(In the future)

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I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooo

Sweating and tired after mowing and weeding the yard, Booth took off his t-shirt, lay down on the couch in the living room and soon found sleep.

For an hour the house was enveloped in silence until Brennan returned home from the store with her children in tow. Noticing that her husband was sleeping in the living room, she asked her children to play in their room while she retired to her office and started to work on notes for her latest novel.

After a while, Hank became bored playing in his room and since Christine was reading, he found his way into the living room and spied his father in deep slumber. Moving closer, he noticed the scars on his father's stomach and chest and became concerned. His father always wore a t-shirt, shirt or robe so he couldn't ever remember seeing the scars.

Rushing down the hallway as fast as his four year old legs would carry him, Hank entered the bathroom and found his special Band-aids. Carrying the box of Spiderman strips into the living room, he opened it and spilled the Band-aids onto the coffee table. His tongue between his teeth, the young boy tore open one of the strips and after several fumbling tries, managed to place one of the strips across his father's stomach. Careful not to disturb his father, he continued to open Band-aids and place them across the scars he could reach.

Itching, Booth moved his hand across his stomach and woke instantly. Puzzled, he picked off a strip and stared at it. "What the hell?"

"It's for your cuts, Daddy." Hank was holding another Band-aid in his hands waiting to place the next one on one of his father's scars. "Mommy says you have to cover cuts or you can get sick."

Careful not to knock his son down, Booth moved his feet to the floor and sat up. "Buddy, these aren't cuts. They're just scars." Reaching down, he lifted the boy's left index finger. "Remember when you poked Little Seeley in the nose and he bit your finger. You can still see the scar where he bit you."

Recalling the injustice of being bitten, Hank grimly shook his head. "He was bad. He made my finger bleed and Mommy said I couldn't play with Little Seeley."

"Well, not for a few weeks anyway." Booth smiled as he counted the Band-aids on his chest. "Thank you for the Band-aids, but I don't need them, Buddy."

His finger outlining the scar on his father's stomach, Hank began to cry. "Does it hurt, Daddy?"

"What? No, Hank it doesn't hurt." Pulling the boy onto his lap, Booth rubbed the child's back in small circles. "Don't cry Hank. I promise they don't hurt. Your finger doesn't hurt does it?"

Sniffing, Hank ran his hand under his nose. "No, Daddy . . . Who hurt you? I . . . I . . ." He was filled with emotions that he didn't quite understand and was partially filled with fear. What if his father was hurt and he went away like Timmy Johnson's Dad did? He didn't want his father to go away. "I don't want you to go to heaven, Daddy. Stay here with me."

A little alarmed that the conversation was taking such a turn, Booth hugged the boy. "Hank, I'm not sick I'm not going anywhere. These scars are just old ones from before you were born. They don't hurt me and you don't have to worry about them . . . Do you understand?"

His tears slipping down his cheeks, Hank nodded his head. "Yes . . . I love you Daddy."

"Well, I know you do. You used your special Band-aids and you don't do that for just anyone do you?" Booth was trying to cheer his child up and he felt like a failure. Placing the boy back on his feet, Booth grabbed his damp t-shirt and slipped it back on. "Hey, how about some ice cream and we can watch cartoons together. How does that sound?"

"Chocolate ice cream?" Hank leaned on his father's knee. "I like chocolate."

Standing, Booth placed his hand on son's shoulder. "Go sit at the table and I'll get us some ice cream . . . Just let me clean up this mess on the coffee table and . . . here you take your Band-aides . . . you can put them in your room after we eat dessert."

Solemnly, the boy took the box and shook it. "Okay, Daddy . . . You can use them when you want."

"Thanks, Buddy. I appreciate that."

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The day was coming to an end and Booth felt that he needed a long soak in his tub. While Brennan sat on their bed and checked her email, Booth slipped out of his t-shirt and rummaged in his dresser for a fresh t-shirt and boxers. Turning, he started to walk towards the bathroom, when he felt Brennan's hand on his arm pulling him to a stop.

"What is that on your chest and stomach?" Moving around her partner, she stared at the Band-Aids adorning her husband's torso.

Amused, Booth peeled off one of the plastic strips and chuckled. "I made the mistake of lying on the couch this afternoon without a shirt on and Hank freaked out a little bit. He thought I was hurt and he covered some of my scars with his special Band-Aids." His smile gone, Booth continued to peel off the strips. "Poor little kid, I scared him. I need to remember to wear a shirt when I'm around the kids. They don't need to see these."

Helping her husband finish removing the plastic strips, Brennan smoothed her hand across his flat stomach. "They don't look bad, Booth. I for one think of them as a map . . . a map of your life. Hank is just too young to understand that scars can be bigger than the one on the end of his finger."

Removing her hand from his stomach, Booth kissed the back of her hand. "It's alright Bones. It is what it is. I'd rather not have been shot believe me, but I was and . . . well the scars are a reminder that things can wrong really quickly, so I should appreciate what I have and I do . . . You noticed that he used his special Band-Aids right? He said I can use them when I want to."

"Wow. I am truly impressed." Brennan walked over to the trashcan near the dresser and threw away the wad of plastic strips. "He hoards those and won't let Christine use any. He told me that he got them for Christmas from Santa Claus and only he was supposed to use them."

"Well, what can I say? I'm special." Booth moved closer to his wife and rested his hands on her hips. "If you want to join me in the tub, I'll show just how special."

Her eyes twinkling, Brennan moved her hands up his chest to his shoulders. "I think that is an offer that I can't refuse, Booth."

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

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