Don't shoot! This is what I hope doesn't happen… (Title comes from a George Bernard Shaw quote: "You see things and say 'Why,' but I dream things that never were and I say 'Why not?'")
"In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular actuality, vividness, and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly, but so artistically consistent, that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system."--Fyodor Dostoevsky
Forgot the disclaimer! I don't own them, and never will unless I win the lottery!
Booth fell back against the sheets of his bed, completely gratified and happier than he had been since Parker was born. He propped himself back up on one elbow, the better to survey the sated look on his partner's face.
"Mmmm, Booth…" Bones murmured as he caressed her cheek lightly. She opened her eyes slowly and gave him a shy little smile that made his heart beat faster. "That…that was 'making love,' wasn't it?" At his nod, her smile shifted to seductive. "I thought you might have been right then; now I know you were. But," she added, reaching for him, "any scientific experiment such as breaking the laws of physics should be repeated to determine its validity."
He grinned and leaned in to kiss her. "Who am I to stand in the way of scientific advancement, Bones," he teased, lips grazing hers, just before the world went grey around him. He tried to shout a protest as she disappeared and he fell through the dissolving bed and floor and…
And then there was something in his nose and over his mouth and he couldn't move for one very long panicked moment. His shoulder throbbed and burned and his eyes felt glued shut; he struggled to open them. And then he heard the sweetest sound--
"Booth!" It was Bones' voice, worried and excited. He forced his eyes open--if she was worried, something was desperately wrong and he had to do something--and saw her look over her shoulder. "He's awake!"
He stared at her with blurry eyes: she was surrounded by a white haze, disheveled and bloodstained--which alarmed him even more. And what was she wearing? He hadn't seen that top since the night at the Checker Box…
All the other sounds that he had been ignoring suddenly resolved themselves into hospital noises and the white haze wavered into a hospital room. What happened? How did I get here? How long?
"Don't talk," Bones was cautioning him, probably reading some of his anxiety. "Wait for the doctor." Her fingers tightened about his hand, not disturbing the oximeter. He flexed his left wrist, where his watch should be.
She caught the slight movement. "Only overnight." She checked her own watch. "It's just about 5 am now."
He frowned; none of this made sense. Overnight?
He was saved by the doctor entering the room. "Glad you're back with us, Agent Booth," the man said, carefully detaching the cannula. "I'm Dr. Shah. You just had surgery to remove a bullet. Fortunately for you, it was a simple operation, and the bullet itself caused as little damage as is possible in such injuries. Dr. Brennan," he said, turning away briefly, "would you bring him some ice chips? Once your mouth and throat is less dehydrated, you may speak with a minimum of discomfort," he added, looking back at Booth.
That need settled, Brennan sank back into her seat, eyes wide and locked on him.
"What is the last thing you remember?" the doctor questioned gently as he began the necessary checks. Booth blushed; the memory of making love with Bones was strong.
"Not much," he rasped. "It's all very…hazy."
"Your partner and colleagues informed us you were shot by a stalker last night while at a karaoke bar."
He closed his eyes and thought. Oh, yeah, he remembered that. All too well. But he remembered so much more happening later, too. Killing Gormogon after finding out that Zack was his apprentice. Being kidnapped by the Gravedigger. London. Jared. Cam, of all people, taking in a foster child. Some downright bizarre not to mention inconsistent cases… I'm lost.
But he opted to go with the story they were telling him. "Yeah, I remember that," he admitted. He sucked on another ice chip. "And Bones here holding onto me. What happened to-to Pam?" His voice was growing stronger with each sentence.
"I shot her," Bones said in a tiny voice. He immediately tried to stretch a hand out to her but the IV and oximeter prevented him. She edged closer and took his hand again before he could do himself any damage.
He squeezed hers gently. "Nothing else," he told Dr. Shah. The man nodded and stood.
"I'll let your partner bring you up to speed, then, Agent Booth. The FBI was quite insistent that they be told when you were conscious again, so I'll inform them now. As for you--you'll be fine once you've had a chance to heal. I'm sure you know, Agent, that you will not be cleared for field work for at least two weeks, if not more."
"Right. Thanks." Dr. Shah left and Booth looked at Bones intently. "What else aren't you telling me?" he asked, free hand reaching for the cup. His throat was starting to feel better and he blessed his ability to shake off the worst effects of anesthesia. He only wished he could figure out what was in his own mind. What was real? All these other things he could remember--Bones crying over a dog, Angela and Hodgins breaking up, Cam hiring Max to work in the lab--they were too solid to be dreams. Weren't they?
"I shot her, Booth," she repeated softly. "She was aiming at me, but I didn't care. She shot you!"
"Is she in custody?" He really didn't think so.
"No. She's dead."
Her eyes were edged with tears and he squeezed her hand again. "You did what you had to, Bones," he assured her. "You always do. How'd you get back here?"
She sniffled. "Cam helped get me into the ambulance. And I bullied the doctor, I'm afraid. After all, I am your partner."
"And my medical proxy, too," he reminded her.
She stared, then fished a tissue out of her pocket to wipe her nose. "I forgot."
"Even geniuses--geninii?--can forget things," he told her and leaned back against the pillows. "So, tell me, Dr. Brennan, was he right about my condition?"
She sighed, but when he looked at her, she had that patiently exasperated expression on her face that she seemed to reserve for him. "Yes, Booth. You'll be fine. You lost a lot of blood and there's some damage to the muscle, but the bullet didn't hit the bone. A clean shot."
"Thank Heaven for small mercies," he muttered. His wound was killing him. "Did they say anything about painkillers?"
"Just click that button, Booth. He assured me you should only need it today."
He clicked and looked at her as he waited for relief. Brennan, his Bones, looked rather unlike her usual self. There was still a frantic look to her; her clothes were a mess, eyes reddened and hair barely pulled back in a ponytail. And were those tear tracks on her face?
"Bones, are you all right?"
She looked away, mouth tight with some emotion she wasn't ready to share.
"Talk to me, Bones, I need the distraction."
"Fine. What do you want to talk about?" she sighed.
"Tell me more of what happened. I never--I don't remember any of it except for you holding my hand and then waking up here." He waved a hand at their surroundings.
"Do-do you remember being shot?" she asked curiously.
"Yes. No big deal, Bones. I've been shot before," he added, trying to soothe her.
"No big deal," she repeated softly. "No big deal? Seeley Booth, you're an idiot," she burst out, jumping to her feet. "Just a few centimeters further over and it would have hit your lung! As it is, you almost bled out! What the Hell do you mean, 'it was no big deal'? I want to know why you took that bullet! She was aiming at me! I'd have taken it! I'd've happily taken it!" She stopped, eyes wide, chest heaving.
"I know, Bones! That's why I did it!"
That shocked her into silence. "W-what?" she managed to say.
Now you've done it. "Bones. Listen. I've been your bodyguard. I don't do it because it's my job--not anymore. I do it now because we're friends. Friends protect each other when it's necessary."
She blinked at him, then said one of the last things he would ever have expected out of her. "Greater love hath no man…"
"…than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," he completed quietly. "Exactly. I'm not even going to ask you how you can quote the Bible, Bones."
She shrugged and turned away to stand by the window. "I studied more than science in school."
He nodded. Silence fell.
He wondered how he had ever thought her cold and emotionless. There had been a great deal of passion in her little speech, and he thought maybe, just maybe, she might be receptive to what he had been thinking. Man up, idiot. "How about us?" he asked carefully, the impossible memories coming to mind again (how was it possible to squeeze a year of living into less than 12 hours?). Either this was a hallucination, or making love to her had been. Frankly, he'd prefer this to be the fantasy. Even with the bumpy road that had led to the latter--the destination more than made up for the trip! "We could talk about us."
"Us?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes. Us. Come back and sit down. Please, Bones." At least the painkiller had started to take effect, thank God. He wished he could have this little chat completely sober sometime, not muddled by pain or medication. Why start now?
She sank back into the chair, nervously fixing her ponytail.
"Us?" she said again, a strange note in her voice.
"Yeah. Look, Bones--" He held out his hand and she took it without thinking. "I said some things a while ago. They were stupid. I was trying to protect myself, even though I told myself I was thinking of your safety."
"What things?" she asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
"I don't want you to run after this, Bones. Promise me you won't."
Her face softened just a little. "Will I be able to leave this room to think? Whatever this is, it seems to be of importance to you, and I don't want to be dismissive."
"You have no idea. But yeah. Don't leave the country or even the district; and don't avoid the topic when it comes back up. I want an honest discussion with you once I'm out of here and you've had a chance to think."
She considered that for a moment; the blood thudded in his ears as he watched her. "Very well. I won't run and I will think about what you're going to say."
"Thank you." Now that the moment had come (again?), he was briefly speechless.
"What things?" she repeated, trying to help him out.
"Lines," he replied bluntly. Her fingers tightened on his, but otherwise, she didn't react. "All those things I said about romantic involvement after Epps fell. BS, all of it." He took another ice chip, giving himself time--mostly to watch her face, but also to decide how to say it. Her face remained smooth and impassive.
"Bull," he said again. "Just by being partners opens us to retaliation. Every crook you've helped me put away won't care if we're involved romantically or not. Just being friends with me would make you a target."
"This is all true, Booth," she answered in her professor voice.
"Two steps ahead of me, aren't you," he grumbled, then had to chuckle at her perplexed look. "The point is, Bones, is that I feel--very strongly about you. It might even be love--I've squashed it down for a long time, afraid to look, because I didn't think it was 'propriate. And I was scared about what you might think. But the last ye--last night made me realize that I don't want to do that any more. There's something I see in you sometimes that makes me think you might feel the same." He stopped. Not the most eloquent speech, and not entirely coherent, either. But sincere. "I want you in my life, Bones. Temperance. If it's just as friends, I'll take it. But if there's a chance for more, I want it."
"This isn't just a reaction to a near-death experience, is it? I'm given to understand such emotional outbursts are common--"
"Bones. No, it's not. And I thought you weren't going to be dismissive."
"I'm not being dismissive. I'm clarifying," she protested.
"Oh. Well, that's all right then."
"Don't tease," she chided automatically before standing. Not releasing his hand, she laid her free one on his unwounded shoulder, bending over him.
"Bones?"
She said nothing, and simply leaned closer until her lips brushed over his in a very gentle kiss. "That is a discussion I shall look forward to," she said when she pulled away. "Since I find myself in a similar situation, you understand."
"You do? You are? You will?"
"Painkillers have a peculiar effect on you," she remarked, smiling. "Yes, and yes. I'm glad you said something, Booth. It was your line; I was not comfortable with the thought of crossing it on my own."
"I get it. I actually do." His sense of elation swelled. "Temperance Brennan, you are an amazing woman, you know that?"
Her smile turned shy. "Only because you tell me so."
A knock on the door interrupted them, and Cullen stuck his head in. "Booth?"
"Sir! Come in." He discreetly wriggled into a better sitting position as Bones moved around to the far side of the bed, both of them glad Cullen hadn't come in a minute or two earlier.
Cullen pushed the door open the rest of the way and entered, followed closely by another man Booth felt he should know.
"Dr. Brennan."
"Director Cullen," she replied, ignoring his silent request that she leave the room.
"Is there something, sir?" Booth finally asked. Watching them butt heads was amusing, but he hurt too much to actually enjoy it at the moment. Plus, he really wanted to continue his conversation with her.
Cullen plainly gave up and took the other chair in the room. "The doctor's given me his full report on your condition. You'll recover quickly, I understand."
"That's what he told me," Booth confirmed.
"I'm glad of that, Booth. You're one of my best agents. But let me be blunt. I need you back on duty as of now. You recall the suspect who went underground because we were getting too close? The one who swore he'd dance on your grave?"
"Of course, sir; you nearly put me under lock and key."
"An informant tells us he's heard of your shooting already. This might be our chance."
Booth straightened again, wincing as he jarred his wound.
Cullen eyed him with a baleful eye. "I wouldn't even be talking to you about this if it wasn't urgent."
"I understand that. I still want a piece of the bastard." He curled a hand into a fist. "What's the plan?" Noting the others' look at Brennan, he added, "You might as well tell us both. After all, she's my partner and very trustworthy."
She flashed him a grateful smile as the men looked at each other, then shrugged.
"On your head be it, then. We can fake your death. A slight delay for the funeral and he should have plenty of time to reveal himself, not to mention give you time to get back on your feet."
Booth grimaced; he hated that kind of undercover work. But it seemed it really was their best chance. And he would swear he had had this conversation before. Or something very similar. Oh, crap. It was pretty close to what he remembered, the first time around.
"At the moment, Agent Booth, only the people in this room and your doctor know your true condition," the other man said. "If you agree, the doctor will go out there and announce your death. There will be some publicity, of course. You are known for your work and your partnership with Dr. Brennan here, plus we want to flush him out. The more media reaction the better, in this situation."
"Right." Booth glanced at Bones briefly; her face was pale as the implications sank in. But she just looked at him, tilting her head slightly. Your decision.
Hell with it. Who knew what was real and what wasn't anymore? I guess the only thing I can do is act as though it is real for now. Until I figure the rest out. And Bones will be with me.
"I'll do it."
Unfortunately, between the way the show's been going and the spoilers I've seen, there seems to be the potential for something like this happening. Of course, I was sure Sweets was Gormogon's apprentice, so I'm no seer. If you've read blc's "Character Building," you might know she's come to this conclusion as well. I completely agree that the whole "it was just a dream" bit went out--or should have--with Dallas. I have no words for how disappointed (infuriated!) I'll be if it does turn out this way. Actually, if they do it this way, maybe Sweets would be the villain! Eh, not worth it.
However, the story nagged at me to write it and so I did.