Well, would you look at me! Two updates in a week! Yay!
Honestly, your reviews are what have urged me on – thank you for all the kind words and love! Thanks for hanging with me through the long hiatus (I'm worse than the actual show, right?!)
A special shoutout to Jencun (because it won't let me respond to your reviews via message!): Your reviews of each chapter as you read it cracked me up! It was SO FUN to watch you ride the rollercoaster – AND it made me go back and read from the beginning again. This update is for you, because you read this beast in one sitting, and you are awesome for it!
Also, thanks to the always fabulous Some1tookmyname, who beta'd this for me last night between making mini valentines cakes and cleaning the house and doing other awesome supermom things. You are pinterest embodied. You are my inspiration. You rule supreme.
Chapter 37
The hospital was buzzing with early morning activity when Booth arrived. He made his way up to Brennan's floor, and as he rounded the corner to the hallway that led to her room, he nearly collided with Max.
"Booth! Where have you been? She's been asking for you." Max eyed him warily, and Booth fought the urge to retreat.
"Yeah, sorry. I felt like I was in the way. Besides, I needed to check in with work…"
Max opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again and sighed. "Okay. Well, don't do that to her. I don't know why, but I get the feeling that she's better when you're here. Go see her. Just don't do anything that might upset her, okay? She's still weak."
Booth nodded and watched as Max strode away, his shoulders hunched ever so slightly, betraying his tough exterior. Another wave of guilt washed over Booth at the notion that his actions had caused so many people so much pain.
Sighing, he continued down the hallway until he reached her room. He approached her door cautiously, peering in and hoping that she was asleep. She wasn't.
"Booth!" Despite her pallid skin, her eyes were bright and welcoming.
Booth gave a weak smile and stepped into the room tentatively, leading with the small bouquet of flowers he'd brought.
"Daisies. Thought you might need something cheery in here," he said, then realized that there was not a surface in the room that wasn't occupied by flowers.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I should have paid attention…"
"They're perfect, Booth. Thank you."
He sighed and handed her the flowers, which she accepted with a smile. He shuffled for a moment, unsure of himself, unable to meet her eyes.
"Booth. Sit. You're making me nervous."
"Sorry."
She sighed. "Can you stop apologizing? Please?"
"Yeah. Sorr – I mean, okay." He pulled up a chair and sat.
The silence hung between them like a guillotine, and Booth was unsure of what to do, feeling like anything he said would trigger the blade that might finally sever him from her life. He did more shuffling. Cleared his throat.
"So," he began. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm in a fog," Brennan said. "I can't remember things, and when I do, they're all out of order. Things that I think happened yesterday took place years ago, and things that truly did happen yesterday are gone completely. It's as if…someone took pieces of my mind and rearranged them."
Booth nodded. "I know that must be hard…"
"It is incredibly frustrating – not only because I want to know what happened to me, but also because I am afraid of not getting it back. Booth…my mind… I've always had my mind. To think that parts of it might never work again…"
"Bones, listen, you've gotta give yourself some time, okay? You just woke up a day ago. You've…been through a lot…"
"And it angers me that I don't even know what I've been through!" Her voice was suddenly sharp.
Booth winced. The blade was dangerously close to falling. He felt a surge of adrenaline as fight battled flight – he could cut and run and avoid the inevitable, heart-crushing conversation that was soon to come, or he could fight through it, stay for her sake, because she needed him. And because, honestly, he needed her.
"Okay. Listen, Bones. It's not going to do you any good to get all agitated like this. You've got to be patient. We'll sort through all of it later. Right now, you've just got to get better, alright?"
She nodded, her eyes glassy. She was silent for several moments, and Booth found himself holding his breath.
"I thought you were dead," she whispered. "They told me you were dead."
Booth's heart caught in his throat. "Who?"
"The men who were holding me. The terror cell. I – I saw it, Booth. I watched the explosion."
Booth recalled the events to which Bones was referring. He had nearly died – two good men had sacrificed their lives that day in the jungle, sparing his and Doggett's.
"I wanted to give up," Brennan continued, her voice ragged. "I've never wanted to give up before, but knowing you were gone… I just… I wasn't sure if I could…"
Booth clutched her hand to his chest and dropped his head. "God, Bones. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" A sob choked off the rest of his words.
He wept silently for a few seconds, until Brennan gently pulled her hand from his and placed it on his face. He looked up, meeting her also-tear-filled eyes, and his heart broke. He shifted to sit on her bed, and suddenly she was in his arms, and the clung to each other, partners in grief and loss, guilt and fear. And relief. Bittersweet relief.
A few minutes later, she pulled away and collapsed back onto her pillow, exhausted.
"I'm sorry, Booth. I seem to be quite emotional these days. I – I don't mean to make you feel bad for something you couldn't possibly control."
Booth shook his head and stroked her hair, feeling nauseous, wishing he could melt into the floor.
"I do feel bad, Bones, but not because you told me that. God… look, you have a lot to process, and… we have a lot of things we need to talk about. But the doctors are right – you need to let yourself heal physically, okay? You need to rest, take it easy. Don't try to put everything together right now. Please?"
Brennan stared at the ceiling for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Okay, Booth. You're right. If I want my mind – and my life, my career, all of it – back, I know you're right."
"Okay. Then can we make a pact? We don't talk about any of this until you're released from the hospital. Then, we'll work through it. Agreed?"
"Agreed. But Booth? Only if you promise me something, please." Brennan's eyes were earnest, determined.
Booth swallowed. "Anything."
"Promise me that you won't hide anything from me. I don't want to be treated like a child. I don't need to be protected. I want the truth. All of it."
#########################
In the next two weeks that followed, Brennan and Booth fell into a comfortable rhythm. Booth had to return to work at the CIA, but would visit in the early mornings before going in. He then returned immediately after work, bring dinner, and stay until nine or ten each night. Brennan seemed more at ease and was faithful to their pact, much to Booth's relief. For now, at least, things felt "normal" between them – something neither had experienced since before Afghanistan and Maluku. As the days progressed, Booth relaxed into their routine, choosing to live in the present rather than worry about what was to come.
Brennan made steady progress in her physical recovery, as well. Her shoulder was healing nicely, finally freeing her of the sling she'd been in for the past several weeks. A physical therapist had given her exercises she could do in bed, and she passed the time working through them and had gained back most of her mobility.
Her head wound was also healing rapidly, and at the end of the second week, she was taken down to the physical therapy wing to be assessed in the areas of balance, coordination, and other motor skills. It was the first time since being admitted that she'd been out of bed, and she passed the therapist's assessments with flying colors.
Booth entered her room that evening holding two bags behind his back.
"Hey Bones! How was your day? It's Friday, so I thought I'd pick up a little surprise for you – if you feel up to it, that is."
"Hi, Booth." She looked tired, but beamed a smile. "I have a surprise for you, too. What did you bring me?"
Booth stepped into the room and held up the bags. "Wong Foo's. Well, sort of." He placed the bags on the table next to Brennan's bed and pulled out a takeout box. "I managed to track down Sid. I told him about your ordeal, and even though he's officially out of the restaurant business, he whipped up something special for you. Check it out."
He opened a container to show her. "He thought you'd like some hot and sour soup. Vegan, of course. And lo-mein. He thought you needed comfort food, apparently."
Brennan laughed. "This is amazing, Booth! I haven't seen Sid in years! How did you do this?"
Booth smiled. "I have my ways. Now, dig in. I'm sure you're starved."
"I am," she said, and picked up the bowl of soup. "How was your day?"
"Eh. Boring enough. Just hearings on the al-Qadhi stuff, paperwork - you know, the usual bureaucratic crap." He paused, cleared his throat, then looked at his shoes for a moment as if to consider his next words carefully. "So, umm….next week I'm being sent on a mission. I'll be gone most of the week…"
Brennan's spoon stopped in midair. Her face went blank as she considered his words. "Where?"
Booth sighed. "Syria." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "I wouldn't normally go – I'd do anything to stay here with you, Bones. But there's chatter. Our people have tracked…" He hesitated again, unsure of how she'd react. "They found al-Qadhi, and they want me to take him out."
Brennan's expression hardened at the mention of the terrorist's name. "Booth, he is an evil man. Promise me that you won't get near him. Promise me you won't put yourself in harm's way."
"I'll be fine. I'll be far away, behind my sniper rifle. I promise, Bones."
She considered him for a moment, fire in her eyes. "Then go, Booth. Take out the bastard. The CIA is correct – you are the best one for the task."
Booth smiled for a moment. Then he looked at Brennan intently. "It'll be my last mission with the CIA. I've decided to leave the Agency. This job is not me, and Hacker and Cullen have asked me to come back to the FBI. I've accepted. I just felt like I needed to close the chapter before I left."
"Booth, that's wonderful! Will you have your office back?"
"My office, my position, my pay – everything will be like before."
Almost everything, thought Booth. There was still the matter of his partner. He doubted that that would ever be the same as it was before. The awkwardness hung between them for a moment as they both considered the unspoken truth between them.
"That's – that's great, Booth."
Booth nodded, and they sat in awkward silence for a few moments.
Finally, Booth spoke. "So! What is this surprise you have for me?"
Brennan set her soup on the table and drew in a breath, then smiled. "Well, I had a visit with the physical therapist this afternoon."
Booth nodded. "Yeah. Your shoulder is almost back to normal again, right? That's great, Bones."
"No….Booth. Listen. They took me down to the physical therapy wing. I was able to leave the room." She pushed the table aside and threw back the bedclothes. "Just watch, Booth."
Booth sat back in his chair and watched as Brennan slowly swung her legs to the side of the bed, leaned forward, and slowly stood to her feet.
"Not only can I stand," she said, her eyes wild with excitement, "but watch this!" She hesitated, testing her balance for a moment, then painstakingly put her right foot forward, taking a wobbly step towards Booth. Then another. Then a third.
"Whoa, Bones! Be careful!" Booth stood to his feet in surprise, watching in amazement as she made her way toward him. As she neared, she grew more and more unsteady, and he took a step forward, catching her just in time as she fell into his arms.
"Bones! That's amazing!"
"I am confident that I will be capable of walking to the end of the hall by Sunday," she boasted. She gently pushed herself to arm's length of him and grinned. "If all goes well, I could go home by the end of next week. At least, that's what the doctor says."
Booth froze. Home. Reality. The truth. It was closing in on him too fast.
"That's…. that's great, Bones," he stammered half-heartedly. "I hope that works out for you."
He guided her back to the bed, and she sat, studying him, puzzled.
"What is that supposed to mean, Booth?"
"I just… don't think you should pressure yourself to work through these steps so quickly, Bones. You've been through a lot…"
"Damn it, Booth!" she said, her voice rising. "What do you want me to do? Stay bedridden? I thought you'd be excited about the prospect of me going home."
"I am! I just…I don't want you to push it. Why the rush? Give yourself time to recover - "
"I am recovering, Booth. What is the problem?"
Booth sighed. "Nothing, Bones. Forget it. Just – get some rest, okay? I'll see you when I get back. Take care of yourself, okay?" He snatched up his coat and strode to the door.
"Booth!"
"Get some rest, Bones. I'll see you later."
And with that, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving her puzzled and wounded in his wake.