Booth's hands hurt. He'd never felt this before. Sad movies never made him cry, and whenever a personal issue came up, he was always the one comforting Brennan. Now he was the one that needed comforting. And the only person who could help had caused this pain.
He held his head between his hands, looking down at the floor and flopping onto the couch. He replayed every word in his mind, interpreting them every way he could imagine. Eventually, he let everything go black, and he laid on the couch.
Brennan was driving home in the rain that seemed to mirror her mood. It streaked across her windows, blurring the road ahead. She sucked in ragged breaths, trying to get ahold of herself. Consequently, she paid little attention as the the road flashed by. Spurring her car forward as the light changed to yellow, she made a close call and hydroplaned through the intersection.
Brennan was shaken as she turned to look back. She breathed deeply to calm herself, her hands shaking. Then she heard a car horn.
The oncoming SUV smashed into her right side door, sliding her car to the side. Brennan's head knocked against her window, and her eyes closed, unconscious.
Ring. Booth's cell phone rang. Booth groggily removed himself from the couch and went to answer his cell phone. It was four a.m. Not bothering to check the caller i.d., he answered, "Bones?"
"Mr. Booth? This is Officer Christine Jensen. We believe you know the person we've just picked up from a car accident. Your number was in her emergency contacts in her cell phone."
"Dr. Temperance Brennan?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir. What is your relationship with her?"
"I'm an FBI agent. She's my partner. Where are you taking her?"
"Memorial Hospital."
"I'm on my way."