By Any Means Necessary Chapter 21, a bones fanfic

Chapter 21

After leaving Brennan's room, Angela made her way back to where Sweets sat. He rose as though to make his way to Brennan's room himself, but Angela stopped him with an upraised hand. "She's going to sleep now."

He sank back into his seat with a nod, but it was clear that he was eager to talk to his usually unwilling patient. "How is she doing?" His voice was filled with concern.

Angela sighed as she dropped into the chair next to him. "Not good, Sweets. She doesn't want to talk about any of it, and she completely freaked out when I suggested you coming in and talking to her. She's terrified of talking to you or Booth, and you saw her try to get rid of Max and Russ. What do you think that means?"

Sweets brow was furrowed as he thought out loud. "Well ...it's not uncommon for female victims of sexual assault to be uncomfortable in the presence of males, even those with whom they are familiar. Many times, that familiarity can even..."

Angela was quick to cut him off, her voice defensive. "But she wasn't a victim of a sexual assault. Booth saved her."

He nodded slowly, considering. The reaction Angela described seemed more intense than he would have expected, too, especially to the idea of him coming in to talk to her. She had seemed more irritated by his presence earlier than frightened, when she had kicked out everyone but him and Angela. "She knows that now. But Booth told Max that he didn't think she knew why he did what he did. If that's true, she may have fully believed at the time that she was being victimized by Booth, possibly even about to be raped by him."

Angela looked disgusted. "God, don't say it like that. It's just wrong. It's Booth. He would never do anything like that."

Sweets was nodding vehemently. "Exactly. Dr. Brennan would almost certainly agree with that statement. That fact - her confidence in his character - would only cause the event to be even more traumatic. You know that she doesn't hand out trust readily. It would have been the ultimate betrayal, at least from her point of view. Plus, we have the benefit of knowing what happened after the fact. Dr. Brennan quite literally lived through it."

Angela shifted in her chair to face him more fully. "Booth said that when he had to, you know...that right before she started screaming and fighting him, she 'looked right through him.' I know what he means. That's exactly how she looked when she flipped out on the doctor earlier today. Do you think when it happened that she even knew it was Booth?"

Sweets shrugged. "The only one who can answer that is Dr. Brennan. And until she's willing to talk about it..."

He trailed off, and Angela nodded in understanding.

"If you're going home with her, Angela, there are some things you should know - some techniques to help her cope if she has another flashback like what you saw earlier."

"Anything I can do, Sweets. I'll do anything."

He nodded, and spent the next half hour telling her what she could expect, as Angela became more nervous with each passing second.

ooo … ooo … ooo

When midnight arrived, all was quiet in the hospital. Brennan, so far as everyone knew, slept alone in her room. When Booth and Max had come back into the hospital, after Max bought him a hot meal Booth had resumed his place in his miserable chair, still not certain that approaching Bones was the best idea. Other than when she screamed his name in flashback, he hadn't gone near her since the first time he left her room, which was also when he had promised to give her time and to stay outside until she called for him - a promise he was beginning to regret. It was the hardest thing he ever did, but he planted himself back in the chair and stayed put.

Cam had long since gone home for the night, and Hodgins and Booth had finally convinced Angela to let Hodgins take her home so she could get some rest before picking up her friend the next day. Sweets was in the chair next to Booth, snoring loudly with his head back against the wall, and Booth made a mental note to be nicer to the young doctor who didn't seem to have ever considered leaving his side. Russ had yet to reappear, and even Max had gone for the night after calling for a cab and promising to be back in the morning.

Booth wanted to stay awake and keep his eye on her room. He wanted that more than anything. His body, on the other hand, had different ideas. He made several trips to look in her window, relieved to see that she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but eventually he always returned to his chair. Despite his best efforts, his head lolled, his eyes slowly drifted shut, and he fell into a light sleep with his every thought still on her.

ooo … ooo … ooo

At 2:00 am, Russ Brennan sneaked back into the hospital, past his sister's sleeping partner, and into her room, carefully avoiding being seen by the nurses. Knowing what he was about to do gave him a twinge of guilt when he saw the devoted man who had refused to leave his sister's side, but his first priority was going to have to be his sister. After what she had told him, he was still more than a little pissed off. Try as he might to give Booth the benefit of the doubt, he could not envision a scenario where kissing, undressing and holding her down could have been necessary for her rescue. And then there was the other thing she had said about what she felt when Booth got on top of her.

Anger had shot through Russ from the top of his head to the ends of his toes when she said that, and the effect still lingered. They might be full grown adults, but she was still his baby sister. She could and would kick his ass from one side of D.C. to the other if he said that out loud, but that didn't change the fact that it was true.

As a rule, Russ Brennan had now generally come around to the idea that running was a bad idea; but after hearing her version of the story, he certainly couldn't blame her for wanting to run. The only thing that had stopped him from crashing his fist into the FBI agent's jaw after talking to his sister was the words he had heard when he stepped into the hallway...the man had made it very clear what his feelings and intentions were, without even knowing Russ was there. Booth wanted marriage, family, kids - and he wanted it with Temperance Brennan. That certainly didn't sound like a man who would have taken advantage of her physically when she was at her most helpless. It had frozen Russ long enough to let Booth get away, and he had thought of little else in all the hours he had been gone.

Despite the late hour, Brennan's head turned toward the door instantly when Russ entered, her eyes wide and awake. "Russ. I was starting to think you weren't coming back."

She had lain awake thinking the entire time, having had many hours of sleep on the plane. She was still fearful that if she slept she would have more revealing nightmares; the last thing she wanted to do was cry out for Booth. Just thinking about the times she had clung to him and the way she had screamed his name for everybody to hear still caused a humiliated flush to rise in her cheeks. She was exhausted, but she would sleep when she got where she was going.

Russ held a bag that she recognized as an extra overnight bag she kept in her apartment, and it was stuffed to the gills. With a loud thud, it plopped suddenly onto the bed beside her leg. "I almost didn't. I'm doing this under protest, Tempe. I still don't think it's a good idea. Can't you at least wait until you're discharged?"

"It's easier this way. I just need time to..."

"Be able to pretend nothing happened. I know." He hesitated for just a moment, wondering if he should bring it up. "You know, Booth is still out there. I know you heard what he said earlier. Maybe you should try to talk to him. I don't want you to make a mistake, Sis."

Desperation shot through her. Booth was still there? What was he still doing there? And why? Couldn't he just go home and leave her to her humiliation and solitude? Not to mention that sneaking past him to get out of the hospital would be problematic at best. And why was Russ on his side?

"There's nothing to say, Russ. I don't want to talk about what he said."

"Temperance..."

In an attempt to deflect Russ from the topic of Booth, she began looking through her bag and cut him off. "Russ...what's all this?"

The look on his face told her that she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Sorry about that. I could only find one bag in your apartment. My stuff is in there too."

Her eyes were growing wider by the moment. "Your stuff?"

Russ crossed his arms around his chest. His sister may have been the queen of stubbornness, but she had obviously forgotten that it was a Brennan family trademark. "That's right. I'm coming with you."

"What?" Brennan almost exploded. "I don't need a babysitter!. I'll be fine. Here, take your things."

"Uh-uh. Tempe, just a few hours ago, you were screaming and holding a pair of scissors on the doctor. I understand if you don't want Booth's help right now, but you don't need to be alone. If I help you leave and something happens to you, I'd never forgive myself and neither would Dad. If you've got to get out of here, I can respect that. I'd be a hypocrite to try to stop you. But until I know you're all right, you're stuck with me."

"You can't just...you have a job, Russ. You have a family."

He didn't budge. "I'm taking the week off. Oh, and Amy and the girls said to tell you they love you and hope you feel better soon."

Brennan was almost sputtering she was so furious. "Russ, I - you can't - how can you afford to take a week off? You can't afford that. And how are you going to pay for your part of the trip?"

Russ just shook his head in amazement. Pay for his part of the trip? Jeez. 'Only Tempe...' He seemed to have that thought a lot around her. "You're right. I can't. But you're my sister, and you need my help right now, so I'll work something out." One side of his mouth jerked up in a wry smile. "You don't know any rich, best-selling authors that could float me a loan, do you?"

Brennan was shaking her head incredulously. This wasn't what she wanted. She needed to be alone. For someone who had spent the last 15 years alone, mostly so that nobody could get close enough to hurt her by leaving her alone, suddenly she couldn't manage a few minutes of isolation to save her life.

"What do you say, Tempe? That's the deal. I go with you, or that bag goes back with me and you stay here."

She considered it. Russ had taken a week off. That meant she wouldn't be able to get away from him for at least that long. If she let Angela take her home the next day, she would be stuck with her for a few days, having to endure her desire to talk about everything. But when she convinced Angela she was all right she could send her home, and then she could leave on her own terms. She might even be able to do it in such a way that nobody would come after her. After all she had been through, she could wait two more days.

"You're right, Russ."

"Huh?"

"I said you're right, Russ."

"That's what I thought. Now I know you're too unstable to be left alone."

She actually almost smiled at that. "Maybe I should wait until I'm discharged, and go home for a few days."

Russ nodded slowly, somewhat surprised at her sudden turn-on-a-dime change of heart. "I think that's the right decision."

He sat and talked with her a few more minutes, trying to be sure that she was sincere. When she yawned, he took the hint and took his leave. "Why don't you try to get some sleep, sis?"

She agreed, and with a quick peck on her cheek he then turned to go, taking the bag with him.

ooo … ooo … ooo

When morning broke on the hospital, it again became a bustling, busy place, with no small amount of visitors for Brennan. She managed to make her own special version of small talk - which in no way resembled normal small talk - with Cam, Hodgins, Sweets and her family, leaving her even more drained than social interaction usually left her. True to his word, Booth never entered the room. He had expected Russ to approach him, but instead Russ had avoided him like the plague.

In the early afternoon, Brennan was finally discharged, after receiving no small amount of after-care instructions to follow. She listened politely, having no intention of following any of them: least of all the recommendation for counseling for PTSD.

After initially protesting the hospital policy and claiming that she could walk perfectly well, she finally allowed herself to be placed in a wheelchair and rolled to Angela's car. Angela alone was going home with her. Brennan had been surprised how readily Angela had agreed to help fend off everyone else in order to make that happen. The artist had managed to clear Brennan's room of everyone but herself, over an hour before Brennan was finally released.

The most difficult moment came when they passed Booth in the hallway.

As soon as Brennan was rolled out of the room and into the hallway, Angela at her side, Booth pushed nervously to his feet. Everything about him indicated nervousness: the anxious bob of his throat as he swallowed, the hands that couldn't find a place to be still, the hitch in his breathing that they could literally see from yards away.

Angela's eyes were filled with sympathy for him as they approached, but he never noticed. His gaze was locked on his partner. Had she heard his none-too-quiet admission of love for her yesterday? Had she heard him say, for all intents and purposes, that he wanted to marry her and build a life with her? If she had, all of his cards were on the table. What was she thinking? Would she speak to him?

For one long moment, her eyes locked with his. Neither noticed when Angela touched the orderly's arm and indicated for him to stop pushing the chair for a moment. The only thing either saw was the other's eyes. The inexplicable sadness that Booth saw in hers almost took his breath away, and he found himself again fighting the urge not to approach her.

"Bones?" he ventured, heart pounding.

For one moment, he thought she would answer - thought he saw a sheen of tears glisten in her eyes. Then she dropped her gaze and turned her face away. "Let's go, Angela," she murmured.

With one last sad glance at Booth, Angela complied. "Okay, sweetie. We're going."

ooo … ooo … ooo

His apartment had never seemed so empty. In the moments after Brennan was wheeled out of the hospital, Booth had not known what to do with himself for a few moments. He had even sunk back into that torturous chair and stayed for long minutes, trying to decide what to do next. She had been his entire focus ever since she left on that damn plane, and now that it was over he was at a bit of a loss. Finally, his sore, stiff back got his full attention, and he made his way outside. The bright, cheery afternoon sun seemed to mock him, and nothing looked the same to him as it normally did.

Almost in a daze, he made his way to his truck and got in. He remembered nothing of the drive back to his apartment, parking his truck, or making his way in. One moment, he had been climbing into his truck, and the next he was in his shower, forehead pressed against the cold shower wall as the hot water pounded into his sore, stiff muscles.

He stayed there, afraid to move for fear of breaking completely down, as the water changed from hot to tepid, tepid to cool, and cool to ice cold. Finally staggering from the shower, he put on the first clothes he could find and stumbled to his couch, utterly exhausted. The couch was going to have to suffice, stiff back or not. He was going nowhere near his bed right then. It would almost feel like a crime scene, considering how many X-rated fantasies of her he had entertained there. The top two activities that occurred in his bed: sleeping, and fantasizing about his partner. No, he would not sleep in his bed that day. Maybe not again ever. Too many memories that now felt dirty. It was only when he sank into his couch that he remembered there had been no shortage of the same activity there. 'Damnit.'

That image, however, was soon replaced by another one: the image of her being wheeled past him and refusing to speak to him as she left the hospital. It hurt just as much to relive it the second time as it had when he experienced it firsthand. He didn't know what to make of it.

If she had heard what he said yesterday, that reaction was an answer all by itself. And she had to have heard him. Everybody had heard him. People in the goddamn parking lot had probably heard him.

In a flash, he saw how the future was sure to unfold before him. She would compartmentalize everything. She would show back up at work, walls firmly in place, daring anybody to try to get close. She would, of course, insist upon still working with him, utterly convinced that their professional careers didn't have to change just because he had allowed the chemical reactions of dopamine and nor-epi-what-the-fuck-ever to make him believe he was in love with her. She would rationalize his broken heart right out of sight, out of mind, and they would have a purely professional relationship - no touching, no friendship, no diner, no drinks, no goddamn acknowledgement whatsoever of what it would do to him to be around her like that.

Suddenly, he could take no more. If he couldn't even sleep in his own bed alone without it hurting too much to think of her, what made him think he could work with her? In a moment of pure weakness, he shot to his feet and began looking for his phone.

When he found it, he dialed a number that he had only ever dialed once before. It was an impulsive, gut reaction to how much he was hurting, but he fully intended to get in touch with Naji and make him give him a damn job. A woman picked up on the second ring - the same woman he had spoken with the first time he called, he was almost certain. As he had done before, he gave his name and waited for her to initiate the code phrase.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Booth. That code phrase has expired. Do you have another?"

Fresh waves of betrayal washed over him. Naji too? "Listen, I know he's there. Just put him on the damn phone. I know you know who I am." He was almost growling and he knew it, but he could do nothing to control it.

"Again, I'm sorry." Her voice was so sincere that he wondered if she knew the whole story. He almost suspected she did. "But without a code phrase, I can't connect you with him."

He almost threw the phone across the room when he disconnected. Calling Naji had been little more than a gut reaction, and one he probably wouldn't have followed through with anyway. But just knowing that he no longer had that friend to turn to for backup was painful, even if part of him understood why Naji had done it. Never had he felt so completely alone.

It was a long, long time before he was finally able to fall asleep.

ooo … ooo … ooo

Many hours later, Booth was awakened by the sound of his phone. A quick glance at his clock told him it was the middle of the night. He had been asleep for more than 10 hours. His heart almost pounded right out of his chest when he saw that the call was from her home number.

"Bones?" he answered without thinking, holding his breath in anticipation of hearing her voice.

"Get over here. Right now." Angela sounded slightly panicked, and that panic transferred to him immediately.

He was already grabbing for his keys and striding for the door. "I'm on my way. What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"NO, she's not okay. The same thing happened that happened in her hospital room. She completely freaked out, and almost knocked me out in the process. Right now she's locked in the bedroom and she won't answer me or let me in."

"Can you hear her?" His voice was sharp, tight, focused.

"Not a sound. If I could break the door down, Booth, I would, but I can't." The sound of a car door slamming traveled through the phone lines to her ears, followed quickly by an engine cranking and tires squealing. "Should I call 911?"

"I'll be there before they could get there." His voice sounded grim, and she had no doubt that what he said was true. "What happened?"

Angela sounded slightly less panicked, calmed just by knowing he was on his way. "She fell asleep and had some kind of nightmare not even an hour after we got here, and she kept screaming your name. When I tried to calm her down, she almost knocked me out. She finally woke up and calmed down, and I thought it would be okay after that. It was okay for a while. Neither of us felt like sleeping, so I even talked her into some typical girl sleepover party stuff...you know, hair, makeup, nails - anything to get her to interact with me and get her mind off things."

"Hair?" He knew her captors had done her hair. Even if she hadn't told him about being prepared for sale, he had seen the soft curls when he found her. Thinking about how much more vulnerable it had made her look made his gut clench. He thought he might know what her latest flashback had been about, and it made him hit the gas a little harder. Her voice on the plane when she had told him about them throwing her clothes away was one he would never forget. He had promised to stay away, but Angela had just told him that Bones woke up screaming his name, and he knew that she was hurting and why. That was enough for him.

Angela misunderstood the question. "Hey, it's what I know, and I'm good at it. Don't judge. Everything was going fine. We were talking about her nails - well, I guess I was talking about her nails - and she got all stiff and her eyes got that glazed look. Next thing I know, she shoved me down, ran out of the room, and locked herself in the bedroom. I'm scared, Booth. What if she hurts herself?"

He had the same fear, but he needed to focus on getting to her. Dwelling too much on what she could be doing in that room would drive him mad before he could get there. And the mention of nails threw his theory off a little bit about exactly what had caused the flashback, as well.

"Angela, what exactly did you say right before it happened? I need to know exact words."

"God, Booth, I don't remember. I..."

Angela was flustered, and he could hear it. He knew he wasn't helping by pressing so hard for information, but it was all he could do. "Think. It could be important to know what triggered it. What were you talking about?"

"She never really said anything. I was going to put on a second coat of polish, and she pulled her hand back."

"Angela, what did you say?" The insistence in his voice finally broke through, making her remember.

"I said, 'Sorry, sweetie. Gotta make it look good.'"

His hands gripped the wheel at the same time that his foot slammed down on the brake pedal. Her flashback hadn't been about having her hair done and her clothes thrown away. It hadn't been about Edon Tolka, pillowcases over her head, or shooting her captors, either. It hadn't even been past memories, like the Gravedigger or her parents leaving. No. It had been about him. Attacking her.

Gotta make it look good...

'They're watching...gotta make this look good. Too important.'

None of the words sounded all that significant alone, other than the fact that they were the last words he said to her before he shoved her onto that damn bed.

Still gripping the wheel, he could feel the bile rising in his throat. His palms had broken out in a sweat, and his voice was shaky when he finally spoke. "I think maybe you should call 911 instead, Angela. Seeing me will just make it worse."

"What? Why?"

"The flashback is about me."

She processed that for all of two seconds, not even asking how he knew. "Booth, whether it was or not, I need your help. I can't stay here by myself with her anymore. She's a lot stronger than me. Even if I call 911 and they don't throw her into a psych ward - and you know she couldn't take that, Booth - what am I supposed to do when it happens again? I'm scared for her, but I'm scared of her, too. I need you to stay here with us, whether she likes it or not. You're the only one strong enough to deal with her when this happens."

For some reason, those words hit him like a speeding truck. He wasn't needed because Bones wanted him. He wasn't even needed because he could help her. He was just the hired muscle - the guy who had already proven once that he could physically subdue her, so hey, why not make a habit of it?

"You want me to stay there with you, against her will, in case she needs to be physically restrained? Angela, do you have any idea what you're asking me? I can't do that!"

"Seeley Booth, she could be bleeding out in that bedroom right now. If I call 911, you and I both know she's going to be put back in the hospital and have her sanity questioned, and I don't think she can take it right now. Hit the gas."

ooo … ooo … ooo

After running away from Angela and into her bedroom, Brennan tried to get her shaking under control. The last flashback had been the worst one yet. She had known that it had to happen eventually; at some point, she would inevitably stop seeing Edon's face when she remembered the worst part of what happened in that room, and she would clearly remember Booth's for the entire sequence of events.

She still hadn't been prepared for the reality of it.

Booth's words right before shoving her onto the bed had danced at the edge of her memory, just out of her grasp, ever since she first began remembering. Angela's innocent exclamation about the nail polish had sent the memory slamming back into her mind like a physical blow.

Gotta make this look good...

For the first time, she had seen Booth's face in conjunction with the entire event: being held down, feeling his body's reaction, fearing that she was to be raped. The two images didn't seem to fit together - his face and something as horrible as that - and yet there they were.

Panic had flooded her. She had knocked Angela down and run to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her before sinking down to hug her knees and try to regain control.

Despite the intensity of the flashback, it was actually quite a short lived one. She came back to reality within moments of reaching her room, other than the fact that she couldn't stop shaking. She even heard Angela calling for her. She simply didn't want to talk about it.

Suddenly, waiting two days for Angela to leave was no longer an option. First of all, she couldn't face the idea of talking about any of it: her kidnapping, what happened with Booth, and certainly not her conclusions about what she had overheard him saying at the hospital. Everything was spinning out of control, and she needed distance to regain some control before she hurt someone. She shuddered at the thought of what she had just done. What if she had held a weapon of some type when she had shoved Angela? What if she were to have another flashback and mistake Angela for an attacker? Even if she didn't need to escape so desperately for herself, she wasn't going to risk harming another person. She needed to be somewhere alone, and soon.

As quietly as possible, she pulled out her old suitcase from her closet - the new one was still in Tirana - and began randomly throwing clothing into it before dressing and throwing on some shoes. Angela wouldn't like it, but she was leaving and she was doing it tonight. Even in her weakened condition, Angela wouldn't be able to prevent her physically. She would almost certainly call Booth to try to stop her when she realized what was happening, but Brennan intended to have transportation ready so that Booth couldn't possibly be able to arrive in time - even if he came, which wasn't likely after what she heard the day before. Retrieving her cell phone from her dresser, she stepped into her bathroom and quietly called for a cab.

When all was ready, she just needed cash and a jacket. Carefully emerging from her room and placing the suitcase in the hallway, she started for the living room, surprised not to find Angela directly outside the door waiting for her.

Just as she entered the living room, she heard it...

'Thank God you're here, Booth.'

"Booth?"

The word was out of her mouth, revealing her presence before she could think better of it. She could hardly believe her ears. Booth was there?

ooo … ooo … ooo

Never before had Booth felt like an intruder when he pulled into his partner's parking lot.

Even when he had insisted on staying with her during the Cugini case, she had been a hospitable if unwilling host - well, for the whole five minutes before he got himself blown up by her refrigerator, anyway. She hadn't wanted him to stay, and she had said so, but she had been easy enough to win over with a little Foreigner and air guitar. Who would have thought? Couldn't have planned that one out in advance if he had tried. You really have to be a lovesick fool if the night you got blown up is one of your favorite memories.

Even when he had shown up at her door in the middle of the night with cartons of Chinese food after she identified her mother's remains, he had only been a little nervous that she would toss him out on his ear - even when she had called him on that bullshit about seeing her lights from the road. It hadn't even been very good bullshit, but she had let him get away with it and had let him in.

This time, however, he had a sinking feeling it was going to be very, very different. Had Angela not scared him half to death with the idea of Bones bleeding out in her bedroom while he dragged his feet, dread would almost certainly have slowed him down. Instead, he skidded to a stop in the first parking spot he found, barely throwing the truck in park and removing the keys before his feet were pounding their way into her apartment building and up the stairs at top speed.

He did slow down when he saw her door, his heart pounding. Everything in him was telling him to go the other way. He believed in being a gentleman. He couldn't just force his way into a lady's home that didn't want him there - especially considering everything that he had already done. It made him feel like some kind of predator.

The door opened before he ever got to it, revealing a worried Angela standing framed in the opening.

"Has she come out?" He was only steps from the door by that point.

"No, but I can hear her moving around in there, finally, so I know she's alive. She still won't answer me. Thank God you're here, Booth."

"Booth?"

At that exact moment, Booth finally reached the door and leaned to look around Angela, who spun around to look behind her.

Having just emerged from the hallway leading to her bedroom, there stood Bones, wearing jeans, a casual top, shoes, and a confused look on her face. She hadn't been speaking to him. She hadn't even seen him yet. She had just been incredulously repeating Angela's use of his name, in a tone that clearly said 'don't tell me he's here.'

"Oh my God. Sweetie, are you okay?" Angela was back in the apartment and had her arms thrown around Brennan before Booth could even move.

Brennan's arms automatically rose up to return the embrace, but her eyes never left the sight of Booth standing in her door. "I'm fine. What is he doing here?"

Angela released Brennan to stand beside her, both of them facing Booth even as Angela answered Brennan. "You know, he has a name. I called Booth, Sweetie. You scared me half to death."

Brennan stiffened instantly, her cheeks reddening and her eyes dropping, and Booth took pity on her. It was clear that she didn't want him to know about what had happened. The fact that he already did know wasn't something he intended to announce if it would make her uncomfortable. He was making her uncomfortable enough just by being there.

Clearing his throat and shoving his hands in his pockets, he tried to sound casual as he carefully avoided Angela's eyes. "Angela just called and asked me to come over, and I wanted to see how you were doing anyway. Did something happen?"

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized how little sense they made. He just wanted to see how she was doing? Oh, really? In the middle of the night? He should have just told her he had seen her lights from the road again...when he just happened to be driving by...in the middle of the night...

"Nothing happened." Brennan's answer was just a little bit too fast. "I'm perfectly fine, Booth. You needn't have come. You should go." Her eyes turned to Angela, her tone disparaging. "You shouldn't have bothered him, Angela."

"Yes, sweetie, I should have." Angela's voice was firm. "Both of you have got to stop this. He knows what happened, Brennan. I told Booth what happened. I told him about the nightmare, and I told him about the flashback. You knocked me down and locked yourself in your room. You wouldn't answer me. You're not okay, and you need Booth to be here whether you want to admit that or not."

Something in Brennan's eyes snapped at that statement, and the words spilled out in an uncontrolled rush, hissing between her clenched teeth. "I do not need him, Angela. And I don't need you, either. I don't need anybody. I'm fine. In fact, I want both of you to leave, right now."

"Bones..." Booth's voice was pained, his eyes focused past her at something in the hallway. "What the hell is that?"

Angela turned to follow his gaze, her own eyes widening at the sight in the hallway. The fact that Brennan never turned was enough to tell them both that she knew exactly what they were looking at.

"It's a suitcase. A container in which one packs clothes and other necessities for travel." Brennan didn't succeed in sounding quite as unaffected as she intended.

Booth's heart was racing. "I know what it is, Bones. What's it doing in your hallway?"

"You were in there packing? You were going to leave?" Angela's hands had gone to her hips and she no longer looked understanding. She looked furious. "What were you planning to do, Brennan? Conk me on the head and leave me here for dead?"

Brennan crossed her arms, adding a slightly haughty lift to her chin. "Of course not. I had no intention of injuring you. It would serve no purpose. You're physically incapable of stopping me anyway."

Angela cocked a hip. "Oh, I could have stopped you."

Brennan was already crossing to her bookshelf, taking down the same book that she had originally asked Russ to bring her, relieved to see that he had returned it. Seemingly calm, she began removing money from the pages.

"Bones." Booth's voice was gentle but steady, belying the fact that he was shaking inside. She was planning to leave, and it didn't take a genius to know that there was a good chance she wasn't coming back. Clearly she hadn't planned for him to know, but now that he did know, she wasn't exactly backing down, either. That fact definitely deprived him of the excuse that she might get scared and run if he mentioned his feelings. She was planning to run anyway. If there was ever a time to man up...

Realizing he was still standing in the open door, he stepped fully into the apartment and closed the door behind him without ever taking his eyes off of her face. "Bones, if this is about what I said yesterday at the hospital..."

"This has nothing to do with you, Booth." She had cut him off and answered immediately, but the panic that crossed her face told him that she had definitely heard his impassioned words the day before. But how much had she heard?

"Bones, don't lie to me." Her eyes flicked away from the book she was holding and onto his face, obviously surprised by how firm his voice was. It had surprised him as well, but he went with it. "After everything that we've just been through together, that's the only thing I ask of you. Don't. Lie to me."

She couldn't continue to meet his eyes, and instead turned to replace the book on the bookshelf. Careful to avoid his gaze, she spun on her heel and walked down the hall toward the suitcase she had placed outside her door. Bending down, she tucked the money neatly into a zippered area on the side, talking as she worked. "I'm not lying to you. I'm just going away for a few days."

He took a step away from the door and toward her, and then another and another as he spoke. "Bones, listen to me. I'm sorry that you heard me yesterday. That's not the way I wanted you to find out. I had intended to tell you when I thought you were ready, but I just..." He was right there in the hallway with her, only a few steps from her when his words trailed off at her reaction.

Her eyes had flown up to meet him, and he flinched at what he saw there. It was as though his words had hurt her, deeply; but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. She stared at him like that for just a moment, and he could see it when her eyes grew cold and empty as she dropped her gaze, stood, and grabbed the handle of her bag. She started toward him and he retreated, giving her space and letting her walk back out into the living room with her bag. He backed all the way up to the door, in fact.

"You don't owe me any explanations, Booth. It's certainly none of my business."

Her cool, rational tone made him want to put his fist through the door, while the actual words only confused him more.

"None of your business? Bones, what are you talking about? Of course it's your business. I just didn't want to upset you. I was afraid if I said anything, you'd do this."

'Please,' he prayed silently, 'just don't let her try to leave.' She was reaching into her coat closet to retrieve a jacket, and he was becoming more worried by the second.

ooo … ooo … ooo

Brennan froze into place with her arm still reaching into the closet, muscles snapping taut as wire. Utter humiliation engulfed her. He just didn't want to upset her? So that was it. Not only had he been in a secret relationship, he hadn't told her because he thought it would hurt her. He had kept it from her, believing that he needed to do so to protect her feelings - feelings which he obviously suspected went deeper than partnership and friendship, in a completely unrequited manner. Never in her life had she been more humiliated.

It was the final impetus she needed to make her move.

Dragging the bag, she made a sudden motion for the door, stopping a few feet in front of him when he didn't move aside. "I've called for a cab. Get out of my way, Booth."

ooo … ooo … ooo

Booth didn't budge, his eyes growing hard.

"Like hell."

Something that felt a lot like anger was beginning to warm him from the inside out. Something was going on, and he was becoming more determined by the moment to drag it out of her. It was like they were having two completely different conversations, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He had seen her freeze as she reached into the closet, watching as she went stiff as a board and the color spread up her neck onto her cheeks. Tension rolled off of her in waves that he could practically feel hitting him. She was angry and embarrassed, but he still had no idea why. If anyone should be embarrassed, it was him; he was the one who had publicly declared love that was clearly unrequited.

He didn't know why she was reacting this way; but she was not going out that door until he did.

"You're not well, Bones. You're still having flashbacks, for God's sake. I can't let you leave, and I'm not leaving either. I'll stay out of your sight if that's what you need, but Angela and I are both staying right here with you."

Her muscles were visibly tensing and flexing, coiled to strike, and he thought for one horrible moment that she might actually try to go through him. Her next words confirmed that suspicion, her tone low and dangerous. "I don't want to hurt you, Booth, but I will if you don't move."

He widened his stance some, his tone as low as hers. "You might hurt me, Temperance, but you're still not going out this door. You've been through hell, and believe me, I know I put you through most of it. I'd love nothing more than to get out of your way right now, because God knows I don't want to have to put my hands on you again to stop you. But I will if I have to. I care about you too much not to."

He wouldn't have a leg to stand on legally if she decided to press charges, and he knew it. It wasn't lost on him that he was, at the very least, unlawfully detaining her; and a good prosecutor could probably even get him for falsely imprisoning her in her own home - hell, with a little fancy dancing with the statute and if he had to drag her away from the door, why not go for kidnapping charges? And there would certainly be no jurisdictional issues this time. If she wanted him charged with something, she'd have him after this. So be it. He still wasn't letting her go out that door alone in her current condition.

Complete silence filled the room for the span of several heartbeats, the two partners' eyes glued on one another as they stood locked in a standoff. Neither was aware of Angela standing with her hands over her mouth, transfixed at the spectacle unfolding before her.

"Please." This time Booth's tone was less steady, almost faltering. His voice was almost a whisper when he next spoke, the soft tone doing nothing to hide his desperation. "Don't try to fight me, Bones. Please."

He saw the moment that she gave in, watching her as some of the tension left her limbs and she stopped looking as though she were about to attack. After visibly attempting to recompose herself into a completely calm mask, she spoke again in that cool tone that he was beginning to despise. "Fine. Angela is staying in the guest bedroom. You can have the couch."

"Okay." He nodded helplessly, his eyes sincere. "Thank you, Bones." He wasn't thanking her for letting him stay, and he knew it. He was thanking her for not making him have to grab her again. He was still trembling at the thought of her rushing him. Despite his brave words, if she had flown at him he wasn't sure he could have brought himself to do what it would have taken to subdue her again - not and come away with his sanity intact.

"I'm going to bed now. Help yourself to whatever you need."

Her cold formality left him scraped raw, but he managed a small smile in return. It had taken a Herculean effort to force that smile, but she never saw it anyway. She had already stiffly begun walking into the bedroom, taking her bag with her.

ooo … ooo … ooo

"Booth," Angela started.

"I'm fine, Angela. I just need to grab a pillow and a blanket." His back was to her as he turned and locked the deadbolts, closing up Brennan's apartment for the night.

"Booth."

He walked around her, making his way toward the couch. "I'd offer to take turns checking on her, but me going in her bedroom is probably not the best idea."

"Booth!"

That time she finally got his attention and he turned to face her. "What?" It came out more harshly than he had intended, and Angela instantly looked contrite.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I probably shouldn't have called you. I didn't know it would be like that."

Exhaling sharply, Booth sat down on Brennan's couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I'm glad you did call. If you hadn't, she'd be halfway to God knows where by now."

He leaned back dejectedly, feet flat on the floor and knees spread wide, his head going back against the couch. "I just can't believe she was going to run. She wasn't even going to say a word to me, Angela. After what she heard yesterday, she was just going to...disappear. She didn't even try that after what I did in Albania, for God's sake." Sucking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment before letting it go, he asked the one question that was burning him from the inside out. "Is the idea of me loving her that horrible?"

Angela sat next to him, placing a hand on his arm. "Maybe it was just too much, so soon after what happened, Booth. I don't know."

"But why would she say it wasn't her business?" That one phrase was eating at him. He might have expected her to tell him she didn't believe in monogamy. He would have been completely unsurprised to get the whole 'love-is-a-chemical-reaction-blah-blah-blah' lecture. He wouldn't even have been thoroughly shocked if she had hauled off and punched him for having the audacity to express feelings for her after what he did to her in Albania. But to say it wasn't her business? It didn't even make sense.

"I know. That was weird," Angela agreed with him. "And she said you didn't owe her any explanations. You're right, Booth. Something is definitely not right."

Scrubbing both hands over his face, he sighed. "We're not going to figure it out tonight. She's going to bed, so we should all get some sleep."

Angela saw his concerned face looking toward Brennan's room, and hastened to reassure him. "I'll check on her every hour, Booth. Don't worry. You probably need sleep worse than any of us. Try to get some rest." After giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, Angela got up and left the room.

ooo … ooo … ooo

In the early hours of the morning, Brennan quietly poked her head out of her door, moving out just enough to get a view of the couch. Her heartbeat quickened and adrenaline shot through her when she saw it empty. Booth must have already left. Angela had been coming in like clockwork every hour, but hadn't been in for over two hours. This was her chance.

Ever so quietly, she slipped back into her room and found the small bag Russ had originally packed for her. Dragging the suitcase would make too much noise for a stealth escape, so she quickly transferred the money and a few clothing items into the bag. It wasn't ideal, but it would allow her to escape.

Cautiously, she tiptoed down the hallway and toward her front door, after checking to see that the bathroom door was open and the light off. Booth was not there either, or in her kitchen. He was gone. She was free to go.

Still glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the guest bedroom to make sure Angela wasn't coming, she was so lost in wondering why Booth had changed his mind and decided to leave that she almost stepped on him.

Stretched out on a makeshift pallet he had made with a couple of blankets and a pillow, Booth slept on the ground horizontally in front of her apartment door, blocking it. He was still dressed in the clothes he had arrived in, right down to the shoes.

Only he wasn't sleeping. He was too still even to be sleeping. In fact, he wasn't even breathing as he stared up at her without twitching a muscle, sad eyes locked on her face.

ooo … ooo … ooo

"Hey, Bones." His voice was quiet, tender, befitting the stillness of early morning as he looked up into wide, startled blue eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you."

When she continued to just stand over him staring at him wordlessly, her mouth slightly open, he was careful not to move a muscle. She wasn't attacking him and she wasn't running straight back to her bedroom; she was actually looking at him, for the longest amount of time since Angela's unfortunate words on the plane that convinced her he was abandoning her. He didn't want to break the spell.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't comment on or attempt to confront her about the bag or the obvious fact that she was trying to run again. But for some reason, she relaxed enough to slowly nod her head, her eyes locked on his like the two of them were the only two people in the world.

"You didn't." It was little more than a strangled whisper, forced out in a lost-little-girl tone that immediately tightened into a death grip around his heart, but it was enough to embolden him.

Willing her to understand that he was talking about so damn much more than her almost tripping over him at the door to her apartment in the middle of the night, he tried to pour every ounce of emotion that he was feeling into his voice.

"I never wanted to scare you, Bones."

Unwilling to take the risk that she would take his words literally, he gathered his courage and pressed on in an attempt to spell it out for her. "Not in Albania, not on the plane, and not at the hospital yesterday."

He saw her breath catch in her throat, and saw what looked like fear flicker in her eyes...but not fear of him. What was it that had her so upset?

He was still processing that momentary ghost of emotion in her eyes, when she stunned him by speaking again. "I'm sorry, Booth. I didn't mean to ruin things for you."

"What? What are you talking about? Bones, I..." Mesmerized, words failed him when he saw the single tear that hovered on her lashes, threatening to fall as she began to slowly back away toward her bedroom, eyes still fixed on him as she clutched her bag in front of her like a shield.

When she finally turned her back on him to take the final few steps out of his sight, desperation pushed him up on an elbow to a half-sitting position. Ruined things for him? She thought this was her fault? God, how could he have let her think he blamed her for anything?

"Bones!"

To his amazement, she turned back to face him, eyes still wide as they fixed right on him again, waiting.

He almost got lost in those tear-filled eyes again as he struggled futilely for the words he wanted. What he finally came up with sounded woefully inadequate to his own ears, but it was all he could come up with when faced with those huge, pained blue eyes.

"I'd do it all again, Bones - every bit of it. The only thing I regret is that I hurt you in the process. But if I had it to do over again, I'd still get on that plane. I'd still find you. And I'd still do whatever it took to get you back safe. Do you understand?"

She opened her mouth as though to say something, and he found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

He never found out what it was. She turned and strode quickly back to her bedroom, gently closing the door behind her.

ooo … ooo … ooo

When she had left her bedroom with her bag, she had not intended to reenter it for quite some time - if ever at all. And yet there she was again, not even five minutes later. Frustrated, she dropped her bag and made for her bathroom, intent on showering...again.

It was completely irrational, and she knew it. But it didn't seem that there was enough soap and water readily available in the D.C. area to make her feel clean again. Every time she thought about the filthy bed she had been cuffed to or the clothing she had been forced to wear, and every time she thought about Edon touching her and tying her, and even every time she thought about what happened with Booth, she just wanted to make another attempt to scrub herself clean. She had showered the moment she and Angela walked in the door, and again after her nightmare. She was certainly doing damage to her skin, but she could somehow not bring herself to care.

This time, however, she was more interested in the solitude and noise that the shower would provide. Stepping into the shower fully clothed, she fought back the sobs that threatened to claim her. Breaking down with Booth in her apartment was not an option. If he heard her crying he would want to know why. After what she overheard in the hospital the day before, she could no longer trick herself into believing it meant anything special. It was just part of the good man that he was - a good man, she reminded herself for the fifth time in five minutes, who belonged to someone else.

Finding him asleep on the floor in front of her front door had come as a shock.

In that quiet, early morning stillness, the sight of him lying there in an obvious attempt to block her door was so surreal and unexpected that it stopped her in her tracks. She was caught, and she knew it; that alone was enough to strip away pretense. The hushed, early morning atmosphere only lent an extra air of familiarity and intimacy, allowing his eyes to draw her in, in a way that she had refused to permit since she first came to believe he intended to abandon her. That was her first mistake.

The brown eyes looking back up at her - eyes that she had once described as 'warm and reassuring' - were filled with an unmistakable and unguarded sadness that was evident even to her. She hadn't noticed it before and it unnerved her, freezing her in place for just a moment. She couldn't have stepped away or dropped her gaze if she wanted to. It had been just long enough for him to do what was simultaneously the best and worst thing he could have done.

Ever so softly, he had looked up and apologized - apologized - to her for scaring her; all while he was lying on the cold, hard ground in front of her door because he was still trying to protect her. Unbidden, memories of herself in Albania, craving his presence like a drowning man craves air, began to break through her defenses. It was enough to keep her eyes locked on him a few seconds longer, and long enough for a realization to sink in - a realization that made things so much more difficult:

Booth wasn't the enemy. He was still him - a good man. She was still her - someone he was supposed to be able to count on as a partner and friend. She had been so full of hurt and anger at what she believed to be his betrayal and intended abandonment of her, and so full of humiliation at the idea that she had ruined something for him, that she had forgotten that. What had he really done so wrong to make her push him away so intently? She had been so busy building up walls that she had failed to see that he was hurting too. It was so much easier to run away and throw away four years of partnership and friendship when she could make him the bad guy - the deserter. Only now, after seeing the sadness in his eyes and seeing that regardless of what had happened he was still there for her, she could no longer do so.

She could no longer forget exactly how much this man had done for her - before, during and since Albania.

"You didn't." She had heard the hushed words come out of her mouth, a pathetic attempt to reassure him that he hadn't frightened her.

When he pressed on, telling her he had never meant to frighten her, she could feel the tears begin to prick her eyes. She had been so selfish. So wrapped up in her own confused pain at the revelation that he had a lover, and her belated and pointless realization that in some ways she wished it was her, she had forgotten that she was supposed to be his friend. The loss of a relationship was almost certainly painful to him, and she had been so busy pushing him away to protect herself that she had not even acknowledged it.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I didn't mean to ruin things for you."

Still bathed in the hushed, early morning glow, with no other sound intruding on them, she ignored his stuttered response - knowing he was too much of a gentleman to put the blame where it belonged, so his words didn't matter - and simply studied him.

What she saw was enough to put another huge chink in the thick walls she had been steadily building around herself since the plane landed in D.C.

If she had been pressed to describe his face in just one word as he lay there trying to reassure her - though she could not say why anyone would ask such a ridiculous question - she would have described it as kind.

Continuing her perusal of him, her heartbeat quickened as she studied his nicely symmetrical features and the perfect definition of his muscles as he lay there in his t-shirt, a blanket draped over him from mid-chest all the way down to where his shoes and the hem of his jeans peeked out from beneath the end of it. It wasn't lost on her that he still wore his shoes, and she had no misconceptions about why. He was prepared to give chase if she tried to run. After all that had happened, she realized that the thought should have frightened her.

It didn't.

Instead, she felt something she hadn't felt since before Angela let slip on the plane that he had intended to leave her alone on the plane in Albania - a sudden desire to be wrapped in his warm embrace.

It was something she couldn't ask for. Viciously reminding herself of what she had cost him and that she had no right to ask such a thing, she began backing away before she could drop right down on her knees and fling herself at him. Finally breaking her gaze, she turned away from him to retreat back into the sanctuary of solitude that was her bedroom.

"Bones!"

She was powerless not to turn around, her eyes seeking his out once again.

Guilt flooded her, as well as a healthy dose of confusion. Hadn't he just said in the hospital that he ruined his relationship for nothing? Didn't that mean that he did, in fact, regret it? And yet he sounded so sincere. Struggling to find words, she opened her mouth, closing it again quickly when she realized just how close she was to tearfully begging him to hold her; how close she was to letting slip that it hurt to think of him with someone else. With one last vicious reminder to herself that it was not her place to do so - and that it would be unfair to do so even if he would care, when her reactions to him were so uncontrollable and unpredictable that she wouldn't even be able to let him touch her intimately - she turned and fled, softly closing the door behind her.

ooo … ooo … ooo

TO BE CONTINUED…