A/N: Wow, 26 reviews! You guys rock! Thanks for your patience, my dad was working on my computer half the day yesterday, so I couldn't get on to finish the chapter and get it posted. So here you go, here's part 2. I hope you like it.

Shield

She struggled up through the layers of fog, drawn by the urgent feeling that there was something she had to do, right now. She forced her eyes open, puzzled at first by her surroundings. White walls, a muted T.V. hanging from a bracket on the wall, a white curtain hanging from an aluminum track on the ceiling. A low steady beeping drew her eyes to her right where a machine displayed assorted vital stats. She heard a soft snore to her left and she turned her head to find her partner slumped over sleeping in a chair by her bed.

Hospital, her sluggish brain supplied helpfully. Looking down at her body, she began cautiously moving her extremities to determine the extent of her injuries. She was fine until she tried to move her arms, sending excruciating pain shooting through her torso.

Her faint groan brought him awake abruptly and suddenly he was leaning over her.

"Bones?" he asked hoarsely. His warm hand brushed her forehead and her eyes fluttered shut as his touch soothed her. "How do you feel?"

Opening her eyes, she found him watching her worriedly. "What happened?" she rasped, then cleared her throat. Picking up the cup of water from the table beside the bed, he held the straw to her lips. She took a couple deep gulps and he set it back down.

"You don't remember?" he asked softly. His hand stroked lightly down her arm to find her hand and grasp it gently.

She couldn't seem to pin down a coherent thought. They were flitting through her head, evading any attempt to examine them, but the feeling of urgency was fading now that she knew her partner was safe. She frowned and made a restless move and Booth squeezed her hand.

"Lie still, Bones. You've been shot, but they were able to remove all of the bullets and repair the damage." There was an edge to his voice that told her it was more serious than he was letting on.

Licking her lips, Brennan studied his face. "What happened?" she repeated in a stronger voice.

"You damn near died," he said roughly. Her frown deepened as she tried to remember.

Suddenly it all came crashing back in a series of lightning fast images. The abandoned house, the brief glimpse of the gunman, the gunfire erupting from down the hall, pushing Booth down behind the old couch, covering his body with hers as the bullets flew and then…nothing. Raising her right hand, she gingerly felt the bandage on her temple.

"Castenada…did we get him?" she finally asked.

Booth looked grim as he remembered how he'd been torn between the urge to go after the perp and the need to stay with his injured partner. Concern for her had overridden his cop impulse to go after the shooter. "He got away. They'll find him." His hand clutched hers tighter as tears gathered in his deep brown eyes. "Shielding me with your body…why did you do that, Bones? You nearly died!" he said with a break in his voice.

Brennan opened her mouth to tell him, but couldn't get the words past the lump in her throat. Swallowing thickly, she looked down at their joined hands. How could she explain when she wasn't sure herself? How to explain a reflex so ingrained, she couldn't even remember thinking before she did it? Blinking rapidly against the moisture in her eyes, she finally looked back up at him. Her lips twitched.

"I couldn't let you get shot. You know how much paperwork that would entail?" she asked weakly, taking refuge in sarcasm.

An unwilling smile kicked up a corner of his mouth. "Not as much as I have to fill out since you're the one that got shot," he retorted without heat.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over her and her eyelids started to droop. Booth gave her hand one last squeeze. "Rest now, Bones. I'll be here when you wake," he said softly. He settled into his chair, watching as sleep claimed her once more.

It felt like moments had passed when she woke next. Panic set in as she looked to her left and noticed he was gone. She sighed with relief a moment later when he came in with a cup of coffee.

"Hey," he said with a soft smile. "How you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot," she quipped weakly. She frowned as something occurred to her. "You didn't get shot?" she asked.

"No—thanks to you. How did you know he had me in his sights?" Booth asked.

Her brows drew together as she struggled to remember. "There must have been a mirror in the hallway, I saw a reflection--only a flash, but somehow in that fraction of a second I saw the threat and I just…reacted," she said, clearly mystified by her own actions.

"How did I miss it?" Booth wondered aloud.

Brennan focused on him. "It bothers you that I perceived the threat before you did," she stated, unsure whether she should be amused or insulted.

"Well, yeah, as a trained, seasoned agent, I should have seen it first—" he began, but she cut him off.

"I don't think you could see it from your angle," she said. She was only guessing, but she sensed his ego needed a logical reason why she saw and reacted to the threat before he did.

He frowned at her. "Okay, so why didn't you just yell a warning? Why did you have to tackle me?"

"You of all people should know, there's no time to think in a situation like that. Instinct takes over. My instinct was to protect my partner," she finished logically with a wry smile.

His face was thoughtful. "Most people's first instinct would be self preservation," he argued.

She became uncomfortable under his probing stare and shifted in the bed, sending pain shooting through her side. He bent closer in response to her gasp. "Stay still. The doctor says you need to rest for at least three weeks to give the sutures time to heal."

"Three weeks!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "I am not staying here for three weeks," she said with all the willfulness she could muster.

"Don't worry," he said in a calming voice, "I convinced him to release you in three days on the condition that you promise to stay home and rest for the remainder of the time."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Really? Are you going to trust me to do that?"

"You will if I'm staying with you," he replied.

She didn't know if she could handle having him around all the time. "Don't you have to work?" she asked desperately.

"I already talked to Cullen about working half days until you're up and about. Angela's already cleared it with Cam to cover the mornings—" he said.

"I don't need a babysitter!" she said forcefully, trying to sit up. Again pain shot through her, this time from her shoulder, and she fell back, panting from the effort of suppressing a groan of agony. Her skin was pale and covered with a cold sweat.

Booth gently pushed at her shoulders. "Lie still, dammit!" he growled. "You're going to end up tearing something and then your recovery is going to take even longer." She stilled, but continued to scowl up at him. If he wasn't so annoyed with her he would have found it amusing. "You need someone with you at least for the first week or so, to cut down on the number of times you have to get up. Someone to fix your meals and make sure you take your medication, bring you water, you know…fetch and carry," he explained patiently.

Her lips pursed stubbornly and he suspected she would have had her arms crossed if she were physically able. This time he couldn't stop the smile, which just fueled her ire.

"You're enjoying this!" she accused.

"No," he said quickly. Her brows rose with doubt and he amended his reply. "Well, maybe a little. You're just so damned independent, I think it'll be good for you to be dependent on others for a little while." She glared at him and he tried a different approach. "You nearly died, Bones," he said somberly. Her look softened as the gentle concern in his eyes finally got to her. "Let us help you, okay?"

The lump in her throat prevented anything beyond a nod and Booth reached down to gently squeeze her hand.

Three days later she was lying on her couch. Booth came from the bedroom with an armful of pillows. Sitting on the edge of the couch at her hip, he slid an arm under her shoulders and gently raised her, slipping the pillows under her. His smell surrounded her and she resisted the urge to turn her face into his neck and burrow. Too soon he straightened and busied himself tucking the blanket up under her chin. She watched him through her lashes. His lips were in a grim line and she wondered what he was thinking.

He was thinking how hard it was to see her so weak. She was such a vibrant, strong person, seeing her lying there, pale and shaking, tore at his heart. It should have been him, would have been if she hadn't shielded him. He promised himself in that moment that it was never going to happen again, not if he had anything to say about it.

The week that followed passed at a snail's pace. Booth and Angela were tireless in their care of her, making her eat, bringing her water and books to read, talking to her. All the same, the forced inactivity was starting to take its toll. She was lying on the couch, her shoulders propped up. It was Saturday and they had just had lunch. Booth came in from cleaning the kitchen and sat down in the chair near her. He had been unusually quiet all morning and she sensed he had been doing some serious thinking.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, studying his face.

His eyes snapped to meet hers then slid away again. "Wrong? No," he replied, looking at her again. "I've just got a lot on my mind, what with Castenada still out there…" he began, trailing off at her skeptical stare. "Fine, I'll tell you what's bothering me." He took a deep breath. "I don't want you coming out into the field with me any more."

Her eyebrows slammed together. "You promised!" she exclaimed angrily. "Just because I got shot, you're going back on your promise?"

"You say that like it's just a flesh wound. They pulled five bullets out of you, Bones!" he said with an edge to his voice. Booth got up and came to perch on the edge of the couch by her hip, taking one of her hands in his. She was still frowning when he went on. "Those six hours you were in surgery were the longest, most excruciating hours of my life. I never want to go through that again. The thought of losing you…" he said with a catch in his voice as his tormented eyes held hers. Swallowing hard, he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "I couldn't bear it."

Her eyes closed briefly as his touch spread warmth through her body. Opening them again, she was disconcerted to find him watching her far too intently.

"What about the times I've saved your life? Don't they count for anything?" she asked softly.

"Sure they do…but you're not field trained, Bones," he pointed out reasonably.

"Then let me take the training—" she began desperately.

"It wouldn't matter!" he cut in roughly. "I'd still worry…more now than ever before." The stubborn tilt to her chin almost made him smile. "I can't help it—when you're with me, I spend more time worrying about your safety than I do my own. It divides my attention and may actually put me in more danger."

Brennan bit her lip as the truth of that sank in. Her heart seized at the thought of him getting hurt or killed because she was with him. She reached up to lightly touch his cheek. "You're probably right," she whispered. He closed his eyes and turned his cheek into her hand and her heart seemed to expand. He was so dear to her. She brought her other hand up to cup his other cheek and his deep brown eyes opened to meet hers with a look so full of tenderness, her breath caught. Her gaze dropped to his lips and she knew she had to kiss him.

She wasn't strong enough to lean up to kiss him and certainly not strong enough to pull his head down, so the fact that the barest pressure of her hands on his face brought him close told her he wanted it too. At the first feather light touch of his lips her eyes fluttered shut as a breath sighed out of her. The rightness of this, beyond logic or examination, suffused her and she felt a sweet calm flood her being.

Booth braced himself with a hand on the back of the couch and the other on the cushion by her shoulder. Even as his libido clamored for more he was constantly aware of her injuries. But her hands were threading into the hair at his nape, urging him closer as her lips nibbled at his and her tongue darted in, sending his senses spinning. He leaned fractionally closer as he deepened the kiss, gently delving into the moist depths of her mouth. Her legs moved restlessly and then she groaned and he straightened to look at her with concern.

"I'm sorry," he said huskily, making a move as though to rise. Her hands on his shoulders, though light, stopped him.

"Sorry you kissed me?" she asked.

"No….but I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"You didn't," she said, bringing her hands up to frame his face again. "You never would…I know that."

He leaned down to kiss her again briefly. "That's true. Just don't forget it." His eyes met hers seriously. "We've got time to think about you going in the field…it's at least another couple weeks away."

She sighed, daunted by the prospect of two more weeks of inactivity. But the thought of Booth being there, at her beck and call for at least a week of that time made it easier.

A/N: So, which one did you like better? Click the little blue button and let me know. Thanks so much for reading!