AN: I don't own "Bones" someone else does which helps explain why the latest episode was so hinky and wonky in my opinion. Thanks again to my few and faithful reviewers for your words of encouragement are a boon to my humble work. As a side note my orders finally came in; 18th FA "The Steel Brigade," Airborne Artillery Hooah! Anyways enjoy.

"Booth why are we here?"

"I have some tools here that we're going to use to bring these bastards down."

You walk over to the closet in the back corner of your bedroom. You've never opened this closet for anyone else before. Too many old memories here. You stop before opening it realizing that Bones walked over to you; her body so close to yours.

Are you going to open it up and let her see in? Are you going to risk her asking questions and getting answers?

Are you going to risk her turning away after learning what you've done?

She places a warm hand on your shoulder.

Sometimes all you need is a touch.

You swallow down all your apprehensions and doubts about the past interfering with your hopes for the future. You have to protect her now and to do that you have to open up your past.

The door unlocks and with it the unbelievably heavy weight of history rolls out from behind its stout oak frame…

Your breath always hitches a bit when you look upon this little treasure trove of your past; Bones was right in calling "tough guys" sentimental.

You notice that Bones' body language changed suddenly as the door opened. You can sense that the tension of curiosity which had permeated her core since the day that she met you; a curiosity which much to both your chagrin and relief that she never pursued, suddenly relaxed and found itself replaced by a mingling sense of awe, understanding, and even more curiosity. You know that at the core she's a rational empirical scientist whose seemingly sole purpose in this world is to drive you crazy and know everything about everything. But you wonder if even she can understand exactly what each of these things means.

Time stands still as you just watch her look over your most private collection of belongings, you feel a sense of… well you don't know exactly how to describe it but it feels right to show her these things.

Her face scrunches up in that cute manner she has when she's thinking/scrutinizing about something.

"Booth, this uniform is different from the one that you wore to your funeral."

She points out towards your old set of Army Greens, the gold thread along the forearms and the fruit salad on the chest still gleaming as bright the day you put it on.

"Yeah, it was deemed necessary because if I wore my real uniform then I probably would have been exposed. But then again if anyone was really paying attention than the one that I was wearing would have raised suspicion."

"Why is that?"

"I was wearing the rank of a Master Sergeant for one thing; and I'm not nearly so old and crusty looking to have that rank. Also I didn't even have a name plate on which is a big big red flag to anyone in the military."

"Well I must admit this uniform is much… shinier than the one that you wore… that day. But it doesn't have the same sort of ribbons, it has patches on the shoulders, and it isn't even the same color. I know that in societies, especially in warrior castes, achievements and other notable events are displayed in bright markings with color and shiny markings but I don't know what these ribbons and medals mean. Can you please tell me what they mean?"

The curiosity apparent on her countenance is almost painful in its childish wonder and aged inquiry. You admit that you feel incredible pride in your ribbons, medals, and unit patches and even a greater sense of well-being in her interest in learning what they meant and what they mean to you. And yet you're still more than slightly leery of opening up too much of your past to her inquisitive nature; once you start there isn't any way that you'll be able to stop her from getting you to reveal all the times of weakness you experienced, all the pain and agony that some of those ribbons and medals represent. Or in recounting in perfect detail the exact method and nature of all the kills you made, of all the men you had die with you, and of all the mistakes that you made.

You're torn and hesitant.

"Booth? Please?"

Her eyes look on you with concern and understanding, a sort of care that you haven't experienced since… since… you've quite honestly only experienced it when you've been around her, nowhere else.

You feel her hand rest lightly on your arm. The warmth heats up more than just your skin.

You gulp down your fears as her presence buoys your resolve but you can't quite escape them. Temporize Seeley and hedge your bets; you'll be able to tell her after you're certain that she's safe.

"I-I'll tell you. Not now but… after this all is over. I promise Bones."

A brief look of disappointment clouds her face and a sinking feeling starts to form in the pit of your stomach; that is until that look transforms into kind understanding and a form of triumph. You don't quite follow why she's showing that look.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that promise Booth."

You step into the closet pushing aside your uniform; uniforms actually because you have to plow through the whole mess of BDU, DCU (Pre and Post OEF), and finally ACU blouses and pants to say nothing of your other military clothing paraphernalia. You brush aside field jackets, polypro, and wet weather gear until you come to the locker in the back. You hesitate before it; too many of your bad dreams are tied to what's contained within. Suddenly your mind provides you with a vision of Bones in pain; the memory of the violation at the Lab. You grasp the handle and wrench the locker open letting out a semi-ragged breath as you gaze upon the tools of your trade.

"Hello beautiful, it's been a while." You express with unreserved reverence to your M24A2; how can you not be reverent in the presence of one of the best agents of death that was ever crafted?

"Uh Booth, I've been next to you for a while now." Uh-oh, you have a tendency to let your mouth talk ahead of your brain don't you Seeley.

"Oh uh sorry Bones I wasn't talking about- I mean not that you're not- uh what I mean to say is… just talking to her." You gesture to your rifle.

She blushes a little looking about as confused and uncomfortable with the conversation as you are.

"Why are you referring to that weapon as a female?"

"Oh it's a common thing in the military, to refer to weapons, planes, ships, and tanks, whatever as women. We even name them after women."

"Is it some sort of psychological need to be in close contact with a female especially when in the presence of phallic imagery? Or some sort of need to be in control over something female?"

"What is with it with the psychology Bones, I thought you hated psychology."

"I do hate psychology Booth but this sort of thing came up during my freshman psychology course that I had to take and I've never forgotten it."

"Bones I don't doubt that you've ever forgotten anything but no those reasons aren't why I call my rifle a she."

"Well why do you Booth?"

"Because 'She" is incredibly deadly, powerful, complicated, and misunderstood. 'She' requires someone who knows everything about 'her' to work at 'her' full potential; anything less than that total knowing means that 'she' won't work right and will be unhappy with the person who is supposed to be taking care of 'her.' I call my rifle a 'she' because I like to be able to be the only one who is able to take care of 'her' no matter what happens and 'she' in turn takes care of and completes me." Ok Seeley boy that was a bit much don't you think? If she's half as intuitive as you give her credit for she'll find all the not so subtle hints in that little diatribe. Smooth.

Well at least she's not looking at you in complete incomprehension and astonishment. That's a plus right? In fact she looks… contemplative. Is this a run for the hills moment?

"So… what's her name?"

"What?"

"I said, what's her name?"

Ummm… this would be a great time for some sort of intervention from a higher power. Well maybe you can temporize with this subject like you did with the ribbons on your uniform.

"I… uh… it's a name that I kinda adapted from a nickname I got during AIT. I'll tell you about it sometime."

"You didn't answer my question." Damnable smart and inquisitive woman! Can't she tell that you're trying to avoid answering the question?

"Hey you didn't ask anything about this." You hold up the fibrous mesh of netting of an unadorned ghilie suit.

"Oh is that a burlap sack? What is it?"

"It's a sniper's camouflage suit." Yes you distracted her!

"It doesn't look like you could hide from anything in that."

"Well that's because I haven't gussied it up to the place I'm trying to hide in. A sniper tailors his suit to wherever he's operating in, sometimes changing it day to day to keep up with changing weather and terrain patterns."

"Wow, what's in that smaller lock box?" She points to a matt black safe at the foot of the locker.

You open it up pulling out several boxes of ammo, some camo-sticks, and your own special little demon, an M7 Bayonet.

There is a big difference between sniping someone from 1000 meters away or even shooting them at 1 meter in a fire fight and stabbing them with your combat knife. When you shoot someone you can try and pretend to yourself that you never really killed them, you just took their life away. But with a knife it's never that simple. With a knife you can feel their heart stop and hear their last agony filled breath. You smell their dying.

By far the worst nightmares are tied to this little beauty, this beautiful little killer.

She gazes on with a contemplative wondering which is by far one of your favorite faces that she can have.

"So why are you showing me these things?"

"Because I know where that camp is now, that guy talked and told me. So now I'm going in to do what I do best so that you can stay safe."

She opens her mouth to argue but quickly shuts it; perhaps the look of total determination on your face has convinced her that nothing is going to deter you from this course. Of course you suddenly unsheathing the bayonet and turning to the back wall of the closet probably unnerved her to no end.

You brush aside the uniform obscuring the wooden wall, and the series of marks which are carved into the surface.

On the one, the longer chart, you carve six more marks into the tally. Onto the other, you carve four. You don't have a conclusive proof but you know that the victims in the warehouse were Williams and his family. You just know it deep in your gut; you got them killed just as easily as if you shot them yourself. You might even be adding another two to this tally; you still don't know what the ICU will say about Hodgins and Wendell.

You fight back tears with a cold blackness in your being as you carve those four marks into the wall; killing is one thing. Killing is a conscious act with a clear and defined cause and effect; but having someone that was your responsibility die? Or being ultimately responsible for their dying through your actions or inactions? When you told Bones about all the people that you killed and how you wanted to put at least that many murderers away you were only telling half the story. Even more you want to try and save lives to make up for all the ones that you let slip away before your eyes.

Servare Vitas- to save lives

The motto of the FBI's Hostage Rescue team, you briefly considered offering your services to them when you first signed on with the Bureau but the guilt of pulling the trigger, the guilt of letting all those men die, and the guilt of killing held you back.

Maybe you should reconsider when this is over. You know full well that you're going to Hell for all the things you've done in your life so might as well go out with a bang right?

You blink back unshed tears at the idea; no you could never do that, you would only be adding numbers to your kill tally if you put your skills to full use. As much as you want to save lives you hate having to take them.

So why are you so gung-ho about taking lives now?

You stand there, knife in hand, trembling as you can hear Bones' breathing behind you and your heart beating a million beats a minute.

Why are you so willing to kill now? Has the guilt left you?

You turn and sheathe your knife in its scabbard, grabbing a non-descript and sanitized set of BDUs, your rifle, various paraphernalia, and ghilie suit you walk out of the closet and shut the door behind you. Bones just stands there watching you her face unreadable but her eyes an open book of concern, fascination, curiosity, and horror. You pack up your gear into an A-bag and lay your rifle beside it and stand there for a moment; Parker's picture beside your bed catching your attention. He looks so happy and innocent. You can't help it as the small grin comes to your face.

You turn slightly as Max comes out of the bathroom you notice how he glances at you're A-bag then gazing over to the rifle, and how he notices the fascinated/horrified look on his daughter's face. What impresses you most is how he just nods and takes it all as a matter of fact.

"Hey Booth three questions."

"Sure thing Max what are they?"

"One does my Temperance know why you're so willing to do what we all know you're planning on doing?"

"It's so that she stays safe." You know that line sounds rehearsed, plus you spat it out just a little too quickly but it's essentially true; more a crime of omission rather than distraction.

You notice how Max only nods clearly sensing that you're not being totally candid with your answer.

"Uh-huh, second can I get a try with it?" You can actually see the boyish glee radiating from his very charming face; damn but his charm smile is nearly as good as yours.

You laugh out loud a bit as you answer.

"Sure thing Max but only after this little shindig is over. What's your third question?"

He just points to the butt stock of the rifle. Oh shit his eyesight is really good isn't it?

"Is that what I think it is?"

You grab up the rifle and position the butt stock in your armpit covering up your age-old inscription and start making your way to the door to get to the car.

"And on that note I think it's best if we went off and got this over with."

"No Booth what is it? What did my dad see?"

"Don't worry sweetheart Booth just answered my first question."

"How did he answer that, he just picked up his gun and said something that was not even related to the question that you asked?" Now isn't the time for a soul bearing session; besides the awkward questions and embarrassment will most likely make things much more complicated than they already are between you and her.

"Booth tell me what's going on."

"Not now Bones we have work to do."

"Come on Booth tell me."

"I'll let you drive if we drop this conversation right now."

"Don't think that you can bribe me into stopping my line of inquiry."

"I told you I'd tell you about it sometime."

"You mean the name of your rifle?"

"Yes."

"Well why didn't you say so Booth? I know that you keep your promises to me so I'll just wait until you're ready to tell me everything."

"Really?"

"Yes. But I'm driving since you tried to bribe me with that offer."

You hear Max chuckling behind the two of you as you two are too busy arguing with each other on your way to the car.

"Is it always like this between the two of you?"

"No."-"Yes."

"I thought so."

You finally make it into the car giving Bones a destination to drive to, a small town near where you were picked up. There's something to be said about having an incredible memory and attention to detail. It means no paper trail after you interrogate someone. You slowly drift into sleep as Bones grinds the clutch pulling out of the parking lot.

AN: Hope you enjoyed that, please review. And Happy Drunken Fool's Day tomorrow!