Booth was falling asleep when he heard the door to his hospital room open. He let his eyes open a fraction after a moment, and smiled when he saw that Aubrey had returned.

"There's cake in the mini fridge," said Booth by way of greeting. He pointed to a small fridge across from his bed.

"I hope there's enough for me, Booth," said Andrew from the doorway.

"Sir," answered Booth automatically. He tried to pull himself into a seated position, but stopped when Aubrey gently pushed him back against the slightly raised bed head and pillows. "Sorry if I don't get up," he added tiredly.

"Just rest. I need you to heal so you can come back to work." Andrew smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a truck ran me down," admitted Booth. "The morphine hasn't kicked in just yet," he explained.

"Do you want us to leave?" Aubrey asked, though he was already digging into a large slice of cake and had no intention of actually leaving.

"No. You can stay."

"Good. This cake is delicious, by the way."

"You bought it, Aubrey. I'm sure you knew it was good," grinned Booth.

"Did the doctor say anything about when you can go home?" Andrew asked hopefully.

"Just that I'm healing well. I don't know when I'll be home." Booth shrugged. "I'm not exactly feeling ready to go anywhere yet."

"That's understandable. Let me know if you need anything?"

"Of course," said Booth with a grin. "You know what I need right now?"

"Tell me."

"Stop being so gloomy! I'm fine."

"He really is, Andrew," Aubrey added through a mouthful of cake.

"Did you catch the guy that did this to me?" Booth asked.

"Yes..."

"But what?"

"Well... he claims he was put up to it."

"By?"

Aubrey hesitated. He didn't think that telling Booth was a good idea at that moment- the agent needed to heal, not make his injuries worse.

"Aubrey? Who put Watson up to it?"

"It was Steven Drew," said Andrew when Aubrey hesitated again. "Do you know him?"

Booth frowned. "The name rings a bell," he said, "but I couldn't tell you why. Did I put him in prison?"

"According to Watson, Drew was angry with you for being in prison, so I guess so. I've got agents searching files to see what your connection to Drew is."

"I'm not worried for me, really, but I need to know that Bones is safe, Andrew," said Booth anxiously. "She's not in any danger, is she?"

"I doubt it. It sounds like they wanted you only. I'll have agents posted outside your hospital room to keep you safe, and I will see what I can do about Dr Brennan's safety. Is she likely to allow agents to protect her?"

"Probably not," said Aubrey with a small smile.

"She would, actually," said Booth suddenly. He looked at Aubrey. "James, you would be able to do it. She'd let you look after her."

"Me?"

"Yes. She trusts you, she knows you. You found me for her, so she knows that you keep your promises. If there is anybody other than me that she feels safe with, it's you."

Aubrey smiled. "That's good to know," he said happily as the door to the room opened.

"Hi, everyone," said the newcomer. "I'm Doctor Lions. I'm sorry to have to do this, but I need to ask you to give us the room for the next half hour so I can check on Agent Booth."

"That's fine," said Andrew. "We should be going back to work anyway. Booth, don't forget to call me if you need anything, alright?"

"Thanks, sir," answered Booth as he gave a small wave goodbye.

"Sorry to make your friends leave," said Dr Lions as he started to check the machines next to Booth's bed.

"It's not a problem," said Booth, "I was going to have to send them off soon enough anyway so I can get some sleep before Bones comes back."

The doctor looked at his patient for a moment. "Why do you call her Bones?"

"I've always called her that. I think it was just fun for me at first, but now it's a habit."

"Doesn't she get annoyed?" he asked as he pulled his stethoscope out of his coat pocket.

"She used to tell me off whenever I called her Bones, but now she just lets it go." Booth paused while the doctor listened to his lungs, then said, "I think we both got so used to it, that it's become an endearing nickname."

The doctor put away his stethoscope and, while making a note on Booth's chart, said, "it's an interesting nickname, for sure. Do you ever call her by her actual name?"

Booth shook his head. "I don't think so."

Dr Lions smiled. "I think it's pretty sweet."

Booth grinned at his doctor before settling back into his pillows. He allowed the doctor to check him over while he thought about the doctor's question. Had he ever actually called his fiance by her first name?

"Okay, Agent Booth, I need to check your stomach and your leg, okay?"

"Okay."

"Did you want something for the pain first?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Dr Lions nodded. He moved the blanket from Booth's stomach and legs, then carefully lifted the hospital gown. He gently peeled back the small bandage that he had applied to the stomach wound and gave a satisfied nod.

"This wound is healing quite nicely. We can probably remove the stitches in the next day or two, and then we could look into sending you home a couple of weeks after that, though you will be on crutches until your leg heals," said the doctor.

"That sounds like a good idea."

"It's dependent on how you go, but I think we might be able to reduce your recovery time."

"I like that even more," said Booth happily.

Dr Lions laughed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet, okay?" He grabbed a wet cloth and gently cleaned up the dried blood that had been left around the edge of the stitched wound. "Does that hurt?"

"A little," admitted Booth, "but it's surprisingly not as sore as my leg is."

"Your leg was worse off, that's for sure. The bullet tore through quite a bit of the muscle and exited the back of your thigh. Luckily, it didn't damage the bone, but it did nick your femoral artery, which is why you lost so much blood."

"It also explains why I couldn't stand on that leg, then. I think that the adrenaline must have been what was pushing me forward until I passed out. When I was in that water tank, I felt my leg shaking almost constantly, and I lost my balance several times."

"That makes sense. When we went in to operate, the muscle in your leg looked like it had been through a mincer. You're going to need physical therapy to regain the strength in those muscles."

"How long will that take?"

"Depends on you. We can probably do most of the therapy as an outpatient, but you will need to start it in here so I can assess if you're ready to leave."

"When can I start?"

"Not until your stomach has healed more. I'll need to remove the stitches in both wounds before we can even think of getting you started, which is why you won't be able to leave straight after the stitches in your stomach are taken out- unless you want to be in a wheelchair for a couple of weeks?"

"No, thank you." Booth grimaced as the doctor touched his thigh.

"Sorry," said the doctor.

"No, that's fine, keep going," Booth said through gritted teeth.

The doctor apologised again and continued to unwrap the bandage around Booth's thigh. He was glad to see that there wasn't any blood leaking from the wound and the stitches were all still intact.

"Still okay to continue?" he asked Booth as he grabbed another wet cloth.

"Yeah," said Booth after a moment.

Dr Lions nodded. He gently touched the cloth to the skin around the wound, then glanced up at the heart monitor when the beeping increased. He pulled the cloth back and asked, "want me to stop?"

"No, it has to be done, right?"

"It does. I can give you something for the pain."

"No. Please, just continue," said Booth as he breathed through the worst of the pain.