a hard regret to live with, even though I know she knew."

"Why would telling her more often have made a difference?" came the inevitable question.

Hank liked the no nonsense, go for the jugular curiosity that Temperance Brennan had, and projected. "Because it would have made her smile," hank replied.

"I don't understand," Temperance replied.

"How do you feel when Seeley tells compliments you on how you did on a case?" Hank asked. "How do you feel when he tells you how great he thought your latest novel was? Or how about when he simply calls you when he needs someone to talk to when he's not having a good day?"

There was silence for a short moment. "I think I understand," was her reply.

Hank smiled. It was slow and hesitant, but she had meant it. "I know you do," he told her. "Just think about what I said. You already know everything you need to know. Are we still on for Dominoes this Saturday?"

"Of course," was the warm reply. "I have to go, Hank. Booth is picking me up to go to a crime scene. I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

"See if you can make my Grandson blush," he instructed her. "That boy needs to loosen up a bit."

"I know exactly what to say," Temperance laughed. "Bye, Hank."

"Bye, Sweetheart," Hank told her as he closed his cell phone. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Now let's see what kind of mischief I can get into today!"

A/N: Well? Any good? Should I keep on with this one? I have a definite plan in mind for the end, and this one should write fairly easily. I hope you all enjoy this one. Gregg.