DRINKING BUDDIES

Chapter 4: Bones is in Trouble

Booth felt like he'd been punched in the gut. If it was anybody but Angela, he'd have accused the person of lying. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he jumped to his feet and paced the small hospital room. Angela looked miserable; she was well aware that her words had changed everything for her best friend. But Temperance Brennan needed help and this was the only way to get it for her.

"How?" Booth finally managed to gasp.

"She snapped, Booth. The guys were joking about her job. Our jobs. The general public really doesn't get what we do; you know that, Booth. Brennan had drunk five or six shots of bourbon by then and she was really out of it. Her date made a very crass comment about working with the dead, and Tempe just reached across the bar and grabbed him by the neck. She threw him against the bar. That's when his goon friend decided to step in and defend him. She threw her shot glass at the other guy, missed, and broke the mirror behind the bar. Then all hell broke loose. One of the guys grabbed a knife from behind the bar and swiped Brennan with it. He hit her in the leg and then cut her face. She just went crazy. I thought she was going to kill him. You know Brennan could have killed him, Booth. She can be deadly. I tried to stop her but she got hold of the knife and that's when she stabbed me. But Booth, I don't think she had any idea what she was doing by then. The bartender stepped in to help me and she looked at her hands like they were somebody else's and dropped the knife. The last thing I remember is seeing her run out of the bar. I don't remember anyone trying to stop her, but then again I don't remember much of anything after that. This is all my fault. I just wanted her to loosen up and have a little fun, that's all. She's been so moody lately. I forgot that she really isn't like other people."

Booth, in shock, was still as a statue. Hodgins held Angela's hand and rubbed her back; she was crying by now.

"I'd better get back to her place. Sweets took her home. This means I have to arrest her, don't I?" He asked, horrified.

"You're FBI," Jack said. "This is hardly the FBI's jurisdiction."

"Please, Booth. Can't we keep this quiet, and take care of it ourselves? Can't you talk to her? You and Sweets could get her into some kind of treatment," Angela begged. "Hey, I'll even go with her. This has been a wake-up call for me, too."

"The police are probably already looking for her. The bartender at George's knows all of us and I'm betting he's already reported her by name. I don't want some random cop slapping her in handcuffs and dragging her away. It needs to be me. If I take her in, I can prepare her for what's going to happen. She's going to need a friend."

"More than a friend, Booth. She's going to need you." Angela said shakily.

Booth went back over to Angela and leaned down to give her a careful hug. "I'll call you guys as soon as I have any news," he promised.

"Love you," Angela said quietly.

"You too, Ange. Don't worry. Just get better. I'll be in touch, okay?"

Dr. Lance Sweets caught up with Temperance Brennan just as she was shrugging into her jacket in the ER hallway.

"Dr. Brennan, are you okay?" Sweets asked, coming up beside her and helping her put her other arm into the armhole.

"I just want to go home," she muttered thickly. "My head hurts." Butterfly bandages held the wound on her cheek together. A bruise was beginning to show its colors around the swollen edges.

"Let me drive you home," Sweets offered. Grasping her elbow, relieved when she didn't resist his help, he ushered her out through the ER's sliding doors into the rain.

"Thanks, Sweets."

"I'm parked right over there," he pointed at his red mustang in the Chief Resident's parking spot.

"You're illegally parked," Brennan was helpful enough to point out. Sweets smirked, helped her into the passenger side and fastened her seatbelt for her, once again surprised by her utter passivity as she allowed him to tuck her in and shut the door. Sliding in behind the wheel, he turned on the heat and the defroster full blast. Bones, dressed in damp jeans and a thin T-shirt streaked with rain, was already shivering.

"Booth told me you don't remember much about the events of last night," Sweets commented as he pulled onto the highway.

"You saw Booth? Where?"

"I ran into him in the hospital."

"He's angry with me," Brennan said calmly, as if she was reciting the weather report.

"He'll get over it," Sweets assured her. "So can you tell me what happened?"

"I remember a few things." Her lip jutted out in her "I don't need your soft science psychiatry" pose.

"He also said you've had other episodes of alcohol-induced amnesia," Sweets continued calmly, disregarding her attitude. He knew her well enough to know they would eventually progress beyond it.

"I didn't actually say that."

"Knowing Booth, you didn't have to. He read between the lines."

"Yeah," she acknowledged wryly. "He's good at that." Brennan closed her eyes and slumped into her seat.

"So you've been drinking a lot, so much that you have had multiple blackouts? A blackout being when you don't actually black out, but you can't remember events that happen while you're under the influence." Sweets turned his car slowly and carefully into Bones' parking garage, trying not to upset her more than necessary. She looked nauseous.

"I don't know." She sounded belligerent, something Sweets had dealt with many times in their sessions together.

"Dr. Brennan," he urged softly, putting the Mustang into park and turning off the engine. He turned to face her.

"Okay, yes, I don't remember several other nights out with Angela. But I've always drunk responsibly before this, Sweets. I don't know why I'm doing this. Tell me why I'm doing this," she demanded brokenly.

"Dr. Brennan, I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but it's going to be okay. A lot of people love you and are here for you. I know you don't believe that, but it's true. We'll talk about what happened, about what's going on in your life that could be causing you to behave differently than you have in the past, and we'll figure it out. Come on; let's go inside."

Sweets' cell phone rang before he could open his door. Glancing apologetically at Brennan, he answered.

"Dr. Sweets."

"Uh huh. Yes. What? They are? I see. Where? Okay. Yeah, no problem. I'll meet you there." Hanging up, Sweets refastened his seatbelt, put the key into the ignition and re-started the car.

"What are you doing?" She followed his lead and snapped her seatbelt into place also, but she looked confused.

"That was Booth. There's been a change of plan; we're meeting at his place."

"Why?"

"He says he'll tell us when we get there. Hey, you know Booth; I'm confident there's a good reason."

"You're right. Okay. I was really looking forward to a long hot bath, though."

"Booth's got a tub," Sweets reminded her. "Are you feeling okay, Dr. Brennan?"

"I'm a bit nauseous," she replied, leaning back against the headrest and closing her eyes.

"Hang on; we'll be there in just a few minutes and then you can lie down."

He backed out of the parking spot and drove slowly to the exit. As he pulled the Mustang onto the street, two police cars with lights and sirens blaring pulled into the entrance driving past them. Checking to make sure he wouldn't drive into the path of any other emergency vehicles, Sweets cautiously continued down the road to Booth's neighborhood.

Booth met them in the parking lot behind his building. As soon as Sweets pulled in, Booth was at the passenger side door helping Brennan out. Looking around, he hurried them inside and up the stairs to his apartment. His actions were secretive and agitated.

"Stay awake a little longer, Bones," Booth said as he unlocked the door and ushered them inside. The lights were all on and the coffeepot was in its last few gurgles, having churned out a fragrant pot of fresh coffee.

"I can't drink that," Brennan announced, waving a hand in the direction of the coffee and collapsing into an armchair.

"Water first," Booth told her, handing her a glass of ice water.

"What's going on?" Sweets asked.

"What's going on is Bones has a mother of a hangover and she needs to sleep it off," Booth answered evasively, giving Sweets a loaded glance. Sweets looked confused for a moment, but when he realized that Booth didn't want to talk in front of Brennan, his mouth formed a silent "O".

"Do you mind?" Sweets asked, pointing into the kitchen at the coffeepot.

"Help yourself."

"I don't feel that bad now," Bones said to Booth. But she still looked pale and woozy. Booth pulled her to her feet and walked with her into his bedroom. Inside, he closed the door behind them. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her into a hug, worried about what tomorrow would bring. One thing he was sure of; things were going to get worse for Bones before they got better.

"Booth, are you mad at me? I know you are; I know you're mad at me."

He chuckled. "I'm hugging you and you want to know if I'm mad at you? Wow, you really are terrible at social interactions."

"Yes; I know that. But you were mad at me earlier, back in the ER. And I can tell something's really wrong. And I'm pretty sure it's my fault, whatever it is. I don't know myself any more; I feel so lost."

His arms tightened and he rubbed his cheek on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry. I guess I did get angry, but I'm over it, I promise. I just want to help you, Bones. I'm not mad at you, not at all. I promise you, I'll help you figure this out, okay? But right now, you need to sleep. Trust me on this; I've had hangovers before and you've definitely got one." He brushed the hair off her forehead.

"I'm really sleepy," she admitted. Crawling onto his bed, she snuggled into a pillow and closed her eyes. Booth tucked a blanket around her. He left her water glass sitting on the bedside table. Dimming the lamp, he lingered for a moment gazing down on her still form, wondering for the thousandth time how he could help her handle this mess. He dreaded having to tell her what had really happened in the bar. It was going to kill her.

"Rest. That's an order." She didn't move.

Booth closed the door as quietly as he could and went back to join Sweets in the living room.

"Okay, Booth, do you want to tell me what's going on? What did you mean when you told me on the phone that the police are looking for her?"

Booth sank into the sofa. "Bones is in big trouble."

To be continued…

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Hey I am totally snowed in so I will have time to write today :)-- as long as the power stays on!