A/N: How can we thank you for the wonderful reviews you sent us? With a new, long chapter, maybe? What? You'd like some fluff? Yeah, I know we promised that earlier. Well, this chapter is angsty AND fluffy. Besides, someone –she knows who she is- will note that we took her advice into consideration, in this chapter particularly. Hoping she'll be satisfied with it! Also special thanks to mumrulz for her wonderful reviews. We love it when you tell us your favourite lines. Good reading!

Chapter 3 – Nasty patients

"Sir, please!" the nurse exclaimed in despair. Before her was lying the most difficult patient she'd had that day; he was on his back, refusing to let her help him roll over onto his stomach.

"I told you: I'll be a good patient once I know that my partner is safe. I need to see her, okay? You tell me where she is and how she's doing; I let you do your job. I'll even try to co-operate. You don't, I make life impossible for you. When will I be able to see her?" he stubbornly repeated what he had been asking since they had arrived at the hospital.

The nurse sighed and turned her gaze to the ceiling, as if hoping to find a solution there.

"Look, you don't know what she's just been through. She's my partner, all right? Do you know what that means? We're partners."

That was the last drop and the nurse murmured something in an angry tone before stalking away from her nasty patient.

Darkness, all was dark. Sometimes, the sound of little rat-feet tapping the concrete floor or simply a draught cut the silence like a knife, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Not because rats scared her or she imagined the draught to be a phantom, but because they hit her senses like an explosion. She tended to pick up on every little sound, was able to see the dimmest of lights but could feel almost nothing.

"Hello?" she called into the darkness that hung around her like thick mist, and cringed at the sound of her own voice. Her mind told her to stop screaming, that it's of no use, but her body wouldn't surrender and try to save some energy. She didn't know since when she couldn't even control her own body anymore, but guessed it was a natural reaction to scream for help, to try anything at any cost, when you found yourself a madman's captive and you knew bad things were bound to happen.

Then, footsteps. The vibrations of their sounds spread through the building like explosions and once again her heart hammered in her chest. Her senses were confused and she squinted as the door opened and a beam of light settled upon her form, sitting against the cold wall in the dark. The light burnt her eyes so she turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out the painful beam of fierceness that assaulted her vision.

More explosions as he approached her, the hotness of his breath upon her ear as he hissed, "I suggest you keep your mouth shut from now on. I gave you a warning yesterday and just because you're pretty doesn't mean I won't rough up your face a bit."

"Can I have some water?" she whispered after a few seconds in which he sighed in her neck and nuzzled it with his nose, causing her to move away. His hand came out of nowhere and slapped her hard across the face.

"Bitch, don't for a second think you're in the position to ask for things. And don't turn away from me when I touch you; it might cost you your life. Now that would upset good Agent Booth, wouldn't it? They're all searching frantically for you, you know. And that artist, your best friend, am I right? She's been crying a lot since you went missing…"

The smell of his hand was still on her cheek and upon his words tears sprang to her eyes. The people who mattered most to her were hurting, and it was because of her. She should never have let them care about her. Now she realised there was more than one advantage of keeping people at arm's length. Indeed, they wouldn't be able to leave their mark on her heart when they would eventually leave or betray her, but neither would she be able to scar theirs. Even though her rational side told her this wasn't her fault, she was consumed by guilt.

She felt the light of his flashlight trained upon her face again and he smoothed some hair out of her face. Now she didn't dare turn away her head, not even when his hand travelled from her cheek down her throat to her collar bone, where it rested a moment before sliding down to the swell of her breast, where she felt his fingers probing her soft flesh while she did her best to dissociate herself from the situation…

"Hold this," he whispered and pushed something in her lap. Paper. A newspaper, judging from the sound of the creaking. Slowly, she opened her eyes and tried to get a glimpse of her captor. Unfortunately his face was covered. With what, she couldn't make out, for he'd noticed her looking and slapped her hard across the cheek, again. As she gasped in pain he quickly pulled something over her eyes and fastened it on the back of her head, bringing back the darkness to her. Finally his body removed itself from near hers and his footsteps weren't as loud to her ears anymore as he crossed the room and switched on a light, illuminating her surroundings though she couldn't distinguish anything because of the blindfold.

"Picture time, baby," he whispered, and she realised he knew what he was doing. Hiding his face, keeping her in the dark and not only locking up but restraining as well, whispering so she would never recognise his voice, taking pictures of her with what was probably that day's newspaper so he could prove she was still alive yet making it clear he was capable of hurting her, that he would show no compassion…

Quickly, she sat up straight and shook her head so her hair would fall over the spot where he'd hit her, trying to hide the mark he had certainly left as to not worry her friends even more.

"Nice try." Footsteps approaching again, then a hand grabbing her hair and jerking it from her cheek. "If I didn't know better I'd be starting to think that you actually enjoy this," he hissed and now his fist made contact with her cheek, setting her skin on fire and making it feel as though her very bone was throbbing. Why did men always have to hit a woman in the face, where it hurt most?

"Now sit still," he threatened and a few footsteps later she heard the click of a camera. "There, good girl."

She waited until he'd taken off the blindfold and left before bursting out in sobs, shaking with fear, and guilt, and cold. She was so cold… if only someone would wrap their arms around her… so cold… so alone…

"Miss? Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

The fog in her head slowly cleared as she came to and she blinked her eyes a few times before becoming aware of her surroundings. She moistened her chapped lips and squinted in the bright lights of the room.

"Where… Booth…" she said in a hoarse voice. Her throat and mouth were still dry and she shivered, then realised she was actually warm.

"Would you like some water?"

She shifted her gaze to the person to whom the voice belonged and she saw a man in a white coat standing beside her bed. He smiled reassuringly at her. Unable to force herself to speak again, she nodded her head. First she needed water, then the words wouldn't scrape the tender tissue of her throat anymore and she would be able to ask about Booth. She really needed to be with him now. She needed to know how he was doing. She longed for the sound of his voice and his comforting touch; she wanted to feel the warmth radiating off his body; she wished for him to make her feel safe. She wanted to be spoken to softly instead of being hissed at; wanted to be cared for instead of chained and treated like an animal. She wanted to feel like herself again, like a human being.

Sitting back in the pillows, she slowly lifted her arm to reach for the plastic cup which contained the clear liquid she craved more than anything at that moment. As she brought the cup to her lips, she noticed the extra weight on her hand. It was an IV. She drank and let the water soothe her dried-out tissue while the doctor explained her current situation.

"We're giving you fluids and essential nutrients intravenously; the body is provided with water much more quickly this way than through oral solutions." He paused as the patient didn't even seem to hear him, emptying the cup with closed eyes.

"Yeah, I know. I'm a doctor, too," she said weakly when she was finished. "And thank you," she added. "That was the best water I've ever drunk."

"You're welcome. The man they found you with told us your name is Temperance Brennan. Doctor Temperance Brennan, then. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Where is he? How is he doing?"

"We'll get to that later. First I need to ask you about something. Mi… Doctor Brennan, the paramedics noted the marks on your wrists and ankles, in addition to other severe bruising. I was hoping you could tell me how that happened," the doctor inquired with a serious voice.

"I need to know how my partner's doing," she ignored his prying gaze.

"Did he do this to you?"

She shot him a deadly glare.

"Of course not. He'd never do something like that. He's my partner. He'd never hurt me deliberately."

"Maybe he hurt you accidentally," the doctor suggested, continuing his interrogation.

She swallowed.

"Can I have more water?"

He complied with her request without uttering a word and waited patiently until she'd emptied the cup before beginning again.

"You were abused. By whom? We can help you."

His sympathetic tone only caused her to frown angrily at him.

"I can't give you that information. It's classified. How's Booth? Is he in this hospital, too?"

"I'll take you to him if you tell me –honestly- if he is the one who hurt you."

"It wasn't him," she said as loudly and firmly as she could. "He's the best and nicest partner I could wish for. Will that suffice?"

"All right, miss Brennan-"

"Doctor Brennan," she corrected him pointedly.

"Doctor Brennan. Just press the button when this-" he pointed to the liquid dripping into the IV, "is empty and I'll have one of the nurses escort you to your partner."

Right at that moment, a nurse came into the room, curtly requesting the doctor to talk outside for a second. Brennan's eyes followed the liquid on its way into the needle in her hand and sighed. She needed to know how Booth was, damn it, and these drops were only prolonging their separation. Suddenly the room seemed so quiet and empty, the white walls and furniture turning their backs on her, and she felt desperately alone again, like she had in the past two weeks. She lay back in the pillows and closed her eyes, trying not to feel cold under the thick blankets as she felt the energy come back to her, slowly but steadily. Then she heard footsteps approaching and her eyes shot open. Annoyed with her own jumpiness, the second her eyes opened she realised that as she was in a hospital, the killer couldn't possibly be approaching her door. Though much time to think about this she didn't get, for the doctor emerged from the hall and walked back over to her bed.

"Looks like your partner is even less co-operative than you, doctor Brennan. Do you think you can get to your feet and sit in the wheelchair?"

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled relieved.

"Yes."

Three minutes later, Brennan's eyes finally met with the lying form of her partner, his upper body unclothed, his eyes closed and his forehead creased. He was obviously in pain. She waited a moment before lightly placing her hand on his and his eyes shot open immediately.

"Bones," he concluded relieved.

"Hi Booth," she replied with a smile. "You know, it's not very beneficial to your health if you keep giving the nurses trouble."

"I needed to know how you were."

"And I needed to know about you, too; but at least I drank water. You want to heal fast, don't you? And so do I, that's why you have to do as you're told. You're of no use to either one of us if you continue to refuse treatment."

"Yes, grandma," he attempted at a joke, obviously relieved to hear that she was feeling better enough to regain her bossy tone.

"Just do whatever they ask from you," she said with a concerned smile but a strict look.

"Will you stay?"

"I will. Promise." She would anyway, whether he asked her to or not. She had absolutely no desire to go back to her room. With him she felt protected, with him she forgot what she had gone through. He was the one who had taken her out of this; he was the one who saved her. Whether she needed to be saved or not.

He looked at the IV in her hand.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. One down, one to go I guess."

At that, the nurse approached the bed again in a desperate attempt to get her patient to do what she wanted. This time, Booth didn't protest as she helped him roll over onto his stomach. She then paged the doctor and she emerged five minutes later. In those five minutes Brennan had inspected the bump on his back as precisely as possible. She was glad he couldn't see it for himself; it looked quite nasty. It pained her to know he was going through this mainly because of her. Booth confirmed he still couldn't feel anything in his legs and this worried Brennan intensely, but she tried not to let that on. He needed her to be strong and reassuring for him now.

The female doctor, an attractive African-American woman with delicate bone-structure introduced herself as Sarah James, and her accent gave away her British descent. She inspected the bump on Booth's back with her fingers, mentally marked the line from where he couldn't feel anything and then sighed, peeling off her gloves.

"You're going to order an MRI-scan, I assume," Brennan said.

Sarah James looked at her and arched her eyebrows.

"M.D.?"

"Ph.D."

The doctor smiled appreciatively.

"Me too. Both actually. And I'm afraid we do need that scan. But first I need to know how this happened."

Brennan had come to like the woman a lot more from the moment she had found that they were on the same level, academically speaking at least.

"He was hit in the back with what I presume was a lead pipe, using great force," she offered.

"Oh… all right," was all doctor James said, unwilling to get into her patient's business. "In that case I'm going to mark him as an emergency at the MRI-department."

Brennan tried to hide her worry with a small smile and enveloped Booth's hand in her own, squeezing it slightly to show her support. Yet, Booth seemed to read nothing but guilt in her eyes.

"Not your fault, Bones, okay?" he mumbled but all the colour was drained from his face upon the doctor's words and concerned tone.

Their hands were still entangled when the nurse came back, and when she took him away, they did not let go until the very last moment, when their fingers couldn't touch anymore.

Brennan was lying curled up on her bed, her eyes wide open, staring hazily at the window, lost in dark thoughts. She had gone back to her room reluctantly after Booth had been taken to the scan. Being a scientist and a doctor herself, she knew that patience was part of the job, and she was aware that it would take a certain amount of time before they would get the results. But at this moment, waiting felt quite simply unbearable.

When their gazes had met for the last time, she had seen this look in his eyes that had caused her stomach to contract. And since then, the lead weight in her belly had but increased.

What if Booth couldn't walk anymore? What if he couldn't do his job anymore? She knew how important catching murderers was to him, that he considered this his redemption after the lives he had taken in his past as a sniper.

What if… What if they could never work together again?

She let out a smothered cry when she suddenly felt arms wrapping around her, a damp cheek moistening hers.

"Oh sweetie, I've be so… I've been so… I thought we'd never…" Angela took a deep breath and managed to pull herself together. "I came as soon as I could. Oh my God, what has he done to you?"

Brennan sat up straight in the bed to face her friend. "He held me in a…" she began, before understanding that it had to be a rhetorical question. "I'm okay, Ange. I'm going to be okay."

She managed to stretch her lips in a reassuring smile. The tone of her voice, however, didn't reassure the artist who continued to inspect each part of her body.

"Where's Booth? I thought he would stay with you, but I don't see him anywhere."

There was a heavy silence before Brennan answered the question. "Booth has been hurt."

"What? I can't believe it; nobody told us! What happened? Is it serious?"

Brennan lowered her gaze, trying to hide the tears that were filling her eyes. "We don't know yet. He's having a scan."

"What happened?" Angela repeated with apprehension in her voice.

"He was struck. In the back. It's my fault, I should… I should have warned him in time," she answered, raising her gaze and shaking her head.

"Brennan, listen. I don't know exactly what happened there, but I'm sure that nothing of it is your fault. You've been held in some hellhole for almost two weeks during which you were beaten and you barely ate or drank; how the hell can you blame yourself?"

"Miss Brennan?" a voice said behind them.

"It's 'Doctor'," she mumbled, turning her head to face the nurse.

"Excuse me, Doctor Brennan, Doctor James told me to inform you that your partner is back in his room."

The annoyed tone immediately fell from her voice. "Thank you."

"Look, sweetie, I think I'd better go now. I promised the others that I'd come back quickly and give them some news about you… and Booth." She forced a smile. "And you know what? He needs you by his side."

Angela placed a soft kiss on her friend's forehead. "I'll come back if you need me." As Angela walked out, she whispered something in her ear.

Brennan saw her smiling to the nurse before she left. The woman moved the wheelchair to the bed, a kind look stretched across her face, but her patient shook her head as she got to her feet.

"I can walk."

The nurse said nothing, for she knew it was useless, and led her to Booth's room. As they were walking down the corridor, Brennan quickly regretted having refused the wheelchair. Her legs were still shaking and her head spun slightly, yet she would never have shown it, even less would she allow herself to accept the nurse's arm for support.

But when she reached Booth's room, after a trip that had seemed to last hours, she all but let herself collapse onto the bed.

"When will we have the results of the scan?"

"The doctor said that it might take several hours."

There was just enough space for her to lie beside him.

"I'll wait with you," she said, resting her cheek on the pillow next to his.

They exchanged looks before she closed her eyes, obviously exhausted. And soon, he heard her breathing steady, her features showing a peaceful, almost fragile look that he rarely had the occasion to observe on her. He noticed that her hair had been washed and untangled, for it had regained its usual shiny auburn colour. He gently moved his hand to her and brushed his fingers against her silky hair.

"What are you people doing?" a masculine voice said in an offended tone.

Brennan woke up with a start to the sound of the loud voice and rubbed her eyes. "We're waiting for my partner's scan results," she retorted with a sleepy, yet firm voice.

"Mi… Doctor Brennan, it's time for your meds, so I'd appreciate it if you came back to your room."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, turning her back to the man and shifting to her former position.

"Maybe I can settle this," she heard Doctor James' voice say.

Booth watched the doctors speaking in low voices in the corridor as Brennan snuggled up into a more comfortable position.

She sighed. "It's not fair, your doctor is nicer than mine," she complained playfully.

"Yeah, and far more attractive, too," he retorted teasingly.

Her eyes shot open, and the gaze she threw him caused him to immediately regret his words.

"I uh… That's not what I meant." You stupid…

She gave him a half-smile before closing her eyes again. "Shut up and let me sleep."

He took off the bandage, carefully. He had been obliged to extract the bullet himself. It wasn't the first time that he had got shot. But this time, he couldn't allow himself to go to the hospital. On the other side, he couldn't allow himself to limp either. His job was far from finished. His boss wouldn't be happy. He'd be really upset. He dreaded this conversation, and that's why he waited for the very last moment to initiate it.

The bandage was saturated with dried blood. The wound wasn't a pretty sight. Yet, he had taken every necessary precaution: disinfected instruments, sterile gauze. He winced when he cleaned the injury. God, it hurt like hell. He'd make her pay for this. Despite the enquiries he had made about her which had told him that it would be everything but easy, he had underestimated her.

He wrapped a clean bandage around his leg and taped it securely. She won the second round, but the game wasn't over. No, his job wasn't finished. It had barely begun.

A/N: Was that enough fluff? Of course, it's never fluffy enough, is it? We promise you a funnier AND fluffier chapter 4. And we promise you that it will be available next Sunday. Yeah, we know it's quite a long time to wait, but the holidays are over and we want to be sure we'll be able to update regularly even if we are forced to stop writing for a while... See you soon, and please keep telling us what you think about our story!

Catherine & Magali