(After 'The Recluse in the Recliner')

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I don't own Bones.

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Caroline Julian was impatient when it came to incompetence, injustice and tomfoolery and in this case all three had reared their ugly heads and she was barely in control. While sitting in an office waiting for permission to visit Booth, she stared at the Warden's assistant sitting across the room from her and felt a sense of satisfaction when she noticed how uncomfortable the woman was. Good, I shouldn't be the only one.

The door opened behind her and Prison Warden Mathias Granger entered the room. "I'm sorry, Ms. Julian but I was given orders by the U.S. Attorney Kevin Brady that no one can see Agent Booth without his permission."

Standing, Caroline handed a paper to Granger and gave him a rather malevolent smile. "And his boss, Attorney General of the United States Anthony Sayer says I may see Booth whenever I want to, Cher'. I believe my hand beats your hand."

A chill rolled down Granger's spine. Ms. Julian had a hard reputation and he knew she could make his life miserable if she wanted to. She had a lot of power in the District and with the backing of the Attorney General she did have the power to see Booth regardless of what Brady wanted. "Yes, of course. I'll take you to the agent. He's in the dispensary at the moment. He's recovering from surgery."

"When will he be moved to isolation?" Caroline needed to make sure that Booth would be kept from the prison population.

"He's going to be moved from the infirmary in three weeks." He didn't mention that Booth would be in the general population. Brady had ordered that the murderer not be isolated and he was going to make sure he wasn't. Booth killed three FBI agents and he had no sympathy for the man.

The half answer bothered Caroline, but she decided to worry about it later. "His lawyer will be here tomorrow. He also has a paper that will allow him access to his client. I hope I'm clear. You may think it's fine to mess with me, but I wouldn't mess with the Attorney General if I were you. He is your boss's boss. You won't win."

He didn't know why Booth had such staunch allies, but he would allow the attorney to see his client no matter how much he hated Booth's guts. "This is America, he has rights and I know them."

"Good." Moving to the door, she glanced at her watch then back at the Warden. "Well?"

Since he didn't have a choice, Granger smiled. "I'll take you to him now."

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Booth wasn't feeling well, but he'd never admit that to anyone at the dispensary. They took minimal care of him and he knew that was better than nothing. They changed his dressing, gave him antibiotics, food and water. They didn't help him eat or drink and he hadn't been offered any pain medicine since he'd been transferred to the prison, but he'd managed. He'd asked numerous times to talk to Brennan, to anyone at the FBI or Caroline Julian and so far, he had been answered with silence.

Relieved to see Caroline walk through the door with the Warden, Booth moved to sit up and managed it with just a few grunts of pain. "Caroline, no one will let me talk to Bones or anyone else. I need to know if she's okay. I need to know if she's not hurt . . . They said I was arrested for the murder of three FBI agents, but they know that's not true. They have to know that isn't true."

Dismayed at how tired and in pain the agent looked, Caroline moved closer to the bed and stared down at him. "Dr. Brennan is fine, Booth. She was unharmed when you were attacked in your home . . . According to FBI records the men who attacked you were FBI agents, but no one at the Hoover knows who they are. It's a mess and we're trying to straighten that out." Turning to face the Warden, Caroline glared at him and tried to control her anger. "This man is in pain and his pajamas are a mess. I do believe he has a right to be taken care of."

His cheeks scarlet, Warden Granger stepped over to the desk where a male nurse sat. "When was the last time Booth was given pain medicine?"

A smirk on his face, the man sitting behind the desk shook his head. "He's never received any while he's been here. It's not on his list of meds."

Furious, Caroline marched over to the desk, leaned on it and stared intently at the man sitting there. "You will get your scrawny ass out of that chair and you will go get the physician in charge of this charnel house right now."

Afraid, the man leapt to his feet and fled the room.

While they waited, Caroline walked over to the chair near Booth's bed and sat down. "Cher', Dr. Brennan is fine. Your daughter is fine. Your lawyer will be here tomorrow to talk to you. Your wife will be allowed to visit you when she can."

His body aching, Booth nodded his head and tried to concentrate on what Caroline was telling him. "Thank you for coming . . . for coming to see me."

Worried about the dark smudges under his eyes, the pale olive colored skin, the sweat on Booth's face, Caroline tried to contain her anger, but knew she was failing. "The Warden has been reminded that you have rights and he cannot deny them . . . I'm going to make sure you're properly taken care of or heads will roll from the Warden to the doctor in charge of your case." She spoke loudly and made sure the physician that had entered the room heard her. "This isn't a gulag. If you are in pain then you have a right to pain medication. You have a right to clean clothes and bed linens. You have a right to food and water. You have a right to proper care by your physician and if he cannot provide it, then we can find another doctor to work here who can do the job."

"I was doing what I was told Ma'am." Dr. Goodwin didn't appreciate being threatened. "I was told to not give him any pain medication because he's a drug addict."

"An addict? What the hell are you talking about?" Booth held his arm against his chest and felt a ripple of pain flow outward from his wound.

Before the doctor could reply, Caroline rose from the chair and marched over to where the doctor was standing. "This is a lie. You will give him something for pain right now . . .Tell me who told you he was an addict."

"Dr. William Johannsen at George Washington University Hospital." Dr. Goodwin moved over to the drug cabinet, unlocked it and removed a bottle to give Booth an injection for pain.

While the physician was giving Booth a shot, Caroline called the hospital and asked to speak to Dr. William Johannsen. The call didn't last very long. Placing the phone back in her purse, Caroline turned her attention to the doctor. "There is no one named Dr. Johannsen working at that hospital."

Feeling foolish and embarrassed, Goodwin returned the bottle of medication to the cabinet. "I can show you the paperwork."

"I would advise you to start treating Booth like your patient and disregard some bogus paperwork from an imaginary doctor you fouille-merde." Caroline turned to look at the Warden. "I will be here once a week to check on Booth to make sure he's being taken care of. If he accidentally dies, I will hold you accountable. You won't like that. Believe me, you won't like it at all."

Warden Granger knew he had made a mistake. He wouldn't repeat it again. "You may do so if you wish, but he will be taken care of until he is released from the dispensary. He will be treated as any other prisoner."

Feeling sleepy, Booth laid back down on the bed and turned his head to stare at his friend. "Thank you, Caroline." He hadn't realized how much pain he had been in until the pain had started to lessen. "Tell Bones I love her."

"I will, Cher'." There wasn't anything else she could do for her friend, but to make him feel safe. To make her feel like she was doing something to protect him, she sat in the chair for an hour and watched the Agent sleep. Before the Warden left the room, Caroline stopped him. "Warden, this man is not who you think he is. I can't prove it at this time but I can say he is a patriot and he has served his country in war and in peace. He has served with the FBI since he left the Army and I can tell you he didn't murder any FBI agents."

"That's not what Kevin Brady says and Booth is his case." Granger was certain that Caroline was biased and couldn't see the bad in the agent. "Unless I'm shown proof, he will be treated as the murderer I have been told he is."

Slowly shaking her head, Caroline turned her attention back to Booth. "If my word isn't good enough then we're done here . . . I will be back next Tuesday to check on him. When I get here, he had better be wearing clean pajamas, rested and well fed. If I find him in the shape I found him in today there will be dire repercussions. I hope I'm being clear."

Both the physician and the Warden knew they were being threatened and they were going to take that threat very seriously.

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A/N: fouille-merde means dung beetle in Cajun French.