(Before 'The Pilot')

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I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooo

He was asleep when his grandfather walked into the room. Hank paused just inside the doorway and fought to keep his emotions in check. His grandson had been held as a prisoner of war for several days and during that time the boy had been grossly abused. Once he was rescued, Seeley had been evacuated from Iraq to Germany and stabilized. From there he was sent back to the States and he had undergone several surgeries to begin to fix what had been done to him by his torturers.

Hank had been notified that his grandson had been rescued and once Seeley was brought to Walter Reed, he made arrangements for someone to take care of his grandson Jared, so he could be with his oldest grandson. "Seeley."

Booth opened his eyes and turned his head to see his grandfather in the room. "Pops. You didn't have to come."

"Of course I had to come." Hank walked across the room and stood next to the bed. His hand gently rested on his grandson's head and although he knew that his boy thought he might be too old for open displays of affection, the old man kissed Seeley's cheek. "I was worried about you. I had to make sure you're alright."

Grateful that his grandfather was there, Booth sighed. "I messed up. I got captured and I messed up."

Hank patted the young man's shoulder and shook his head. "You may have messed up, but they had no right to do what they did to you . . . I would have come sooner, but I had to get your Aunt Ruth to come and stay at the house so Jared wouldn't be alone. He can't afford to miss any school right now. This is his senior year and he's got some scholarships riding on his good grades. Ruth's partner Franny said that she could take care of their business for a while, so I can stay for a week or two."

"Thanks Pops." Booth noticed his roommate enter the room and smiled. "That little guy that just came in is my roommate, Morris Harris."

"Little?" Hank turned and offered a hand to the tall stranger no one in their right mind would consider little. "I'm Hank Booth, Seeley's grandfather."

Harris placed two bags of chips and two cans of cokes on his bed and shook Hank's hand with his free hand. "Nice to meet you Sir. My nickname is Tiny, but Booth there thinks it's funny to call me little instead. What can you do?" Picking up one of the bags of chips and a Coke, Harris carried them over to Booth and dumped them in his lap. "They were out of cookies, so we're eating chips."

Disappointed, Booth picked up the bag and stared at it. "Salt and Vinegar? Really?"

Chuckling, Harris walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "I like' em." Hank noticed that Harris was struggling to open the can of Coke and opened it for him. The older man then opened the bag of chips and placed it on the bed. "Too much salt is bad for you."

Amused, Harris looked down at his restrained arm and then back at Hank. "Yeah, I guess so."

Once he made sure his grandson had his bag of chips open and the coke can open, Hank sat down on the chair near Booth. "Your surgeon called me and he told me you have more surgery coming up. He thinks you're going to walk again."

"Yeah, that's what he says." Booth hoped that was true. "He said I'll probably have problems down the road, but hurting feet is better than no feet." Booth took a sip of his drink. "I guess it could be worse."

"Oh it could always be worse." Harris sipped some of his Coke and sighed. "The doctor says I'll be able to move my arm when I'm out of the cast, but my clavicle was broken pretty badly when I got hit. The bullet went right through me. I guess I'll be able to forecast the weather in the future."

Hank listened to his grandson and his roommate talk and he knew that they would be alright. They were hurt, but they were recovering. He had been so worried when his grandson had been reported MIA and when he'd been called four days later and told Seeley had been found and taken to Germany, he knew that his boy had been hurt. He knew that Seeley would have a lot of pain to get through before it was all done, but he would recover. He prayed that he would.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next surgery was complete and Booth was optimistic. His surgeon had been pleased with the outcome and assured Booth that once his casts were off of his feet and he started therapy he would be on the way to recovery. Hank had stayed for a few days after the surgery and once he was sure his grandson was on the mend, he returned home. He would have liked to have stayed longer, but Ruth had to go back to work and Booth understood that.

"At least you had a visitor." Harris stared at the ceiling and thought about his own situation. Orphaned when he was young, he had been raised by an Uncle who had passed away just before Harris had enlisted in the Army. "Your grandfather is a nice guy."

"Yeah, he is." Booth sipped from a glass of water and stared at the game on television. "He raised me and my little brother. I was nine and Jared was five when he took us in. We were really lucky we didn't end up in foster care . . . My Aunt Ruth probably would have taken us in. I don't know. She didn't know about what was going on until after Pops took us in."

"What was going on?" Harris sat up and stared at Booth. "You made that sound ominous."

Not sure why he had even mentioned it, Booth blushed. "Um . . . my Dad was raising my brother and me by himself and um . . ." He didn't want to continue. It was humiliating to talk about his father as far as he was concerned.

Harris knew that his roommate was embarrassed about something and chose to let him off the hook. "My parents died when I was eleven in a car wreck . . . My Uncle Dan took me in, but he was in bad health. He died right after I graduated from high school. He was a great guy . . . I miss him."

Booth knew he was lucky to still have his grandfather in his life. "Pops was a cop in Philadelphia. He retired last year. His father was a cop too. I might do that when I get out of the army. I'm not sure yet. I'd like to be in law enforcement. Do some good, help people."

Surprised, Harris smiled at his roommate. "Hey me too, but I want to join the FBI. I'm taking classes at Universities when I can. I need a bachelor's degree and it's going to be in Criminology. You should think about getting your degree. You might be able to get into the FBI or maybe the ATF. If you still want to be a cop for Philadelphia, I bet a degree would move you right up the chain of command."

He hadn't considered going back to college, but Harris had a point. "Maybe I'll look into it. Thanks."

"Not a problem." Harris thought Booth was a bright guy and he had a bright future ahead of him if he just set some goals now.

Oooooooooooooooooo

Booth watched Harris place some of his clothes in a bag and felt sorry to see his friend go. "You're a pain in the ass, but I guess I'm going to miss you."

"Me a pain in the ass?" Harris dropped his bag on top of his bed and turned to face his roommate. "You're the pain in the ass . . . still yeah . . . you have my APO address, write me sometime."

"I will." Booth stared at his cast covered feet. Therapy was starting soon and he was afraid of what might not happen. "Hey, I'll look you up sometimes, maybe call you and make sure you're staying out of trouble."

Harris nodded his head and grabbed his bag as the nurse came in with a wheelchair to take him away. "I have your grandfather's phone number and I'll call him once in a while to check up on him and you . . . Good luck."

"Thanks." Booth watched his friend leave and hoped that it wasn't a permanent goodbye. He didn't have a lot of friends, but Harris was kind of different. He was easy to talk to and he didn't ask a lot of nosy questions. Booth considered that the mark of a good friend.

Oooooooooooooooo

His new roommate had been badly hurt with an IED and was in a lot of pain. Once Booth was out of his casts and in therapy he tried not to be in the room too much. He worked hard and once he was walking he was determined to keep walking. He didn't care how much pain he was in, he was going to make sure he trained properly to take care of his body and his feet. He had a job to do and he was going to do it.

He did remember Harris' suggestion about college and once he was free of the hospital and back with his unit, Booth checked into college courses and FBI requirements. If he was going to be in law enforcement, why not get in on the national level? It didn't necessarily have to be with the FBI, but being a Federal Agent of some kind might have a bigger impact. He wanted to make his grandfather proud of him and he was determined to succeed.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

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