I want to offer my thoughts and prayers to those affected by the current tragedies going on in the US and around the world. I'm a small town kid, but I feel these things in my heart just as strongly as any other human being, and while I certainly don't know why, I do know that as a collective community, we have each other. Let's not forget that. I love ya'll and I hope that all of you stay safe.

Remember that since this is a war story, some content may be triggering, especially throughout any flashbacks. I don't own Bones.

"All the peace, man, it felt so good that it hurt. I wanted to hurt it back.'"

"It wasn'ta war story. It was a lovestory."

"That's a true story that never happened."

-Tim O'Brian

Boom…

The sound most commonly associated with a bomb.

One of the most destructive instruments on god's green earth…

See, some might argue the most destructive instrument is man, but I certainly don't believe that we're instruments. Some may argue guns, and perhaps I have no right to argue against it. But I've seen the good in guns. I was raised with them in my household, knew how to handle, disassemble, and hunt with them from a teenage age. I've seen the good they can do as well as the bad.

Dear god, I've seen the bad.

However, I've never seen the good in a bomb.

Perhaps it's because I'm in a time where I rarely saw high grade explosives used for useful tactics, things like blowing away infrastructure and mountains. I've never seen a bomb used for anything but total and utter destruction. I've seen it take away legs, blow away buildings, destroy powerful vehicles.

However, the first night at home, I do not dream of a bomb. I dream of guns. I dream of their faces…I dream of the recoil from my gun, the panic in my throat, the tears that ran down my face when I realized exactly what I'd done.

It couldn't be helped, Booth…Just think of how many people you saved.

It was a god damned kid!

You never kill kids…

That had been my philosophy as a teenager. A man from around our area killed one of his children, and I remember thinking when I watched the trial, 'You don't kill kids. There are certain people in this world that deserve to die, certain people that you should protect, but kids, you don't kill them. You don't hurt them. And innocents…You don't hurt them either…'

A god damned kid…

He didn't know any better! How could he? And even if he had, he was too easily influenced. Children are too easily influenced. It wasn't fair! None of this, none of this was fair!

The sound of a shot awoke me, eyes wide with a scream escaping my lips. I almost contained it, almost kept it from coming out, but when it did I felt the pressure in my throat, the raw pain throughout my body…

For the silence in the household, I thought that perhaps no one had heard. However, I was quickly proven mistaken when I heard the sound of rushed footsteps into my room.

"Christine?" a voice asked, and the tenseness in my body faded away.

"Dad?" I asked, and closed my eyes, trying to calm my erratic breathing. "How'd you get downstairs so fast?"

"I…Was sleeping on the couch. What's wrong?"

"That's bad for your back, Dad…" I stated, trying to avoid the question. He turned on the light and, rubbing his back absently, sat on the edge of my bed and blinked, before rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, brushing my forehead with his fingertips.

When the panic finally left me, I blinked and shook my head, burying it in my shoulder. I couldn't really say nothing. I had screamed. Of course, what was I going to say to Dad? So far as he knew, I'd never killed a man. Let alone a man a woman and a child…I shook my head again and brushed the sweat from my head with my arm, before ignoring him again.

"Dream?" he asked.

Silence.

"I know that you don't want to talk, Christine…But at least give me an answer. You in pain?"

"No. Just a dream," I stated, though it came out as more of a whimper and I flinched when it came out.

The light in the room bothered me, but I didn't want to brush off dad either. As much as his worry annoyed me, it kind of felt good to have him near me. Granted, he wasn't the Army ranger he'd used to be, but he was still one hell of a guy. And a beast FBI agent.

And my dad…

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, and I shook my head. He sighed. "You sure?"

"Maybe later," I stated, my mouth feeling dry and wrong. The words choked out. He nodded and then I thought he was going to walk away, but instead he just shut the light off and came back to me.

"Dad, go upstairs…"

"Naw…I can't sleep,"

I felt a sudden strike of exhaustion, and bit my lip, before hugging myself.

Before I knew it, I was asleep again.


No dreams after that. I'm not sure if Dad went back upstairs or not, though when I woke up once more, I heard someone going up or maybe down the stairs.

When the sunlight started to come into my room, I simply waited. I couldn't get up by myself, but I couldn't find it in me to sleep for a long time either. Perhaps it was the sailor in me. I'd gone for about a year getting sleep when I could, usually not getting more then three hours at a time while deployed and eight, if I was lucky, while on base. It wasn't as though I could change it.

At eight, Parker came into my room, in his PJ's, before he offered to help me out. I rolled my eyes, but was glad for the help. I was also happy he didn't bring up the scream. At least, not right away.

"So...How was your night, kiddo?"

Well, that lasted all of ten minutes.

"Ah, you know. It was a night,"

He nodded, and then helped me with the metallic arm (That's what Wolfman and I had started calling them. Either that or Terminator limbs) before walking out. Wheeling myself into the kitchen, I saw Mom and Dad sitting at the bar table, before they both looked over at me with a smile. As I got closer, I noticed both had dark circles around their eyes, and Mom was holding back a yawn. Parker was at the fridge, about to drink from the milk carton before Dad got up and took it away from him.

"You're testing my last nerve, Parker," Dad warned, and while at first I thought he was joking, I realized quickly that that wasn't the case. He was serious.

Parker held up his hands in defense and then reached into the cupboard before grabbing some cereal.

"You want something to eat, Christine?" Parker asked, and I wasn't totally sure if that was to make amends with Dad or a true offer. I grinned and tried to make light of the situation.

"Cookie Crisp? Ah man, you know me so well,"

That at least got Dad to calm down a little. Me joking.

We sat in silence as we ate at the table, though I questioned what either Dad or Mom were doing, because neither had food. After that, Dad went upstairs, likely to sleep, and Parker, Mom and I all sat and watched TV.

At about noon, Mom got up and kissed my forehead, ruffled Parkers hair, and jotted down a note for Dad before leaving.

"Where you going?" I asked. I knew the answer already, even if it hurt a little.

"I just have to do some things. Don't worry. I'll be home before three. Spend some time with Parker," she stated, and though she smiled at me, I could see the forced nature to it.

"Kay..." I stated.

Even if Parker was there, the loneliness in my chest, while not foreign, was not a pleasant one.