(Season 11)

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Ooooooooooooooo

His son was afraid of him and Booth knew why. Staring at his image in the bathroom mirror, he could see the dark circles under his eyes, the pale skin and his gaunt cheeks and he knew he didn't look like the father Hank was used to. His son was just a baby and he didn't understand what was wrong with his father and he was afraid.

When he'd arrived from the hospital, Booth was still in pain and he walked hunched over with his arm pressed across his stomach. Christine had held back, but when he was seated on the couch, she had climbed onto the couch, leaned against his arm and cried.

"Christine, Daddy is okay, I promise. I'm just sick right now, but I'm okay . . . really." Unable to place his arm around her, he had leaned against her and tried to sound cheerful even though his heart was breaking for his little girl. "Baby, please don't cry . . . Daddy is going to be okay."

She had wept for a while and finally stopped. "I was worried, Daddy. Mommy said you were in the hospital and I was worried, but she just said you were sick and you didn't come home for so long . . . I'm glad you're home . . . Why are you sick Daddy?"

He wanted to be honest, but a six year old child wouldn't understand being shot. She may have seen actors being shot on television in westerns and in Star Wars, but that was just acting. "Well, I was hurt in an accident." He saw Brennan's expression turn grim, but he knew he was right not to tell Christine the truth. "My stomach was hurt and now I have to let it heal . . . kind of like that time you broke your finger when you fell skating . . . it hurt for a while and then it was better. That's what's happening to me. I hurt my stomach and it hurts a little bit, but it'll get better . . . Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." Assured that her father was alright, Christine kissed his cheek. "I was afraid you were in heaven with Pops and Uncle Sweets . . . I didn't want you to go away to heaven."

A chill ran down his spine. No one had told her about Jared and it was his plan to wait until he was healthy again before he talked to her about her uncle. "I'm right here, Christine. I'm not going anywhere." Booth looked at Brennan and shook his head. He needed to assure his wife too. "I'm going to be home for a while, but that's until my stomach is okay."

"Alright, Daddy." Christine slid off the couch. "Hank is taking a nap. Aunt Angela said not to wake him because he gets mad when I wake him up."

"You did good, Baby Girl." Booth sighed. "Can you go get me a bottle of water?"

Glad to help her father, she ran into the kitchen to get the water. While she was gone, Booth shook his head. "I know you don't like lying to the kids, but Bones . . . white lies are okay. We've talked about that."

"Yes, of course." Brennan knew Christine wouldn't understand if they told her that Booth had been shot. She was just too young and the truth might frighten the child. "Let me go and check on Hank."

While Booth got the bottle of water open after taking it from Christine and drank some of it, Brennan found that her son was awake and was whining. "Mommy is here, Hank." Once she had the boy in her arms, the child grew quiet. His diaper was still dry, so there was no reason to delay taking Hank to see his father.

Once they were in the living room, she motioned for Christine to move out of the way. Brennan sat on the table facing Booth and let their son see his father. "See Hank, Daddy is home."

His reaction startled everyone in the room. Hank began to cry and turned his face into his mother's shoulder holding her shirt with his little fists. Booth wasn't sure what was going on and leaned forward to place his hand on the boy's back. Hank turned his head and sobbed with fright. Shaking her head, Brennan stood up and left the room trying to soothe her son.

"Hank is mean after he wakes up, Daddy." The girl had seen the baby's temper tantrums before. "He never likes me to wake him up . . . I think Mommy must have waked him up." As far as Christine was concerned that had to be the explanation.

"Yeah, maybe." Booth had seen the look of fear on Hank's face and he knew that this wasn't just a woke up too soon tantrum. Later, when he had gone to the bathroom, Booth had looked at his image in the mirror and he knew that Hank saw a very sick man and that had frightened the baby. Hell, I scare the shit out of me too. I look like death warmed over.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. He had been home for a few days and was starting to worry that Hank was never going to accept him. The boy didn't want Booth to hold him and he cried if Brennan tried to leave him in the room alone with Booth. He wasn't sure what to do about it but forcing the issue didn't seem to be working.

A cry from down the hallway caught him by surprise. His son was crying and he wasn't sure where Brennan was. Struggling to get out of bed, Booth held his arm against his stomach and made it to his feet. Moving out of the room, he walked slowly down the hallway, glancing back to see if Brennan was coming. Once he was in the room, he saw Hank standing in his crib, tears streaming down his red face, his hands clenching the rail in front of him.

"Hank, what's wrong?" The boy was crying harder and Booth knew he couldn't pick up the child. The baby weighed more than his wound could handle. Moving over to the bed, he lowered the rail and knelt next to the bed holding his arms out. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Crying harder, the boy moved into his father's arms and held his arms around Booth's neck. Concerned for the baby, Booth moved his arms around Hank and tried to soothe him. "It's okay, Hank. Daddy won't let no big old monster get you. I'll protect you, Sweetheart." He talked quietly to the boy and soon Hank had stopped crying. Still clinging to Booth, the boy began to babble. They weren't actually words since he was too young to talk, but Booth knew Hank was calmer and he was more relaxed in his arms. "Daddy has you, Hank. I'll never let anyone hurt you. You can count on me."

Brennan entered the room and found her son clinging to her husband and she knew that Hank wasn't afraid of his father anymore. "What happened? I was in the garage getting something from the freezer. Is Hank alright?"

"He was crying . . . I think he had a bad dream or something." Looking over his shoulder, Booth smiled. "He's not afraid of me Bones . . . I'm going to sit on the floor. Holding my arms up like this kind of hurts. Could you place him on my lap when I'm down there?"

Surprised, Brennan nodded her head and moved over to the bed. Picking up her child, she held him in her arms while Booth maneuvered his body until he was sitting on the floor, his back against the lowered section of the crib. Once her husband gave her a nod, she lowered Hank down to his father and placed him on Booth's lap. Sitting beside them, Brennan watched as Hank leaned against his father clutching Booth's t-shirt.

"He appears to be calm." Brennan shifted her body so she could rub Hank's back. "I think he may have had a bad dream after all."

"Or he woke up and he didn't want to be alone. I know how that feels." Booth's arm was around his son and he could hear the baby breathing normally. "Poor Hank . . . it's been rough on him for the last couple of weeks." He hated to be the cause of his son being so unhappy but sitting on the floor with the baby on his lap, he knew his son was going to be alright. "He's going to be fine, Bones. He knows who I am."

"Yes, he is going to be fine. We all are going to be fine, Booth."

Oooooooooooooooooo

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