With this one out of my head, I can work on updates to my other fics.

This one has a story behind it. If you want to know, ask.

Accepting Help

My partner of seven years and boyfriend of two months, Seeley Booth, is many things. Patient is at the top of the list, except when he's trying to regain his independence after an injury. We've gone through this every time he's been injured, whether we were together at the time or not. He gets tired of people waiting on him, and he just wants to be able to do things for himself. This time is no different. He has great difficulties accepting help if he feels that other people are going out of their way to do so, and especially if he feels that he is capable of doing something on his own.

Four days ago, I got a call telling me that he'd been rushed to the hospital because he'd been in an accident. I thought that meant the usual; maybe he'd been pursuing someone and hit something or someone hit him, but I'd never expected to show up to the hospital to find out that he'd been in a motorcycle accident. Someone had ran a stop sign and he had done everything he could to avoid taking a big hit from the vehicle. He ended up turning and skidding sideways so that the front of the bike hit the back side panel of the car and then skidded on the asphalt for a few yards before stopping. Booth had been tossed to the ground skidding underneath the bike for part of the way.

Since when did he even have a motorcycle? One thing's for damn sure, if I have anything to do with it, he isn't getting another one. Ever.

I'd been forced to wait in the family waiting room at the emergency room, where I'd once been told he was dead. I hadn't heard much of anything for a good two hours, and then finally someone came out to tell me how he was doing. They told me that he'd been wearing a helmet but the force of the impact had given him a slight concussion. The doctor also told me that he had a dislocated shoulder and a broken clavicle and that he had bruised ribs and no internal bleeding. I immediately asked for the scans and x-rays to check for myself. Even though I could tell it irritated him that someone was questioning his judgment, he showed them to me and I asked if I could sit in on the surgery to set his clavicle back into place. I also warned him of Booth's allergies to some anesthesia.

Once they had confirmation of who I really was, they actually offered to let me set his dislocated shoulder back into place before the surgery to insert the rod into his clavicle. I declined; I was still under a little bit of shock as to what had happened.

Since when did Booth have a motorcycle?

Booth spent a few days in the hospital afterward where the nurses got him anything he needed or wanted. He had all of the heated blankets he asked for, all the pudding he could stand, and all the people who loved him the most.

The routine of getting waited on hand-and-foot quickly got old, especially when the Demerol and Phenergan (Booth called them his feel-good-make-your-head-loopy pain medicines) started to wear off and the nurses gave him weaker medications to wean him off of the hard stuff. He would get so restless. There were times when I thought that he would just get up and walk out of the door and go home by himself. He couldn't stand being dependent on other people.

He especially hated that he couldn't just go get in the shower. He couldn't just go get dressed by himself. He couldn't just go to the bathroom on his own. He needed help with anything other than urinating. He was pissed, embarrassed, restless, and resentful towards those who tried to help him with the mundane tasks that he thought that he could do, if only they'd just let him try.

It's been several days since we've been home now. He let me stay with him, because he was willing to admit, to me at least, that there were somethings that he just could not do on his own. I did let him have more freedom than the hospital staff did, and he was grateful for those small things.

Those small victories gave him hope that he wouldn't be like this forever and that he'd be back to himself in no time.

And I think that's part of catalyst that set the events of this morning into motion.

He was asleep when I woke up this morning. I needed to go to the office to get a few things and then stop by my apartment for more clothes and to get some books from my library that I need for an article I'm writing. I got ready and then left him a note telling him that I would be back soon and to take it easy until I got back. I figured he would sleep most of the time I was gone; he was still on pain medication and I knew that was how the past few mornings had gone. He'd slept until almost noon each day. I didn't expect today to be any different.

I certainly wasn't expecting to come back to his apartment and walk into his room to find him standing there, naked and dripping water all over his hardwood floors, as he tried, unsuccessfully by the looks of it, to get a shirt over his head using his one good arm.

"Booth, what are you doing!"

"Getting dressed, a little help would be nice if you can take your eyes off of me for a few minutes," he said, slightly out of breath and voice tinged with pain.

I shook my head after realizing that I had been just standing there staring. I moved to gently help him pull the shirt over his head.

"Why are you all wet? Did you… Booth! Did you shower?"

"I tried. I got in but the water stung as it hit some of my scrapes and then I couldn't really wash much with just one hand, just important places I guess, so I rinsed off and got out. Then I couldn't dry off so well. I figured I could drip dry a little,"he tried to shrug but it came out as a wince and not much other movement.

I held out his boxers so he could step into them.

"So then you came in here dripping water all over your floor and tried to dress yourself too?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, simply. He gave me a kiss. "As much as I would normally like to lay myself out waiting naked for you in my bed, I was cold, so I tried to get dressed."

"Stop trying to distract me with thoughts of... that. What made you think showering was a good idea? By yourself, no less! Booth, you aren't supposed to get your bandages and your incision wet yet."

"I just felt dirty. Okay? I may be a man, but I like to be clean. And you know, I can do things. Alright? I can; I'm not crippled."

"I never implied that, but I also see many things that you aren't yet ready to be able to do. It'll take time. In the mean time, would it really be so bad to let me take care of you just a little longer? I could have given you a sponge bath; instead you risked infection or injuring yourself worse."

"I'm fine, Bones."

"I know. Just let me help. I'll continue to help you get your independence back. Just let me be there to help you for the big steps, like taking a shower and things like that."

He nodded. He was struggling to put a pair of socks on his cold feet, "Bones, I think I may need your help more than I thought I really did," he finally admitted, holding the socks up to show me that he actually needed help right then and that he wasn't just saying that. "Thanks for being here. Don't know what I would have done had you not come in here to rescue me from my shirt."

"I imagine you'd still be standing there naked and dripping everywhere with you head stuck halfway through an armhole."

"No, certainly, I'd be dry by now," he laughed.

It was good to see that he hadn't lost his sense of humor through all that had happened the past several days. Leave it to Booth to be able to make light of any situation, even if it was potentially very embarrassing for him.

I know he's tired of it, but he just needs to accept help just a little longer.

Let me know what you think.

XOXO,
CrayonClown