(This story takes place in 1995.)

This story is for anne1585. She asked me to come up with this story a couple of years ago, but nothing came to mind until now. Sorry. Sometime my muse just balks and it takes a while for a story idea to come to me.

A/N: this chapter is rated T for language and violence.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooo

Relaxing, Booth was sitting on a bench outside his barracks reading 'The Lost World' by Michael Crichton. He loved to read and he'd been eager to get to this book since it came out. His last mission had kept him too busy for anything else except the job he was doing, but now he was on his own and he could savor the book.

"Booth . . . Sergeant Seeley Booth?"

Annoyed, Booth looked up and spied someone standing in front of him that he didn't know. "Yeah." The man was clearly a civilian and Booth was sure he was going to be trouble.

Amused, Danny Beck removed his sunglasses and smiled at the sergeant. "I'm Danny Beck." After he removed his wallet from his pants pocket, the stranger pulled out a card and handed it to Booth.

Wary, Booth read the card and handed it back. "I just finished working for you guys two days ago. I'm not slated for anything right now." Booth was getting tired of the missions he was assigned to. He was an Army Ranger, but lately he felt more like a CIA spy. For the last year the CIA had been running him ragged and he had decided that he wasn't going to reenlist. He was making plans to join the FBI as soon as possible. He'd finished his bachelor degree in criminology and he'd applied and been accepted to attend Quantico when he mustered out. He hoped that if the FBI hired him he would make a real difference.

"Yeah, well . . . about that, we know you're leaving the Army at the end of your enlistment and we have one more mission for you to do before you're done." Danny watched Booth closely to see how he reacted and was impressed that the sergeant took it professionally. "You've heard of General Josip Radik?"

Not surprised with Beck's statement, Booth closed his book and placed it on the bench beside him. "Sure, a Serbian warlord. Slobodan Milosevic wants his territories ethnically cleansed and Radik is doing it for him. I heard he's killed over 200 civilians, mostly Bosnians. He and his thugs wiped out a village a few weeks ago that contained mostly women and children . . . he's a fucking nightmare."

"Yeah, well, we want to get rid of that fucking nightmare and we want you to do it." Beck had heard that Booth was someone you needed in your corner when things got tough. "It will be your last mission, I promise . . . Radik is untouchable. We've tried to get to him twice and so far we've failed. We need someone like you to finish the job."

"How am I supposed to get to him when no one else can?" Uncertain, Booth stared at the CIA agent and wondered what miracle he was supposed to pull off.

A slight smile on his face, Beck appreciated the sergeant's caution. "We have a plan . . . We're going to teach you how to fly a helicopter . . .You're going to fly into the area that contains Radik's home village. He comes and goes as he pleases and his village is his center of operation. You're going to kill him there. He's heavily guarded when he's away from home, but his men usually leave him alone when he's home. I mean why not? Everyone in his village is loyal to him and there's only Serbians' living in the area. It's his Achilles heel."

"One slight problem. I don't have enough time to learn how to fly a helicopter." Booth laughed. "I don't have a year to learn it. I'm out in four months."

"The FAA requires a minimum of 40 flight hours of instruction, at least 20 with an instructor and 10 hours must be solo. It usually takes about 6 months to 1 year, but I'm going to teach you and you're going to be ready in three months. I mean, let's face it, this is for one mission and who gives a fuck about the FAA? It's not like I'm going to give you a license."

Staring at the CIA Agent, Booth knew he'd been right after all. Danny Beck was trouble. "If you can fly a helicopter then why don't you fly the copter and take me along for the ride?"

"Well, that's a good question and I have a good answer." Danny looked around and noticed that no one was in the area. "When I said you're going to fly in, I meant that I'm going to fly us in, but I need backup and you're going to be my backup. You, me and your spotter are going in to do the job and I need to make sure if anything happens to me, you can still fly out with your spotter. We can't leave an American Army helicopter behind and walk out. That would be bad for everyone including the CIA. It's too far into enemy territory and you'd never make it back on foot. Plus an American helicopter in Milosevic's hands would be a political coup for him. "

"I don't need a helicopter." Confident, Booth leaned back against his bench and crossed his ankles. "I'm the best sniper in the Rangers. I have the record for the longest successful shot. I could get in and out by myself. I don't need you or a spotter."

Impressed with Booth's ego, Beck shook his head. "You may be right, but we've tried that option twice and so far our snipers didn't make it back . . . you may be the best, but it's too far in enemy territory to do it successfully on your own. My plan will work, but I need you to be able to fly the copter if anything happens to me, not that I plan to get killed or hurt."

"Alright, why the hell not?" Booth folded his arms against his chest. "This way, I won't be sent off to do a bunch of shit jobs before my enlistment is up. One mission and I'm out. Works for me."

"Good. We'll start tomorrow."

Oooooooooooooooo

The mission had turned out to be easier than Danny Beck had thought it would be and as hard as Booth knew it would be. Danny had flown them in to an area of the country that contained Radik's home village. The helicopter had landed in a small clearing roughly five miles from the village. Booth and his spotter had walked to the village, which turned out to be a small town. "Why do they call everything a village around here?" Annoyed, Booth checked his map of the houses in the area and found what he was looking for. "There's a small warehouse near Radik's house. It's not that far of a shot . . . We'll get on the roof while it's dark and we'll wait until Radik comes out of his house when it's daylight. The best part is the warehouse is three stories tall and there aren't any buildings taller than that one so no one will see us . . . I'll shoot him and we'll get the hell out of Dodge . . . The warehouse is backed up to some woods, so we should be able to get away with no one seeing us."

"Sounds like a plan, Sarge." Corporal John Smith had worked as Booth's spotter a few times and they hadn't failed a mission yet. He knew the reason why was because Booth was careful. One of his attributes that John appreciated the most. "What if he doesn't come out for a few days? We could be on that roof for a while."

A noise alerted them that they weren't alone. Booth stopped, held up his hand and crouched down with John copying him. While they crouched in some bushes, they soon saw a deer move by them and knew that the animal was foraging for food. Standing, Booth watched as the deer moved deeper in to the woods. "Come on. I want to be on the roof before dawn."

Within the hour, they were on the roof of the warehouse overlooking the small town and Booth knew he had picked the right spot. Using binoculars, both Booth and John spied on the backyard of the house owned by Radik and realized that someone was preparing to have a party.

"Shit Sarge, it looks like a party of some kind. That means a lot of people." John was worried that Booth might not be able to target Radik. He knew that the longer they stayed on the roof the better chance that someone would discover them and that wouldn't end well for them.

"No problem." Booth studied the yard and moved his gun over to the right for a better alignment. "If a lot of people are there, then when I kill Radik that will create panic. Most of them will run for cover, create a lot of noise and just get in the way of anyone looking for us . . . It's good for us."

It seemed logical and John trusted Booth. "If you say so . . . At least it's cloudy and we won't cook up here."

Ooooooooooooooooo

He felt detached. The shot had been easy enough. The party had turned out to be a birthday party and Radik had been the life of the party. He'd mingled with his guests and that had made it hard for Booth to do his job, but finally the birthday boy had cut his cake and while the boy was cheered, Booth had shot Radik. As Booth had predicted, the sight of Radik falling to his death, blood spraying his son and nearby party goers had created bedlam. The party goers had screamed, grabbed their young children and fled the scene while the horrified boy stood over the body of his father, screaming in terror.

Booth and John had left the rooftop without anyone seeing them and jogged back to the helicopter. Once they were in the copter, Danny lifted off and they were on their way. The CIA agent had noticed the stony look on Booth's face and wondered what was going on. "You killed him?"

"Yes, he's dead." Booth was reliving the shot over and over in his mind. The bullet hitting Radik between his eyes, the back of his head exploding, blood spraying over the young boy next to him, blood spraying on the presents and the cake . . . blood and brains everywhere and Radik was no more. "He's not going to kill anyone else."

"Good." His eyes ahead, Danny knew that killing someone wasn't an easy thing to do, but Booth had killed a hell of a lot of people while in uniform and he probably had a way to get through it. "So, you're last mission for the Army . . . I heard you're going into the FBI. Why don't you consider the CIA? We could use a man like you."

His face an emotionless mask, Booth turned to look at Danny and shook his head. "I'm done being used. I'm going in the FBI to help people not kill them."

"Okay." Danny felt that Booth would be an asset to the CIA, but talking to him about it at the moment was probably a waste of time. "Got it." He'd wait a few days and approach the sergeant again. He really wanted Booth on his side and he'd try to sweeten the deal after he talked to his supervisor. The CIA would be crazy not to try to talk Booth into joining them.

His thoughts on the boy covered in blood, Booth turned his head so his face was hidden from both Danny and John. This is my last kill. This is it . . . this is my last kill, God it has to be my last one. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and quickly moved his hand to remove it. Forgive me, God. This is the last one. I promise. I'm done.

Oooooooooooooooo

A/N: In 'The Promise in the Palace', we learned Booth knows how to fly helicopters. Anne wanted a fanfic explaining why.

Thank you for reading my stories. I appreciate it.