"Ugh, I hate missing baseball season. Best sport in the world," Private Collins muttered.
"Hockey season's coming up. We're going to miss that too," Corporal Strauss said.
"Flyers could take it all the way again!" Booth cheered. The unit was in the barracks, eating their lunch in shelter from the sun. The other guys booed him and Booth quieted down, going back to discussing baseball with his men.
"Anyone got a ball and a bat around here? A pick-up game sounds awesome right now!" Private Nells shouted.
"I brought a baseball from home. We just need a bat," Collins offered, digging the ball out of his bag.
"I'll make one!" Hannah said. She and Oliver had been sitting off to the side, observing the unit for another article.
The men laughed. Booth stood up and walked over to her. "You'll make one?"
She nodded. "What? You don't believe me?"
"No. I don't."
"Fine. Come on, Ollie. Let's go make us a baseball bat. Then I can show these suckers my knuckle curve."
Booth's unit laughed again. "A knuckleball? Hardly any of the major leaguers can throw a knuckle!" Strauss said.
"Can you really throw a knuckleball?" Booth was intrigued. Hannah was something else, like no woman he had met before. She was tougher than half the men in his unit.
"Yes. But if you guys are too chicken to take pitches from a girl, I played fast-pitch softball too. I'll lob ya a few softies," she said, sticking up for herself.
She left the barracks, Oliver following not far behind. Booth, at first, wasn't sure to think of Ollie. He followed Hannah around like a shadow, but it turned out they were partners. Journalist and photographer paired up by the Times. Every time they sent Hannah out for a story, Ollie followed. It reminded him of Bones. The moment he got a call, she was by his side, ready for whatever body, goop or slime they would face. Surprisingly enough to him, he hadn't thought about her in a while. Sure, he missed Bones, missed working with her and missed…well…everything. But, it was easier having Hannah around.
The unit finished their lunch and as commanding officer, Booth made his men clean up and then work out a bit, keeping in shape was a top concern in their environment. While the unit ran laps around their camp, Booth set off to look for Hannah and Ollie.
"There," he heard Hannah say, "this is better than the one I made on the farm."
"On the farm?"
He found them in the storage tent, using random supplies to make what he assumed to be their makeshift baseball bat.
"I grew up on a farm with three brothers. Dad wouldn't buy us a bat until we were old enough to drive the tractors. Said we needed to learn how to be responsible before we could have fun. My oldest brother, Steve, went to a minor league baseball game with a friend for his birthday and caught a foul ball. That's what we used with our bat made out of ply wood and a broomstick. Hopefully this will be better."
It looked like a large, thick PVC pipe with a golf club grip on the end.
"Is that the covering from a spare humvee gear shift? And extra piping for the showers?"
She nodded. "It's this or nothing. You wanna play ball or not?"
"Later. When it's cooler. Plus, we have a few training exercises to run through. Tonight though. Just before the sun goes down and the temp gets too low."
"I'll hold you to it."
After Booth had run his men ragged, they ate their meager dinners faster than Booth had seen before. They were ready to play a few innings of the game they all loved. As the unit walked outside to an open area, Collins tossed Hannah the ball.
"I really don't think you can throw a knuckle. I think you were just talkin' smack."
"Wanna bet?"
"Yeah. A big steak dinner as soon as we're back on free land."
"Deal. Are you sure you can afford that, Private?"
Collins just chuckled and took their bat up to their home plate, a battered pillow. "We need a catcher and some outfielders. I'm gonna knock this baby outta here!"
"I don't think so, Private," Booth said, swiping the bat from him.
Collins didn't fight his commanding officer and moved out of the way. Booth moved into batting position, digging his feet into the sandy Afghan soil. The men in his unit covered all the outfield and infield positions and Collins took up post as catcher.
"Pick your poison, Booth," Hannah called from her improvised pitchers' mound, "Baseball pitch or a sissy softball toss?"
"Gimme that knuckle curve you're so proud of," Booth taunted. He honestly didn't think she could do it. Although, she had never given him reason to doubt her before.
"Alright, don't bitch and moan when I strike you out though." Hannah surveyed the batter's box, took in account Booth's height and strength, and sucked in a calming, deep breath. She wound up, and chucked the ball, kicking up her leg behind her. The ball floated toward him and didn't start to drop until it was too late. Booth had already swung, missing all contact with the laces.
"Whoa! Damn, Sarge, don't try so hard!" Collins said from behind him.
Booth ignored him and waited for Hannah to give him another pitch. She had a cocky smirk on her face and Booth couldn't help but smile back.
The threw the knuckleball again, the ball sliding off her fingertips and her leg flying up from the force. It flew right past Booth and Collins called another strike. Collins, whose hands were red from catching a ball flying at least seventy miles an hour barehanded, threw the ball back to Hannah once more and she began to prepare herself to toss him another knuckler.
"Hold up!" Booth stopped her, "I get it, you're good. But can you throw anything other than a knuckle?"
She just smiled sweetly at him and threw another pitch. Booth swung with all his might, almost knocking himself over.
"Ha! A fastball slider. Damn, Hannah. I think owe you a few steak dinners. Where the hell did you learn to throw that knuckle?"
Hannah laughed lightly and readjusted her long blonde ponytail. "I grew up watching the Niekro brothers in the majors. Those guys had the best knucklers. Booth, out of the way. You're out. Give the bat to some other dumbass who wants to be stuckout."
Booth sent a fake glare her way. She was fearless and feisty, something he hadn't seen in a woman in a long time. She got to him, and she understood him in a way only few others could. He couldn't get Hannah out of his head. She was everywhere and it was exactly what she needed.
