A/N: this story starts shortly after Booth is rescued from the Republican Guard and was sent back to the United States from Iraq. This story will enter the 'Bones' timeline in chapter 3. I need to set up a few things first. Keep in mind the rating for this story.

I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooo

The flash of light and the rattle of the window announced another stroke of lightning nearby followed by the rumble of thunder as it faded away into the distance. The rain continued to lash at the window and soon another flash of lightning and the resulting rumble erupted in the night which also faded away into the distance. Booth liked soft gentle rain, but he'd always hated stormy weather accompanied by lightning and thunder, especially after sunset. For some reason he didn't quite understand, the sound of thunder reminded him of his father's screams of rage and the pain that seemed to always follow those horrific outbursts.

Perhaps it was because the last day he had ever seen his mother was the day she was hurt so badly by her husband that she had to be taken to a hospital and that bedlam was played out during a very intense stormy night. Her screams of terror and pain mixed in with the raging shouts from his father and the booming thunder outside mixed themselves in such a way that he associated the horror of losing his mother from his life with bad storms. He had taken psychology his first year in college and it kind of made sense and yet he thought it was possible he was just fucked up. Anything was possible.

Once more a flash of lightening lit the window next to his bed and was quickly followed by the deep rumble of thunder. It was embarrassing, he hated how he felt as he fought not to show any fear. He was a soldier for God's sake, a veteran and yet he wasn't that far from childhood.

Twenty years old and he'd been through so much. He'd joined the Army after he'd lost his scholarship due to a game ending injury in college and it took almost two years of working odd jobs before he'd finally decided to join the Army because that was what his family did. Twenty years old almost twenty-one and here he was, in a hospital, his feet broken, his right leg broken, rib fractures, contusions and cuts and a feeling of helplessness that he hadn't felt since he was a child living in his father's house of horror.

Once more booming thunder resonated through the room and Booth gasped as he shifted his body causing pain to lance up from his feet through his legs to his hips. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he raked his hands through his hair trying to control his fear and the pain. It had been a long time since he had reacted to lightning and thunder like this and it made him angry since he had thought he had defeated that old fear a long time ago.

His grandfather had bought him a book on Earth science when he had moved in with him and he had eagerly read the entire book. He'd read about weather and how lightning and thunder were formed. He'd used that knowledge to tamp down his fears during violent storms and the longer he lived with his grandfather the less fear he felt about the inevitable storms that came and went. He had been proud that he had defeated such a ridiculous fear and yet here he was, lying in bed afraid of a light show with sound. It was humiliating.

"You okay?" The question came from the bed next to the door. Private Morris Harris had heard Booth gasp and then groan in obvious pain. It worried him that the man across the room from him rarely asked for help and chose to suffer in silence. It wasn't natural and Harris tried to keep an eye on the private. "Want me to ring the nurse?"

"No." His answer was curt and spoken through clenched teeth. The waves of pain rippling up his legs were terrible and he needed to concentrate to keep from crying out. Never show fear. It just makes the situation worse. As he held still, the pain started to lessen as the storm did outside.

Alert to the heavy breathing across the room, Harris knew that Booth was in a lot of pain and there was no reason for him to stay like that. Pushing the button to call for the nurse, Harris responded when the nurse came on the loudspeaker. "Please come as soon as you can."

The nurse arrived quickly and as she entered the room, she turned on the overhead light and noticed Harris point at Booth. Concerned she moved closer towards the young man's bed and noticed the closed eyes, the sweat beading on his forehead and cheeks. She had been warned that it was possible that Booth might be suffering from PTSD and that they would have to monitor him closely. His body was rigid and his fists were by his side which told her that he was in pain. "Private Booth are you in pain?"

Opening his eyes, Booth gave her a small nod, reluctant to admit he needed help. He watched as she left the room and quickly return with an injection to help ease his pain.

"This will definitely help." As she placed the needle in the tube leading from one of the bags running to his arm, she tried to assure him. "The pain should quiet a little in a few minutes . . . Private Booth, you really need to let us know before it gets this bad. You need to stay ahead of the pain. If you fall behind and get into this state, it can affect your recovery . . . You're recovering from two surgeries, one to your feet and one to your right leg. You're going to be in pain, but we can help you with that."

The pain was receding and Booth felt slightly better. At least his feet didn't feel like they were going to explode. "Thank you."

She patted his arm and gave him a warm smile. "You're welcome . . . would you like something to drink?"

Booth nodded his head and Nurse Pat handed him a glass filled with cool water. The storm was finally receding and the light show outside his window was finally fading away. "Thanks."

"You're welcome again." Once the glass was empty, she checked the tubes and the catheter and left the room turning off the light as she closed the door behind her.

Harris squinted at his roommate and shook his head. "You're a pain in the ass."

Drowsy, Booth closed his eyes and muttered. "Fuck you."

Amused, Harris grinned and closed his eyes to go back to sleep. "You've got balls I'll say that. I can get out of this bed and come over there and beat the shit out of you and you couldn't stop me."

"Try it Sport." Booth felt detached from his feet and legs and found the situation to be rather odd. "I've still got two arms and hands. I'll give as good as I get."

Chuckling, Harris opened his eyes and stared at the dark shape in the bed across the room. "Good to know."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

His days were filled with pain. He tried to hold out as long as possible before he asked for help which annoyed his roommate, the nurses and his physician. "Private Booth, pain management is important. It will speed your recovery if you aren't battling pain by yourself. You've had some serious injuries and we've done the best we can with those injuries, but like I told you a few days ago, you will need more surgeries if you hope to walk again. I need you to help us help you."

"I don't want to get addicted to pain medicine." Booth knew of a couple people back home that were addicted to pain medicine and they doctor shopped to get their fix. The drugs Dr. Anderson was using to help manage his pain seemed pretty powerful and that worried him.

He had seen it many times and Dr. Anderson always tried to make his patients understand their predicament. "You are in intense pain. The medicine I prescribe can help you, but you have to use it. I'll make sure you don't become addicted. You have to trust me to help you."

Booth trusted few men, but he knew that if he wanted to walk again he did need the help of the man standing next to him. "I want to trust you . . . I'll trust you."

Dr. Anderson patted Booth's shoulder and smiled. "Thank you. We'll get you out of this bed as soon as possible."

"God I hope so." Booth sighed. "I want to walk. I need to walk."

Anderson patted his shoulder once more and left the room.

After they were alone, Harris turned his head to look at his roommate. "Want to play cards or dominoes?"

Grateful for a diversion, Booth nodded his head. "Yeah, either . . . thanks."

After he successfully got out of bed, Harris found the piece of cardboard they used as a table, placed it across Booth's lap and handed him the deck of cards to shuffle. It was hard to deal cards since his right arm was immobilized because of his broken clavicle.

As he shuffled the deck of cards, Booth shook his head and stared at his roommate's injury. "You know you shouldn't make threats that you can't follow through with. Threatening to beat me up when you can only use one arm is kind of dumb."

"Ha, I only need one arm." Harris watched the cards as Booth dealt them. "You can't get out of that bed which gives me the advantage."

A spasm of pain ran up his legs causing Booth to become momentarily rigid. Once the pain passed he placed the deck of cards down on the cardboard table. "Like I said I have two good arms and two good hands, so your advantage is bullshit."

Harris noticed he had a great start in his hand and tried not to smile. "Well since I like you, we'll never know."

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.