A/N: Thanks to jsq for that brainstorming session from which I continue to draw. And to la mome for three things: pointing me to the article I mention at the end, inspiring Angela's anecdote about her cousin, and reading the first half of this section. The rest is wholly un-beta'd, but I didn't want to make you wait for the B/B scene.

Part 14

Booth was about to leave the office to grab a sandwich when his cell phone rang. Fishing it from his pocket, he saw Angela's name on the display.

"Angela, is everything okay? I just talked to Bones half an hour ago—"

"No, she's fine. I mean, I think she's fine. That's sort of why I'm calling. Look, did I catch you at a bad time?" Now that she had his full attention, she seemed to be stalling.

"I was going for lunch, don't worry," he said impatiently. "What's going on?"

"I know I should probably ask Cam or even Sweets. But for some crazy reason I'm asking you. I thought…" She took a breath. "I sat with Brennan last night and… What if she's pushing that pain button a little too much? I mean, I know they're set so you can't actually get too much. But even so—even if she hates how it slows down her thought process, I get the feeling she wants to… feel numb. And not just because of the injury."

Booth squeezed his eyes shut. Bones was his first concern, but the way Angela sounded, it was like she wanted reassurance, and wanted him to feel guilty at the same time.

"You know that's not like her," Angela rushed on. "The two of you are the same that way. Anything that interferes with your abilities, or makes you dependent on something… The drugs mess with her brain and she doesn't like it. But she takes them."

Booth, who had been pacing his office, stopped. "Angela, you've never been shot. Or had major surgery. And I hope to God you never will, because it hurts like a son of a bitch. The doctors all tell you, don't try to be a hero. There's no point to it. You have to manage your pain, or else you spend all your energy fighting it, and you don't have anything left for recovering."

"Yeah," Angela said, "I can see that. But… Booth, she was so reckless! I know she did it to rescue someone's child, I know that. But—" Angela seemed to debate with herself. "Look, I have this cousin, and he got into a bad car accident about five years ago. That was right when there was a lot of ugly stuff going on in his life, and… Once he was finally better and had a handle on things, he said… He told me, maybe part of him wanted it to happen." Angela's voice wavered. "And I couldn't help thinking…"

She didn't need to spell it out. Booth started pacing again, before he answered. "Give Bones some time, all right? Maybe she doesn't like the drug's side effects, but she's doing the right thing. She has to follow doctors' orders. Once they release her and she's been home a while, then see. Okay, Angela? If she's still popping too many pain pills, then you come talk to me."

"Okay." She sighed, sounding somewhat relieved. Booth thought he heard Hodgins in the background, and Angela said something that Booth couldn't make out. A moment later she was back. "I'm still not sure why I called you, so I should probably… No, that's not true. I wanted to—I'm just going to say this. I don't know what's going on in this love triangle with you, Brennan and Hannah. And I don't want to know. I don't want to hear anything unless you have a simple, definitive answer. An answer I'm going to like. Because I still think it's messy and complicated, no matter what Bren says."

"What did she say? And I—I do have an answer," Booth stuttered. "I just…"

I love Brennan, and I'm going to break up with Hannah. But Hannah doesn't know that yet. And Bones…

"Bones is…"

"Stop." Angela cut him off. "Don't tell me. Tell her, if she'll listen to you. I don't want any excuses or sad stories. Because if you tell me, then I'd have to tell Brennan, and I don't want to get involved. Well, I do want to get involved—I've had many ideas about how to get involved before now—but I'm trying not to. So what I'm saying is…" Booth imagined Angela pointing her finger at him. "You better know. And you better have your story straight before you do anything."

She hung up without clarifying, and Booth was left staring out his office window. On the street below, noontime traffic was in full swing.

Was that encouragement from Angela, or a threat? She seemed to say, I'm still mad at you, but I'm rooting for you just the same. And I'll forgive everything, if you go declare your undying love for Brennan.

He intended to do that. It was the how that had him tied up in knots.

He'd been thinking about this all week, ever since that dream in the hospital waiting room. But he couldn't make any declarations before breaking up with Hannah. And with her in L.A., it shouldn't be done over the phone. The only honorable way to do it was in person. That meant waiting a few days, even if it left him—and Bones?—in an uncomfortable limbo.

Once Hannah was out of the picture, what then? He would proceed very carefully. Bones had already experienced too many hurtful or unexpected things. He didn't want to overwhelm her by adding to them. Besides, he was scared himself. What should he say? How would she react? It would be too easy to mess this up.

Booth gazed out at the city without seeing it. Maybe I shouldn't tell Bones at all. Maybe I should show her. Because she's all about evidence. And when I tried blurting things out...

The first time, he'd backpedaled. I love you… in a professional, 'atta girl kind of way.

The next time, he'd gone all in. I want to give this a shot. No changies, no take-backs.

And no more discussion. Because he hadn't listened to what she'd been telling him. You're the one who needs protecting… from me. I don't have your kind of open heart.

You're wrong, Bones, he thought. Look at how you rushed into that barn with no thought for yourself. How you held onto that girl to comfort her, when you're the one who was hurt. Look at how you took me and all the squints to a funeral on Christmas, so a grieving mother wouldn't be alone. And… how you've supported my relationship with Hannah at every turn.

You don't give yourself enough credit, Bones. And somehow, I'm going to show you.

Booth leaned against his desk, running his hands over his face. Show her, or tell her? When, and how?

He looked at the British bobble-head sitting next to him on the desk, and gave it a tap. I wonder what Sweets 'the magic eight ball' would say about all this. But look where his you're the gambler advice got me the last time.

Booth sighed. To tell or not to tell—that was the question. He watched the bobble-head nodding crazily at him. Yes-no, it seemed to say as it wobbled. Yes-no. Yes-no.

-.-.-.-.

Booth drove out to visit Brennan later that night. He'd finished his office work, hit the gym, then grabbed a change of clothes and bite to eat at his apartment. But he still got out later than he'd intended. He drove through the dark, dodging Friday night traffic and praying this wasn't a bad idea.

When he arrived, the nurse told him Bones was already asleep. But the staff knew him by now, and he was allowed to slip into her room. It was dim; the overhead lights turned off, with one lamp glowing from the corner by the window. He guessed this gave the nurses enough light to see by, without blinding the patient and keeping her awake. There was a chair in that corner, so Booth crossed silently over to it, and sat down.

He wasn't sure what he was doing here or how long he meant to stay. But he would take the chance to watch Brennan sleep. The last day he'd spent any time with her, she'd been hooked up to a lot more tubes and wires. He was reassured to see there were only one or two now. And she seemed to be sleeping peacefully: lying on her back, with the blankets pulled up to her chest. The head of the bed was raised slightly, probably to avoid stretching her injury. Her face was turned a little away from him, but he had a perfect view of her cheek and jaw line.

One week ago, at exactly this time, he'd been looking at another woman's profile. Hannah, lying next to him in bed. He'd been loafing there, ignoring his phone and worrying about sexual performance. While Bones… Bones was driving up to that barn, alone. She was rescuing a teenager and taking down a killer, with no backup. And she narrowly missed dying from a bullet. A bullet that shouldn't have gotten anywhere near her, not if Booth had been around.

One of the monitors beeped softly, and he told himself to relax. Bones was okay. She was going to be okay.

Now he thought of Hannah. He'd talked to her a few times over the past week, and it sounded like she was enjoying herself: the L.A. sunshine, the interesting people she'd met… And her assignment hadn't turned out to be dangerous, thank God. Because Booth couldn't devote himself to two crazy, courageous women. He'd already tried to split his time and attention, and almost lost Bones in the process.

Even if Hannah's job had been dangerous, he would still let her go. He would let her do what she was going to do. Because he'd made his choice. And he knew his place was right here, with Bones.

Booth shifted position, realizing that this chair was quite a good one. A lounge chair, not a flimsy plastic thing. He pushed back against the cushion, stretching his feet out on the floor. He leaned his head back, too. Maybe he wasn't fully recovered from his lack of sleep, staying at the hospital. He would just close his eyes for a minute. It was nice and quiet here, aside from the occasional car engine outside. Quiet enough, that he thought he could hear Bones breathing.

He awoke to the sound of her voice.

"Booth?"

He opened his eyes and blinked sleepily, to find her doing the same thing. "What time is it?" she asked. "Why are you…?"

He checked the clock, then leaned forward, smiling. "About nine-thirty. How long were you asleep?"

"I… Why are you here?" She was frowning as though trying to figure him out. "You should have called first. I didn't expect anyone to be here."

Damn, Booth thought. Just when I resolved not to unsettle her in any way… He tried to grin despite himself. "I would say sorry I woke you up, but technically, you woke me."

His smile wasn't returned. "Don't you have Parker this weekend?"

"Yeah, I'm picking him up tomorrow morning."

She looked upset now, those lines between her eyebrows deepening.

"Bones, I'm not cutting into my time with him. It's just, I haven't seen my partner in three days. I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine." She crossed her arms over her chest. "My father, Angela and the medical staff are doing a perfectly good job of checking on me."

Booth couldn't help hearing something behind the words. It sounded like I don't need you. But he couldn't blame her for it.

"I'm sure they are," he said. "But, you know… seeing is believing." He'd meant it to be lighthearted, but she held his eyes as if searching for another meaning. Her pupils were dilated in the dim light, and her face looked too thin for Booth's liking.

She broke the silence by asking about Parker, so Booth described their plans for the weekend: football in the park on Saturday, church and pancake breakfast on Sunday. While he talked, Brennan adjusted the controls on the bed, raising it to a more upright position. Then she reached for the water pitcher on the table. Booth's instinct was to get up and help her, but he restrained himself.

Next she asked about Hannah and how the assignment was going. Booth started to talk about that too, wondering what was going on in Brennan's head. She poured a cup of water and drank it, listening. But this time there was no smile like she'd had for Parker.

With her polite questions and his polite answers, it was like they were playing roles. The same uncomfortable roles they'd been playing in previous months. How did we get back to this? he wondered. After the other day, when she cried, and I cried, and there was nothing awkward or guarded between us.

Bones might feel vulnerable, he decided. Right now, she was touching on the 'safe' topics they had established. The things they could still talk about in their professional, partners-only dynamic.

"So of course, Hannah wants try surfing before she leaves," Booth finished.

"She might be good at it. It relies on balance and center of gravity… Just be sure she wears a sunscreen that's waterproof and high in SPF, because the ultra-violet radiation can reach harmful levels."

"Okay, I'll be sure to tell her." Booth smiled, but fell into a self-conscious silence. Hannah really wasn't a safe topic at all.

Now he knew he should offer to leave, because Brennan needed her sleep. But he finally had a chance to direct the conversation, and with Angela's phone call fresh in his mind…

Bones had reached for the pain button before that surfing comment. He watched her, to see if the lines on her face would relax. They didn't seem to, and he could tell his scrutiny was making her nervous. So he came right out and asked about her level of pain.

She didn't meet his gaze. "It can be pretty bad. You've been shot; you know that. I certainly wouldn't want to do this without the benefit of analgesics." She scratched half-heartedly at the IV in her arm. "They're going to switch me to oral painkillers tomorrow."

"Let me ask you something else, Bones," he said quietly. "What was going through your mind, when you were outside that barn?"

Brennan's eyes darted to his, looking wary. She probably didn't know why he was asking, but after a second, seemed to accept it as a 'partner thing.'

"I wasn't thinking much of anything. Just that my worst fears were confirmed—that our science was confirmed. We had the right location. Dawes was there, holding Ingrid prisoner."

She hadn't answered his question, so he waited her out, and found the analysis turned back on him. "You're not angry at me, like Angela is," Brennan said. "Because I think you would've done the same thing. Whether you had backup or not."

"I was a little angry. But I understand. And, yeah. I would've done the same thing."

She gave a slight nod, that he'd agreed. Her eyes were sober, then slid away, unfocused. "There wasn't a choice, really. There was no way I could have stood by, not when…" She described, haltingly, that view of Ingrid through the window. Of Dawes, and the weapons laid out on a table.

Booth realized he hadn't heard from her about what had happened. Just bits and pieces from Hacker or medical staff. Now, while she spoke… he felt proud and heartbroken all over again.

Bones had to play his role as well as her own. She hadn't gone in with gun blazing, but tried to do the cop thing: yelling at the suspect, intending to handcuff him. "Even if he was armed, and clearly a threat—you're supposed to do things by the book, right?"

Booth nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His genius, follow-the-rules Brennan still recalled the trouble she'd gotten into after her first shooting, when she hadn't given warning.

Now she said, "I did what you would've done." It was soft, but matter of fact. Booth looked at the lamplight shining on her hair, and the unconscious way she'd moved one hand to cover her wound.

She was trying to live up to my standards, he thought. And she did. She really did. He remembered her voice on the phone earlier. I should have been able to do this without getting myself injured. You would have done it properly.

Angela is wrong, he thought. Not wrong to worry, but wrong that she somehow looked for danger.

"Bones, let me say this again, because I don't know if it sank in before. Maybe you hesitated for a second, maybe you missed the first time, but you still made a perfect shot, while seriously injured. That's…" He shook his head. "You're like a superhero."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"I mean it. Because there's something I forgot to tell you, when I saw Ingrid and her parents at the Bureau. She was asking to see you, and we said you were still at the hospital, but she almost wouldn't believe you were still recovering."

"She was there, Booth. She saw me bleeding. I know she was being affected by quite a few stress hormones…"

He waved that away. "From her point of view, that bullet barely stopped you. The way you took out Dawes and then got her free? She said when you pulled the rope off that hook, you lifted her clean off her feet."

"That is a big exaggeration. But…" Bones seemed to think about it. "Adrenaline can result in extraordinary strength in high-stress situations."

"What did I tell you?" Booth grinned. "Superhero."

She smiled back, but something flickered in her eyes like a bad memory. He wanted to know what it was. It couldn't have been some super science she'd used to catch bad guys in the past, could it? Or the time they'd rescued another kidnapped girl, as Wonder Woman and Clark Kent…

"Well," she said, "it's getting late. And you still have to drive back… since you can't fly impossibly fast, like a superhero."

He smiled indulgently at her joke, then made a show of checking the clock. "I have a little time before I have to get home. I know you need to rest, but…" He leaned over and took the remote from the lamp table. "What do you say we sit here and watch some TV, huh? Just like old times, you and me."

Bones started to smile—he thought she did. But it was gone too suddenly to be sure. That cautiousness was back in her eyes, the kind that made him feel like an ogre. And now, she just looked tired.

Bones looked right at him and said, "Go home, Booth." He was taken aback by the coldness in her voice. "I need to sleep." Then she dropped her gaze, sounding like the Bones he knew. "You do, too. You don't look well-rested. And I don't want you to be tired for your time with Parker. Or later, when Hannah gets home."

Booth stood up, more out of instinct, and not because he intended to leave.

A nurse walked in, and Brennan said, "Thanks for stopping by, Booth. Goodnight, and drive safely." She smiled then, and he thought there was something valiant about it.

"Oh, no," the nurse said, "Agent Booth? Did you wake up my patient after you swore to be quiet?" She was teasing him, yet he got the sense she was very protective of Brennan. "Yeah, it's time to leave. Come on, shoo."

She herded him out, and he barely had time to tell Bones goodnight in return.

-.-.-.-.

A/N: A recent National Geographic article says that romantic rejection can activate the same parts of the brain that process physical pain. In a study, subjects were asked to look at photos of their ex-partners, and think about being rejected, while undergoing an MRI scan. The same parts of the brain that manage physical pain were lit up (for the squints, those are the secondary somatosensory cortex, and the dorsal posterior insula).

So, is this the other reason Bren keeps pushing the pain meds, and why Booth fell into bed with Hannah—to ameliorate the sting of rejection?