Chapter 12- And He Cared For Her
She felt like she could physically feel the blood running through her body, she could smell the sweat from her pores, and hear the pipes in the walls gurgling and flowing, gurgling and flowing with each use of them. She was once again buried in the overly fluffy blankets of her partner's bed, surrounded by the feathered pillows and down comforters on his pillowtop bed. She wondered for a moment how such a 'manly' man could sleep on a bed that was made with such softness. She breathed in the scent of that man, and shifted when she heard a sound from outside the room. She looked to the window, noting the darkness now around the curtains, and she wondered for a moment what time it was. She made sure not to move her feet, learning her lesson from that afternoon, she shifted a little on the bed, trying to sit up.
Their trip to the hospital had gone well, and she called Angela while they were on their way, to keep her mind off the pain of her feet, and keep Booth from becoming Angela's murder victim. The conversation had been short, and when Angela learned that Booth was keeping her very much happy and comfortable, her friend apologized to Brennan for nagging him, but never directly to him. When she hung up the phone, Booth simply gave her a glance out of the corner of his eye to let her know that he was still watching over her, and she pushed into her seat a little more comfortably as she put her phone down.
The visit to the doctor was short, if only because Booth was so incredibly impatient that he had been sure to call ahead of time to let them know that she was on her way back. He helped her to a wheelchair and wheeled her into the hospital against her protests that she could handle it herself, he just gave her a look that screamed control, to which she rightfully gave up the fight to him, and allowed him to pull her into the waiting room. She watched him as he stood at the nurse's desk checking her in, his broad shoulders and strong stance, the way he took control of it all, she wondered how she could have ever doubted the feelings that she had for him, because he was acting no differently then he would have any other day. This was just who he was, and he was protecting his family… he'd do anything.
They had unwrapped her feet and done a thorough exam, speaking in soft tones, the doctor and herself, he determined that she was mentally sound, and that her injuries were going to be quite painful. The pads of her feet were shredded, and the skin had been torn, muscle showing. The doctor allowed her to lift her foot carefully so that she could see the damage herself, and she found that she was sick to her stomach, her eyes moving to her partner, she noted that he too looked as if he would be sick, though he said that he had seen them the night before, when they were cleaning her wounds, and that they now looked better than they had then. She wanted to believe him, but the nauseas feeling still stayed with her.
In the car, on the way back to the apartment, he had given her some encouraging words, though she found that her attention was with the passing scenery, and not with the man in the car that was attempting to make her feel better. She felt sick and tired, and despite his company, she felt a little lonely. They had pulled to the curb of his building, and she felt lethargic and helpless, and before she could focus on how she was getting out of the car, he was standing beside her with the door open, prepared to lift her from her seat.
"Isn't there another way?" She whispered.
"I'm afraid not." He replied.
"I could just stay here." She whispered back.
"I'm not leaving you in the car." He said, tipping his head, he leaned forward carefully and found her ear with his lips. "Do you remember the damage… to my feet, do you remember the x-rays?"
"The torture?"
"Yes."
"I would have given anything to have someone who was willing to save me from that pain." He whispered. His eyes were sincere, there was no smile or humor in his words. He was dead serious, and she was watching him so carefully, that she feared if she denied this to him, that it would break his heart. "I want to help you. Please give yourself to me, and I promise that I will never let anything like this happen again. Please let me take care of you."
"Booth…"
"Hm?"
"I'll let you carry me." She whispered, holding her hand to his chest for a moment. "But you have to let me put a pair of your socks over my bandages… so I don't have to look at them."
He paused, his eyes on hers so sincerely as he tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. "You finally get it." He said, his lips curling into a smile. "You finally understand the socks."
"I always understood the socks." She said sincerely. "I just know that you don't like it when the attention is on you… on your habits and reasons. You have your way, and that's just the way it is." She nodded. "I have always accepted you the way that you are."
"And that's another reason why I love you so much." He said, reaching for her tenderly, she allowed him to lift her from the vehicle to his arms as he closed the door with his foot, and carried her back to his home and his bed.
That's where she found herself, sitting alone in the darkness. She sat up carefully, and it was as if he just knew. The door opened slowly, and the light beside the bed was switched on. "Are you ready for dinner?" He said in a soft, low tone.
"You brought me dinner?" She asked, seeing the tray in his hands, she gasped lightly at his forwardness.
"No." He said as he slipped onto the bed beside her with the tray, sliding it over the blankets between them both, he pulled two plates from the tray and handed her one. "I brought 'us' dinner." He said, as he leaned in her direction, dropped a kiss on her cheek, and smiled at their matching striped socked feet that poked from beneath the blankets.
