A/N: Okay, so I totally missed my Saturday night deadline. By several hours. But in my defense, that's because I thought this chapter was going to be really, really short. And it turned out to be fairly long. So maybe that's worth the extra few hours.

Anyway, as I hinted, this is a big chapter. So I hope you enjoy, and I hope you keep being awesome and letting me know what you think. Song for this one is "I Shall Believe" by Sheryl Crow, and it's beautiful and perfect and you should all listen to it.

Chapter Nine

I Shall Believe

Come to me now
And lay your hands over me
Even if it's a lie
Say it will be alright
And I shall believe
I'm broken in two
And I know you're on to me
That I only come home
When I'm so all alone
But I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly you won't give up on me
And I shall believe
And I shall believe

It took Booth three days after the incident at the diner, a full two weeks since he'd shown up, drunk, at Hodgins' place, before he worked up enough courage to show his face again.

It was earlier than usual, just 6:30, when he rang the doorbell, only once this time.

He'd showered after work, for no real reason, and took his time selecting an outfit. Now, standing on the front porch with bags of takeout food, he felt like a nervous kid on his first date.

Except for the fact that there was a very real chance he'd be turned away.

~(B*B)~

"Dr. B?" Hodgins knocked on the closed guest room door with the hand that wasn't curled around his laptop. After a moment, he heard the tapping of Brennan's crutches on the hardwood floor, and then the door opened and Brennan was looking at him expectantly.

Hodgins grinned at her. "You look great."

They were getting ready to go out to dinner, along with Cam and Sweets, to celebrate Brennan's first day back at the lab the next day.

Making it a fancy meal out had been Angela's idea, and for all her insistences that it was a worthy occasion, Brennan was pretty sure it was because of the fact that Angela had actually managed to find a formal maternity dress last week when they were supposed to be shopping for baby clothes.

"Thanks. So do you," Brennan said, smiling back.

"The crutches go great with that dress." Hodgins teased.

Brennan laughed a little, then looked at him and his awkwardly balanced laptop curiously. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." Hodgins turned the screen so she could see the security camera. Just as he did so, the doorbell rang again. "Booth's here. I didn't know what you wanted me to tell him. Y'know, about where we're going…"

Brennan peered at the screen, her heart catching. Booth was holding bags in either hand, and she was pretty sure they contained takeout.

"I'll talk to him," she muttered before really thinking it through.

Hodgins looked surprised, but he just nodded. "Sure."

Brennan tightened her grip on her crutches and moved toward the front door. A knot of dread was tightening in her stomach, but she was also the tiniest bit relieved. She'd been worried about Booth for the past two weeks.

And though Brennan had been hoping the feeling would go away, she still missed him just as much.

~(B*B)~

Booth was starting to think they'd gone back to the method of simply ignoring him when the door opened.

Even more of a surprise, though, was who was standing behind it.

"Wow," he breathed.

Brennan glanced down at her outfit, flushing slightly. She was wearing a black dress that Angela said was 'so-ridiculously-hot -I'm-getting-unbelievably-jealous-staring-at-you-in-it'.

After a moment, Booth flushed, too, realizing he'd been staring, completely distracted from his purpose. "I mean, hi."

"Hey," Brennan said softly.

He lifted the bags awkwardly. "I, um…brought Thai food. But, uh, seems like you clearly have other plans." Booth attempted a smile, but it went limp as soon as a horrifying thought struck him. Did Bones have a date?

Though he had no right to care, this thought made his stomach churn. "Where, um…where are you going?" He asked, trying to make the question conversational rather than desperate.

Brennan couldn't look at him. "I go back to the lab tomorrow, to work, and….Angela thought it'd be fun to go out and celebrate. "

"Right." Booth nodded, feeling the same sting he'd experienced outside the diner. "Cam and Sweets and everyone coming?" Her face gave him the answer. "Got it."

The hurt, resigned look on his face made Brennan feel as though her heart was swelling painfully in her chest. "Do you…do you want to come?"

Booth laughed, a harsh sound he didn't recognize. "Nothing like a last minute pity invite, is there, Bones?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Booth regretted the anger and bitterness there. But he felt so stupid, standing there freshly showered and changed, with enough food for four hungry people…thinking he was actually wanted.

Brennan's face twisted, guilt swirling in her eyes. "I…I'm sorry-"

"No, no, it's fine," Booth muttered, his hands tightening around the plastic bags. "I mean it's my own fault right…should've taken the hint."

"I…I don't know what that means," Brennan stammered, suddenly finding it painful to hold Booth's eyes."

"I stopped by a few times," he said in a low voice. "Wanted to see you."

"Yes, I know."

"Right." Booth waited until Brennan chanced a glance up so he could meet her eyes. "I was hoping maybe…they hadn't told you."

The hurt threaded through Booth's tone was so palpable it made Brennan's chest ache. Painstakingly, she held his gaze and, as always, Brennan could only be honest with him. "I…I just needed a break. After everything."

"Right." Booth was backing away, looking embarrassed and more than a little lost. "I mean it's all my fault, right? What happened to you." He shook his head, muttering, "Why would you want to see me?"

"I never said it was your fault," Brennan tried helplessly. After a pause, she added, "You…you should come tonight. Really."

He shook his head again, starting down the stairs of the porch. "You aren't the only one who doesn't want to be an obligation, Bones," Booth said in a low voice, his eyes glinting. "So I won't intrude."

Feeling hot tears pooling in her eyes, Brennan shut them quickly. "The Thai food was sweet," she forced out. "At least…you and Hannah can still eat it."

Booth swallowed against a fist sized lump in his throat. "Right." He turned to go. "You look really beautiful, Bones. Enjoy your night."

Then Booth was walking down the path, his back to Bones.

Maybe staying away was the one thing he could do for her now.

~(B*B)~

Angela and Hodgins came out of the door a few minutes later, ready to leave, to find Brennan sitting on the porch swing alone, her arms wrapped around herself, fighting tears.

They exchanged a glance, and then Angela gingerly sat down beside her.

"Sweetie, what happened?"

"I, uh…" Brennan paused, setting her jaw and making a valiant effort to control her voice. "I don't know that I feel like going out."

"Bren," Angela said, sounding devastated. "Come on, it's going to be so much fun. It'll take your mind off of…things."

"You guys can still go."

"You're the guest of honor!" Angela protested.

After a moment of no response, Angela touched Brennan's arm and said, "Bren, please look at me." Slowly, Brennan complied. "I hate seeing you so sad, Sweetie. And if you want to stay here, I'll stay with you. We can talk, or whatever you need. But if not, I think it'd be really good for you to come out with your friends." She gave her a sad smile. "It's up to you, though."

Brennan nodded slowly, her eyes locked on Angela's. Drawing a steadying breath, finally, she agreed, "Okay. Let's go to dinner."

~(B*B)~

Though Angela considered getting Brennan to the restaurant a victory in itself, the battle was far from over.

Although she and Hodgins made valiant efforts at conversation in the car, Brennan was quiet and withdrawn in the backseat. For most of the ride, she barely seemed aware of their presence, much less their conversation.

"You okay?" Angela murmured inside the restaurant as Hodgins gave their name to the host.

"I think we should've invited Booth." Brennan admitted softly.

Angela sighed, as Hodgins signaled them to follow the host to their table. Staying in step with Brennan's awkward maneuvering with her crutches, Angela asked, "I thought you wanted a break from him? Get some distance?"

"I did," Brennan frowned, then amended, "I do. I'm just…feeling guilty." She paused, grimacing. "I think I really hurt his feelings."

"Well…sometimes that happens," Angela stated neutrally, sitting taking a seat between Brennan and Hodgins. Privately, she thought that Booth getting his feelings hurt for once wasn't the worse thing in the world.

"I don't want him to think…it isn't because I blame him for what happened. But that seems to be his conclusion," Brennan said, her voice tinged with sadness.

"Well…" Angela paused, unsure of what to say. "Maybe we could all go to lunch again this week, and you can invite him to that."

"Maybe," Brennan echoed dully.

"And, hey, don't worry too much about him tonight, okay, Sweetie? He's got Hannah."

There was the barest note of derision in Angela's tone, but Brennan ignored it and merely nodded. "That's true."

Still, when Cam showed up a few minutes later and brightly greeted everyone, she took one look at Brennan's face and gave the other two a questioning look. Angela just shook her head.

Sweets did the same double take when arrived just after Cam, but he was lacking in subtlety. "Everything alright, Dr. Brennan?"

"Fine," she answered tersely.

He didn't push it.

For the next half hour, steady conversation swirled around the table…between four of the five occupants. Brennan was mostly silent, lost in thought. The most stilted moments of the conversation came when someone (usually Angela) made a pointed effort to include Brennan in the discussion.

Brennan had been genuinely excited for the evening, partially because of what it represented – she was anxious to get back to the lab – but also because it had sounded like it could be fun.

Now, though, Brennan couldn't enjoy it. She felt horribly mean, and suddenly it didn't feel right without Booth.

She hadn't been oblivious to the gaping hole of his absence the few times she and Angela had driven to meet the others for lunch over the past few weeks. Though it had been odd and a little off-putting, Brennan had never felt guilty over it.

For months Booth had been meeting Hannah for lunches whenever he could. So she hadn't thought he would care much, even if he had known the team was convening without him.

But his face tonight…he'd definitely been hurt. And in spite of everything that had changed between them over the past five months, there had never been a moment when Brennan wanted to hurt Booth.

Their entrees had just arrived when Angela decided to try some subtle encouragement to bring Brennan out of her guilty state of silence.

Angela addressed the group but kept her eyes on Brennan. "So, Bren and I were thinking we should all go get lunch again one day this week, even though we'll be back to work now….Booth, too."

The others threw surprised glances at Angela and then Brennan, who still didn't seem to be listening very closely. Luckily, though, they refrained from commenting on the anomaly.

"Sounds good," Cam commented smoothly.

"We should really just make that a regular thing," Hodgins put in.

"Booth would probably enjoy that now that he's no longer with Hannah," Sweets added casually.

With that simple comment, it was though the air had been sucked out of the room. Silence fell instantly, and every head swiveled to look at Sweets.

Including Brennan, who seemed to be paying attention for the first time all evening.

"What?" Angela said finally, cutting through the shocked silence.

"They broke up?"

Sweets had physically slid his chair back from the table. His eyes were darting around to every face, a look of panic descending over his features. "I…you guys knew that. Right?"

"Oh, yeah," Hodgins said dryly. "Our faces clearly indicate that this was prior knowledge."

"No, but…there's no way he only told me." Sweets paused, his gaze settling on Brennan, who still hadn't said a word. "Right?"

"What happened?"

"When was this?"

"I…" Sweets looked decidedly uncomfortable now. "He, he just said that she left him. He told me last week, and made it sound like it had been a few weeks. I…I don't know."

Cam looked ready to launch into a tirade of questions, but Angela cast a sidelong glance at Brennan, who had gone rigid and pale in her seat, and was staring very, very fixedly at a spot on the wall.

A subject change was definitely in order.

~(B*B)~

Brennan waited exactly two and a half minutes after the subject of Booth had been dropped before calmly, deliberately standing up, grabbing her crutches and excusing herself.

She hoped that would be enough time to eliminate any automatic correlation between her departure and the news that Hannah had left Booth. Weeks ago.

But she couldn't fool Angela, apparently, because Brennan had barely stepped outside, sucking the cool, night air into her lungs, when her best friend emerged behind her.

"Bren…"

"I'm fine, Ange, just…just go back inside."

"I know what you're thinking, Sweetie."

Brennan's throat was tight, and it hurt to talk, but she managed to force out, "What makes you say that?"

"Because I do." She could tell from Angela's voice that she was moving closer, though Brennan kept her back to her friend. "You're thinking that the only reason Booth started coming around wanting to see you was because he and Hannah broke up. And you're thinking that since Hannah left him…you're just a second choice."

Angela had so accurately surmised Brennan's thoughts that she abruptly found herself precariously close to tears.

After a moment of silence, Angela added gently, "Sweetie, look at me." When Brennan didn't turn, Angela simply walked in front of her, taking advantage of her current impaired mobility. "If that is what you're thinking, you're wrong."

Her voice tight, Brennan countered, "Look at the facts, Angela. Booth meeting Hannah was quite obviously the catalyst for his…increased distance from me. And now his attempts at reconciliation correlate directly with her choosing to terminate their relationship." Brennan's voice wavered, "That isn't a coincidence, Ange."

Angela shook her head a little, her tone rich with warm sympathy, "Sweetie, I think it's more likely that Booth's…attempt at reconciliation correlate with what almost happened to you." She paused, then added, "Maybe even his breakup with Hannah correlated with that, too."

Brennan was silent for a beat, then she muttered softly, "Occam's Razor."

"Sorry?"

"Occam's Razor. It's the theory that the simplest explanation is usually correct."

Angela sighed. "What's the simplest explanation?"

Brennan's jaw tightened. "The simplest theory is that Booth met Hannah and he no longer needed me. When Hannah left, he was no longer spending time with her…therefore, he once again desired my company." Brennan shook her head, her eyes blazing. "I am Booth's second choice in this scenario, Ange." Tucking her crutches under her arms, Brennan headed back into the restaurant. "There's no need for that lunch we talked about."

Wincing, Angela followed her best friend inside. Just over a month ago, she would have thought the news of Booth and Hannah breaking up would be an incredible relief for Brennan.

Now it had just turned into one more hurtful moment.

~(B*B)~

Two days later, a Friday, Booth sat in his living room, a bottle of Scotch in front of him, his usual fog settling over him.

There was a knock on the door, loud and persistent, and Booth was startled. That someone would be visiting felt like a foreign concept.

He stood up and moved unsteadily to the door.

"Dad!" The whirlwind that was Parker on a weekend slammed against him, his usual overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, bub," Booth managed, blinking in confusion at Rebecca. If this had been an arrangement, he'd completely forgotten.

Rebecca seemed to notice his confusion, and she tilted her head at him, an odd expression on her face. "Did you forget?"

"I, uh…" Panic was starting to descend over Booth, and he desperately tried to will himself into instant sobriety, all too aware of Parker's curious gaze.

Suddenly, the confusion on Rebecca's face faded into shock, and then anger. He watched her take in his blood shot eyes, the smell of Scotch on his breath; he saw her eyes sweep the apartment, noting the empty liquor bottles covering every available surface.

Her eyes flashed, and she hissed, "My God, Seeley…"

"Wow, Dad, your place is messy," Parker commented. "Why do you have so many bottles?"

"Uh, listen, Bec, I can expla-"

"You're s'posed to recycle, ya know," Parker told him, oblivious to the tension crackling between his parents.

"Parker," Rebecca raised her voice to address her son, though she never took her furious, disgusted gaze off of Booth. "Go wait in the car."

Parker whirled, anger tightening on his small face. "What? I'm supposed to stay with Dad all weekend."

"Parker, now."

Seizing his father's arm, Parker made a final plea, "Dad, tell her. Tell her I'm s'posed to stay, please." Then, accusing and angry, he told his mother, "You promised. Dad, tell her!"

"Parker, listen to your mom. I…" He swallowed. It was difficult to keep his words steady. "I'll see you soon. I promise."

Narrowing his eyes, Parker scowled at both of them. "Fine!'

Then he went, stalking loudly down the hall to where Brent was waiting in the car.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Rebecca swiped her palm across Booth's face.

"Ow!"

"What the hell, Seeley? Are you drunk?"

"N-no." Real fear was pounding in Booth's chest now. "I, I'm sorry, I just…I forgot-"

"Just like you forgot his soccer game last Tuesday? Or Parent's Night the week before that?"

Booth's stomach pitched forward, and he had to reach out and cling to the counter to keep himself steady. "I…I didn't know."

"I left messages," Rebecca snarled, storming into the apartment and advancing on him. "And I made excuses for you. Parker's been looking forward to this all week, and now you make me look like the bad guy, you ass-"

Self-revulsion coiled around Booth's stomach. Suddenly, his son, who loved him and trusted him unconditionally, was just another person Booth had failed.

"I'm sorry," He managed, voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, I just…I'll take him next weekend. Or any part of this week, if you need-"

"Oh, no you won't," Rebecca snapped poisonously, her eyes doing another sweep of the room. "Doesn't look like you're fit to take care of anyone but yourself, I'm sure as hell not leaving our son with you…"

"You can't do that-"

"I can," she retorted, a note of finality in her voice. "Get it together, Seeley. Take a break, and pull yourself together. I would have no trouble right now convincing a court to make this a permanent arrangement, so just be grateful I'm not doing that."

The door slammed behind her, and for several long moments Booth stood stock still in the middle of his apartment, nauseous with shame and anger and self-loathing.

Then, a scream clawed its way free of his throat, and it echoed through the walls of the apartment and he aimed a wild, violent kick at the nearest object (his kitchen chair, which flipped and toppled to the ground).

~(B*B)~

"Sweetie! Bren, Sweetie, wake up! Brennan!"

Brennan's eyes flew open, and she slowly stopped thrashing.

She was lying in the bedroom at Angela's house (she still had a few more weeks to go before she could lose the crutches and drive herself to work), sheets tangled around her legs, a cold sweat making them stick to her skin.

Angela was standing over her, dark eyes wide and frightened. "You were screaming, Bren," she told her softly.

Raking trembling hands through her hair, Brennan slowly sat up, shivering violently. "It's nothing," Brennan rasped. "I…sorry I woke you."

Angela reached out and grabbed Brennan's shaking hand, squeezing firmly. "What were you dreaming about?" Angela's voice was sympathetic, but it was also small and frightened, as though she knew she may not want to hear the answer.

Brennan just shook her head. Angela didn't need to hear about this nightmare, the one Brennan had since she was sixteen.

The one where hands, dozens of them, big and strong and rough, were holding her down, touching her, ripping her apart. There was always one covering her mouth, preventing her even the luxury of a scream.

This particular nightmare, though its frequency had lessened during her college years, had never gone away for good, though typically it only occurred a few times a year. Since those nights in the hospital, though, it had been plaguing her at least every other night.

Angela was absently rubbing circles on Brennan's back. "Is there anything I can do, Sweetie?" she whispered. "Anything you need?"

Brennan's chest constricted, because, much as she hated it, the first thought in her head was that she needed Booth.

Those nights in the hospital, when nightmares had been waking her up every hour or so, the only moment Brennan had felt truly at ease, truly safe, was the period when Booth had been there, silently holding vigil by her bedside.

It hadn't lasted of course, but mere proximity had calmed her. But that wasn't an option.

"No. There's nothing," she answered at last.

~(B*B)~

Booth had spent the rest of the weekend drinking in his apartment. It was a vicious cycle…the drinking had driven yet another person away, and it had only strengthened the need for that fog.

He missed a few calls from Cam, which was a surprise, but he never answered them, sure she'd be able to tell instantly what state he was in. That would only make her more disappointed.

It took monumental effort to drag himself into work Monday morning, but Booth managed it. He was thankful there was no active case, and he could just spend the day in his office, doing paperwork.

Sometime in the early afternoon, Booth went out of his office to the file cabinets that held very recent, closed case files, wanting to check a detail of something.

Thumbing through the folders, however, he came across the one on Brennan and Hannah's kidnapping, as it had taken place in the same week as what he was looking for.

Booth froze, his fingers gripping the manila folder, his original objective completely forgotten.

It wasn't exactly wrong. There was no rule you could only view your own case files; they often had to pull other agent's files, in fact, for research purposes.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Booth was extracting the folder and retreating back to his office.

He told himself he was only going to glance over it, make sure everything was thorough...but as soon as he opened the first, summary page that listed the various crimes committed, Booth was lost.

There were the expected words, kidnapping and attempted murder, but two other words jumped out at Booth.

Sexual assault.

Booth's stomach rolled, the bitter, acidic taste of bile rising in his throat, choking him. The room tilted, the air in his lungs dissolving.

Shaking hands turned the pages of the file, and then Booth was pouring over Bones' statement.

~(B*B)~

An hour later, he went barreling into Hacker's office. "I need to go home."

Hacker gave Booth an alarmed look, taking in the agent's appearance. Booth's face was ashen, his whole body shaking violently.

"Yeah, I can see that," Hacker said dryly, arching an eyebrow. "It's an hour early, Booth, go on home. You look like hell. Take the rest of the week, if you need."

Booth turned on his heel and stumbled out.

He'd read Bones' statement. And now he knew all of it, every detail. He knew how hard she'd fought him, and how often. He knew what she'd said to convince him to take Hannah back.

He knew how she'd saved herself…what she'd had to let him do so she could get away.

Booth's first instinct was blind rage directed at Greg Thomas, the kind of blind rage that made him want to kill.

But the man was already dead, and it left Booth with no real target for his rage.

No target besides himself. And, it seemed, turning that much fury inward was dangerous.

~(B*B)~

Booth entered his apartment and slammed his door, a satisfying thud filling the apartment.

He'd been to the bar, straight from work, not caring that it was barely five. He'd sat there for hours, but for once his routine hadn't worked.

He couldn't forget what he'd read.

Bones' words, transcribed so formally in that file, consumed him, echoing through his mind as though he'd heard her speak. Images he didn't want formed in Booth's mind, dirty and violent and sickening.

He'd caused that.

Booth felt like his insides were ripping apart, tearing through him in staggering waves of anger.

All he could do was let them come.

Booth seized an empty bottle of Scotch and slammed it against the wall, shattering it. Bits of glass fell the floor, and Booth was holding the jagged mouth of the bottle. He slammed it again, much close for the small piece, then slung it away, turning his attention to a cluster of empty beer bottles.

He broke every bottle, crushing each one as much as possible before moving onto another.

He threw bottles across the room, he slammed them on nearby walls, he crushed them beneath his feet. The floor of his apartment glittered with shards of glass, all sharp edges and distorted reflections.

When he ran out of empty bottles, Booth set about creating more.

Booth finished a half empty six pack and tried breaking the bottle against his thigh, leaving miniscule bits of glass clinging to his pants. Then, he opened another one and started on that.

He drank everything he had in his kitchen, not bothering with glasses, just swigging straight from a bottle of Scotch, or Vodka, anything he had...and Booth had taken care lately to keep his kitchen stocked.

Booth drank until the room began to tilt and spin, until the glittering floor began to resemble some sort of ornate design. Diamonds, maybe.

He drank until there was nothing left, and then Booth set out to find more.

He stepped out of the kitchen and nearly ran into his table. Booth pulled up short, overcorrecting, and fell hard to his knees.

Stretching out his palms to catch himself, Booth found himself kneeling in a pile of broken glass. His palms were covered in thin, red threads of blood, but Booth didn't feel the sting.

With difficulty, he pulled himself to his feet, one thought managing to come together in Booth's inebriated mind. He had to get to a liquor store. He needed more bottles.

Booth made it to the parking lot and halfway to his car when the world turned on him. Booth felt himself spinning, and he made a grab for anything to hold on to and came up empty handed.

Then, the world went black.

~(B*B)~

Brennan was lying on her bed, papers spread out over the bedspread. She was half asleep but valiantly trying to fight it. It was early yet, and she'd brought home a good amount of lab work, trying to make up for the weeks she'd been gone.

But physical therapy always tired her out, and Angela was always lecturing that she shouldn't fight it.

So she was lying there, contemplating calling it a night, when her phone rang.

"Brennan," she answered in a clipped tone.

"Dr. Brennan? This is Amy Clifford, at Georg Washington Hospital. We have you listed as the emergency contact for Seeley Booth?"

Brennan's heart went limp, terror gripping her. "Wha-…What happened, is he…he's okay, right?"

"He's just been brought into our ER."

It felt like her lungs were shrinking, and it was suddenly impossible to get enough air. "Why, what happened? What's wrong?" Brennan didn't recognize her voice, the scared, frightened child speaking her words.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any more information at this time."

"I'll be right there," that fragile voice said again, going against Brennan's instinct to demand explanations and answers.

She sat for a moment, fighting nausea, before some sort of adrenaline kicked in and Brennan made a grab for her crutches, yelling in a strangled voice, "Angela! Ange!"

The door to Brennan's room flew open, and Hodgins and Angela appeared there at the same time, the terror in Brennan's voice palpable.

"What happened?"

"What's wrong?"

"Booth's in the hospital." Brennan could barely hold her crutches steady, she was shaking so hard. "They won't tell me why, but I…I have to go. Now, I have to go right now…"

Hodgins and Angela looked at each other, their eyes identical pools of horror. "Of course, Sweetie."

"I'll drive."

~(B*B)~

.35

That was Booth's blood alcohol level when he'd been brought in.

People died from that.

Booth would have died from that if one of the other tenants in his building hadn't been coming home and found Booth unconscious on the asphalt of the parking lot.

They'd pumped his stomach. They were administering fluid and oxygen periodically. He was in and out of conscious, they said, but they hadn't let Brennan see him yet.

She sat in the waiting room between Hodgins and Angela, her arms wrapped tight around her midriff, trying to control her shaking.

All Brennan could think was that this was all her fault.

She'd known there was a problem. She'd known weeks ago, when he'd showed up drunk at Hodgins and Angela's house, that this wasn't normal behavior for Booth.

But she'd done nothing. She'd assumed, at the time, that Hannah would check on him, that she would be there to notice a problem.

Yet even when Brennan had found out that Hannah wasn't there, hadn't been for awhile even, she had done nothing. She hadn't called. Hadn't tried to check on him. Hadn't asked anyone else to.

All because she needed distance, or because she felt rejected or unwanted.

An involuntary sound escaped her throat, something between a gasp and a sob.

God, she'd been so selfish.

Angela reached up and gently placed a hand on Brennan's back, but Brennan shrugged her off. She didn't want comfort.

She just wanted to see Booth.

An image came back to her, the last time she'd seen him, walking away from her, carrying untouched bags of Thai food and going home to no one, while every other person in his life celebrated together.

Tears welled in Brennan's eyes. She'd left him alone. For months she'd been devastated because he abandoned her, and now she'd done the same thing. Worse, even, because at least she had her friends.

Booth, it seemed, had been utterly alone.

So as much as Brennan wanted to be angry at him, for nearly killing himself, for being so reckless…all she could feel was the crushing ache of guilt and sorrow.

"You with Mr. Booth?" A doctor asked, approaching them.

They nodded, and Brennan was already leaning on her crutches and pulling herself to her feet.

"He's awake, and he's doing fine. We should be able to let him go in the next few hours."

"Can I see him?" Brennan blurted out.

The doctor nodded. "Of course."

Brennan turned to her friends. "I…I'm going to stay. With him. I…I can get a cab."

Hodgins glanced at his wife and then nodded. "Sure thing, Dr. B. Tell Booth we're glad he's okay."

"Sure."

And then Brennan was walking toward him.

~(B*B)~

Booth was sitting up on the small hospital bed, his fingers absently tracing the IV in his opposite wrist, when the door opened.

Suddenly Bones was standing in front of him.

Startled, Booth spoke in a raspy voice, "Bones…?" He felt the heat rising to his face, and suddenly Booth felt utterly ashamed that she was seeing him like this.

"Hi." The single syllable nearly did her in, and Brennan bit down on her lip hard, tears threatening her again.

"H-how did you-"

"They called me. Emergency contact."

"Right." Booth stared down at the bed sheets, unable to meet her eyes.

He thought of the last time she'd been in this hospital, because she'd been kidnapped and shot and beaten and nearly raped.

And here he was, rushed to the same ER because he'd screwed up so badly the only thing for him to do was drink himself senseless.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I know it's…the last thing you want to be dealing with right now. You…you don't have to stay, I'm fine."

"Booth," her voice splintered in the middle of his name, and Brennan moved forward as quickly as she could on her crutches. There was no chair in the tiny trauma room, so she sat gingerly on the edge of his bed. "You are not fine, you…you passed out in a parking lot, you…" She paused, staring at his hands.

Brennan reached out and tenderly took one of his hands in both of hers, examining the tiny cuts. "Oh, Booth, what did you do?"

Her voice was so heavy with sorrow it made him ache. "It was stupid…"

"No, it…you were alone. I, I know I've been shutting you out, and I know Hannah left-"

He raised his head at that, surprised. "You know?" She nodded. "I, I know I didn't tell you…I just didn't want you to think that was why-"

It was Brennan's turn to look away. She felt tears falling now; she knew, somehow, what Booth was going to say, and she couldn't bear to admit that it was exactly what she had thought.

Booth's heart dropped as he caught sight of the tears rolling down Bones' face. "Hey…Bones, hey…" He reached out with the hand she wasn't holding and threaded his fingers through her hair. "Don't cry…I'm okay…"

"I'm sorry," Brennan whispered thickly. "I'm so sorry, Booth."

She'd thought the apology was necessary in this situation, but from the way Booth's face slowly crumpled into devastation, it was the worst thing she could've said.

"Don't…don't apologize to me, Bones, please just…I've been needing to apologize to you for weeks and I keep…I keep screwing even that up-"

"Apologize for what?"

Booth let out a laugh that sounded remarkably close to crying. "For what? For…for everything! Bones, I…what I said, in your office, when Hannah was missing…God, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean a word of it. I'm so sorry, and…if I hadn't said it, you would've been safe, with us, and he would've never touched you-"

"You didn't know-"

"He nearly killed you, Bones…he, he nearly…" Booth's voice fell to pieces. His face was wet.

Brennan's eyes were wide and frightened; she'd never seen him break down like this. She slid closer on the bed, wrapping one hand around the nape of his neck. "It's okay…"

"No, it isn't!" He burst out, his whole body beginning to shudder. "I know what he did to you, I saw the file. I wasn't supposed to, I know, so I'm sorry for that, too, but…Bones, I'm why you were there. And I can't take back what happened to you, I c-can't…I can't make that go away.

"And I'm sorry for everything else, for how I've been since we got back, I…I left you, I know I wasn't supposed to, but I did…"

"You were right here…" Brennan protested in a broken voice, her own face wet with tears as well.

"No, not really, not in the way that mattered. I hurt you, I know I hurt you, but…I didn't even notice, and I think I'm most sorry for that. But Bones, I swear to God, it never stopped mattering, what we did…it always mattered, I promise…"

Brennan pulled him close, hugging him tightly. Her leg ached beneath her, but she wasn't letting go. Threading her fingers through his hair, Brennan whispered, "It's okay, Booth…ssh, it's okay…"

His voice was right by her ear, and it trembled as he continued thickly, "And what you did for me…what you did…I want to be so mad, Bones, because I could've lost you, and…I would've died. I swear I would've. But I can't be mad, because …God, Bones, you did that…for me, after everything I put you through." His voice cracked, a sob tearing out of him. "You think you don't have an open heart, Bones, but I'm the one who doesn't deserve you…"

Then he was really crying, like he hadn't in years and years, his face buried in Brennan's shoulder, his whole body shuddering violently as sobs ripped through him.

Brennan clamped her lips together, her throat aching as she fought back sobs. Tears dripped from her eyes into Booth's hair as she bent over him, clinging for dear life.

After several long minutes, when Booth's sobs had dwindled to shaky, gasping breaths, Brennan drew back slightly and touched her forehead with his. "It's okay. Everything's okay. I…I can help you."

Booth's eyes, warm and chocolate and wet, found hers, and Brennan saw everything there she'd been missing, and for the first time in months, hope flared inside her.

Then he opened his mouth and whispered, "No."

Brennan stared at him, confused. "No?"

"No…no, Bones, you…you had it right the first time."

She drew back slightly, fear seeping over her.

"Bones, I'm a wreck. I can't ask you to…I can't ask you to deal with this. Look how much I've hurt you already, I can't…I can't do that anymore."

"Booth-"

"What I said…I meant it, Bones. I don't deserve you." His voice cracked. "I don't deserve anyone, I…all I do is hurt people. It's why Hannah left. It's why Rebecca won't let me see Parker, it's why the squint squad's cut me out…all I do is hurt everyone. Especially you." He forced a smile, heartbreak seeping through it. "And that's the last thing I want to do."

"I, I don't…" The pitch of Brennan's voice heightened. "What?"

"You should go, Bones."

"No!" She snapped, stubborn. "I'm not leaving you alone, not after this…I can help-"

"Bones…this time you're the one who needs protecting. From me."

Hearing her own words, from over a year ago, thrown back at her felt like a knife, wrenched into her chest. "You're…you're wrong…" Surely there was something anthropological here, something about community and the role in the recovery process…

Booth leaned forward, and brushed his lips briefly against Brennan's hairline. "Please, Bones. I…I want you to go."

Wrenching away from his touch, Brennan pulled herself to a standing position, but she made no move to leave the room. Her natural logic was leaving her, and Brennan suddenly felt that if she just defied him, if she stood there without moving, no matter how many times he asked, Booth would eventually change his mind.

A minute stretched between them, silent and heavy.

"Bones," Booth whispered, his tone pleading. "Please."

She had been racking her brain for an airtight argument, some irrefutable piece of logic. What slipped out instead was the childish claim, "I don't want to go."

When Booth answered, he sounded so desperate and broken, Brennan hardly recognized his voice. "I know. And that's another thing for me to be sorry for, but…I need you to. For me."

Brennan had once claimed she couldn't think of anything she wouldn't do for Booth.

It was possible they had arrived at the exception.

"I can't," she told him softly.

Before he could protest, the doctor from before walked in, nodding in greeting and murmuring, "Mr. Booth, just need to do a quick check…"

"Sure thing, doc, could we, uh…do that in private?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Brennan knew what was coming. The doctor asked her to go to the waiting room, and there was no real way to refuse.

She tried to stay close, hovering outside, but after she nearly got in the way of a gurney, an ornery nurse directed her down the hall and into the waiting room.

When she returned, only twenty minutes later, Booth's room was empty.

A/N: Whoo. Okay. So that was kind of draining. But I hope you all enjoyed it. This is kind of the height of angst. I think. Or I hope. Or not. Who knows?

Super cryptic, right? I've got kind of a heavy week, academically, but I'm going to try to get the next chapter up fairly soon. Reviews are always a helpful motivator…the loner the better (shameless, I know). I love to hear what you guys think about everything in the chapter. Thanks so much for reading, as always, you're all fantastic.