You are all so, so sweet and generous with your comments and alerts. Thank you! I try to get back to as many of you as I can, but sometimes it's respond or write and I figure you'd rather I write, right?

So far we've seen a lot of Booth's issues and I made a promise that he wasn't the only one with baggage, remember? So here we go.

Adjustments-Chapter 9

It was very nearly midnight when they left the hospital. The cabdriver had to wonder about them, the scruffy man with the weary, beat up face and the beautiful, exhausted woman who struggled to keep her eyes open against fatigue.

Or maybe he didn't. Brennan supposed that cabbies who do pick ups at hospitals probably see all kinds of people.

She gave the driver Booth's address because it was closer. Even the five minute difference between her place and his was five minutes too many. She just wanted to sleep in the closest bed. The day had been long and grueling. The night had not been any easier. For the first time ever, she was tired of thinking.

They didn't speak. She fought hard against dropping off from the motion of the car and he was lost in thought.

There had been three agents severely hurt in the debacle at the bank. Everything that could have gone wrong did and Booth's team had taken some pretty serious hits. Through the bits and pieces she was hearing from various agents and officials at the hospital Brennan had pieced together that none of it was Booth's fault, but she knew that didn't mean he didn't feel responsible.

She'd watched as he'd spoken with the wives, one by one, as they arrived. She listened as he assured each of them of her husband's strength and bravery and she wondered if any of these devastated women had had the chance to beg their husbands not to be a hero before they'd left for their assignment at the bank. She wondered if any of the men had promised to come home.

She wondered if any of them would.

The cab pulled up in front of Booth's and Brennan exited the taxi while Booth paid. There were times in the past she would have given anything to come here, to his home and his bed, after a day like today. And now, she could. It thrilled and scared her all at once, this level of belonging.

Their silence continued as they readied for bed. Booth showered to wash the day off, Brennan donned a vintage Noddy Comet T-shirt of Booth's, brushed her teeth and slid into bed. She laid on her side, total exhaustion making her entire body ache.

She was not a cuddler by nature. She loved good sex and intimacy, but for sleep she preferred her own space. Despite that, she was grateful when Booth got into bed and gravitated towards her, moulding his body to the back of hers, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. It grounded her, somehow.

"Jenny Dalton was the worst one." He whispered.

"Yes." Brennan agreed, thinking of the young, pregnant wife of the most severely injured agent. She had watched Booth take her hand and explain what happened. He had stood by her as the doctor explained the extent of the injuries, the likelihood of his recovery. Booth had held her up as her legs gave out from beneath her. "She was very upset. It was…difficult to watch."

"Yeah. It was."

"His injuries are very serious, Booth. A penetrating chest wound with a tension pneumothorax and cardiac tamponade… I think the doctor was being generous in his statements regarding Agent Dalton's recovery."

"You don't think he'll make it."

"I think the human body can take a lot of punishment and can heal from many things and we should never underestimate it. But in my opinion, no. I don't believe he will survive and the doctor was erroneous in allowing Mrs. Dalton to believe recovery is a real possibility."

He was very still for a long time, before he asked his next question. "Why the squint speak in bed, Bones?"

"What? I'm not. This is how I talk."

"Okay." He didn't sound like he agreed.

"It is."

"Okay."

"Why are you saying it like that?"

"What?"

"Okay…like it's not okay. Like you don't believe me."

"You just sound funny."

"I don't sound funny. I'm talking like I always do, Booth. This is how I speak."

"Not ha-ha funny. Like something's up funny."

"What, like I'm keeping some big secret from you?"

"Are you?"

"Keeping a big secret from you?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"No. Of course not. I am speaking the same as I always do."

"Okay."

"Stop saying that."

"Fine."

The air was silent between them for a while.

"I'm just really tired Booth."

"Then go to sleep."

She wriggled in his arms and he loosened his hold on her so she could turn and face him. She looked at him for a long time, the light coming in through the blinds just enough for taking in all the lines on his face, the warmth of his eyes and the slight curve of a vague smile that appeared when he realized she was studying him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, chuckling.

"Memorizing your face."

"Did you forget what I look like?" he teased.

"No, of course not." She answered, but gave no explanation.

Something was bothering her, he knew. He'd been looking at those sky blue eyes for so long that he knew a storm front when he saw one there. He'd also known her long enough to know not to push. At least, not yet.

So he kissed her instead.

That was when he knew what was going on in her head. He could feel it in her response.

She was retreating.

And that terrified him.

He broke the kiss.

Mentally he was saying "No! No, no, no, no, no!" To her he said "Sleep, Bones. We both need sleep," and rolled to his side of the bed, the way he knew she preferred.

"Yes. Sleep. Goodnight, Booth. Rest well." She turned back to her other side.

"You too."

But neither of them did.

After an hour had ticked by he was tired of pretending they were asleep.

"I can feel you thinking, Bones."

"That's absurd. You can't feel thinking."

"I can feel you thinking. It changes the air in the room."

"Now I know you are exhausted because that is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said."

"Bones. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just can't sleep."

"Bones."

She turned to look at him. He could see the conflict in her eyes. She could see the turmoil in his.

Could she do this? Could she just say what she was feeling? Could it be that easy?

"Just tell me."

"You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway."

She took a deep breath. "Jenny Dalton."

"What?"

"I…I don't ever want to be Jenny Dalton."

"I don't…I don't understand." He did, actually, but he wanted her to say it, to put it in her own words. Sweets had cautioned him not to tell Bones what she was feeling, but to let her tell him.

"She was so devastated. The chances that she will be a widow in the next twenty four hours are substantial. Did you hear her? Did you hear what she said?"

"Yeah. I did." He would never forget the woman's cries, pleading with God, begging Him not to take her husband, that she was nothing without him.

"I can't…I can't be her."

"I think you are a stronger person than Jenny Dalton."

"I used to think so too, but now I'm not so certain."

"Why?"

She struggled to find the words. "In the past…when we…when we were just work partners, I worried about you. Often I was there with you, and I knew you were safe. When I wasn't…I was able to compartmentalize, to focus on my work. When things with us became difficult or scary to me I would go on a dig or go teach a lecture series somewhere. I could regroup. Today I couldn't focus. I don't do things like throw myself at you and beg you to make promises you can't possibly keep. But I did. I watched the clock all day. I couldn't think. And then, when I saw you at the hospital I just wanted to…to grab on to you and never let you go. It was so unlike who I've always been and I'm petrified of that. Who am I now? I'm…I already am Jenny Dalton and I don't want to be. But now, I can't leave. There's no…I can't…"

"You can't escape. Between me and the baby, you can't escape." He broke Sweets' rule.

"I just keep thinking about an offer I got from UC Berkeley."

"California?" He felt a familiar dread in his chest and stomach.

"Yes. It's a good offer."

"And it allows you to run."

"Yes. For a while."

He took a deep breath. He'd known that, eventually, this would happen. It always did.

And he didn't know how to beg her to stay without pushing her further away.

So he said the only thing he could think of. The only thing he thought might save them in the end.

"Maybe you should go."

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