(The Sense in the Sacrifice)
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In a hurry, Booth raced down the parking ramp, paused at the bottom, looked to make sure the traffic was clear and pulled out onto the street. He had promised Brennan he would pick up Christine from Day Care and he was running a little late. The traffic gods appeared to be on his side and he found the traffic on the roads to be quieter that normal. He didn't know why and he didn't care if it allowed him to get to the Day Care before they called Brennan asking who was going to pick up Christine. Almost there, he paused at the red light and immediately the traffic light turned green. His good luck seemed to be continuing until he started through the intersection and a red Ford F150 ran the red light, entered the intersection just as Booth did and plowed into Booth's SUV.
The front of the pickup struck the SUV in the driver's side with enough force to spin the SUV around to face eastbound instead of north bound. The Ford came to stop and the driver cried out in pain as he felt blood oozing from his nose. The airbag had gone off and broke his nose. Upset, he staggered out of the truck while pedestrians and other drivers came to check on him. Other witnesses saw they couldn't get to Booth from the driver's side and a man and a woman opened the passenger side doors of the SUV and entered the vehicle. The woman, who was an off duty EMT, checked Booth's pulse by placing her hand on the side of his neck. "He's alive. Call an ambulance."
The man nodded his head, made the call and using a pocketknife, cut the seatbelt from Booth's waist. He intended to move Booth, but the EMT warned him not to move the injured driver until the ambulance arrived. "I'm a paramedic. We don't know what his injuries are. We won't move him unless this vehicle catches on fire."
Sliding out of the vehicle, the man spotted a police officer approaching and pointed at the red truck. "The dude in the F150 ran the light and hit this SUV. The driver of this vehicle is unconscious and he's bleeding from cuts on the side of his head. There's a paramedic in the SUV with the unconscious dude."
"Right." Once the good Samaritan was out of the way, Officer Jamison leaned in the passenger side of the SUV and talked to the Paramedic. "Do we remove him or wait?"
"We wait. I'll stay here until the ambulance gets here just in case this man needs my help." Patrice Owens had been a paramedic for ten years and she would never abandon someone who was in distress. "An ambulance has been called. I need you to check the other driver. I saw him leave his truck, so he's ambulatory."
Glad that Patrice was there, Officer Jamison nodded his head. "Will do. Call me if you need my help."
"I will." Checking Booth's pulse, she was relieved to hear the sound of a siren in the distance. "Sir, hold on. The ambulance is almost here. You're going to be alright." He knew the man was unconscious, but she was a firm believer that even when someone was unconscious, they could hear what was going on around them.
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Booth woke to find himself in a hospital room. His hand slowly moved to his head, felt a bandage there and groaned. He thought he remembered seeing out of the corner of his eye a truck race through the intersection and he knew he'd tried to stop, but apparently the truck had hit his SUV and now he was in a hospital. "Christine." He was worried that no one had picked up his child from Day Care.
"She's fine Booth. Angela picked her up and took her and Michael Vincent home." Brennan was standing next to her partner and tried to smile at him though it was hard to do knowing he was hurt. "Do you remember what happened?"
"I . . . someone ran their red light and hit me." Lowering his arm, Booth felt his head throbbing. "Is my truck totaled?"
She knew Booth loved his truck and found that question to be predictable. Brennan leaned over and kissed him. Reassured now that he was awake, she ran her hand down his arm. "I have no idea. I haven't seen your truck."
"I just got that one. It's new." Disgusted, Booth glared at the ceiling. "Now the guys in charge of transportation will probably give me an old one to punish me. The bastards."
"You were very lucky you were driving your SUV and not my car. The ballistic door panel helped absorb some of the shock and kept the front end of the pickup from invading the cab of your vehicle. The side airbags deployed and they protected you further. Your head hit the side glass panel when your SUV was hit which caused your concussion, but the airbag prevented you from fracturing your skull." Brennan was impressed with the safety features of the Ford Police Interceptor that Booth drove. Though she had heard a few comments in the past about how wasteful the SUV was when it came to gas mileage, Brennan knew that the vehicle had been designed to protect its occupants from malicious harm and she didn't care what the gas mileage was. It did what it was designed to do.
Glad that Brennan was there, he reached for her hand and Brennan grasped it. "Can I go home now? You know I hate hospitals."
"Booth, you're going to have to stay in this hospital for the rest of the day, but I'm sure you'll be released tomorrow morning." She knew that Booth felt out of control in hospitals, but she was going to make sure he stayed as long as his physician recommended. "I'm going to be here with you. Angela is going to take Christine to Day Care tomorrow morning and Cam is aware of what happened and doesn't expect me to be at work tomorrow."
"Okay." Booth was unhappy with the situation, but it wasn't Brennan's fault and complaining wasn't going to help the situation.
Pleased that Booth was willing to stay, Brennan sat down on the chair next to his bed. "You'll be fine, Booth. You're going to have a headache for a while, but you're going to be alright."
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The next day back home, Booth was resting in bed while Brennan made him some lunch. He had wanted to go downstairs and eat, but his partner had insisted that he stay in bed and since he still felt a little off kilter, he decided to do what she had asked.
Entering the bedroom, Brennan carried a tray over to the nightstand next to Booth and placed it there. "I heated up some linguini, made you some garlic bread and brought you a bottle of water . . . I know you want beer, but you're recovering from a head injury and you're taking prescriptions. You may not drink alcohol until the course of treatment is complete."
Since he didn't seem to have a say in what he was going to drink, Booth moved his legs until he was sitting on the edge of the mattress and picked up a fork from the tray. "I hate taking pills. They're a pain in the ass."
Amused, Brennan moved a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "I think everyone knows you hate taking pills by now." Suddenly sober, she felt her throat thicken with emotion, cleared her throat and looked away, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
Disturbed with Brennan's sudden sadness, Booth placed his fork down on the tray, leaned over and grasped Brennan's hand. "Hey . . . hey, I'm okay. I've had my noggin scrambled before. I always recover from that. You know that. The Booth men have hard heads. I'm okay."
She knew that what Booth was saying was nonsense, but she chose not to correct him. This wasn't the time to give her partner an anatomy lesson. "I have something I wish to discuss with you. I don't know if I should wait until you're better or not."
"Hey, if you have something you want to talk to me about then go ahead. It's not like I can do anything else but sit here and listen." He meant that to be funny, but he saw that he had failed to make her smile. "I'm find, go ahead."
Clearing her throat, Brennan took a deep breath and said what she had to say. "I want you to marry me, Booth . . . I know I've said in the past that I didn't want to get married, but I said that out of fear. I never believed that you would stay with me this long. I never believed that anyone could stay with me this long. You told me that you would never leave me and I hoped that was true, but I didn't really believe that . . . I was wrong. You've given me a stable relationship. We have a daughter. You have loved me when you're happy and you've loved me when you are angry. You stayed with me . . . I find that astonishing when I think about it, but I know that I trust your vision of the future for us. I want to believe in your 40 or 50 years and I want to do that married to you." Reaching over to the tray, she lifted a napkin from a small bag of beef jerky and handed it to him. "I don't have a ring to give you, so I am giving this to you to show you how serious I am."
Stunned, Booth took the bag, stared at it for a moment then stared at Brennan. He was afraid he was trapped in a dream. A wonderful dream that he never believed could happen. Please God, let this be real. "I . . . I mean yes. Yes, I'll marry you." Standing, Booth reached for Brennan's free hand and pulled her to her feet. His arms around her, he hugged her tightly, trying to assure himself that she was really there and he wasn't asleep. Finally able to accept that what was happening was real, he pulled back, stared at her for a moment and kissed her.
Relieved that her proposal had been accepted, Brennan returned his kiss. She wasn't sure why it had taken her so long to decide to move her relationship forward, but Booth's accident made her realize that life was transient and she could have easily lost him the day before. She didn't believe in marriage, but Booth did and she wanted to make him happy. He deserved happiness and she had the ability to give that to him. "I love you Booth. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"I love you too, Temperance." He rarely used her first name, but when he did, he knew that Brennan understood that he was being serious and there was no doubt he supported her in every way that he could. "I want to marry you, if you're sure that's what you want to do."
"I'm certain Booth. It is what I want to do."
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