Apologies for the delay-hope you like this one. Wrapping up all those loose ends...
"Listen, Nurse Ratched" Angela sniped, for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last hour; it was the third administrative nurse they'd sent over to "manage" her and her "issue", and this one was turning out to be even more intransigent than the previous two. Each new encounter considerably lowered Angela's threshold for putting up with managerial incompetence.
Was she speaking just for the pleasure of hearing her own voice, or what?
It sure as heck felt that way.
"I need to know how the FBI agent they brought over by ambulance a little while ago is doing; his name is Seeley Booth. Is he still in surgery?"
When she got no response, she got crankier still.
"I've already explained to you guys a million times over that the lady over there" she said, singling out an uncomfortable looking Brennan with a no longer discreet tilt of the head, "is his professional partner and his live-in girlfriend, and as you can plainly see, she's extremely pregnant with his kid. She's already had a one hell of a bad day, she's in labor-never mind that she's only 7 1/2 months along-and she absolutely refuses to go to the maternity ward where she belongs until she gets some sort of handle on her boyfriend's status. So please, please make an exception to that stupid privacy rule if you don't want a preemie popping out in your waiting area. We'll take anything."
The nurse looked back with unblinking, hazel eyes jaded to the point of dullness. Angela was sure that she couldn't have pretended to care less if she'd wanted to.
"I understand, Ms. Montenegro" her opponent spit back in a cold, even tone that said 'don't mess with me, I've spent too much of my life in this place dealing with wheedling, difficult people just like you and I'm not in the mood'; "but like everyone else has already gone over with you in detail, due to HEPA regulations mandated by our Federal government in all of its infinite wisdom, the hospital can't share information about a patient's condition with anyone other than immediate family members. Bottom line, your friend doesn't meet the legal definition of an immediate family member, so until we get his proxy papers or he comes to and signs off on who we can and can't talk to, no info. I can tell you he's still in surgery and that's about it, and I'm pushing it there."
Angela tried again.
"Are you not paying attention? She's in labor" Angela parsed out, emphasizing every word as if she were talking to a dimwit. "She won't leave the emergency room to get herself checked out until she knows how he's doing. What part of this are you not getting? Can't you at least throw me a little bone over here? Don't you have even a vague memory of what having a heart is like?"
"I happen to have a heart, thank you very much" the woman retorted petulantly, her nose crinkling in a show of disdain.
"But I also happen to have my marching orders. No permission slip from the principal, no information" she finished sharply, still apparently piqued by Angela's 'no heart' comment. "It's the law, and we can't make exceptions for anyone; otherwise, where do we draw the line? Call someone at his office or talk to his lawyer and have them fax or pdf the proper documentation over, and then we can talk all you want. And if your friend over there is really in that much trouble, I would advise you to just stop hanging around here arguing, and take her up to the third floor to have those contractions dealt with right away. Agent Booth's surgeons can get back to her in an hour or two when this whole legal issue's been resolved. I'm sorry, but I can't help you and neither can anyone else in this hospital."
The nurse's final remark was definitely on the snippy end of the conversational spectrum, unleashed as she was walking away and calling out a patient's name loudly to make it clear that she was washing her hands of this latest mess which had the ill-timing of landing smack in the middle of her watch.
"Arrrrg!" Angela groaned, close to pulling out every strand of hair on her head in frustration. She reluctantly admitted that she was probably partly to blame for the lack of cooperation by the nursing staff because of her refusal to play nice at the beginning of this whole debacle, but she also figured it probably wouldn't have mattered how she went at the thing; this was pure, bureaucratic process at its most Byzantine, and no amount of diplomacy was likely to make one lick of a difference.
She glanced back at Brennan sitting in one of the no-frills chairs in the emergency room's waiting area, and she could tell by the way she occasionally gripped the arms of the seat hard while grimacing that the poor girl was hanging on for dear life. Hodgins and Cam were sitting alongside her without saying much, probably because by now they had talked themselves hoarse just like she herself had, all to no avail.
With a giant scowl on her face, Angela walked back over to the small group, growing increasingly irritated with every step she took by just how hideously inflexible everyone around her was insisting on being of late. And unfortunately, first on that list of inflexibles was her own best friend, one Doctor Temperance Brennan.
"She won't do it, sweetie, and neither will anyone else. I'm sorry" she said with pursed lips.
As she spoke, Angela made a concerted effort to paste a more suitable expression on her face and to moderate the shrillness in her voice accordingly to avoid further bruising an already haggard-looking Brennan.
"You know how terrified these people are about getting fired for handing out information without every t getting crossed and every i getting dotted first. I've tried reaching Hacker, but apparently he's busy talking to the press, and I can't seem to be able to get a hold of anyone else at the warehouse-I think there's just too much going on there. I could try calling the Hoover again to see if someone there can send a pdf to the hospital with whatever they need, but that could take a while," she warned; "it's a busy night, with all that's happened. There's always Booth's grandfather..."
Looking torn, Brennan shook her head.
"No; he lives too far away and I don't want to upset him any more than he probably already is. It's my fault," she said quietly. "I left my purse in the mobile lab, and it has all of Booth's legal paperwork in it; I always carry it with me. I should have been more careful."
An expression of tenderhearted concern appeared on Angela's face. "No, honey, it's not your fault; you were dealing with something a little more important than keeping track of your purse. It's too bad we couldn't get our hands on Booth's wallet before it was bagged as evidence-I'm sure it had everything in it that we needed."
"There's also a copy at our safe at home, but for some reason I can't remember the combination; maybe if I was standing in front of it...I really don't want to leave, though."
Angela glanced at Hodgins in alarm. "No, you're definitely not going anywhere outside this building," she remarked.
"So what now?" Cam asked.
Shaking her head unhappily at the three people sitting in front of her, Angela's hands suddenly morphed into talons. This whole situation was borderline ridiculous-beyond ridiculous, really. It was dangerous, and someone had to find the guts to put an end to it right now.
"This is crazy, you know?" she finally exploded, directing most of her repressed crabbiness at Brennan, notwithstanding her recent vow to remain patient with her friend. "You're crazy for not heading straight to obstetrics, I'm crazy for helping you along when I should have just hit you over the head and drug you there the minute we got here, and Hodgins and Cam" she declared accusingly, "you're both crazy for going along with the two of us. And that nurse over there" she said, glowering menacingly at the woman she'd just dealt with and looking like she was on the verge of pouncing on the old battle-axe, "that nurse is a certified bit-"
"Whoa, Ange, calm down" Hodgins said, jumping out of his chair and putting a restraining hand on Angela's forearm, just in case. "Tell you what, my most lovely, wonderful, sweetheart of a wife, I'll go back to the warehouse, break one of the windows of the station and crawl in if there's no other choice, and I'll bring back Doctor Brennan's paperwork, assuming I don't get arrested first. You just keep trying to reach the FBI. And you" he finished, tipping his head at his pregnant boss, "you really need to go upstairs, Dr. Brennan. We'll call you when we have what we need."
"Amen to that" Cam said sitting upright in her chair, her hands laced primly together as they rested on her lap. She was wearing an expression of rapidly fading forbearance while she looked squarely at Brennan.
"I'm not even going to bring up the word 'reasonable' in the current context;" she said calmly, addressing her recalcitrant co-worker; "I'm afraid that train left the station hours ago. So we'll go with sane then, a word I know you can usually get on board with, Dr. Brennan, even if it's not one you generally approve of because of its rather broad, catch-all definition. But I'm sure you get my drift regardless. So let's you, Angela and me do the sane thing here and take the elevator upstairs so someone can look at you."
Not surprisingly, Brennan wasn't budging.
"Temperance" Cam entreated, throwing a little more heft into her voice to show that she was dead serious about the request, "you being here won't change what's happening to Booth in any way, but it might very well affect the baby you two are expecting. That wouldn't be good for anyone, but least of all for Seeley when he comes to. And he will come to, mark my words. Seeley's one tough cookie, and he has a lot to live for, particularly these days-and he sure as hell knows that. I saw it in his eyes when I walked past him in the warehouse; how much he loves you and values the life he has with you. You've done your part, now let the doctors do theirs."
"No; I can wait" Brennan replied obstinately, looking like a tantrummy child defying her parents and doing a pretty decent job at holding her ground despite the growing pile of both promises and threats from the adults. She reminded Angela of her own son; how Michael could get so wound up right before bedtime that sometimes it was impossible for him to stop crying and just go to sleep, which so happened to be the very same thing he needed in order make things better.
Poor Brennan she thought, feeling slightly more charitable towards her friend after the recent harangue she'd let loose on her; she'd been fighting the good fight for so long today, saying 'no' so many times on Booth's behalf, that now that they had finally reached the point where she could just stop struggling because the enemy had finally been vanquished, she didn't seem to quite know how to end the hostilities.
Just like Michael and the tiredness he regularly railed and wailed against. The more exhausted he got, the less cooperative he became.
But the big difference between her friend and her son was that Michael would eventually fall asleep, even if his parents' eardrums continued to pay a price as he slumbered; with Brennan though, the 'nos' could theoretically go on indefinitely, or at least until she passed out from the pain or that baby girl decided to make an all-too early arrival into the world.
"Go, go" Angela said impatiently, shooing Hodings away. "And please try not to get thrown in jail-I can't manage one more crisis today. Take your wallet, in case they accept credit cards in lieu of cash for bail."
Hodgins was grinning as he jogged through the sliding doors on his way to the parking lot. He knew that some people assumed that because his wife was an artist and a free spirit she was also a bit of a scatterbrained airhead, but no one could have handled all that she was forced to juggle in the last few hours with more aplomb and efficacy than the woman he had married. She never ceased to surprise him, and he loved surprises.
Always had.
After Hodgins left, the three waiting women stared vacantly at each other in some sort of mute impasse, but when another set of contractions hit with an obviousness that even a blind person couldn't miss, Brennan's pain-clouded face suddenly seemed uncertain.
She was beginning to waver.
"Maybe I should go," the scientist declared unhappily.
Her eyes seemed to be making some sort of silent, desperate appeal to Cam and Angela, and the friends realized in unison that she was wordlessly begging for their help, seeking their guidance, looking for anything at all from them that would tell her it was okay to leave when she really didn't want to because it felt too much like she was deserting her post in an act of treachery. Something that would make her leave, because at this point even she had to have realized that no good could come from waiting even if her heart kept telling her that she should stay on no matter what.
Angela was relieved; relieved to see that her friend's common sense was finally making a return appearance after having gone awol most of the afternoon. But on studying Brennan more closely and seeing the dark purple circles under her red-rimmed eyes and the hard-set lines of worry and exhaustion already criss-crossing her face, the artist found that she simply wasn't able to derive much satisfaction from what should have been a huge moral victory. She knew that deep down it was killing her pal to abandon her partner without first getting any sort of word on Booth's condition, and that this lack of closure might potentially affect what happened next at obstetrics.
She sighed; she loved her best friend dearly, it just so happened that on certain days that was easier to do that than on others. Today wasn't turning out to be one of the easy days.
"Okay, tell you what" she said sternly, "I'm going to try one last-ditch thing before we go, just to see if I can put your mind at ease; but if it doesn't work, we're going straight to the third floor without you mouthing off as much as a peep-is that clear?"
Brennan nodded meekly.
"And this time" Angela said, pulling out her phone and smiling unkindly, "I'm not waiting for someone at the FBI to feel like calling me back. No more Mr. Nice Guy for me-I'm not taking any prisoners on this round."
She walked away to an unpopulated corner of the room to make her mysterious call, returning almost immediately.
"Well?" Cam asked.
It seemed inconceivable that anything productive could have come out of such a short conversation.
"You both just wait" Angela whispered cryptically, looking at her watch. Less than five minutes later a strikingly attractive, sharp-dressed man in his late forties walked into the waiting area, heading straight towards Angela. Distinguished looking strands of longish silver hair framed his chiseled, well-bred features.
"Mrs. Hodgins" he said with a slight German accent while giving Angela an elusive smile, "pleasure to see you again, even if the current circumstances are less than optimal."
The "Mrs. Hodgins" immediately caused Cam and Brennan to exchange perplexed looks. They both knew their friend had laughed out loud when someone at the lab had dared to ask if she would ever go by her husband's name. "What's wrong with Montenegro?" she shot back, good-humoredly. "It's exotic and kind of mysterious, and it happens to be mine-I like it, and so does Hodgins. Works for everyone."
And yet here she was, suddenly and without complaint a 'Mrs. Hodgins'.
"Yes, good to see you too, Dr. Mertz, and thank you for coming by so quickly."
"When you summon, I come" he said, bowing with exaggerated politeness.
Angela bit her lip.
"This is Dr. Johannes Mertz; he's one of the head administrators at Washington General and he also sits on the hospital's board with Hodgins. Dr. Mertz has kindly offered to help us, Brennan. This is Dr. Camille Saroyan from the Jeffersonian" she said, looking at Cam, and this is..."
Brennan made a move to stand, but the doctor stopped her. "Please, Dr. Brennan, don't exert yourself more than you already have. I heard from Angela-Mrs. Hodgins" he corrected, as he and Angela seemed to enjoy some sort of inside joke, "about your predicament. She tells me that you're determined not to leave the ER until you find out how Agent Booth is doing. I'm going to make a deal with you; I'll tell you what's going on with him-at some potential peril to my career-if you can assure me that immediately thereafter you will go to obstetrics and follow their recommendations, whatever they are. Yes?"
"Yes, I promise" Brennan replied solemnly.
"Very well then, here's the latest information I've been given. The surgeons just finished closing Agent Booth up a few minutes ago, and he'll be transferred to the recovery area as soon as he starts coming out of anesthesia. While he's technically in critical but stable condition and will probably continue to be labelled officially as such for the next few hours, I can tell you that so far every indication is that he's going to make a full recovery."
Brennan sagged back into her chair with visible relief, while continuing her careful scrutiny of the patrician Dr. Mertz.
"And his injuries, can you be more specific about them?" she asked. "Did the bullet strike his spinal column? Were any of his vital organs affected by the loss of blood?"
"Considering what he went through and how long he managed to hold out for, Agent Booth is actually a very lucky man. The bullet pierced a lung and lodged in one of his posterior ribs, just millimeters away from his spinal cord, which I've been assured was not damaged in any way. The fact that there was no exit wound was a good thing; it meant that there was less overall hemorrhaging than there could have been. All his major organs seem to be functioning properly, although his attending physician is considering putting Agent Booth on dialysis for a few days just to give his kidneys a break; he's had several pints of bloods and quite a lot of other fluids pumped into his body over the last two hours, and it could end up putting a little too much stress on his renal system. There, have I adequately addressed all of your concerns?" he finished with a smile.
"Brain damage? The lack of oxygen..."
Mertz held in a surprised laugh; he clearly wasn't used to being cross-examined to such exacting degree by families of patients, most of which were usually more than satisfied with the 'full recovery part' of his speech, but he had already gathered that the woman he was talking to was far from your average family member.
"Please don't worry so much, Dr. Brennan. Agent Booth was in excellent physical condition prior to this incident, and our best guess is that right until the time he was rescued he was doing everything he could to minimize the bleeding because, quite frankly, if he hadn't been doing that, we might not be having this fairly uplifting conversation at all. The surgical staff is optimistic that he hasn't suffered any permanent brain damage. He came to briefly as he was being prepped for surgery; although he was confused and disoriented, as you would expect, he appeared to be coherent enough-he even asked about about you, Dr. Brennan, although he kept referring to you as 'Bones'. It took us a while to figure out who or what he meant by that."
As soon as she heard that reference to Booth's name for her, Brennan's face brightened considerably, and she looked younger by at least a decade.
"I honestly think he'll be fine as long as there are no unforeseen complications in the near future, although by no means am I saying that his will be an easy recovery. After the initial threat of internal bleeding is over, he'll have to go through intensive physical therapy in order to build his strength back up, and he'll have to take it easy at home for a while, which I've been told isn't necessarily the easiest thing in the world for him to do. But like I said, he's a very lucky man-a guardian angel must have been looking out for him, because it was pretty much touch and go up until the time he got into surgery."
Brennan thought of the medal in her pocket, and silly as it sounded, she inwardly whispered several words of thanks to Pops for having given it to Booth even if she didn't personally believe in its supposedly miraculous powers.
The doctor reached out for Brennan's hand.
"Now for your part of the bargain, Dr. Brennan. I also understand that Agent Booth is extremely protective of the people he loves, and the last thing I want is for him to wake up and find out we didn't take proper care of his girlfriend or his unborn daughter. You go upstairs, and I promise that the hospital will keep you appraised of his condition throughout the evening. I will personally let you know if anything changes."
"Thank you, Dr. Mertz; I don't know how I can ever repay you for your kindness" Brennan said simply.
"Just don't tell anyone about our little deal-Jack Hodgins will back me up when I say that the Board has a lot of fossilized old men on it who live in abject terror of violations of Federal mandates and the lawsuits that follow them, and we don't want to give any of them premature heart attacks. They're already on their way out; they don't need any additional help from me."
"And you, Angela" he said in a low voice, "you really didn't have to pull out all the stops with that 'Mrs. Hodgins' thing-a little extreme, don't you agree? Although it sure got the attention of my assistant-I suppose she might not have passed the call along without it. But you know I would have helped you out even if your husband's foundation didn't fund practically the entire pediatric wing, just because you are so very beautifully charming and magnetic. And besides" he said, lowering his voice, "you and I go way back, lest you forget, and you've always gotten your way with me, since the very beginning. Fortunate man, that Jack Hodgins;" he mused poetically, not caring who heard it. "One of these days I'll have to have a chat with him and ask him how he did it, captured that rare butterfly that never was able to stay put before and somehow continues to keep her content in one place." He winked at her playfully, and Angela blushed.
"Bye, Johannes-we'll all have to go to dinner sometime."
The suave, handsome doctor's eyes twinkled mischievously as he walked away.
"What was that all about?" Cam asked outright, without feeling a hint of shame at her blatant nosiness. "You two seemed very friendly."
"We were-um...we used to go out, years ago, Angela fumbled. "Before Hodgins, of course. Still as good looking and debonair as ever, though" she added wistfully, as his figure retreated into the background. "Always reminded me a little of Cary Grant, the way he carries himself. He's one smooth operator."
"Indeed" Cam answered in full unity of feeling. "Time to go" she said, finally breaking free from the charismatic doctor's spell. She turned to Brennan and helped her out of her chair; better to strike while the iron was hot and pliable, she decided, before there was yet another change of mind.
"Honey, did you hear that-Booth's going to be okay. Isn't that wonderful?" Angela exclaimed, beaming joyously at her friend.
It was only then that the accumulated stress of the day finally hit the anthropologist in one unstoppable, monstrous backlash, like a taut rope breaking free from its mooring and angrily whipping backwards with the full power of released tension, striking like an angry whip at the ship it used to hold safe. Clinging to Angela as if her life depended on it, Brennan wept wildly into her friend's shoulder, her whole body wracked by great big sobs. An unlikely response from someone who normally kept her emotions so closely guarded, but really, the most human of all reactions in the world given the massive amounts of strain she'd been put through already and all the things she had come so very close to losing.
"He's okay, sweetie, he's okay" Angela went on reassuringly, letting her friend cry it out as she hugged her back, because she knew there was an essential need to give all that pent-up emotion some room to expand before it did permanent damage to the carrier. "Now let's make sure that you're okay too."
The three women headed towards the elevators, but while Cam and Angela were concentrating all of their attention on keeping their coworker steady on her feet and moving forward, Brennan's eyes remained glued to the doors leading to the surgical wing, right until the very last moment that the elevator doors came together with a soft 'thump'.