A/N – Alright guys, sorry for the HUGE delay with this story. Time kind of got away from me but I'm done teaching for the summer and so I am a stay at home mom at the moment. I'm hoping to get a couple of updates up a week between the 3 in progress stories I have going right now. It's my goal to finish this story and Regaining Her Footing this summer. That being said, I hope I still have a few readers left out there. I really appreciate all of the comments, reviews, and messages on this story. I really do enjoy writing it.

This chapter is a little bit of filler and it was a struggle for me to get it written. I hope it's still enjoyable. I struggled to find some direction even though I know where the story is going, the getting there was the hard part. I hope you guys will continue to let me know what you think even if you hate it.

Thanks to GCatsPJs, JunkieCat, and Thnx4theGum for the help and to MickeyBoggs for the editing. You ladies are great.

Disclaimer – I do not own Bones.

Chapter 9

Temperance Brennan woke up in a fuzzy haze. She had a hard time pulling herself from sleep and establishing that she was, in fact still, a living entity. Once she managed to open her eyes and allowed her pupils to adjust to the light that was trickling into the room, she realized that it was most likely morning. She wasn't sure which morning it was, however. She could be thankful that she had at least survived the trip to the emergency room even though she couldn't be sure of how long ago that was.

She mentally cataloged her situation and realized that she didn't really feel pain, nausea, or discomfort. 'I must be quite heavily medicated,' she thought to herself before realizing that thinking too much was not a good thing given her current condition. She realized that even though she didn't feel sick, she was dizzy, and didn't consider movement as an appealing option at the moment. She was content, that she was at least deemed healthy enough to be in her apartment and not some hospital ward.

She wasn't sure if she could really recall any details from her time since the hospital. She vaguely remembered Booth bringing her home and handing her pills. She could vividly remember the awful pain and sickness she had felt after leaving the bar two nights before. She did not want a repeat of that experience so she opted to stay as still as possible despite her increasing desire for something to drink. Her mouth and throat were extremely dry, probably the result of medication and the lingering effects of her vomiting.

Even though she had learned so much and had come so far in the past few years, her years working with Booth, her abandonment issues still had a strong hold on her emotions. She automatically assumed that she would be alone in her apartment, left to care for herself. She couldn't help but feel lonely as she recalled all of the flus, injuries, and disappointments she was left to go through on her own. As she was lost in her own little pity party, she heard, or thought she heard through her still muffled hearing and ringing ears, a faint sound coming from her living room. She wasn't sure what it was and lacked the energy or motivation to move to investigate. She did the one thing she could think of and called to the one person in the world she thought might care enough to stay. "Booth," she said with as much strength as she could muster. She wasn't sure if he was there but she really hoped he was.

It was against his very nature but the frantic man did his best not to knock down her bedroom door. Seeley Booth was most certainly a man of action and had what many would deem a 'savior complex.' He had to remind himself that his partner didn't need saving this time – a glass of water, maybe, but not saving.

He gently opened the door to her bedroom and made a conscious effort to speak in a very soft, very controlled manner as he said, "Bones, are you okay?"

She fell silent for a moment. She wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe it was her medicated state, maybe it was the simple fact that he had stayed. Nobody had ever stayed for her before. It was quite confusing to her that her partner would stay for her. He was supposed to have work. She hated that he felt forced to give up his obligations to stay with her. She could probably manage on her own. Walking would be questionable at the moment but if she just stayed in bed things would probably go smoothly.

It disturbed Booth that she hadn't responded quickly and was simply staring at him with a set of very confused, very troubled eyes. "Bones," he asked again and took a few steps toward her and sat very softly on her bed.

Brennan didn't answer his question about her well being immediately. She did however give him a very slight acknowledgment in the form of a simple, "Hey."

He gave her the best smile he could muster through his worry. "Hey yourself. How do you feel?" he asked.

"I'm not exactly certain at the moment," she said honestly. With each moment awake she could feel her level of discomfort increasing. "I feel better than I did last night even though I probably don't remember all of it," she continued. "How heavily medicated am I at right now?" She asked. She really needed to know her level of functioning.

Booth looked down at his watch. "Ummm," he stuttered as he did the math required to determine how much of the medicine was still in her system. "It's almost time for a couple of your medicines now. You are probably not that high at the moment," he said as he swept a stray lock of her hair off her face and gently tucked it behind her ear being careful not to hurt her at all. He then gave her a sly smile. "Don't worry though, Bones. I'll get your meds and then that pillow there will be talking to you in just a few minutes," he laughed a little.

She rolled her eyes at her partner. "Booth," she protested with more venom than he would have imagined she would have. "I am not the one prone to hallucinatory reactions to nar. . . " she stopped mid word as a jolt of pain shot through her head. "Dammit," she yelped.

"Hey," he ran his hand up and down her arm as he spoke. "You're okay," he consoled. "Let me get you the meds and then I'll make you some cardboard or something for breakfast," he joked about her common breakfast choices.

She gave him a nod through her gritted teeth and set jaw. "Thanks," she managed to push out as she counted backwards from 20 and took a few deep breaths in effort to take the edge off the pain. She assumed she had probably spoken a little too loudly. At that moment, she hated her situation. She couldn't even bicker with Booth like she wanted to do.

She closed her eyes and waited for Booth to return. It must have taken a few minutes after waking up for her brain to register the discomfort because she now officially felt like crap again. 'So much for feeling better,' she thought to herself. She also knew at that moment that skipping medication wasn't an option, at least not yet.

Booth returned in just a few minutes. "Here you go, Bones," he said as he entered her bedroom. He handed her the pills and she gladly accepted.

"What all did I just take?" she asked after swallowing the last of the pills and finishing up with a drink of water before handing Booth the cup back.

"Bones," he said in a very gentle tone. "They have you on a lot of stuff right now. I think you should just rest and let me worry about all the details. Just trust me." He hoped she'd take his advice.

She let out a simple sigh. Letting go of control was against every tendency she had. "Booth," she practically begged. "I do trust you but I ... I just need to know what's going on with my body. I need to know exactly what I'm facing," she hoped he'd understand that it wasn't a lack of trust but instead a need to be in control of what little she could control at the moment.

He saw the look in her eyes and knew that she was struggling. He knew that she felt helpless. He could at least let her look through all the information from the hospital. He figured she didn't remember much from the hospital visit anyway. He gave her a nod. "I'll go get all the stuff for you. Just promise me if you feel bad you will rest and that you'll keep lying down," he was stern but compassionate. "Your doc said 30 degrees at all times."

She didn't say anything but Booth knew that was her way of agreeing to his terms. Honestly though, for the first time in her life, she didn't feel like fighting, not even with Booth. She waited for him to leave her bedroom and then closed her eyes out of frustration, self pity, and probably the fact that she felt terrible. She knew the medicine she had just taken would help and she only hoped she would be able to understand exactly what was wrong with her and the treatment path the doctor had chosen before the narcotics made her unable to concentrate and sleepy. Her brain activity seemed to be jumbled enough without medications anyway.

Booth returned in just a few minutes and handed her a stack of papers, the information sheets on her prescriptions, and the medication log he had just made. "Just take it easy," he said as he patted her leg gently. "I'm going to scrounge something up for breakfast. You feel like you can eat?" he asked.

She thought for a second. It was irrational but she was slightly afraid to eat. She knew, however, that the proper nutritional intake would be important to her healing. "I can try," she responded.

"Alright," her partner stood and left the room leaving her to peruse the packet.

The first thing that struck her as she flipped through the information was the organization. Obviously, Booth had organized everything for her. She was shocked to see that he had made a medication log and had marked the time and dosage for each one she had been given. She processed what he had done for a few seconds and that made her laugh slightly. 'He's more of a squint than he thinks he is,' she thought.

Brennan spent the next few minutes looking through all the papers. She understood everything and sighed when she came to the realization that she wouldn't be worth much for the next little bit. She couldn't walk unassisted or even sit up well enough to work on her computer. According to the brochure on perilymph fistulas she could have lingering, permanent effects and that scared her the most. She would be purposeless if that happened. She wouldn't be able to live a life without purpose if she had to deal with some of the conditions for the rest of her life. Even Dr. Wyatt told her that when she chose not to go with Sully. At least she had her novels. She'd never be happy with just best-selling author following her name and not anthropologist but at least it could make her productive. It wasn't a purpose but at least it could keep her busy.

It only took a few seconds for her thoughts to come to the real reason why she hadn't gone with Sully, Booth. Sure Wyatt was right, she couldn't live a life without purpose but that really had nothing to do with not working for a year. It had everything to do with Booth. At some point he'd become her purpose. Working with him, helping him, that's what kept her going everyday. She'd exchanged 3000 year old mummies to help him with his cosmic balance sheet and she didn't mind. Sure, she still got excited to go on digs or if she got a new set of ancient remains but now she always wanted to come back to Booth. She realized at that moment that an actual living being had become her passion.

A tear fell down her weary cheek as she realize that this injury, this damned injury, may have put an end to her work with Booth. If she couldn't run or jump again she wouldn't be able to safely work in the field. She hoped that he would desire to have more than coffee with her from time to time and that he'd still consider her a friend. She knew that she had left a metaphorical mark on him in some way but if they couldn't see each other every day, they would grow apart. It was inevitable.

She was in the midst of what Angela would call a full blown pity party when she was snapped out of her thoughts by a grinning FBI Agent. "Peaches and cardboard with almond milk a la Booth," he said as he entered he bedroom carrying a rattling tray. When he got a good look at her, his worry immediately tripled. "What's wrong?" he questioned.

She did her best to give him a smile. "Nothing really," she lied. "I'm most likely just beginning to feel the effects of the cocktail of medication and everything is just overwhelming," she answered honestly but evasively.

"I know, Bones," he consoled her. "We'll get through this. I'm in this for the long haul," his tone was resolute.

"Booth," she began the automatic protest. "You don't have to stay. I can afford nursing care and I'm sure Angela and my dad would be glad to stop by every few days."

"Bones! Don't even go there. I'm here because you need me and because I WANT to be here. I'm not letting you stay here alone. You're stuck with me," he said with a charm smile. "Now, eat your cardboard."

"It's not cardboard. It's a high energy, high fiber breakfast option," she managed to bicker back before taking the spoon and carefully lifting it to her mouth. Feeding herself was more of a task than she would have liked. Her hands were shaky and unstable but she managed.

After a few minutes, she'd managed to eat an adequate amount of breakfast and Booth was clearing away the dishes. He kept his eyes on her constantly and noticed she was beginning to yawn. "Bones, get some sleep. I'm going to run to the store while you sleep and get some groceries. Call me if you need anything," he finished and made sure she had her cell phone within arm's reach.

What came from her mouth next surprised them both. "Booth?" she waited for him to make eye contact before continuing. "I. . . I really need to use the bathroom and take a shower. I feel disgusting." It was probably the medication that removed her sense of discretion and allowed the words to roll off her tongue.

Those words shook the strong and sturdy Seeley Booth to the core. 'Oh crap!' he fussed internally and immediately began to think of options in his mind. 'This is not going to be nearly as fun as it should be.'