(Season 11)
A/N: Mendenbar wanted just a little bit more, so this is a sequel to chapter 73 and 74. Oh, just to give you a heads up: Tissue Alert. I promise to write some cheery ones after this one.
I don't own Bones.
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The last year had been filled with horror and sadness, but Booth was starting to feel that he was starting to turn the corner. The violence he'd lived through had been mind-numbing when he thought about it. Attacked in his own home, the destruction of the Mighty Hut, the loss of his freedom the hits had just kept coming and once he was free and Durant had finally been arrested for treason, he thought he could breathe again, but it hadn't worked out that way.
He had lost his grandfather and his friend Sweets and if that wasn't hard enough to take, his inability to trust had been shattered.
Before Sweets had died, the psychologist had searched for a partner that Booth could trust once he was back at the FBI. Though Sweets had had good intentions, Booth fought not to connect to Aubrey. He had felt almost friendless when Sweets had died and his lack of trust didn't help the situation. It was through the efforts of his wife, that he had given the man a chance and he had found a new friend, someone he could trust.
Still, his life didn't seem to get better. Instead, he had done the unthinkable. He had started gambling again which had caused him to lose his family for a while. He considered it one of the lowest points in his life. In the past, no matter what had happened to him, he had been able to count on Pops to be on his side and later Brennan had become part of his support system. To endanger her and their daughter due to his gambling had proved to be the worst moment of his life.
His wife had asked him to leave their home and who could blame her? Certainly not him. He had betrayed her trust and it had taken him many weeks to get it back. Once he was back home, he thought things would get better, after all how much bad luck could a man have?
Then his brother had shown up a few months later and that forced Booth to risk his life and the life of his brother to save a group of undercover FBI Agents from a ruthless drug lord's plot to have them killed. They had succeeded, but it had cost Jared his life and had almost cost him his life. If not for the fact that Brennan and his friends had fought to help him, he was certain that things might have not turned out as well as it had for him.
The next few months of calm seemed to settle over his life and it seemed that he might get to finally have some peace in his life. As those months went by, he grew confident that he could trust the people he worked with and finally he could stop worrying about the motives of those he worked with. He allowed himself to trust Aubrey and added him to his very small list of friends. It was a start anyway.
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Booth was searching through the photo albums and scrapbooks, but so far, he had been unable to find what he was looking for. As he flipped through each page his impatience was staring to grow. Slamming the book cover closed, he leaned on the bar and glared at the last scrapbook in the house. "Damn it!"
Witnessing Booth's evident anger as she entered the room, Brennan paused near the kitchen island and wondered what was going on. "What's wrong? You appear to be angry about something."
Reining in his anger, Booth turned to face his wife. "I'm not angry. I'm just looking for something and I can't find it."
Curious, Brennan moved closer to the bar and placed her hand on the back of one of the chairs sitting in front of the bar. "Maybe I can help you look for it." She noticed the scrapbooks and was curious about his search.
Folding his arms against his chest, Booth nodded his head. "I was looking for the pictures you took at Pops' funeral. I think it's time I looked at them."
Surprised, Brennan smiled and nodded her head. Walking past him, she patted his crossed arms and continued to the bookshelf that normally held the scrapbooks. Removing a small black and red plaid covered book from the shelf, she brought it back to her husband and handed it to him. "Christine likes to look at the scrapbooks and photo albums and I didn't want to remind her of Hank's death every time she looked at them."
He had seen the book on the shelf, but he had assumed it was one of Brennan's notebooks. She had lost some of her books when the Mighty Hut had been destroyed and she considered them a great loss, but she had saved a few of them. "Thanks." Placing the book on the bar, he stared at the bookplate attached to the front cover, 'Hank Joseph Booth'. Nervously he licked his lips and tried to control his emotions. He had thought he was ready, but now he wasn't so sure. "Um, it's a nice bookplate."
"Thank you." Brennan saw her husband struggling to begin his task, but she wasn't sure how to help him. "If you're not ready, I'll put it back on the shelf. It will be there whenever you're ready."
He appreciated her suggestion, but he had waited long enough. Slowly shaking his head, he moved his hand and flipped the cover open. The first page held his grandfather's obituary which looked rather long. Bracing himself, he read it and found it to be concise and yet endearing. It listed Hank's surviving family members and names of some of his friends. There was mention of his service in the Army and the Purple Heart he had earned while serving. His career in the Philadelphia Police Department was highlighted and there was mention of the medals he had earned as a police officer. Booth noted the Commendation Medal, the Purple Heart which his grandfather had received in a shootout during a bank robbery and his safe driving medal. He was surprised that Brennan knew about the medals, but then again, he should have known that she would have made sure of all the facts before she had the obituary printed.
As he read it he found at the end a poem that almost had him in tears. "I may not always be with you, But when we're far apart, Remember you will be with me, Right inside my heart – Marc Wambolt
Clearing his throat, he rubbed his right eye and refused to look at Brennan. While he hesitated to turn the next page, Brennan moved closer to him and rubbed his lower back, slowly, in small circles. "Was it alright?"
Rubbing his eyes once more, he nodded his head almost unable to speak. "Of course it was . . . of course it was Bones." His voice was tight with emotion, but he knew that he needed to turn the page. Brennan had saved this for him and he was as ready as he would ever be.
The next page showed the outside of the funeral home. It looked like a nice place with its natural brick walls and the apricot tea roses planted along the entire length of the building, stopping where the entrance was. "It's a nice funeral home."
She didn't say anything. She knew that Booth was trying to gain courage to turn the page which he did shortly afterward.
He felt his heart beat a little faster as he stared at the coffin. It was taken from the back of the room, so he could see it in its entirety. It was made from dark cherry wood and it glistened in the lights overhead. Booth knew she had probably paid a fortune for the casket, but he also knew that Brennan had probably done it as a sign of respect. He knew his wife honored all cultural rituals and the casket was truly beautiful. Turning the next page, he beheld the body of his beloved grandfather. The old man looked as if he was sleeping surrounded by light blue satin which lined the inside of the casket. He wore his favorite navy suit and a crisp white shirt. His tie looked new and was a patriotic red, white and blue. Pinned to the lapel of the jacket was a small American flag pin made from what looked like enamel work on yellow gold.
"Wow, Bones." He wasn't sure what else to say. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but he could tell that Brennan had made sure his grandfather had been buried with dignity and with love.
Carefully, he turned the pages and saw a picture of the flowers surrounding the casket and one of the priest who had led the service. Next came a picture of the cemetery and a closeup of his grandmother's tombstone and Hank's casket on a dais next to her grave. The casket was covered in flowers and there were flowers in vases on his grandmother's grave. The whole setting was beautiful and he knew that the air must had smelled great from all the flowers that he saw. Last was a picture of the bagpiper playing for Pop's funeral and he suddenly felt tears flowing down his cheeks. Sobbing he turned and pulled Brennan into his embrace, resting his forehead on her shoulder.
Brennan felt so sad for her husband, but she knew that he needed the emotional release. He was mourning for a life he would never have again and his tears would help him to let the past go just like her tears had done for her after the funeral and again when Booth was home in their new house.
"He loved you so much, Booth." She felt her own tears start to trickle down her cheeks as her husband wept. "He spoke of you every time I visited him and he was very confident that you would be exonerated eventually. He had a lot of faith in you and knew you were a man of honor."
Booth continued to weep as he listened to Brennan talk about his grandfather. He had been blessed to have had someone like Hank Booth in his life and he would be forever grateful. "He was my father, Bones. He was my father."
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