The layout of Washington General's Intensive Care Unit was one which both Booth and Brennan were well acquainted with. A large nurses' station in the center, with rooms radiating out from it like spokes on a wheel. The rooms were more akin to cubicles, with glass from the waist up so that the staff could more easily keep tabs on the patients. If privacy was needed for bathing or procedures, a curtain could be drawn over the windows; otherwise, they were kept open at all times.
The couple had seen it all before, but no amount of familiarity with the unit's arrangement could prepare either one of them for what was waiting on the other side of the door with the name 'Booth' drawn in bold, black letters on the board hanging from it.
Hank looked terrible.
Worse than terrible, in fact; heart-achingly bad. Even to someone who didn't hadn't known him as the solid, plucky octogenarian that he'd been before this recent illness took it all away.
He was propped up on a bed at a slight angle with the fought-over breathing tube protruding out of his mouth grotesquely, snaking its way from there to the machine that was now regularly feeding air into Pops' lungs. The much-maligned device made a soft, humming, almost sinister sound as it went about providing its life-saving service.
Booth was utterly devastated by the sight, and his face immediately registered his anguish. Even Brennan, who was certain she could handle just about anything after all the things she'd experienced in her life, was completely taken aback, unprepared for the emotional impact of seeing a man she had so much affection and respect for so altered.
The former M.P. appeared tiny and inconspicuous despite the exaggerated heaving of his chest, lost as he was amid all the equipment, the IVs and the cables. His eyes, only half open, were glazed over with a whitish film.
Exactly, Brennan thought, like the eyes of a dead man.
Brennan heard her partner swallow hard right before he took a step forward and approached the bed.
"Pops" he whispered uncertainly, reminding Brennan of how her husband often reverted to being the affection-starved child from long-ago whenever he was in his grandfather's presence.
"It's me, Seeley."
There wasn't even a sliver of understanding in Hank's eyes, and Booth closed his own tight, trying to hold back tears as he leaned into the bed's railings with his head bent down.
To see his grandfather this way, so helpless; to know he was in large part to blame for what Pops was going through...
The agent shook his head in denial, overcome by a tidal wave of regret. And worst was the vague but persistent feeling that even with all this, things would probably not turn out the way he wanted them to.
Brennan couldn't help but grieve for both grandfather and grandson. Hank wouldn't live much longer no matter what; he was already approaching his nineties. But for Booth to have to see him in this condition, Booth, who had done nothing but try to make Pops' life easier for as long as she'd known him, just didn't seem fair.
As she silently took in the painful tableau, a well-muscled, short, dark-skinned black man in dark blue scrubs walked into the room and excused himself.
"You must be Mr. Booth's relatives" he said in a strong west-African accent, looking from Booth to Brennan. "Hi, my name is Daniel Oyoruma. Dan for short. I'll be Mr. Booth's overnight nurse. I usually work the night shifts here at the ICU."
The man gently rearranged Hank's pillow and turned his attention to the ventilator's screen.
"Hi" Booth replied, not paying much attention to the newcomer.
He took another look at Pops, scrutinizing him much more critically now that he had managed to get a better hold on his feelings. "Yeah, I'm his grandson, Seeley Booth," he said with more confidence. "And this is my wife, Temperance Brennan. Can I ask you a question?"
"Anything-I'm here to help."
"Why does he look like that-all red and sweaty? Is that normal?"
Brennan knew the answer, but she let the RN deliver the information.
"Mr. Booth just had an albuterol treatment. It's a bronchodilator-it opens up the airways. Flushing and shaking are the most common side effects-they won't last long. The drug can make it hard to sleep, but your grandfather has some narcotics left over in his system from when they intubated him, so I think he'll sleep just fine tonight."
The man's gentle yet professional demeanor impressed Brennan, and she hoped it would make it easier for Booth to leave his grandfather behind this evening.
"You guys check up on him pretty often? 'Cause he's in really bad shape."
"All the time," Dan replied, flashing a warm, brilliant smile. His white teeth contrasted sharply with the dark hue of his skin. "And me, I treat these patients like they're my own family, especially the older ones. Don't worry Mr. Booth, I'll take very good care of your grandpa. You see all these wires and monitors?" he asked, taking a look around the crowded room. "The nurses keep track of everything that's going on with every patient over at the main station. You can go home tonight knowing we're going to do everything we can to keep him stable and comfortable. He's in good hands here, I promise."
"How long can we remain with him?" Brennan asked. "I know visiting hours are over."
Booth gave her a long look, and she knew he wasn't happy about her bringing that particular subject up. Still, Hank needed to rest and the hospital's protocol had to be followed in order for the place to be able to run as it should; as a scientist, she innately accepted that cardinal rule, no matter how inconvenient it was at the moment.
"Tell you what, I'll give you ten more minutes because I know you just got here, but let me close the curtain. If the head nurse sees you, she'll kick you out right away. But me, I understand. It's your grandpa."
Dan's promise was as good as gold; he drew the curtains and slipped away quietly, shutting the door behind him to give the family a moment alone.
Booth sat down next to Hank and gingerly held his hand, the one without the IV on it.
"I'm sorry about all this, Pops," he told him quietly. "But you're gonna get better; I know you will. Just hold on through the night-you can do it. Remember the kids."
He bowed his head down, and Brennan guessed from the way he was silently moving his lips that he was praying.
There was no reaction from Hank, and a part of her was grateful; it would have been infinitely harder on Booth if he could see any hint of suffering in his grandfather's eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Dan's head appeared in the doorway.
"It's time. They're checking all the rooms, and Gina-that's the head nurse-really sticks to the schedule. We call her the dragon lady, but don't tell her I said that" he said with a grin, and Brennan finally saw Booth smile. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Booth answered softly. "I think he really needs his sleep. You keep your eye on him-please?"
"You got my word on that, my friend" Dan replied, pointing a finger at Booth. "I'll be here tomorrow night too; I'm sure your grandpa will be much better by then-you'll see."
Booth nodded, and after kissing Pops' forehead and repeating that he'd be back first thing in the morning, he headed out with Brennan into the muggy night.