Thank you for your interest in my story. A little angst in this chapter, well okay, a lot of angst in this chapter.
I don't own Bones or NCIS.
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Bored, Tony sat in Gibb's living room and watched as his boss entered the house and walked past him into the kitchen. Turning off the TV, Tony followed Gibbs into the other room and leaned against the doorway. "I'm going to call a cab and go home. I don't really need to be here, I'm fine."
As he pulled steaks, zucchini and summer squash from the fridge, looked at Tony and then placed the steaks on a platter. "Up to you, but at least wait until you've eaten dinner." Seeing the younger man nod his head in agreement, Gibbs picked up the zucchini and squash and one by one, sliced them thinly, place them on some foil squares, drizzled them with olive oil and seasoning and sealed the foil into packets. After he had enough packets made, he picked up the platter of steaks and packets of vegetables, left the kitchen and walked outside onto his deck where his BBQ grill was waiting.
Tony walked out onto the deck, sat down on a lawn chair and watched Gibbs prepare his grill. "I'm going back to work tomorrow. If I have to watch one more hour of daytime TV I may kill someone and you really wanted to handle the paper work on that one."
Placing the foil packets on the grill, Gibbs closed the lid and sat down on the lawn chair near the door. "It looks like the bomber may not have been in control of the situation after all. He may have been forced to do what he did."
Interested, Tony leaned forward on his chair. "What did ya find out?"
His attention on a cat, Gibbs watched it slink across his back yard. "Angela Montenegro, over at the Jeffersonian, salvaged the footage from the cameras at National Capital Bank and one of the cameras had a clear shot of the driver of the car sitting in the drive-thru as well as what he said." Rubbing his forehead, Gibbs sighed. "The guy was terrified. He was actually crying before he said anything to the teller. He may have been forced to set off the bomb."
Curious, the younger agent found that news very disturbing. "What does Agent Booth say about it?"
His gaze now turned towards Tony, Gibbs placed his hands flat on his thighs. "He agrees. He has Angela looking into foreclosed home owners. The last words the bomber said was 'You can't keep stealing people's homes from them and not expect them to fight back.' That tells me that the person behind this was probably someone who lost his home or knows someone who lost his home . . . I have McGee helping Ms. Montenegro with her search. We need answers and we need them fast. We don't know if National Capital Bank was the sole target or if there are more bombings planned in the future."
Tony rubbed his eyes and leaned back on his chair. "So . . . someone killed five people and hurt a bunch more over a damn house? I was almost killed because someone was pissed at a bank?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs knew that Tony was very angry. "Yep, looks like it. It's the best motive we have right now. The bomber was a man names Clent Gilbert. He was a personal aide of Congressman Wesley Winters. We're checking into Clent Gilbert's background to see if anything else turns up, but it looks like revenge against the bank may have been the motive. It's possible the congressman's aide was used in the attack because the congressman is on the House Committee for Financial Services."
Disgusted, Tony shook his head. "Well, if it wasn't Gilbert then whoever is behind this wanted to make a pretty loud statement."
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Arriving at the hospital, Booth rushed to the sign in desk. On the verge of being frantic, Booth had to control himself from shaking the woman behind the desk. "I'm here about Hank Booth. Can you tell me where he is?"
Deliberatley checking her computer, Alice Snow turned her gaze upon Booth. "He was brought in thirty minutes ago. If you'll have a seat in the waiting area, I'll have someone come out and bring you to him as soon as possible."
Barely acknowleding her, Booth quickly strode into the room and over towards some empty seats. Refusing to sit down, he stood staring at the door leading to the rooms in the back. Nervously pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, Booth made a call and waited for his wife to answer.
"Brennan."
"Bones, I'm at George Washington. They just rushed Pops in about thirty minutes ago."
"I'm on my way, Booth. Do you know why he was brought there?"
Afraid for his grandfather, Booth continued to stare at the door. "Yeah, it looks like he had a stroke."
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Nurse Tisha Green stepped into the waiting area, looked around and then called out. "Hank Booth's family."
Desperate to see his grandfather, Booth hurried over to where the nurse stood. "I'm Seeley Booth, Hank Booth's grandson."
Nodding her head, Tisha smiled and opened the door. "Follow me."
After both of them stepped through the doorway, she waited for the door to close behind them. "Mr. Booth was brought in about an hour ago. He was having trouble speaking and seemed quite disoriented for awhile. He's having trouble seeing out of his right eye and I don't want to upset you, but it appears that he's partially paralyzed at this time. We did a CT scan and found bleeding in the brain. You're his medical proxy, is that correct?"
Dreading what he was hearing, Booth nodded his head numbly.
Aware that Booth was is distress, Nurse Green tried to be gentle, but clear in her next statement. "Mr. Booth needs a medical procedure done as soon as possible. We need to perform an Arteriovenous Malformation Repair. That means that Mr. Booth has a tangle of faulty arteries and veins that the surgeon would like to remove to prevent further bleeding in the brain. Do you understand?"
Not really sure what she was talking about, Booth realized that it sounded very serious and whatever it was and it needed to be done quickly. He knew that Brennan would explain it to him when she arrived. "Can I see him before the surgery?"
"Yes, of course." Handing Booth the clipboard with the form, she urged him to read it and sign it. "Please sign this now. You can see him for a minute or two then we need to prep him for surgery."
With a trembling hand, Booth took the clipboard, signed the form, handed it back to the nurse and then walked with the nurse over to the cubicle and pulled back the cloth wall. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room. "Hey, Pops."
The frightened man turned his head slowly to stare at his grandson. Speaking with a slur, Hank struggled to speak. "Seeley."
Rushing over to the bed, Booth leaned over and grabbed his grandfather's hand. "Hey, Pops, the doctors know what's wrong with you and they have a plan to fix you right up? Do you understand?"
Hank was afraid for himself, but also for his boy. Seeley had always needed him and he was afraid to leave him behind. "I . . . love you . . . boy."
Trying to reign in his emotions, Booth swallowed and smiled at his beloved grandfather. "I love you too, Pops."
Nurse Green, stepped into the room and cleared her throat. "Mr. Booth."
Leaning over and kissing his grandfather's forehead, Booth smiled at the worried man. "You'll be good as new, Pops, you'll see . . . good as new."
Booth stepped back to allow two surgical nurses access to the bed. Afraid to say anything else, he watched them push the bed out of the room. Two tears track down his face, he wiped them off of his cheeks and walked past the nurse. Spotting a bathroom near the exit into the waiting area, he ducked into the room, locked the door and started to cry.
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