Squaring his shoulders the best that he could, his spine straightening to the best of it's ability, and boots digging into the pavement for better balance. His eyes observed the person in front of him; his chest tightening with every recognizable curve and article of clothing. He wanted to yell, wanted to skulk back into the hospital and tell the charge nurse to put a 'No Visitors' sign on his door. Making himself safe from those scrutinizing blue eyes and from the condescending tone then. Arms were crossed over her chest, legs shoulder width apart like she was ready for a brawl. Her eyes were boring into his skin, making him itch.

"I asked you to leave. To go home and sleep."

"I couldn't, knowing that you would try to leave. Especially in the considerably unhealthy condition you are in. I understand that we aren't exactly on level ground, but you're still my partner and if you're not going to let medical professionals help you, then…Let me."

Those doe-like eyes stared up at him with a compassion he hadn't yet seen. He could argue with her, say something harsh and nasty that would make her turn away from him. But that would only derail his plans. Going back into the hospital meant the same fate. He wouldn't be able to work from there; he needed Brennan. Though he didn't like using people for his own gain, it was his only choice. She was his ticket out of the hospital and into the field to work. A short grimace and a nod of his head he relaxed his features the best he could. Wondering if that appeased her the way it looked like it did on the outside.

"Fine. Okay, I'll uh, I'll go with you. But I don't want you waiting hand and foot on me. I can take care of this myself. It doesn't hurt that much."

"Judging by the dilation of your pupils, I'd suggest otherwise. You're high on Morphine or Phentanyol. I don't know how much the nurse gave you, but I'm assuming you rigged the IV to drip more than the prescribed amount so that you could manage your escape without hindrance from pain."

His body flinched at her observance. Frustration and discomfort coursed through him; the effects of the drugs wearing off at a slow rate; but fast enough to notice.

"Yeah…I suppose you're right. Again. What do ya say we get outta here now? I'm starting to feel a little fatigued."

She had strewn a blanket across the passenger seat for him so as not to get any of his blood on the leather. A part of that appeased him, knowing she had prepared to take him to her home and look after him. Then, a part of it made him boil with anger. She had defied his request. It was as if she could ignore him, completely disregard his words, but if he so much as tried with her, he was bound to face Hell. An argument ensuing in her favor, outsmarting him with pointless logic; or so it seemed to him. His tongue flicked with the urge to tell her off; say something mean like she would presumably do to him if given the chance. But he couldn't, not with the way her eyes had softened, or with how the tears stained her cheeks and the bags under her eyes seemed days old. It wouldn't be right of him to do such a thing to her. But she deserves it. Deserves to know what it feels like to be completely undermined and made to feel useless. Like she doesn't matter. Except she had already been made to feel that way when her father and mother left, when Russ left. They had already given her a lifetime dose of feeling useless and unwanted. So instead, he stayed quiet and chewed the inside of his cheek as a represent. When they pulled up to her building and she gracefully parked the electric vehicle that was too cramped for his broad frame; she had attempted to help him out and failed. Her hands slipping on his sweaty skin, even though she had had the AC on full blast. She was oggeling again, but this time with concern for his well being and he wanted to smack the look off her face. Don't pity me. With much scrunching and groaning and cursing, he managed to crawl his way out of the damned clown car and stand on wobbly legs on the curbside. Neither of them spoke a single word as they trudged up the steps to her apartment. Once inside, his eyes darted around curiously not looking for anything in particular. Except maybe signs of another guest. If maybe she'd been seeing someone or if anyone had been inside in general. But there was nothing. Nothing but her coats on the hanger, her shoes tucked in the cubby by her door, and her belongings splayed throughout the layout.

He jolted when he felt pressure on his sides, being quick to look down to find small thin hands grasping him. She was gently urging him down the hall to her bedroom where she silently shut the door behind her. Still, there were no words exchanged, and lack of eye contact had just been added to the mix as he stood awkwardly in the center of her room. She left him to stand there, dipping into what he assumed was her bathroom and began running water. The sound made him flinch. You're accustomed to this sound aren't you? What about the feeling? You ever been boarded Agent? It's quite the experience. Lets try it shall we. No…No…The screech from the knob shutting the water brought him to a startling reality. He could feel the drops of sweat racing down his forehead, the beads forming on his upper lip, getting caught in the rough stubble there. His heart rate was erratic against his fractured ribs making every breath he drew excrutiating. He watched her legs tremble as she made her way to stand in front of him. Her hands clasped his raw wrists with a gentleness that would soothe anyone. Anyone that wasn't me.

"Booth, you should sit. You're complexion is very pale. How much Morphine did you use?"

"I…I don't know…Just let it drip. Fast for…Fast for a minute or so. The line was completely open."

"Christ Booth…Thankfully it doesn't look like an overdose but…You allowed yourself too much and your body isn't coping."

That's not it. You have no idea. You'll never have an idea. You're too dull and thick headed. You'll never understand. It's not the Morphine. No, it was far from the Morphine. It was the way she had broke down in front of him back in the hospital room, the way she had exhaled his name on such a shaky breath you'd think she was the one on the brink of death. It was in the way she had touched him, examined him, sat next to him. Everything she was doing to him now, her thumb gliding over his knuckles that were still stained with blood, how her right hand was unraveling the gauze at his torso to prepare for cleaning and changing. Her sharp intake of breath at the sight of his wounds. He could only watch her, taking in gulps of air at a time to slow himself. He was reacting when he shouldn't be. His mind was full of hatred and resentment but his body full of sickened lust. Every rational part of him screamed to push her away, make her stop touching him and caring for him. But his nerves and his skin, his hands and lips; they wanted to pull her closer. Suffocate her without abandon in love. Lust and desire clawed at him screaming to be let out. But he held fast, letting her work silently until her palms flattened against his chest and he gripped her wrists with such force that he flinched himself.

"What are you doing?"

She sounded startled and unsure.

"Please. Stop. Stop touching me."

She didn't understand his words or what they meant; her brow furrowing and her eyes rolling back. She yanked her wrists from his hands and sat back on her heels creating an image for his body to react to.

"I don't understand Booth. You agreed to allow me to take care of you. Your wounds need to be cleaned and re-bandaged and you need fluids."

"I can do it myself. Please, just…Just don't touch me anymore."

"Why not? I need to help you. You can't reach your back. It's not possible."

"That's…Fuck you don't get it Bones. You will never get it."

Pushing down on the plush temper-pedic mattress he did his best to climb to his feet. The failed button-fly of his jeans making his arousal more prominent and out of the corner of his eye he watched hers widen and her hand cover her mouth. He covered himself and moved to the bathroom where he took a soft cloth from a bowl of water that she had prepared and began dabbing at his wounds. The pain searing and the cords in his neck distending in response, he reached blindly until he found a towel and placed it in his mouth before beginning to scrape off the dried blood. When his chest was finished he was exhausted. Exhausted as if he'd run miles without stopping, uphill. It took every ounce of energy he had left to stay level on his feet but his head was beginning to swim so he braced himself on sore arms and let his head fall between his shoulders heaving out what little air he could manage. He hadn't known how long he'd leaned against her vanity like that, just that the bowl of red water was beginning to blur. Then the hair on the back of his neck rose and his entire body stiffened with the presence of someone else. Keeping his head bent he drew in a sharp breath and flexed his arms. Begging silently for her to just leave him alone. But she touched his shoulders with cold fingertips and he was pulled back into that comforting corner he was in when he was rescued.

"Booth, let me help you. Please. I'm not ashamed of you, and your arousal is normal. I can assure you of that. I understand that it isn't myself causing it and merely the fact that your adrenaline from this evening is simply pent up. Nothing more. It's a lot like the hero complex. I'm sure if I were the paramedic who saved you, it'd be a much more different reaction. Your lust would be uncontrollable. It's normal. I don't want you to be ashamed. Or embarrassed. I just want to help you. As your friend."

"You can't help me."

"What do you mean I can't help you? I am perfectly capable of helping you. You know that."

"No Bones. You're not. You're not allowed to help me just like I'm not allowed to help you. I belong to no one. Not you, not anyone."

"Booth, this is a very different situation."

It took him all of two seconds to spin around and have her flush against her bathroom wall. His equilibrium still tinkered on the edge reminding him with a punishing wave of nausea as he hovered near her.

"No. It's not and you fucking know it. I'm in just as much danger as you were that day. The only difference is they got to me. Not you. You want to fucking know what my problem is Bones? Hmm? My problem is that you're so eager to help me, to take on the role for me; but the minute I do it for you, the minute I save your fucking life you blow a fucking gasket. Whether you like it or not, I'm responsible for you and your safety. Whether it's as your partner or as your friend. I acted as your friend that day and I'd do it over and over and over again. Get off your fucking high horse Dr. Brennan. I could have let him have you. I could have stood on the sidelines and let him have you. You want to know what his plans were for you? Huh?! Because he told me every fucking thing he'd do to you if it weren't for me. You should be thanking me, not standing on your god damn soap box like the high horsed bitch you are. I saved your fucking life and you had nothing to say for it but a slap to my face. A fucking. Slap. To the. Face."

She was trembling, the plump lower lip of her mouth quivering as if she were about to cry. She hadn't understood until now. Until his anger had seeped into every feature of his body, his eyes glistening with a rage that was unfamiliar to her. A flicker of passion hidden behind and caressing her. He took as deep a breath as he could manage lifting his hand to cup her cheek. His voice was a low whisper when he spoke, his eyes watering with enough emotion for the both of them.

"Do you know what that's like Bones? To protect someone without abandon? I don't know what I'd do with myself if they'd gotten to you. Knowing that I could have stopped it. I know you're independent, that you can take care of yourself. I get it, I do. But sometimes, sometimes you need that other person. Christ Bones, I was just doing what was right. As your friend. You're the only one who disagrees with me. Look at how you came to me; crying and so broken thinking the worst. You can't be the only one that's allowed to feel that way. I will always protect you and I'll let you slap me as many times as you want because I know I did what was right. You needed me that time. I can't apologize for it. It's not being an alpha male, it's just being…A friend."

His eyes had since slipped closed, his tone husky and airy, the words slightly slurred as the exhaustion began to overwhelm him. I need sleep. I can't stay awake any longer. His hand fell from her face and he brought his arms up until his forearms rested flush against the wall on either side of her head, his forehead pressing against hers. He was so tired, drained and weak. But he nuzzled her nose with his and took a satisfying breath. Her lavender scent filling him; life. I'm alive and her smell proves it. It was almost as if he were in a trance when her tiny hands grasped his forearms and pulled them down, carefully turning him until she was able to lead him into her bedroom where she very carefully and expertly removed the shredded ruined denim and tucked him under the cool sheets. She adjusted the thermostat to 65, hoping to cool him down some more. He was snoring by the time she returned from the kitchen with water and pain tablets for the morning. She sat on the side that he didn't occupy and just stared down at him. What could she think of such an admission? He was raw with emotion and the truth had fatigued him. She hadn't said a word to him; had just made him comfortable and let him drift off. She didn't know what to say so she let her hands wander. Fingertips ghosting over his face, tracing his jawline and then his neck. She flattened her palm over his heart where there was a gash from a serrated knife. It was beating steadily now, not erratic and out of control like before. Her eyes drifted closed and the lump crept up her throat. He's alive. So very alive. It was a reassurance she didn't think she needed. A sniffle and her eyes were back open her hand hovering where the comforter rested on his hips. She contemplated lifting it higher, but his wounds were still open and needed to be aired out. Rising from the bed she slipped out of her dirty clothes and prepared herself for bed. A shower, brush of teeth, sleep shorts and a shirt he'd left at her house months ago before they were too damaged to function around each other.

Without a thought, her body curled up into his side. Her cheek resting on his shoulder and her hand on the curve of his hip. It wasn't all that comfortable and her neck would ache when she awoke, but there was no convincing herself that she needed it. He was warm, and his skin was slick with a thin sheet of sweat. But he was peaceful. Sleeping contentedly and safe. Safe. He was so safe.