Chapter 21: Cutting to the Heart of Things
Brennan listened with half an ear as Dr. Albright, the project coordinator over in Maluku, asked her about the break-in and whether any of the research had been lost in the process, but for the most part was focused on whoever Booth was conversing with in the hall. He had immediately adopted a serious tone when he answered it, and she could hear the questioning in his vocal inflection, though she couldn't make out the words themselves.
Albright, meanwhile, pelted her with question after question of his own, barely giving her enough time to answer in monosyllabic grunts even if she'd wanted to be more precise. Finally, she heard Booth hang up, so she assured her colleague one last time that their data was safe and that appropriate measures were being taken to ensure that nothing of the sort would happen again.
When she was released from the overseas call, she set her phone aside and went in search of Booth.
"Who was that?" she asked, sinking down to the hall floor beside him and laying a hand on his forearm. "What's wrong?"
His expression was blank, his face ashen, but he managed, "Pops."
She feared the worst but a few seconds later he explained that it had been another heart-attack but not a fatal one. He was in the same hospital as he had been the last time and being treated by the same doctor.
"But that's a good thing," she encouraged Booth. "He'll be well taken care of there and by doctors who are familiar with his medical history."
"Yeah," Booth slowly mumbled. "This time."
Their eyes met and she knew he was thinking about how he would feel if the outcome was not as favorable as it appeared to be. It was one of those times she wished she was the type of person that could sugar-coat the truth for others, but knew she couldn't. Given Hank Booth's aversion to following his doctor's orders, along with the major bypass surgery he'd had the previous year, and now two heart-attacks, his prognosis was more than likely grim. Not that he would die that night, but its likelihood in the near future was high and she knew that Booth would take the loss hard.
"I'm sorry," was all she could come up with to say, and it sounded pathetic to her ears. Then she stood up suddenly and took his hands in an attempt to haul him to his feet, telling him softly but firmly, "You need to get up."
His eyes searched hers questioningly, so she continued, "We need to go to him. He'll want to see you and you want to see him, whether either one of you admits it or not. Sitting on the floor all night, wondering about what could've happened, or what might happen in the future accomplishes nothing."
One of his lips twitched up as he stood, his left hand remaining connected to her hand, while his right thumb and forefinger brushed her jaw, "When did you get so smart, Bones?"
"I had a good teacher," she smiled softly. Then tugged at his hand, "Let's go."
They made quick work of getting dressed and closing up her apartment before getting his SUV loaded and on the road. Though neither said anything, they both thought back to the last time they had received a call about Hank and subsequently hurtled through the night to the hospital. That had been the night after Heather Taffet's trial verdict; the night they had finally given in and decided to give them a chance.
So many things had changed in the intervening months, and Booth was more thankful than ever that Brennan had gone all in with him, not only working things out so that she could stay in the States with him, but then moving in with him too. She hadn't run away and neither had he.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Booth waited a long moment, just mentally trying to prepare himself for whatever awaited them. A light touch broke his reverie and he turned toward her. Brennan's eyes were full of concern for him and she brought her hands up on either side of his face and lowered him gently onto her lips for a kiss that spoke of her love and support without needing any words.
Nodding once they pulled back, he unbuckled and got out, wrapping an arm around her waist as soon as she was close enough, and they made their way into the ER.
This time when they went up to the admissions' desk Brennan didn't wait for Booth to speak, but calmly told the nurse on duty who they were there for, and who the attending physician was. For his part, Booth pulled out his ID without being asked, and tried to cling as tightly as he could to Brennan without it being obvious; thankful that she was the one doing all of the talking since the lump that had risen into his throat as they passed through the sliding doors of the ER hadn't gone away.
They were informed that Hank had already been transferred to a room in the main hospital and were told how to find the cardiac wing. Brennan thanked the nurse sincerely for her help, then subtly urged Booth in that direction. Neither one of them said anything as they strode through the barren corridors, passing only the occasional nurse or doctor as they went.
Again, it was Brennan who went up to the nurse on duty in the cardiac wing and explained their situation, asking if Dr. Lehman was still present, or if he'd gone home for the night. She released a small breath when she found out he was still there and was nearly done with his rounds for the night. Apparently, he'd left word at the desk to be paged as soon as the couple arrived, and Brennan was told he would be out to see them in just a moment.
The entire time Brennan was talking with the nurse, Booth stood beside her, too emotional now to trust himself to say anything. A few of the room doors were cracked open, giving him a glimpse of the various machines the patients in this ward were hooked up to. He strained to catch what room number Pops was in, but the chart was just beyond his line of sight, and the opportunity passed when they were instructed to sit and wait for the doctor.
In Booth's vast experience with hospitals and doctors it was never a good sign when you weren't just allowed to go right back and see whoever you were there for, and all he could picture was Pops back in one of those rooms, all alone, and hooked up to one of those godforsaken machines.
"Mr. and Mrs. Booth," Dr. Lehman materialized out of nowhere and extended his hand. "I can't say that I'm happy you have to be here again, but I am pleased to see you."
"How is Hank?" Brennan cut right to the chase, not caring if they ever got around to correcting the doctor's erroneous opinion that she and Booth were married. It hadn't mattered the last time and it didn't matter now.
"He's sleeping," the doctor smiled to set them at ease.
"Sedated?" Brennan wanted to know.
The doctor shook his head, "Just worn out. He's had a long day."
Lehman went on to explain the type of heart-attack Pops had had and indeed it was a little bit more serious than the last time, but the doctor was not convinced it had been life-threatening. He did, however, want to keep Hank in the hospital for a few days and run some more extensive tests to get a clearer picture of what his overall heart health was.
After allowing Brennan to peruse Hank's chart and assuring them once again that he was not at death's door, the couple was finally persuaded to go home and rest for the night, though Booth promised they would be back first thing in the morning. It was close to three when a bleary-eyed Booth found a space on their street and the two of them trudged in the townhouse, both thankful that they only lived fifteen minutes from the hospital, and that neither one of them had any work responsibilities over the weekend.
The sun was well on it's way through the sky by the time either one of them woke up the next morning and Booth was shocked to realize it was already ten o'clock. They hurried through breakfast and were in Hank's room an hour later. The older man was slightly pale and visibly weaker than he had been at Parker's game just the other week, but he was in good spirits and seemed to be cheered by the presence of his visitors.
Most of what Hank wanted to talk about revolved around Jared and Padme's upcoming wedding. After a few scheduling snags, the wedding had finally been set for the end of July, which he reminded them was only three weeks away. Hank was also adamant that he would be healthy enough to go to Parker's baseball game in a week, and Brennan assured him that even if his doctor felt he wasn't, they would come pick him up for the barbeque afterward.
"So has he offered to make an honest woman of you yet?" Hank asked Brennan bluntly.
She looked over at Booth, who's face flamed red and gave a playful smile, "We're in negotiations, yes."
"What's there to negotiate?" Hank shrugged. "You either want to or you don't. Doesn't take any of those fancy doctor papers on your wall to figure that out."
"Pops," Booth protested, not wanting to scare Brennan off.
"I'm serious," he gave Brennan an apologetic look. "When you get to be by age you'll see that there's no use in beating around the bush." Hank looked back at Booth, "Shrimp, can you give us a minute alone?"
Booth realized he didn't really have a choice when Brennan nodded that she'd been fine and all but shooed him out with a wave of her chin. "I'm gonna go see if I can scrounge up some pudding," he said lamely, and excused himself with a wave.
In an uncomfortable vinyl chair beside Hank's hospital bed, Brennan tilted her head and prepared herself for whatever kindly advice the man was about to impart. Since their first meeting over a year ago, she'd come to deeply respect him, finding quickly that it was he who had passed down some of Booth's more admirable character traits, and even some of his mannerisms.
It was a classic Booth charm smile that met her eyes now, one meant not so much to persuade as to set at ease, "That boy of mine loves you."
She nodded, secure in her knowledge of that fact, "I love him as well."
"He's a good man," Hank went on. "Flawed in parts, but a good man nonetheless, and there's something you need to know about him."
Brennan looked from Hand to the door where Booth had left, then back again, "If this is something known only within your family, perhaps you shouldn't divulge it. Booth is a very private person."
"Sweetheart," the old man chuckled, "aside from the fact that you've been family for years now, this is something you need to know. Something he'll never tell you on his own, but he should. Do you trust me?"
"Of course," the answer sprung from her lips, not giving her mind a chance to dwell on the question. Never mind that the man in front of her was more of a grandparent to her than any of her biological grandparents had been, Hank was just like her own Booth in that she trusted him implicitly.
"What Seeley wants in this world more than anything else is a family," he held out a hand to stave off any comments on her part, even though she wasn't about to interrupt him. "I'm sure he's told you there's more than one kind of family, and maybe even assured you he'll be perfectly happy with whatever kind of family you're willing to give him?"
She nodded her head when he realized he was waiting for her answer, "He has."
"It's bull," Hank confided in her softly but earnestly. "Not that he's deliberately lying to you, mind you, but his own family that he loved so much disintegrated in front of his eyes when he was just a little boy. I've watched him now for years try to convince himself that he doesn't need that kind of nuclear family to be a whole person; that he should just be willing to settle for whatever anybody's willing to give him.
"He settled for what we could give him after that mess with his dad," Hank shook his head sadly. "He settled for the Army after his shoulder blew out during college, hell, he's still settling for whatever BS line that Stinson girl feeds him when it comes to his own son!"
He dragged in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but still visibly emotional. It was several minutes before he spoke again, "Now, I know there are things in your past too, and I know you're scared when it comes to marriage, but what I need you to understand is that Seeley will settle for whatever arrangement you offer. He'll make the best of it and won't ever tell you otherwise.
"But inside," Hank tapped his chest, ignoring the wires and everything else, "he'll still be that little boy who just wants to be part of a real family again; be the husband and father he's never been allowed to be before. So please, if that's something you decide you can't give him: don't make him settle again. But if it is- and I have a feeling it is even if you're not quite sure yet- than marry him. Soon. Before you two lose any more time than you already have."