Author's Note: So I've been watching old eps of Bones, and this is what happened. It's set late season three, though. As always, let me know what you think.

Every muscle in his back ached, and an attempt at turning his head told Booth that it wouldn't be a good idea. Somewhere, as he was slowly creeping toward consciousness, a tinny voice was heard. Harsh lighting greeted him as he opened his eyes, but it only took him a second to remember where he was. The sound he'd heard was a voice on the intercom, and the lights were those of her hospital room. He'd expected to wake and find her still sleeping, but instead he found his partner perched at the end of her bed. She was making a feeble attempt at brushing her hair, but the look of determination on her face was enough to make him break the silence. Booth laughed, and with a little wincing, stood to eliminate the remaining space between them.

"Don't laugh at me."

"I wasn't laughing at you, I was-" Booth frowned, his steady hand slowly pulling the brush from hers. "What are you even doing up? The doctor said you were supposed to rest."

"Doctor Carrington released me ten minutes ago, but he said you hadn't gotten any sleep all night. I didn't want to wake you." Brennan replied, as matter of factly as she could. There was a sense of curiosity that she could barely taste, but it was definitely there.

Booth nodded, the sore muscles in his neck sending a shooting pain into his skull. "You could have woken me up, Bones. Come here," he replied, helping her turn so he could help her complete the task she was trying to do. "let me help you."

"Booth, I am perfectly capable of brushing my own hair. Infact, I..." Brennan winced, as when she made an attempt at retrieving the brush from him, her arm was sent into a throbbing pain.

"See?" Booth asked, trying to keep the amused smile from his face. He knew it wasn't funny; that any minute now, she'd be rambling about his alpha-male tendencies being the reason he insisted on helping her. It didn't stop him from wanting to. "Come on, it won't hurt. Let me help you."

Sighing, she reluctantly agreed. Closing her eyes, she focused on the slow rhythm he was creating as he picked up portions of her hair, and slowly brushed through them. She was surprised in a way, because he was going about it so slowly and with such care that she had never seen him with before. His fingers grazed her neck a time or two. She wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but Brennan braced herself every time.

When he finally finished, Booth wrapped an arm around so he could hand her the brush. As he pulled it away, feeling something kin to regret, he chose to lighten the moment. "You lived, see...it wasn't bad."

Brennan saw his smile, and forced one of her own. "I suppose that given the circumstances, you did what anyone else would have done."

"Well, I don't know about anyone...but yeah, I see what you mean." Booth replied, and in the moment, tentatively placed an arm around her shoulder. He'd used it as an excuse to be closer to and protect her, but if anyone asked, he was helping her to stand up.

"Booth, there's something that I've been wondering."

He almost laughed at her need to address everything to seriously until he saw the concern etched into her features. "Bones."

"Doctor Carrington said that you never left, not even once. Angela offered to take your place, and you refused. Why?"

Her tone was innocent and her eyes inquisitive, and it made Booth all the more aware that he had to go about the situation carefully. "I wanted to be here. I was in the car too, Bones. It could have been me, but it wasn't. That, and I know that it's my fault you were here in the first place."

"That isn't true." Brennan argued, sounding hurt. She began to recoil, but quickly relaxed as she saw his features soften. She knew he took their partnership seriously, and knew the scared feeling he had just as well. Leaning in just an inch, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for being here."

It puzzled him, again. A simple act of thanks, yet it still sent his mind reeling. "I've got a question for you now, Bones."

"Yes?" Brennan arched an eyebrow.

The sunlight streamed through the window as they sat on the edge of her hospital bed, and he couldn't help but feel compelled to ask the question. "That's the second time you've done that. Well, the third, really...but..." He gulped, turned his gaze specifically to her. "Why'd you do that?"

Her mouth hung open, the pale purple under her eyes seemed a little more accentuated. She wanted to say something; to offer him an answer that she hoped he would take. Instead, she found his lips slowly claiming hers, and their hands carefully intertwining. He was being careful, of that much she knew. Tentative, Booth was testing uncharted waters, and at any moment he would stop. Brennan tried not to think of what would happen when he did.

With one hand holding hers and the other carefully gripping her waist, Booth leaned his forehead against hers. He couldn't explain what it was that made him kiss her, but he'd known somehow in that moment that he had to.

"I think that I could ask you the very same thing. Booth?" Her expression was unafraid, though her voice sounded unsure.

He smiled, truly smiled, and was careful in pulling her closer. She was hurt, but he needed her to be safe, and in his mind he felt that was what he was doing. "I needed to be here."

It didn't truly explain, but recognition slowly dawned on her. Booth was the one who always cared, but now it seemed as if they were inching toward something a little more deeper. "Thank you, Booth."

Giving her hand a light squeeze, Booth's feet dangled from the side of the bed. "You want to go to the lab, don't you?"

Brennan shrugged, the stitches in her lip wrinkling as she forced a smile. "Only if you let me get you some pie first."

He frowned, clearly not following her.

"What?" She asked, feigning innocence. "It's just pie. It's...my way to thank you."

Booth nodded, planting a kiss against her forehead. He knew it was her way of telling him she was okay with the way things were going, or at least that's what he believed. "Well, who am I to refuse free pie?"