"Looks like you're ready to tell me something," Pelant noticed, his voice filled with obvious cunning. He's laid near him, fighting with unbearable wishing to turn away, close his eyes and fall asleep until the afternoon.

"Depends on what would you ask me to tell about."

Christopher frowned. He'd examined the last few years of Booth's life so perfectly well that literally nothing could surprise him from now on. Seeley would never tell him about his relationships with Brennan, but Pelant wouldn't take delight in listening that anyway.

"Tell me something about the war," Christopher said, but he wasn't assured that Seeley would agree to talk. He bet this theme still was painful to him and hurt him every time he was recalling it despite of the passed years.

"Okay. I think you need to hear that," he chuckled, feeling the heat all over his body. That was a good sign: the fever was digressing; "You were raised in ideal conditions."

Booth hesitated to decide what to start with, so he chose the first memory flashed in his head: the crash of a military helicopter during his mission in Afghanistan. Seeley was lucky that day, as well as six of his teammates, the pilot of their chopper could dodge the operational missile, but another one helicopter was struck by bombshell and shot down. It caught on fire, started to spin off and then collapsed, engulfed in flames and smoke. Booth saw the last seconds of his teammates' lives, saw eight good people dying in the blink of an eye, but he could do nothing but watch and pray for them; pray for all who'd gone and for all who've still been alive next to him.

"The fact that I didn't kill enemies with a rifle doesn't mean my life was a fairytale," Christopher snarled; "But well, this isn't about me. How did that affect you?

The helicopter crash."

"It's hard to lose your mates. They had their families, children who will never see their fathers home again. "

Booth has spent years on accepting the tragedy and leaving that day behind. He's struggled with post-traumatic stress disorder so hard, but now he was recalling and feeling himself there again: in dry, hot and ruthless Afghanistan.

"I mean, have you draw conclusions?"

"Yes. For instance, I realized that protecting peaceful people is my destiny, as well as never stepping back. "

The criminal touched Seeley's forehead with his palm and felt fever was passing away, slowly and agonisingly.

"You were a sniper in your team, right?" Christopher has already known that, but he asked anyway, going to change the subject.

"I was. And I understand what are you saying," Booth smirked; "You're about to tell me that I am a killer too, aren't you? My list of "murders" is kinda longer than yours, that's true, but we are totally incomparable."

There was no answer, so he kept talking:

"I was killing bastards in the name of civilians, when you - just because of your sick mind and selfishness."

"That's... fair," Pelant wasn't touched at all. The truth about him rarely made him irritated, much more he couldn't stand pathetic lies; "And you have never ever doubted in what you're doing, holding someone at gunpoint?"

The federal agent sighed, musing about should he be honest tonight or he'd better hide his setbacks somewhere inside, not showing any kind of vulnerability. But for unknown reason he chose the first scenario:

"Once. I had to shoot one man on his son's birthday, right when the kid was blowing out the candles."

Christopher got fully involved in a story, what was reflecting on his focused face, despite the fact he unbearably wanted to sleep.

"And I completed my mission, I took a shot," he swallowed and clenched his fists, grunted his teeth and stared at nothing at the ceiling.

"So why are you looking like you're regretting it?"

Pelant was tired. He hasn't slept well last few nights, working as tutor-programmer, because a half of the stuff was laid off, and he's also made plans for ruining Jeffersonian's team's life. It was taking his time, so this day he wished that he would sleep for about eight hours at least, but... no such luck. Bleeding Booth appeared at his doorstep and messed everything up.

"Because I am," Seeley said, his eyes became full of grief; "I couldn't leave him alive, but I had a chance to shot him more correctly, not in front of his family who wasn't dragged into his crimes. I accept orders coming from above, but I'm the only person who's taking responsibility while my finger is on the trigger. In this case, it was a child who saw his father's head blew up in million pieces with gushing blood. You can say I'm cruel. Come on, I won't deny it."

"O tempora o mores" Pelant rolled his eyes; "So that's how you think about me. Okay, but notice once and for all: I will never scoff at person who's sincerely repenting their deeds, because I can own up my mistakes and talk about them aloud, too."

"Really? I haven't heard something like that from you."

Spasms in Booth's chest have gone, and the federal agent started to breath easily, his sight was cleaning and his body was relaxing.

"Fortunately, but now I'm honest with you. Can you seat? I want to bandage your wounds and won't bother them until the next morning. And finally let you sleep."

"Give me a minute," Seeley answered and sighed heavily, bracing up. And he almost did it by his own, Christopher has only held his back in the end.

Then the criminal stood up, stopped in front of him and got down on his knees. He took an elongated tray from the bedside table. Pelant was going to start with the ripped leg, but after switch to Booth's torso and everything above.

"Just tell me forehand about which one of this things will burn my skin till the lost of consciousness," he smiled, staring at the row of glass bottles with prepared cotton wool at them.

"No one. I chose the gentlest medicine," Christopher looked at him by intention and noticed in the eyes in front of him emotions that he couldn't expect: a pleasant surprise, an obvious gratitude and something deeper, as it seemed to him. Something that he couldn't identify.

Booth nodded instead of empty words, and it was mare than enough for both of them.

"Why did those guys want you to die?

Seeley told him everything he knew about the organisation he'd fallen out with. Christopher answered that he wasn't petrified at all that Booth got into a trouble again, having overemphasised himself. Booth played it cool and kept silent as if he was fully agreed. But actually he was forced himself not to joke about how fervently Pelant lectured him, more ardently than Brennan always did, and it seemed to him quite hilarious. He couldn't even imagine Christopher could be so talkative.

And he also didn't expect Pelant would treat his wounds with incredible care. It was like the criminal felt all the pain instead of Booth, determining correctly when discomfort was appearing, so he was pulling aside his arm, waiting for a little, and after that touched Seeley again.

"For how long have you learn it?"

"The key is in my skills," he said, smiling askew; "And I know what do you think. You're trying to realise how can I be so careful with you, taking into account who I really am."

It wasn't exactly what Booth was musing about, but it was close, and Seeley felt a bit awkwardness.

"Thank you."

"Again? For what?"

"For being better than me," Booth wasn't afraid to admit the truth: he wouldn't be so kind with Pelant in the same situation, maybe he wouldn't even let him in his house; "If you're doing this in good faith. If you aren't - I have no rights to judge you, but it doesn't change the fact you saved my life."

Christopher, who was healing cuts on Seeley's chest, got distracted because of a abrupt doubts: now he didn't want to explain his help as a benefit or a disgusting plan - to keep Booth alive just for killing him later. Now he was taking delight in thinking that Seeley deserved his chance to be saved as strongly as to be beaten half to death. And the criminal was genuinely proud of his nice choice.

He didn't change his attitude to Booth, didn't stop feeling distaste every time he looked at him. But his past aggression got covered with something new and different. Pelant saw the honour and dignity in Seeley instead of reckless foolishness, so he could respect him. He didn't require it, but he would like to know that Booth was respecting him too, even a little.

Their eyes met, so both man got silent, but their sights were too penetrating to not to laugh at this sudden embarrassment.

"Okay, seems like you are getting better," Christopher stood up, holding clean bondages; "Only your back is remaining."

"Yes, it seems..." Seeley shuddered when the criminal touched his shoulder. His fingers were cold.

"And I guess Brennan is will worry about you to death."

"Unfortunately. I'm sorry for all the nerves she spends on me."

He had has to be in the office in a half an hour, but he obviously wouldn't be in time. And it was painful for Booth to imagine how would Temperance come in Jeffersonian and wouldn't find him anywhere. So she would be left alone with unbearable feeling of anxiety, trying desperately to call or even to text him.

"Maybe you should tell her the truth?" Christopher froze for a while; "Just my opinion, I'm not pushing you."

"Now? You mean, to tell her about where I actually am and... with who?"

"It's your deal."

"Not really. This is your house and you have rights to decide."

Booth understood Pelant wanted to see Brennan much more than he did, and it was a problem.

"I can recommend you to sleep at first, or no one of us would be able to stay concentrated next... this morning."

Booth left him a choice, handed him an initiative, and Christopher couldn't force himself to argue with him instead of finding compromise. It never was in his rules to kick someone when they were already down, at least it wasn't interesting enough.

Seeley nodded and said that he lost his temper last night and told Pelant a lot of rough things he didn't deserve in this circumstances. Christopher didn't answer, speaking in expectation that nobody could see a smile on his face. A true, sincere smile, not a nasty poisonous grin.

The criminal finished medical manipulations, put paraphernalia on the bedside table and returned to his armchair. He settled into a deep sleep almost momentarily because of an endless tiredness, but before this he asked Booth to wake him up immediately if he'd feel himself worse. But Seeley couldn't sleep either for long. He couldn't resist the situation and close his eyes, laying next to the serial killer. He was thinking about a thousand things at the same time, getting more and more tangled, and this mess in his head scared him a lot. His only wish was to stand up and go far away from this place, but he wasn't able to do it by an obvious reason. Right now, at least. And by this case all he could do is to trust and to rely on the one to whose threshold he came barely alive.