Chapter 29: Ready or Not.

They spent another silent night together, she and Booth. After taking her statement, Hacker left to return to D.C.; he had already been gone longer than someone in his position should. Once again she found herself dealing with the contradiction of wanting Booth to both go with Hacker and stay with her, all at the same time. But although she might never be the same, Booth was still Booth.

And he wasn't going anywhere without her.

oOo

He spent another night watching her sleep. He was exhausted, but he'd close his eyes when he had her home. When she was back where she belonged, that's when he'd rest.

Again, she awoke with the sun. Again, he said a prayer of gratitude.

"Is your back hurting? From sleeping in the chair?"

Both her voice and her questions caught him unprepared.

"Because we're in a hospital. We could ask the doctor to give you something."

He wanted to shake her. She'd been held captive for one day shy of three weeks, and she was asking him about his back? About how he felt? It made him angry. At her. It was inexplicable and unwarranted and unforgivable... He looked at her then, made eye contact, and he saw it. That she was trying. Those questions, so normal, were tiny little steps on her way back.

He took them seriously.

"My back is fine, Bones. How about you? Starting to feel better?" It would be a long road back, so he'd need to meet her halfway.

She nodded, looked ready to give him a real answer, but there was a knock. She froze, but the doctor was back, and he was out.

He stood for a moment, staring at the door that closed behind him. He wanted to waltz right back in; he wanted to hear everything the doctor had to say. But he also didn't.

He chose not to dwell on his cowardice, choosing instead to call the Jeffersonian. It had been all Hacker could do to keep them from swarming the hospital, so he knew they'd be waiting at the airport.

He wanted them to be ready for what they would find.

oOo

Brennan once again found herself trying- and failing- to listen to the doctor. It didn't matter anyway; he had a huge stack of printed after-care instructions. She was sure the reading material would be more than sufficient.

"Temperance, I'm just going to have one last look at some of these wounds."

He put his hands on her once again, and she forced herself not to squirm. He wore latex gloves, and she appreciated not having to feel his skin on hers. He wore cologne. None of her abductors had. He wasn't like them. He wasn't one of them.

The doctor's examination was brief and professional, and she bit her lip the entire time. He asked her about pain, and she shook her head. He talked to her about properly cleaning the bites, and she tried accept that she was going home. He handed her a prescription for antibiotics, and she felt a small wave of relief; she'd set up automatic withdrawals to pay her bills while she was in Maluku. She'd never undone those arrangements. She'd still have an apartment. And electricity.

She'd still have a home.

"Is there anything else you need before we get these discharge papers processed?"

"I don't have anything to wear." It had just popped into her head- that she was leaving and that she had no clothes. How had that not occurred to her?

She hadn't actually meant to say it out loud, but the doctor didn't look surprised.

"Don't worry, Temperance. We aren't going to send you out in that hospital gown. Unfortunately," he said, rummaging around in a closet, "this is the best we've got."

She looked at the blue scrubs he was holding out to her. "No, these are perfectly acceptable. Thank you."

"Well, I'll let you get changed while I finish up the paperwork." He paused at the door. "Take care of yourself."

He left without waiting for a response, and Brennan stood carefully. She hadn't really moved around much on her own. Her movements were still stiff, her balance still shaky. It made her angry, thinking how long it would take her to get back into shape.

She slipped the scrubs on over her head. They were far too big, but the pants had a drawstring. They were better than nothing. She moved toward the mirror on the other side of the room, realizing that it hadn't occurred to her to examine her reflection.

The woman in the mirror was a stranger. Her hair was too long, her bangs had grown out, her face was too thin. Her eyes were too dull, too skittish. Her mouth was too drawn. She lifted her shirt. There were bruises that would fade. Scars that never would. The woman in the mirror wasn't real. She certainly didn't look real. She dropped her shirt back down. She had no bra or underwear.

It was happening again. She was losing control of her breath. She should be thankful for the scrubs. They should be enough. But she'd have to face Booth. She'd have to go to the airport, and everyone would stare. Everyone would see her, and they'd know. They'd know that this woman, the one looking back at her in the mirror, had been damaged beyond all repair.

She backed away, wishing she'd never seen. She sat on the bed, brought her knees to her chest. She knew she should just set her jaw, meet Booth's eyes and dare him to flinch. She knew how to turn her face into a suit of armor. That's what she would have to do when she left this room. But she wished she could disappear.

There was another knock, and what she wouldn't give to have something to throw. Something made of glass. Something that would shatter satisfactorily. She wanted everyone to stop knocking, especially since it meant that they were coming in whether she wanted them to or not.

She did what she had to do. She turned up her chin. She narrowed her eyes. She pursed her lips. She prepared herself to see her partner.

But it was Thisbe. From the ER.

"Hello, Temperance. Things have been so busy that I haven't had a chance to come up and check on you, but I heard you were leaving today. That's good news."

Brennan nodded, allowed her face to relax. No need to arm herself against this woman; she already knew all there was to know.

"Are you feeling better?" Thisbe rammed her face into the palm of her hand. "I know that's a stupid thing to ask. I'm sorry...I-"

"No, it's fine. And it's the customary thing for a nurse to ask a patient, right? I'm better. Much better. Thank you for asking."

Thisbe nodded, then held out something large and gray for Brennan to take. "It's a hoodie. I found it in Lost and Found. It's about four sizes too big for you, but I remembered that you didn't have any clothes, and I knew they would give you scrubs, but..."

Brennan's eyes filled with tears as she accepted the sweatshirt. It was huge. It was thick. It was perfect.

"I know it's August, but with your decreased body weight, you'll be cold. Especially in the airport. It's like they try to make you miserable in those places."

Brennan forced a laugh, swallowed back a sob. "Thank you, Thisbe."

The nurse smiled back, patted her shoulder. "Things will...it will get easier."

Brennan nodded; it was the customary thing to do.

"Okay, well I'm going to just grab a wheelchair. It's usually an orderly's job, but I'll take you downstairs- delay my return to the land of blood and guts."

Brennan's laugh was genuine this time. She wanted to just stay here, with the young nurse who already knew everything. But...

"All right, let's find that FBI agent of yours."