The reviews I recieved last chapter were outstanding; I was honestly blown away. Just incredible. You guys are sooo nice and supportive. Really makes me want to continue and try even harder to up my standard. And the suggestions were awesome too.

sikeslittlebaby - You asked me how to disable the PM feature, but of course I couldn't tell you because, well, it's disabled!

pupdawg66 - The spectacular length of your review was love. And your suggestions rocked too. You're like my crazy twin. (Go Profiles!)

I'm pleased I haven't gone OOC with Angela, Booth and Brennan, and it's so FANTASTIC to see all the new readers jumping aboard this fic.

I also have to send out big sloppy kisses to my Beta, because her job today was hilarous and very well done, and I'd trust no one else to do it.

Also waves and love to my new Asian-turned Canadian pal. You know who you are.

Chapter Thirteen – Reviewing Broken Shells

Temperance gripped the edge of the bed, her fingernails digging into the sheets as her legs trembled and her stance faltered. She inhaled sharply, alarmed as the weight of her body plunged down to her feet, the descent causing her to lose her balance completely. Her free arm swiped at empty air as she moved almost in slow motion before making contact with the cold tile floor, a sicking crack reverberating off the walls as Angela turned in time to see Temperance land heavily on her arm.

Her eyes widening as realisation hit, Angela rushed forward, dropping to her knees, "Oh my god, Brennan!" She panicked; touching Tempe's head, her shoulder, down her ribs, screaming out for help while her friend tried to catch a breath to send down to her shocked lungs.

Temperance wheezed, her blue eyes huge. "My-my…" She struggled harder to get oxygen into her frail body. She gasped, "Ange-"

Angela was on the verge of tears when two nurses and a doctor burst in, their eyes quickly taking in the scene, evaluating possible damage done. Zeroing in on Temperance, they moved to her with experience, hands fumbling over skin, assessing the broken woman on the floor.

Angela pushed herself harder against the wall, creating more space for the medical personnel to move around her best friend. She looked on helplessly, guilt twisting sharply in her gut. Tempe shouldn't have been standing by herself, what the hell was I thinking? I shouldn't have left her alone. Stupid, stupid. "No…no…no…" She kicked herself inwardly, her arms wrapping around her shaking frame.

"She's winded." One of the nurses said, placing an oxygen mask over Tempe's mouth and nose. She sucked in the air greedily, her chest expanding as oxygen moved around her lungs, filling every interstice of tissue. She calmed, her rigid body relaxing against the floor. She moaned when the doctor examined her arm, confirming her fears of a fractured ulna. After a thorough body assessment, Tempe was lifted onto the bed, a pillow drawn under her broken arm.

"Let's get her up to x-ray." Dr Hart said to the others, motioning them to put up the safety rails on the bed. They did as she instructed, exiting the room as swiftly as they had entered. When the door had shut behind them, Nurse Genevieve swooped down on a now weeping Angela, extending her arms out to her and embracing her in a comforting hug. She felt all the pressure build in her system, a result of constant worry; operations, infections, relapses, loss. Sobbing quietly against the nurse's shoulder, Angela felt the tremors curse through her body and finally stop altogether as unconcealed terror flooded through her veins, exhausting her.

"There, there," Genevieve soothed, "Just a scare. Tempe's fine now." Angela leant back on her haunches, wiping the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. She looked down at her hands, wet with tears.

"I feel so over-dramatic." Angela sniffed, a blush clawing at her neck.

"Oh, nonsense!" Gen brushed her comment off, "I got me-self quite a shock too when I saw Dr Brennan crumpled on the floor like that." Angela let a sigh wash over her, grateful to have someone there with her, someone who understood.

She gnawed on her bottom lip. "She'll be alright though?"

Gen patted her knee in reassurance. "It wasn't a big fall, just enough height for her to fall on her arm and break it. I'm sure there's nothing else to worry about."

Angela closed her eyes in relief. "And going home? Will that still be possible today?"

Gen took a moment to consider her question. "Well I don't see why not, unless Dr Hart thinks otherwise. Her arm is nothing a cast can't fix." Angela looked solemnly at the packed bag sitting on the chair.

"Today of all days."

"Angela." Booth breathed upon seeing her leaning against the wall. "What's happening?"

She looked away. "They're putting a cast on her arm." Booth looked over her drawn face, concern drawing his words together.

"Hey. What's wrong?" Angela shuffled her feet and crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

She shook her head, her voice a derelict whisper. "It's my fault." Booth placed his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed.

"Listen to me." He said, giving her a slight smile when she looked up. "You listening?"

Angela nodded her head, a dubious expression marking her pale face. "This is not your fault. It was an accident."

"I turned away for one second, Booth! One second! She just…just fell!"

"I know. And no one blame's you." He tried to convince her. "It was bad luck, Angela."

"And it keeps on coming." She replied bitterly. "Won't it ever stop?"

Booth had no answer for that. He could remember numerous times when that same thought had visited his own mind, again and again, relentlessly teasing the fear into him. "I hope so."

A full minute passed without either of them speaking.

"She'll want to see you." Angela said softly, her eyes gesturing to the room next to her, the door closed tightly.

"Yeah." Giving one last look over his shoulder, he pushed the door open.

Sitting up in bed, her gown pooling at her waist, Temperance's eyes were huge and round when she turned her head to look at him. "I broke my arm." She said to him in an almost disbelieving tone, surprise still etched on her features. The arm that was broken, the left one, was immobilised in the air, netting grasping at her sprawled fingers to hold it up. She looked as though she were waiting for someone to go up to her and high-five her. The soft cotton layer that would protect her skin from rubbing and irritation had already been wrapped around her arm and thin strips of white material we're just beginning to harden as the doctor layered it over the cotton.

Temperance smiled weakly at him when he seated himself next to her. "Does it hurt?" He asked, eyeing the bruise peeping out from the cotton.

"It hurts more than I would of thought it would." She answered, watching the nurse wrap the wet bandage around her arm.

"You've never broken any bones before?" He questioned, his tone amazed. "How ironic."

Temperance eyed her arm. "The cast is made of fibreglass, which is like a moldable plastic. It's cooler and lighter than the traditional white plaster, and you can choose different colors; purple, pink, black, red..." Her eyes sparkled in interest.

Booth looked confused. "But that's white." He pointed to her arm.

Tempe looked sheepish. "I've never had a broken arm before, and I've always wanted a white cast."

Booth felt his lips tug into a smile as she explained. "You may like it now, but wait till you get an itch."

Tempe frowned. "I'm sure it's all mind over matter." Booth snorted.

"You just wait, Bones."

"When will it come off?" Tempe asked the nurse, her mind playing tricks on her as she felt a little itch beneath the soft layers of cotton.

"Single fracture like this – about a month and a bit."

Booth smirked. "Scratch, scratch." He muttered under his breath.

"Stop it, Booth." Tempe scowled him. "You're making me itchy."

Booth looked appalled. "So I'm like nits now?" He said playfully.

Narrowing her eyes, Tempe said; "You know what I mean."

The nurse smiled, listening to their teasing banter. "The fibreglass is actually waterproof, but the padding underneath is not," she interrupted them, "So that means no swimming," She winked, "You'll need to put a plastic bag over it when you bathe, and when you go to sleep put a pillow underneath."

Temperance groaned half-heartily, "Another pillow."

"Where's Angela?" Temperance asked Booth as soon as he re-entered her room.

Booth gave an imperceptible shrug, his tone as light as he could make it, "She had to run an errand."

Tempe pouted, disappointed. "Oh."

Booth hid the hiss of air that left his lungs. At times like these, he was glad Tempe could be as oblivious and socially unaware as ever; never picking up on his forced lie. He couldn't exactly tell her her best-friend had left because she had almost had a breakdown after her fall. He knew Tempe didn't blame a soul for what had happened, but Angela needed more convincing, and guilt weighed heavily on her conscious.

"She said she'd stop by the apartment tomorrow." He added, an attempt to cheer her up, and as her eyes locked on his, he could have sworn she'd seen right through his lie, but she said nothing and he said nothing more about it. She held an old gray Harvard sweatshirt in her hand, her face baffled as she tried to figure out how to put it on with her arm slung in a sling across her chest.

She moaned, throwing the shirt down in exasperation. "I can't leave in just a tank top; I'll freeze!" Booth scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Here." He said, shrugging out of his dark green jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders, gently threading her free arm through the arm hole and zipping it up the middle, his knuckles brushing her stomach briefly. She looked at him uncertainly, "You sure?" She unconsciously wiggled herself into his jacket, the warmth he'd left behind comfortable and cosy.

He smiled slowly, his face a mere inch from hers. "It will take more than a little cold wind to blow me down, Bones." He stood up and reached for her white sneakers. She shuffled on her butt, trying to stay balanced while she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She over-compensated on one side and she flung her hand out to clutch at Booth's shoulder to stop her from falling. "You want to break the other arm too?" He teased her as he eased her foot into the first shoe, pulling the tongue up and tying the laces.

"Sorry." She mumbled, her cheeks hot.

"Don't worry about it, Bones."

"Thanks." She said when he stood and she looked down at her shoe clad feet.

"C'mere." Booth said, looping his arm around her waist. He lifted her to her feet easily, and she grasped at his t-shirt while she swayed. "I don't trust you alone on that bed." He smirked playfully, directing her to a near-by seat.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

"And Bones?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you dare move from that seat."

Temperance rolled her eyes. "I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid."

He grinned at her and left the room. Tempe sat quietly, unmoving as she had been told, her eyes roaming the furniture of the room. She was not sad to leave, but part of her ached at the knowledge of going home. She hated psychology, and thinking about her feelings left her feeling anxious and uncertain.

Booth returned a minute later, a wheelchair pushed out in front of him. As soon as Tempe laid eyes on it, Booth started talking, "No arguments, you are getting in this wheelchair. No way are you walking one metre, even if I have to carry you over my shoulder." He prepared himself for a fight, only to find her strangely obedient.

"Okay." Tempe agreed unquestionably. Booth stood to his full height, stumped.

"Did you just agree?"

"Yes."

He scrunched his eyebrows up. "Well…okay." He shot her a puzzled look as he rolled it towards her, nudging the lock down with his foot and making his way around to Temperance. She stood willingly and allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist again. "Why aren't you making more of a big deal about this?" He asked her suspiciously.

"Because I know my limitations." He gently lowered her down onto the seat of the wheelchair. His eyes took in her drooping lids and it dawned on him that today was more activity than she was used to, and whatever energy she had acquired from her nap had since been depleted.

He brushed some stray hairs off her forehead, "I'm sorry, Bones. We'll be home soon." She blinked at him and nodded, a yawn parting her soft lips.

He reached for her bag on the bed, placing it on her lap and releasing the locks on the wheels. "Here's hoping we don't see this room ever again."

Betcha weren't expecting that, huh?! I know I said home time next chapter, but as I listened to Moonlight Sonata, the angst swept over me and I was powerless to stop it. Now with a broken arm, the hurdles are just getting higher and higher!

Just bought Superman on DVD, and boy oh boy, that Brandon Routh sure is dreamy. His chin was like whoa...everytime it came on the screen I felt like I had to wave at it or something.

Okay, serious this time...next chapter: HOME TIME!!