AN: I'm terribly sorry for this not being up earlier. All that I can really say for myself is that life got in the way.

1:15-Two Bodies in the Lab

Escape

I pushed my chair away from the edge of the bed as Booth pulled the sensors from his chest. A machine in the corner started to sound an alarm.

"Shut that damn thing off," he ground out between his gritted teeth.

I turned from silencing the heart rate monitor, just in enough time to see him pull the IV needle out.

"There'll be bandages in one of those drawers."

"Right." After a little searching I tossed a roll of tape and a bag of cotton balls at him.

"Bones grabbed my gym bag out of the SUV. It's in the closet."

I tossed the bag toward the bed, where Booth sat struggling with the roll of tape. He looked at up at me, as close to pleading as I'd ever seen him. "We don't have time for this. You do it," he insisted, tossing the tape to me with one hand.

I taped the cotton ball over the small hole left behind by the needle and stuffed the first aid supplies back in their drawer. When he turned back around, Booth had worked himself halfway into his sweats and there was a nurse standing in the doorway.

"And just what do you two think you're doing?" she asked. Booth's attention snapped toward the voice. The nurse was a somewhat older and much angrier version of Queen Latifah in pink and green scrubs. "Get back in that bed. Are you crazy?"

"My partner's in trouble. I have to go."

"Boy, I was here when you came in yesterday. Went and got yourself blown up, God only knows how. If that pretty little thing that was in here with you is in trouble, call the cops, call the FBI, I don't care. Just get back in bed."

"I am FBI. My badge should be in with my effects."

I silently tossed the envelope that was tucked in the small closet beside his duffel onto the bed. Booth winced as he opened it.

"I don't care. You're not going anywhere."

"I'll refuse treatment, if that's what it takes."

"You have no business…"

"Don't argue with him," I finally interjected. "There's no use."

"And just who are you?"

"Dr. Jack Hodgins. Just get the papers. We'll meet you at the desk."

She sighed in defeat. "Will he be released into your care?"

I nodded, not about to imply that my degree wouldn't mean anything if something went wrong.

"Fine," she snapped, turned on her heel, and then exited the room.

A shadow of a grin crossed Booth's face.

"Don't start. I'm sure you do the same thing with your badge from time to time."

"I just tried. It didn't work," he paused for a moment. "You're going to have to put my shoes on. Don't bother with the socks. No time."

I nodded and he pulled himself upright with his feet dangling off the bed. Sitting up seem to be a chore for him. "Are you going to be able to walk, man?"

"Of course I am. My legs are mostly fine, I just know I'll pull my shoulder out again if I try to pull on those shoes. Quit wasting time!"

I shoved his shoes on his feet. It was a surprisingly difficult task. He kicked my hands away as I tried to tie them, giving me a stern look.

"I know, but if you trip over the laces…"

"Just tuck them in and grab my sweat jacket."

I wasn't about to try to argue with him again. I shoved the laces down in the tops of his sneakers and then turned toward the gym bag, rooting around for the jacket. When I turned back around, Booth had managed pull himself off the bed and was leaning heavily in the doorframe. The look in his eyes was slightly crazed and I didn't have to see a lab report to know how much adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

He nodded encouragingly and held out his hand for the jacket. I obliged before pushing past him to the desk. I scanned the paperwork quickly as he struggled to catch up. There was nothing saying that he couldn't check himself back in. That was good; it meant we wouldn't have to take him across town to the other hospital when this was all over with.

"Where do I…?" he asked, gesturing to the pen.

I pointed at the lines that he was to sign and he all but threw the paperwork at the startled nurse. He started down the hall toward the elevator before yelling, "Get the car, I'm we don't have time for me to be hobbling through the parking lot."

"Right," I muttered, stepping around him again and taking the two flights of stairs down. I didn't look back to see if it was Booth stepping out of the elevator that dinged behind me when I reached the first floor. Instead I half-ran to the front door and then dashed across the parking lot.

By the time I got the car to the entryway, Booth was leaned heavily against one of the columns that supported the awning. I pulled up beside him, reached over to throw the door open, and asked, "Do you need help?"

"No," he said as he folded himself into the front seat. "You need a bigger car."