AN: Hi all once again I don't own Bones. Just so you know all the names of soldiers mentioned in this fic are actual people I serve with and the little humourous stories are actual stories. If anyone wants to listen to the song that is later mentioned by name there is a link in my profile. Please enjoy and review; any reviews would make me smile as this is finals week and I'm a little distracted at the moment.
-light is overwhelming. The myriad spectrum of orange, red, and yellow and everything in between encompasses and envelopes the ridge in front of you. The only things cutting down on its brilliance is the impossibly huge cloud of dust and smoke billowing out from the impact and the matted sweat and blood clinging to your eyebrows and matted to your eyepro. The concussion of the blasts surpasses all other sounds so close the impacts were to your position. You blink and stare at the overwhelming awe that is a blast caused by a pair of 500lb bombs dropped less then 500meters away. Of course the concussion also lifts you up and slams you down like you were a baby's toy. Damn why did you have to think of that, it's only going to remind you that Rebecca is taking care of Parker. It kills you that they're on the other side of the world and the uncertainty of how they are is often worse than the fear that you feel when you're getting shot at. It doesn't help that she wouldn't marry you either which makes everything so goddamn complicated.
Wait Seeley, stop. Don't think about this you still have work to do. First thing is to direct the bird to drop some more of his crap on Hajji's head. Oh- God Damn! The radio's crushed by some of the debris blown loose by the blast. Speaking of which a chunk of rock the size of a Volkswagen suddenly appears about five feet from your head; *WHUMP* and suddenly you find yourself in a dust cloud coughing and hacking and not being able to see a damn thing.
Weakly you clamber up to observe the situation; such as it is. You lift up your eyepro to get a clearer view of the little slice of hell that your squad managed to inherit, suddenly wishing that you kept the goggles firmly down on your face as the dust gets into your eyes suddenly making you blind as you blink out the grit. Who do you still have left? How many of the enemy? Who's dead or wounded?
Down about 25 meters behind a pile of rocks you see Harper ripping off Vandercook's IBA and webbing desperately trying to apply aid while Awanbor seems to be trying to keep him covered by shooting off rounds to their 3o'clock. Swayne's down next to him cursing like only a soldier can as he tries to perform remedial action on his jammed M16. To your right Miller, Stear and Alsept are pinned down occasionally squeezing off some rounds to your collective 6 hoping to pick off that .50 cal.
The .50 cal. You have to get rid of that or you're all going to die.
Glancing to your left you see Volgelzon's corpse. Damn .50 split him apart like a damn cantaloupe; guts and bone fragments quite simply exploded out of his torso and you can see right through his torn and mangled body, his legs separated by the body by a mess of blood and flesh. The exit wound is big enough to stick your foot through. And yet miraculously the AT-4 that he was humping is just lying there next to him, pristine.
You scramble over to the bloody gore that was once a living breathing man with hopes and dreams of his own; hope that wasn't his kidneys which just squished out underneath your boot heel as you lift up the AT-4 and get down behind cover again to arm your ticket out of here and to adjust the sights for range.
You quickly pop up to get a visual on the target.
Quick check behind you; unlike in the movies the back blast is enough to burn any man alive if he's unfortunate enough to be standing behind you or burn anyone too close.
Only one shot. Make it count Seeley, you might not be a sniper at the moment but you still need to hit your target.
In one swift motion you stand up out of cover exposing yourself to the entire world and all the hate flying around you; bringing the aiming arrows onto the target seems to take forever as you feel extraordinarily naked at the moment.
Moment of truth.
You squeeze down on the trigger with your right hand as you drop open your mouth to prevent overpressure injuries.
A wave of heat envelopes your back for a split second as you see the rocket fly out towards the target.
You know its bad form and incredibly stupid but you can't seem to drop back down into cover in the second after you fire. The trail of fire mesmerizes you…
Why are you falling?
Ooopmfh. The ground is hard. Your head and helmet bounces off the ground and rests there. You notice your M4 wedged down underneath you and the AT-4 slam down next to you.
You see the HEAT round slam into the rock in front of the .50 cal crew. Then you see the .50 cal and what you think is an arm goes flying in the air as the explosion obscures the ridge.
Blood.
Why is there blood?
Where did that blood come from?
Why is it suddenly hard to breathe?
"Booth!"
Suddenly you're staring up at the sky; a face obscures the light.
You don't feel rock under you but wood.
"Booth!" you make out Awanbor's face, his dark face mussed and grey from dust. You feel your IBA get ripped open and pressure applied to your chest.
"Booth you're gonna be fine. I'm right here! You're gonna be fine, you're gonna make this!"
Suddenly his dark face shimmers into a woman; beautiful, angelic. Azure gems cast in an ivory mold. You whisper something or try to before the curtain draws over you. No! You have to tell her! You have to tell her you-
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Screaming your eyes fly open and you jerk up and-
"OW OW OW OW OW SON OF A BITCH!"
A startled and amused Williams glances over at you and cracks up laughing with a big shit eating grin.
"Wow Big Sarge and good morning to you too sweetheart. Yeah be careful of the sun-visor, it kind of hurts when you stand up and slam your forehead into the edge."
You moan out something which you were pretty sure violated every commandment except for the one about false idols as you clutch your head. After this is done you're going to have to spend at least one full day in penance after confession.
"Hahaha Big Sarge now I'm fairly sure that, while my sister admittedly has some odd habits and is quite athletic, it would be anatomically unlikely for her to be able to that with a horse, a pine cone, and the entire Flyers team." Ok looks like it's going to be two days. He still has his damn shit eating grin plastered to his face.
You manage to get out a pitiful "Ugh where the hell are we?" as you reach down reaching down for a water bottle to wash out the delightful taste of dead ass which currently has taken up residence on your tongue.
"Best I can figure we're about 2 hours away from downtown D.C. so what the hell happened to you? You ready to tell me?"
You look away from him with a dead and hollow look in your eyes. You can't imagine how you look right now after getting beaten and tortured for a couple of days and then humping it through the woods for another. And as you told Bones in the diner you've been tortured worse. But even so it's not something that you want to share. Especially the noise. That noise. God forgive you but suicide is preferable to being subjected to that again. You fight back the memories as the pause stretches out longer and longer.
"…so… sorry man if it's still raw I understand." You shoot him a grateful look as you stare out into the darkness outside the cab. The clock radio says 10:18.
With a rueful cough you ask: "So… how's Melanie doing?"
"-and then I found five dollars."
You both are busting up laughing as you just talk and re-connect smoking and joking about time shared in the service, about family, about friends, about work, about normal stuff.
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The clock says 11:27.
Suddenly; in the middle of you telling Williams about how Gallagher, from back at Ranger Bat. not the punk who kidnapped you, was climbing the rafters in the barracks when suddenly a Major walked in to the room, a ringing sound sounds shrill into the night scaring you out of a year's growth.
"Hahahaha sorry Big Sarge, I like to leave myself little alarm reminders to help me keep awake on overnight routes. So Gallagher was just sitting on the rafters with his legs dangling down with a Major standing not two feet from his feet but not even noticing him? Hot damn but that is too funny!"
A cellphone! Holy cow you totally forgot about those.
"Williams you have a phone? Can I make a call on it?" You can warn Bones and keep her safe; get her away from the FBI and get her to her father. The only person more protective of Bones than you is Max Keenan and that's only because he's had more practice being her father and all.
"Sure man," he says laughing "but tell me the rest of that story first. What the hell were you guys doing when all this was going on?"
Anxious and nervous, special Booth protective powers kicking into overdrive here, you decide to humor him if it'll get you that phone.
"We were all just standing there at attention with eyes wide and lips locked trying not to bag up. We were all desperately willing Gallagher to not move his feet and he just might get away with it but the damn fool started to slowly lift his feet up to stay out of sight. The Major saw him, looked up and burst out laughing and just shook his head and walked out howling like a hyena. Can I have that phone real quick because I really need to make this call."
"Sure thing Big Sarge, here you go." He says tossing it across the cab to you.
By memory you punch in Bones' number, you have it memorized even though it's also your 1st number on speed dial.
You hear the dial tone and the phone ringing as you whisper inaudibly willing the call to go through and for her to pick up the phone. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear her voice pick up on the other end.
"Brennan." She sounds… dead, totally devoid of the life and vitality that you always associate with her.
"Bones." Your voice cracks as you speak; emotions that you try to keep suppressed start clawing their way to the surface.
Silence and then…
"Booth?" Her voice is barely a whisper. You are going to eviscerate whoever is responsible for her pain. Slowly. With a dull rusty spork.
"Bones get to your dad, gather up the squints and get to the lab. Now. Do not leave the lab until I get there and do not under any circumstances trust anybody from the FBI. I'm still a little ways away but hurry over there. Don't argue just tell me that you'll do that, please?" There is so much else you want to say but you can't. You have to make sure that she's safe. You have to protect her.
"I… ok but Booth-" you cut her off.
"Bones please this isn't the time right now. I need to make sure that you're safe and at the Jeffersonian." Why can't she just let you be the overprotective alpha male just this once?
"Booth I already am at the lab, we all are. None of us have left since… since you…" Oh holy Mary mother of God is Bones starting to cry? You mentally add burning the bastard responsible alive after you gut him like a fish. Sorry Max but you're style is catchy.
"Bones… just… it's gonna be ok. Look I have to go I'll see you soon just stay safe." Damn right you have to go. If you keep talking to her your emotions are going to burst and you're going to start babbling and saying things which are just going to push her away and destroy your partnership. The line is there for a reason damn it!
"Booth! I- alright just… just get here." Her voice sounds so small and sad. You are going to torture the person responsible before you painfully dispatch him from this world. Damn the consequences.
A wave of emotion roils under your, hopefully, calm façade as you hang up and hand the phone back to Williams, who is looking distinctly uncomfortable at the moment. Just a little too much emotion there Seeley?
"Hey Big Sarge, things all right?"
"Yeah, just… just step on it." Damn but you sound emotionally drained at the moment and you haven't even seen her yet.
"Roger that man, lemme put some appropriate tunes in before I lay the pedal to the medal."
He grins as he slides in an unmarked CD. Suddenly the stereo blares out with a screwy star spangled banner with some sort of rapper talking incoherently before suddenly bursting out into a rap about "I'm a US motherfucking solider boy!"
"This is my battle music Big Sarge, just sit back and enjoy the ride."
Guess there's nothing to do but sit back and wait out the time it takes till you get to the Jeffersonian. You do have to admit that the music does get your blood pumping. Maybe you should write down the songs and get them later?
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As you both finish sniffing and crying from hearing 3000plus by Big Neal you realize that you're back at the Jeffersonian. Without a word Williams stops the truck and turns off the engine getting out and moving over to your side as you gingerly get out.
"Hey Big Sarge lemme help you get inside at least."
"Nah man I can- AGHHH," putting too much weight on your left foot is a bad idea yeah it's infected all right "on second thought I guess I can use a little help."
Without a word he gets onto your left side and you drape your arm across his soldiers as he lifts you up slightly to keep the weight off your left foot. You imagine that the pair of you makes a very unusual and frightening sight as you make your way up the path to the doors of the Medico-Legal lab of the Jeffersonian. You looking dirty, nasty, disheveled, and bloody and beat up wearing messy and torn ill-fitting clothes and gripping an ugly and scary looking sub-machine gun being supported by a fairly clean but undoubtedly military looking Williams. This sort of "soldier image" is unique to the quiet ivory halls that make up this bastion of higher learning; it's unique and foreign to any who haven't been baptized in hell. Good, you don't want any one back in this heaven to know any more of hell then they have to.
Your eyes blink as you walk through the sliding glass doors and into the lab room proper. It's just as you remember it pristine, bright, shiny and clean. Of course the security guards with drawn pistols on you are a new development.
"Drop the weapon!" Are you serious?
"Oh come on Hank you don't recognize me? It's been what 3 days and you forgot my face already?" Williams just looks on with a stoic face; evaluating the target in case the ROE suddenly changes.
"Special Agent Booth? Holy shit it's really you?" Hank and his partner holster their weapons. Finally, it's not like you're a stranger to this place.
"Yeah it's me, listen Hank don't let anyone from the FBI in here. Just keep them here and call for me alright?" Can't take any chances. You don't know how far the rot spreads.
"Alright." With a nod of thanks you turn your attention to the platform in time to hear a mixed scream/bellow of "BOOTH?!" and suddenly you find yourself mobbed and swarmed by the squints with a flurry of hugs and back slaps and cries of "Holy crap dude are you all right?"
Suddenly the swarm is thrown aside; literally, you dimly register Hodgins being tossed to the side by Bones before she tackles you in a bone crushing hug knocking the air out of you; literally, you think that another rib just cracked but you don't care. You ignore the pain in your body as you return the embrace with wordless but incredibly intense emotion. The whole world disappears in that brief moment of you just holding her. All the emotions and feelings that you've denied even to yourself come rising to the surface desperately trying to break out of the shell that you keep them in.
"Hey Bones nice to see you too."
"Booth," you can tell that her voice catches and that she's consciously trying to keep her voice calm "are-are you hurt? What happened to you?"
"I've felt better; are you ok?"
Slightly flustered she lets go of you but keeps very close to you.
"I've been worried about you, so worried. You're hurt." Her eyes widen in a mix of fear and concern as she examines you.
"I'm just fine Bones I just need a shower and a nap and maybe some pie." Understatement of the year there, even you think that you smell awful. Of course she doesn't believe you at all judging by how her eyes are moving all over you cataloguing all the cuts and bruises.
"Booth I know you're lying; your nasal cavity is clearly broken and judging by the way you're holding yourself your left side number 3 and 4 ribs are clearly broken. And don't think that putting some gauze and cloth can hide the puncture wounds on your left hand and foot. Also you smell like an overturned outhouse." She smiled faintly at that last bit as she crinkled her nose. You can't help but smile and chuckle at how pretty she looks when she does that.
You force your mind away from your partner and back to the unfortunate situation that you all find yourself in.
"Listen we can't talk here but I have things that I need to tell you guys some things before anything else can happen." They're all taken aback by the seriousness of your tone as you weakly start to stalk off to Bones' office. You pause and quickly turn about to an increasingly uncomfortable looking Williams.
"Williams, thanks man for everything but you should probably get going. You don't want to be involved in this anymore than you are already. Look me up sometime the next time you're in D.C. and we'll have a few drinks and catch-up." You hope that you don't come off as brushing him off but he really doesn't need to be dragged into this whole affair.
"Hey no problem Big Sarge, I see you're in good hands here but you owe me at least a case the next time I see you." He heads off whistling a dirty little ditty that any soldier learns early on in their life.
You limp into Bones' office and immediately collapse onto the couch as everyone gathers around. Angela (she seems pale as a ghost at how beat up you are), Hodgins (his eyes are locked on the Thompson that you're still gripping in your hand), Cam (she has a face of worry and happiness, even her eyes are red from crying), Max (his face is totally stoic but his eyes are burning with anger), Sweets (you swear that he's just an over-sized 14 year old), Wendell (must be his turn this week) and… where's Bones? Oh there she is sitting next to you, extremely close to you with a worried expression on her otherwise perfect face; slightly turned to you with her hand gently resting you your arm her eyes never leaving yours. Not that you mind the proximity or the- focus Seeley just focus.
"Please everyone just listen for a minute, don't ask any questions." And from there you proceed to tell them all about how you were taken, the fact that there were other people that needed to be rescued from that place, where you think it was, all the evidence that you picked up on the way (it was slightly disturbing how eager Hodgins looked when you told him that you filled your pockets up with dirt and rocks for him to examine), and how the people who took you have definitely infiltrated the FBI (Angela gasped when you showed Tim's ID and Bones' face froze in a death glare/snarl of doom staring at the little picture on the stamped plastic).
Neglecting of course how you were tortured in the whole process or the exact methodology you used when escaping. It's never comfortable talking how you kill especially to those who have been blessed to never have had to kill before.
"Max here take this," his eyes show grim ferocity as you hand him the Thompson "just keep Bones safe because she's the target of all of this." Message delivered.
You dimly register the gasps as you slump off the couch as sleep completely takes you over.
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*click* the shutter closes. The photographer notes with satisfaction that the license plate came out clearly even at this distance.
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The lens of the security camera in the lab floor caught the reunion. Only this security camera wasn't connected to the main office. A signal is beamed off into the silent void.