Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
I had a few fic ideas in my head and was rather conflicted as to which I should start on. Then I read the prompts from the Bonesology challenge. And this just clicked in my head. I had been intending to do a fic set in this timeframe soon-ish anyway. So here goes.
The prompt: What if Booth were badly injured while Brennan was on the run between Seasons 7 and 8?
Set after season 7, when Brennan was on the run with Christine and Max. This is obviously AU.
Booth hated desk duty. He was an action kind of man. He thrived as an FBI Agent in the field. But he understood why he wasn't one now. If he were in Flynn's shoes he would've done the same thing to. Brennan was on the run, a fugitive from the law. Wanted for the murder of Ethan Sawyer. There was no way Booth could continue being a field agent. Being stuck behind a desk did have its perks. It allowed him to continue his hunt for Pelant. The sooner her cleared his girlfriend's name, the sooner he could see the woman he loved and his daughter again.
So every day, at the stroke of five, Booth left the office. There was no longer a need for the long hours he used to put in as a field agent. It gave him the time he needed to focus on catching Pelant. He hated being in the house without her. Without Christine. The house that was once their home was now empty and silent. The sounds of Christine's giggles and cries was sorely missed. The sound of Brennan's voice chiding him for his unhealthy snacks and stripy socks that were not in the laundry hamper, her breathy moans when they made love in their bed were missed even more. Their house no longer felt like home.
It was just after five in the afternoon that day, when Booth drove out from the parking structure of the Hoover Building. It would be a familiar drive home, where a microwave dinner and a cold beer was waiting for him before he dove straight into the more important job at hand. Clearing her name. Booth was now an angry man, but an angry man with a clear goal in mind. He would stop at nothing, until Brennan was allowed to come home. He had however, to be mindful to be discreet. Flynn, like him, was exceptional at his job. Without discretion, he risked being found out.
As he drove, his thoughts wandered as they always did to Brennan and Christine. He wondered if they were well, or if Pelant had caught up with them. He knew Max was with them, and the thought offered him small comfort. Christine would have grown. A sharp pang stabbed at his heart as he wondered if his daughter even remembered him.
Peak hour traffic was starting to build and the lights ahead of his standard-issue FBI vehicle were still green. His foot pushed harder on the gas, wanting to pass the traffic crossing before the lights changed. Without warning, there was a sensation of his car being hit, as if a wrecking ball had come crashing into its side. And then he felt the car being lifted onto its side and he was falling. His mind registered a sharp pain and then everything went black.
…
Brennan had just fed Christine her lunch and was ready to put her baby daughter down for her nap. The tiny motel room stank of stale cigarettes. She was glad that they would be moving on to their next rendezvous point with Max that evening. A series of quick raps on the motel room door put her on high alert. The rapping was distinctively Max's but she knew she had to be cautious. There could only be one reason why Max had turned up one day early. Either Pelant had caught up to them or the law had.
Brennan pushed the curtains back, careful to ascertain that it was indeed her father at the door before opening it to allow him in.
"Dad is everything okay? Have we been found by the police?"
Max shook his head, his expression grim. He glanced at Christine who was dozing off on the bed.
"You need to look at this honey."
Max handed Brennan a newspaper that had been tucked under his arm. He unfolded it, pointing at the small article that he wanted her to read. She had thought that perhaps Angela had found a way to clear her name.
FBI Agent Critically Wounded in Peak Hour Pile Up
With trembling fingers, Brennan read the all too brief article. She dropped the newspaper to the carpeted floor, her eyes welling with tears.
"I'm sure he's going to be okay."
"He's in a coma Dad." Brennan brushed a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "I've seen accidents like this. And knowing Booth, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. The prognosis isn't good." She choked.
"Honey you don't know that. It just says he's in a coma."
"He's likely suffered a fractured skull. Numerous fractures to his ribs, clavicle, maybe even his tibia or femur. He must have suffered severe internal haemorrhaging as well. He – "
Brennan sat down on the bed, defeated. "He could die."
"He won't. Because he's waiting for you and Christine to come home."
Brennan shook her head. The thought of losing Booth overwhelmed her with grief and the tears fell freely. "He's all alone, in the intensive care unit."
She remembered when Booth had gone for his brain surgery and she sat by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up. They weren't together then, but now they were. What kind of partner was she? She couldn't let him die without knowing. She loved him and she had ran with their daughter, depriving him of a chance to watch his daughter grow up. She didn't know if he was angry with her for running without telling him. She didn't know if he blamed her for taking Christine away from him. She didn't know if he still believed that she loved him and missed him terribly. She couldn't let him die alone, without knowing. She stopped her tears. She knew how to make it right. She stood up, looking at Max with renewed determination.
"Tempe, don't do it."
"I have to."
"The newspaper already mentioned that Booth's girlfriend is a fugitive, wanted for murder. The FBI are going to be staking out his hospital room."
"I don't care Dad. I have to see him."
"He has friends. Good friends of yours."
"But they're not me. Booth needs to know that I'm there for him. I can't abandon him when he needs me the most. I love him Dad."
"They'll catch you and put you in jail. Booth and Christine will never see you outside prison walls ever again. You know what it's like. I was there."
"I can't think of that now. I don't want to have any regrets. I won't be able to live with myself if Booth dies. Please Dad."
Max sighed. She was right. The guilt would kill her. "Okay. I was hoping I could convince you not to go but if I couldn't, I have a plan."
…
Two days later, and two days too late in Brennan's opinion, she strode confidently into the entrance of George Washington University Hospital. When she read the newspaper article, she had been somewhat relived that Booth had been sent straight to a hospital with a Level I trauma center. She knew his chances of survival had been increased just by being there.
She rode the elevator to the Intensive Care Unit, her blonde hair, tied neatly into a ponytail. The fake scar on her brow itched but she was conscious not to scratch it. The fake nose her father had helped her fashion on felt heavy but they were small inconveniences to bear. All she wanted was to see Booth. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, anxious and yet excited to see him again. She entered the Intensive Care Unit and headed for the nurse's station.
"I'm looking for Head Nurse Whitley?" The fake nose made her voice sound a little nasal but she could just tell everyone she suffered from allergic rhinitis.
Brennan was pointed towards a silver-haired lady in nursing scrubs. When she saw Brennan approach, she quickly ushered them to the break room, locking the door behind them, making sure they were alone.
"Tempe?"
"You must be Mildred."
"Millie. My how you've grown. You're a beautiful woman now. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby in Max's arms."
"Thank you for doing this for me." Brennan knew the seriousness of the consequences should Millie be caught.
Millie shook her head. "Max and Christine used to be my neighbors. My husband… he used to drink. He was abusive. He almost killed me once, if not for Max. I owe my life to him. Besides, Max is confident your good name would be cleared soon. I moved, once the divorce went through. It's fortunate Max found out I'm Head Nurse here now."
Millie handed Brennan a set of scrubs and a name tag complete with photo ID. "Your friend Angela is very good. This ID looks just like what the hospital issues. It even gives you access through all the doors and corridors in this building. Handy, if ever your cover is blown."
She pointed to an empty locker. "This is yours. Get changed and I'll take you to see your boyfriend."
Brennan moved to hug Millie. "I'm really grateful for you doing this."
A few minutes later, dressed in hospital issue scrubs complete with the fake ID from Angela, Brennan walked slowly behind Millie towards Booth's room. She saw the FBI Agent posted at his door and her heart beat wildly again. She took controlled breaths to hide her nervousness.
Mille nodded at the Agent, introducing Brennan. "This is Rachel. She's been transferred here from Oncology. One of my nurses got into a motorcycle accident. She's going to be out for a month or two. I wouldn't have dreamed of riding a motorcycle when I was that age." Millie laughed.
The Agent smiled politely back. He barely glanced at Brennan as Millie sild the glass door open and entered the room with Brennan. She quickly slid the door close and drew the curtains, preventing anyone on the outside from looking in.
Brennan could barely hold back her tears as she stepped towards the hospital bed and saw Booth again for the first time in two months.
Ok anyone thinking what a dumb FBI Agent for not recognizing Brennan… yeah let's leave it at that. Suspend some disbelief for this fic guys okay? It's gonna be pretty AU but I'm gonna try not to make anyone too OOC.