Well lookie here, a new chapter! And Tempe's actually awake this time! What a BONUS.

Thanks to R. - the ultimate Beta.
Love goes out to BonesDBchippie, because she's so damn cultured. Grinnytime.

Enjoy.

Chapter Eleven – Building New Castles

The next day dawned exactly as Booth thought it would. The storm that had raged throughout the night had ceased and all that remained of its activities were the cool droplets that hung heavily on the leaves and the patches of water on the concrete that hadn't quite dried at the still early hour. The air felt crisp and clean, and Booth inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the newness of it all.

"Look Daddy, a worm!" Parker exclaimed excitedly as he pointed to a stranded brown slug on the pavement. He ran to it and bent down, examining it with youthful exuberance.

A slight breeze tugged at Booth's hair as he walked towards the white colonial, the sunlight warming it enough that Booth wore his black t-shirt without his bare skin being chilled. He grinned when Parker picked the worm up between his fingers, the gentleness that came with age missing as he accidentally squished the worm in his curious hands. His brown eyes widened and Booth laughed when he squealed. "Cool!"

Booth halted his laughter when he noticed Rebecca standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, watching the scene with nothing more than disapproval and disgust on her face. Booth shrugged impishly and pointed to Parker. "Boys!"

Parker stood and turned towards his mother, "Look mom, you can see its guts and everything! Isn't it neat?"

Grossed out, Rebecca cringed and said, "Ah-"

Booth laughed and said to Parker, "Girls!"

"Ew girls!" Parker said, crinkling his nose up and discarding the dead worm on the grass. He peered down at his hands, covered in worm goo.

"Agh, gross." Rebecca mumbled. "Sweetie go wash your hands."

Parker ran off into the house, leaving the two adults alone. Booth looked down uncomfortably, the buffer between them gone.

"I hope he behaved himself. He's been so restless lately." She said, making idle conversation.

"He did."

Silence.

"Seeley?"

"Yeah?" Booth said, looking up.

"Are you okay?" She asked, accepting Parker's weekend bag when he passed it to her.

Booth forced a smile. "I'm fine."

Rebecca didn't buy it. "You're lying."

Booth sighed. He hadn't told Rebecca about Tempe. He wasn't really sure why, he kept quiet about it, and it was easy to stay quiet about it when the subject never came up. And besides, it wasn't her business to know, it wasn't his to tell.

"I'll pick Parker up same time in two weeks," he said gruffly before he turned his back on the house and walked down the path leading to his SUV parked at the curb. He heard the door shut behind him, and released a sigh of relief that she hadn't pestered him into opening up.

He got into his black FBI-issued vehicle and pulled away from the house. The drive to the hospital wouldn't take long, even at this time of the morning. It was a Sunday after all, and people liked to sleep in on Sundays. He slowed when the lights turned orange and stopped altogether when it changed to red. His palms were sweaty and he was tapping his hands restlessly against the wheel. He felt nervous and that unsettled him. He had seen Tempe nearly everyday for the past month, why should he be nervous?

The turnoff for the hospital entrance was on his left and he rolled the wheel between his hands in one fluid motion and found his way knowledgably around the car park for "his" spot. It was conveniently unoccupied so he slid into the small lot and killed the engine. He was desperate to see Temperance but fear clutched tightly at his limbs and he sat there for nearly ten minutes, building the courage up from nothing. Fear of what?

Berating himself for his silliness, he climbed out of the SUV and with one click, locked it securely. He pretty much knew the route to her room, and he was confident he could find his way to her with his eyes closed. The floors were shiny and his shadow danced along with him as he made his way to the dull gray elevators. St Vincent's Memorial, made up of several historical buildings along Reilly Street was large and noisy, bustling with people in the corridors, nurses peeping in on patients and exhausted doctors running back and forth from ward to ward. The elevator dinged and Booth stepped into it, nodding in a friendly manner to medical personnel he had seen frequently in the past month. He pressed the button with a worn "12" on it and rocked on his heels as the elevator ascended.

His reflection caught on the chrome doors and he was surprised to see how tired he looked. He had slept mildly well the night before, but his exhaustion was not from hours of lost sleep, it was the overload of stress that was doing him in.

Another "ding" and the doors opened, revealing the twelfth floor. How was it that every floor looked exactly the same? He inwardly wondered.

He spotted Angela down the hall, resting her back against the wall. She turned her head to the side and saw him, smiling as she raised her hand. She didn't look too worried and he relaxed his tense muscles. "Hey," he said when he reached her, "Why are you standing outside?"

"Gen is removing her stiches." She answered, sitting down. "It's been awhile."

Booth frowned. "You don't think anything is wrong, do you?"

Angela waved her hand at him and he sat down next to her. "I don't know. How long does it usually take to remove stiches?"

He shrugged, his eyes watching her closed door for movement. "Has she…you know…"

"Talked?"

He nodded. "Some. Not much. Her throat hurts." She replied honestly. "Booth," she started seriously, "Don't expect too much too soon."

"I know, Angela. I'll be nice." He gave her a cheeky smile and she laughed.

"You're a lost cause, Booth."

"Gee, thanks."

The door opened and both of them sprang to their feet. Nurse Genevieve Matheson slipped out of the room and gave them broad smiles. "Why, hello you two!"

Genevieve Matheson, Booth could honestly say, was one of the nicest people he had ever met. She was soft-spoken, courteous, and liked by everyone, employees and patients alike. She was petite, standing at no more than five feet, two inches, with an appealing face and a lovely smile. Her eyes were brown, and deep warmth seemed to radiate out of them, pulling people in with her motherly presence. Her shoulder length hair was clipped back, and the silvery strands betrayed her fifty-two years. From the very start they learnt that she was not one to be messed with, and arguing with her would leave you nothing short of exhausted. Her thoughtful nature and cheery attitude kept their spirits up and Angela and Booth took to her immediately. A couple of hours after meeting her, they were addressing her by her given name.

"Everything okay with the stiches?" Booth asked, gesturing to his chest.

"Oh, fine, fine!" Gen said, waving off his concerns. "Closed up just perfect."

"Well let's go in then," Angela said, walking towards the door. She stopped when Booth hung back, looking at him with a frown. "Booth? You coming?"

"Course," he answered, moving to stand beside her. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. Deep breaths, he told himself, sucking in pockets of air.

Angela opened the door, shoving it as she burst into the room with excitement. Tempe looked up, startled. "Sweetie! Booth's here!"

"Hey Bones," he said, smiling nervously at her. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, his shoulders hunched over. She looked at him, mumbled a quiet 'Hi' and turned her gaze away. By the look on his face, Angela could see he was hurt.

"How's your throat?" she asked Tempe, wondering why her friend had dismissed Booth like that.

Tempe shrugged and looked out the window. Angela twisted her body from her seat on the end of Tempe's bed and regarded Booth. "Hey Booth, could you give us a minute?" She raised her eyebrows, and he took the hint.

"Ah, yeah, sure…I'll be outside…" he said, retreating even as he spoke.

When the door had shut behind him, Angela turned her eyes on Tempe. "Okay, what was that about?"

Tempe had her head down, a curtain of hair concealing her face. They sat in silence, waiting for Tempe to answer. When she didn't, Angela stood up with a dramatic sigh.

"Sweetie spill."

Tempe looked up with a confused expression. "Spill what?" she croaked out.

Angela grimaced at her friend's voice. It sounded rough and husky, and she knew it hurt to strain it. "You barely looked at Booth. I thought you were looking forward to seeing him-"

"I was…am."

Angela folded her hands beneath her breasts. "Then what? What's with the cold shoulder?"

Tempe chewed on her lip thoughtfully. She didn't mean to brush Booth off. She was…embarrassed.

Angela could practically see the clogs turning in Tempe's mind. Her face was set in a frown, her mouth a grim line. "He doesn't think any less of you. Don't ever think that."

Tempe snapped her head up. It was almost as if Angela had read her mind, it was nearly verbatim to what she was thinking.

"I don't know what to think anymore," she sighed, looking at Angela with such devastation in her eyes that Angela went to her immediately and wrapped her arms around her, careful of her healing sternum. Tempe returned the hug, needing the comfort only physical contact brought. "God, Ange. What's happened to me?"

"Nothing has happened to you. You're only human; you couldn't go on like you were forever."

"But it's how I-"

"Cope." Angela finished, loosening her arms around Tempe to lean back so she could see her face.

"I don't know how to handle this. I feel…vulnerable." She screwed her face up, "I hate that. I feel fifteen all over again."

"But you're not, and you aren't alone this time. You have me, and you have your brother. Sweetie, you have Booth. That man will do anything for you. Let him in. He's not about to judge you. He already knows you."

She was quiet while she contemplated Angela's words. Tempe gave her a half smile and squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Ange."

Angela winked. "Anytime. Now, how about we let Booth in?" She stood and opened the door. A few words were exchanged around the door, and Tempe couldn't hear what was being said. Three seconds later Booth entered, and Angela suddenly remembered a "phone call" she needed to make.

Booth shuffled forward, looking awkward and Tempe looked up at him curiously. "You're nervous."

He chuckled. Only Tempe could be so blunt. "A little." He admitted.

He hesitated by the door, and she watched him slowly drift over. He reached her bed, his hands tucked into his pockets just like earlier. He wanted to reach out and touch her, take her hand in his and feel her soft skin like he did whenever he sat with her, but she was barely lucid, and alarming her was the last thing he wanted to do.

Her own hands were fiddling with the edge of the blanket, picking at the frayed edge. "How do you feel?" he asked, taking in her appearance. Her bed was raised so she could sit up, white pillows fluffed up behind her. Her hair was tousled, but not messy, and her cheeks held some colour. Her eyes, still dull, held some life at least. Her voice was scratchy though, and he worried. She sounded like she was damaged. And inside, she no doubt was.

She smiled wryly. "I've noticed that's the first thing people say to you when you're in a hospital."

"Well, it's a good ice-breaker." He pointed out. He sat down next to her, and the chair squeaked audibly. He cringed. She smiled. "I should have known. That chair has had it in for me for ages."

She raised her eyebrows. "You're having a feud with a chair?"

He nodded seriously. "This is no ordinary chair, Bones."

A smile tugged at her lips and it quickly turned into a grimace. Her face contorted and she bit down on her lip.

Panic gnawed at him and he moved to the edge of her bed. "Bones?"

"It's okay, Booth." She relaxed, her face smoothing out, the ache in her chest subsiding. His forehead creased together, creating a small valley between his eyebrows. "Bones-"

"Dr Hart knows. She said it's normal when your breastbone is broken and your heart played with." She joked, easing the lines on his face. "It's okay," She repeated, "The pain is bearable."

His face looked strained and she reached for his hand that dangled by his side. He nearly jumped when he felt her hand grab his, but he quickly recovered his composure and stared down at their entwined hands. "I've missed you, Bones." He said quietly, and he felt her grip tighten.

"I'm sorry, Booth." Tempe whispered, shame evident in her voice.

Surprised, Booth asked: "For what?"

She brushed her thumb gently across his hand, watching the hair stand up as she made contact with his skin. She swallowed hard. "I feel like I've…like I've let you down." She raised her head, her eyes glassy. "Have I?"

Booth put his free hand on her calf, squeezing gently. "No. Impossible." He let a slow smile cross his face and she watched his lips curve up at the corners. Her gaze crept up his face till she reached his eyes, locking her gaze with his. "Don't go anywhere soon…mmmkay?"

"I won't."

He smiled. "Good, because you're coming home with me."

Booth taking Tempe home? Oh ,yes please, I'll take that! (retreats from gutter)

Can you BELIEVE how short my A/N's are this chapter? It's rather horrendous. You may scold me in your review. (rarr - like that.)