A/N 5,600 words
Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Thursday, Early Evening
After Cullen left, Booth felt increasingly eager and, if truth be told, nervous, about Temperance's visit shortly. It would be the first time he'd really see her and have a chance to talk since Monday in the corridor. To say that there was unfinished business between them had to be the understatement of the year.
He knew that his ordeal must have been terribly rough on her coming on top of her own. He wasn't completely sure but he thought he recalled seeing her twice while still in intensive care. The first time was a total blur between the pain and the medication, but he just remembered her crying and feeling terribly guilty for having made her so sad. He had another image of her which he thought was from a separate and later time. In that one she was not crying as he struggled to talk. He'd babbled before the effort had become too great, and only God knew what he'd actually said.
Cullen had filled him in on what she'd been through, and had had to do to survive and escape, and he simply wanted to hold her, and be held by her, more than anything in the entire world.
However, in spite of all his concerns, he was still so beat to shit and tired after giving his statement…
Knock, Knock
Booth started at the sound and blinked himself more fully awake. Against the odds he must have nodded off. A freckle faced red headed nurse was at the door, her fist still on the jamb. She was one he hadn't seen before.
"Now they can't stay too long because I have orders to make sure you get a good nap then dinner so we can get you up for a little walk later, but you have some visitors who are very eager to see you."
His heart was suddenly pounding and he smiled in anticipation…
But the smile faltered slightly as Angela and Hodgins entered the room, the former carrying a ridiculous balloon bouquet, and the latter a messenger bag on his shoulder. Crap. Happy as he was to see them he was disappointed he wasn't going to have her all to himself. He should have known better.
Of course Angela caught the look on his face.
"Don't pout. She and Zack will be here in a second," she said with a warm smile. Again he appreciated her bubbly personality. Angela shoved the strings into Hodgins' hands and advanced to the bed where she bent and carefully gave him a hug which he returned as best he could. When he'd been discharged from ICU he'd lost a bunch of the lines and whatnot, but he was still tangled up more than he cared for. Hodgins tied the balloons to the back of the lone visitor chair against the far wall.
As Angela stood back up she beamed at him, "So how's our favorite hero?"
He groaned a little at that. "About as well as can be expected I suppose. And drop the H-word, please. You know I was just doing my job," he added tiredly. Former job that is. He was not exactly looking forward to some of the attention that Cullen warned him about. He just wanted to be left alone to heal.
Angela started to respond, but he didn't hear a single word as Brennan entered the room. He started to smile again in reflexive pleasure, but it was completely obliterated a split-second later as the fact Zack was pushing her in a wheelchair sank in. His heart gave a lurch at the sight of her leg elevated in some sort of black Velcro-ed immobilizer boot.
"How bad is your leg?" he demanded as Zack parked her to his left near the foot of the bed.
"I'm fine," she grumbled, looking back over shoulder up at Zack.
Booth gave the bedside tray table a push so he could have an unimpeded view of her and it rolled a few feet away. He let out a small grunt as the tensing muscles produced a small spike of pain that quickly went away… or at least back down to the current noise level.
A still wrapped bowl of pudding left over from lunch went with the tray. He saw Hodgins' eyes follow it, and he gave the entomologist a scowl before turning his attention back to more important things.
Angela ignored the byplay between the two men and dissented, "You're under doctor's orders to stay off your leg as much as possible for the next few days." She looked at Booth, "She was so tired she wasn't using the crutches properly on the long walk up here…"
"Angela, I'm right here." Temperance muttered, definitely a little annoyed with being talked about.
Booth could see a pair of crutches leaning against the wall through the doorway.
"And so we borrowed one of the hospital's wheel chairs," finished Zack. Apparently he wasn't quite through tattling on his mentor. The gobbledy-gook came out in a rush…
"Doctor Brennan was very lucky with her injury as the embedded shrapnel completely penetrated the gastrocnemius and then the soleus all the way through to its anterior surface and the enveloping fascia. It nearly exited the posterior compartment close to the proximal juncture of the tibia and fibula, and it was less than a centimeter from damaging either the popliteal artery or the tibial nerve. The probability of severing one of them was significant if the shrapnel had continued migrating after the initial trauma."
Zack paused for a breath then must have noticed his expression. He smacked his lips in exasperation and gave Booth a pointed look.
"Translation: Hemorrhage or paralysis could have been the result." Zack paused for a half second then rolled his eyes, adding slowly as if speaking to an idiot child, "In other words it could have been real bad."
That aggravated Booth, and he protested, "I got the gist of it!" More or less.
Zack only gave him a look that was somehow simultaneously skeptical and patronizing.
"Honest!" Damned squints.
Zack had one more shot, "She is quite obstinate and not a very good patient." He sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. "Somehow I imagine she's not the only one."
But Booth forgot him as he laughed out loud at the aggravated look Temperance gave her assistant because it reminded him so much of how he must look when he, Booth, was willing her to shut up. His eyes watered as it hurt deep in his middle, but it was worth it.
He gasped, "You just can't find decent help anywhere these days."
That earned him a sour look which gave way to a shy flicker of a smile before her expression reverted to one that was all business. She started to open her mouth, but Angela spoke first, in a teasing tone. Damn.
"Zack, you said 'obstinate' like that's a bad thing..." Then she followed through in a quieter voice, "Some of us wouldn't be here if it wasn't for 'obstinate'."
That shut up everyone for a moment.
Fortunately Angela broke the somber mood the she certainly had not intended to evoke. She spoke brightly.
"Besides, we would have never got to the right hospital Monday afternoon, would we?"
Zack practically fell over his feet to play along. "Oh yes. Agent Booth, you should have seen the look on the face of the EMT she made let her out of the ambulance. She even made Director Cullen personally obtain a ride for us."
Booth smiled at Bones with renewed appreciation as the others chuckled.
"Then she browbeat me into digging through fresh bloody medical waste to recover that belt buckle of yours. Eesh." Hodgins made a face. "I prefer my bodily fluids thoroughly desiccated, thank you."
Booth had totally forgotten about his belt, but then he forgot about it again as she called his name for the first time.
"Booth…"
He turned back to find her eyes upon him. They were so beautiful even when troubled.
"How are you doing?" she asked carefully.
"Much better, obviously." To prove it he gave her his very best smile. The corners of her mouth quirked upward in response, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. They seemed vaguely haunted, proof that Cullen was right about her having been though hell herself. Crap. As much as he wanted her in his arms right now he'd just have to be patient a little longer. But he was confident he'd get her to warm up. That didn't stop him from damning their circumstances however. Aside from the presence of the squints, she was still several feet away in her chair which frustrated him because his gut told him that a touch was all it would take and here he was stuck in this fucking bed.
At least he knew in his bones that Angela would get rid of the others at some point so they could talk privately.
He realized that he was still staring at Temperance, trying to read her...
"And…?" That was Angela, impatient for some details.
At the interruption Temperance broke their eye contact, her eyes darting away from him and toward her friend as if grateful for the excuse. Be patient.
He let out a small sigh and turned fully to Angela himself. He pointed to his cheek without touching it. It was still tender.
"Here's the short version: This itches, my right butt cheek alternates between stinging and itching, the tinnitus in my ear has almost completely faded, thank God, although there may be a little permanent hearing loss, and my whole middle is sore where they split me open and where the vest bruised me. It hurts if I breathe too deeply or forget and try to sit up or bend too suddenly in spite of the wimpy painkillers I'm on now, but the infernal itching from the damned morphine they gave me was finally gone this morning so I guess that tradeoff was worth it. And, oh yes, I'm still hooked up to too many tubes, but I'm supposed to lose a few more first thing in the morning." He wasn't looking forward to having the two drains pulled. He'd peeked under the sheet and just the thought of just what they were and where they went inside made him a bit queasy.
He gave Angela a big smile so she wouldn't take his complaints too seriously. After all it sure beat the hell out of pushing up daisies. Out of the corner of his eye he noted that Temperance was staring at him intently while he wasn't looking directly at her.
"Get any sponge baths yet from cute nurses?"
Booth turned to Hodgins who stood at the right side of the bed, arms crossed on the bedrail. It was clear he was just being a smartass with the question.
"Twice at George Washington," he half whispered conspiratorially.
"Cool." The bug man leaned closer, obviously intrigued now. He must not have seriously expected an answer in the affirmative.
Booth confided, "Both times it was a cute blonde nicknamed Sam..."
Angela cleared her throat. The look of disbelief on her face was priceless. He winked at her with his left eye which he thought Hodgins couldn't see. He couldn't see Temperance to tell her to play along, but she'd get it in a second.
Hodgins nodded eagerly for him to continue. "Now that's what I'm talking about." He was completely oblivious to the sound of Angela clearing her throat again more vigorously.
Time for the punchline…
"It was 'Sam' as in Samuel, not Samantha."
"Gah!" Hodgins shook his head disgustedly. "Way to disabuse a man of his vicarious pleasures. Now I've got an image I can't get out of my head."
Booth laughed. One more, just to rub it in… "I never thought I wouldn't mind another guy handling the package, but believe it or not I just felt too crappy to care."
Booth gave him a shit eating grin even though it pulled at his cheek. He heard a snort from his left over the sound of Angela's laughter as Hodgins muttered darkly.
He and Sam had also shared another awkwardly intimate moment when the male nurse went to pull the catheter from his bladder but had failed to fully deflate the small balloon used to keep it from sliding out accidentally. If Booth hadn't been so weak he would have kicked the nurse's ass. However, that was one little story he was going to keep to himself.
"What?" Hodgins' grumbling was interrupted by Angela poking him in the shoulder.
"The papers?" She moved up to the bedrail as well and the shorter man scooted over to make room.
"Oh yeah." Jack reached down and lifted the flap of the messenger bag he was wearing. He reached in and pulled out a short stack of newspapers which he handed to her. She picked out one and handed it to Booth.
He grimaced as he took it. It was Tuesday's Washington Post featuring a dramatic photo of a DC cop carrying a bloody little girl, the kind that won Pulitzers, under the uncharacteristically sensational banner headline "Terror on the Mall". He'd learned more than he wanted in his earlier statement and interview, and had deliberately not turned on the TV in the room here even though the ICU at GWU had not had one.
Angela noticed his expression and grabbed the folded news paper, turning it over. "Sorry about that. Below the fold. No bad news there." She gave him an encouraging smile as she handed it back to him.
There was a rather dramatic photo of him standing beside the SUV with the PSG-1 half raised to his shoulder and a stern look on his face. He was easily recognizable even though it was a little grainy probably due to being enlarged. He was still wearing his tie and the jacket of his suit.
He shook his head. "So much for a future in undercover work." He read the caption aloud, "A visiting tourist captured this unidentified FBI sniper in action on 14th Street near the Museum of American History." He laughed derisively. Fucking dumbasses.
At Angela's and Jack's looks of surprise he explained, "Stupid reporters, damned fools don't know anything." He waved the paper at them. "This was taken when the first batch of terrorists had just got inside and I had nothing to shoot at. At this point I wasn't engaging squat."
"Well just so you're warned the Web is quite taken with the 'Hero Hunk'." Angela made the quote signs with her fingers, eyes twinkling as she said it. He groaned. "Seriously," she said. "You have your own fan sites, and the absence of a wedding ring in the photo has sparked lots of speculation. Personally I think you're now on the radar as America's Most Eligible Bachelor."
He sighed and pulled at his chin. "You know what? I think you're enjoying this far too much."
She said nothing. Instead her grin only grew broader.
"Here's the New York Post." Jack traded him the tabloid for the WaPo.
The Post carried the more lurid headline 'JIHAD at JEFFERSONIAN!' An inset photo showed the van in front of the museum, and when he unfolded the paper he could see that the full page cover photo was of him on the roof of the SUV looking through the scope. At least he was actually doing something in this one.
Jack reached in a finger and pointed out two small blurs above and behind him in the photo. "These look like ejected shell casings. Apparently this photographer had a high enough shutter speed."
This one piqued his professional interest. He didn't realize he'd got off any of his back-to-back shots that fast. Of course that had only been possible because the rifle had a self-loading mechanism instead of a manually operated bolt. Thank God. There was no way on Earth he could have done what he did otherwise.
Jack drolly interrupted his reverie.
"I guess that accounts for two of the one thousand three hundred and forty two rounds you fired."
"What?"
The other man grinned mischievously. "That's how many 'certified DC terrorist killer' spent cartridges are up for auction by various vendors on eBay."
Booth barked a laugh at that then gasped at that pain just below his ribs.
Concerned, Angela touched his leg, eyes wide. "Are you ok?"
It was a second before he could breathe again and speak. "It's alright. Still just a little tender in there." He looked at Jack again, "Those assholes better hope the crime scene guys find all of my brass otherwise the 'men in black' are going to hit eBay with a 'cease and desist' and a subpoena for names, then knock on lots of doors with search warrants. They'll be lucky if they get off with a good scare and a change of underwear instead of actual charges for fraud or tampering with evidence, theft of government property, et cetera."
Jack grinned back at him. "'Men in black'. Gotta dig that." Angela just smiled at her colleague indulgently.
"You two do me a favor?"
"Sure." "Anything."
"Will you guys drop these side rails? Not being able to stretch my legs a little has been bugging me. It's nothing urgent. I was going to wait for the nurse to come around again instead of buzzing her. But since you're here…"
"Are you sure?" Angela was uncertain.
"Come on, I feel like I'm in an overgrown toddler bed. I'm a big boy now."
She dimpled at that. "I guess you are." She gestured and Jack came around to his left. He and Angela fiddled briefly before figuring out the mechanism.
The independent third of the rails around his upper body and the elevated head of the mattress did not lower but that was good enough. With a loud sigh of satisfaction he snaked his left foot out from under the edge of the sheets and let his leg dangle for a moment below the edge of the mattress before pulling it back up, but this time he put his lower leg on top of the sheet. He'd been getting hot and simply untying and dropping the top of the ass-baring shitty hospital gown and pulling the sheet down some more off his chest hadn't been enough to cool off. Earlier the nurse had said a low grade fever after surgey was not uncommon.
"Thanks, guys."
"You're welcome. Anything else we can do for you?" Angela asked warmly.
Before he could think of anything Zack interrupted.
"Agent Booth, you were lucky too."
He looked away from Jack and Angela back toward Zack and Temperance, who had her nose buried in the contents of a clipboard. They had apparently used the distraction provided by the other pair to snatch his chart and start snooping.
"Hey!"
"You were very lucky too," Zack repeated before he entered lecture mode, with Temperance now watching him like a proud mom. Booth was ready to be annoyed, but he had not yet seen his new Army doctor. He'd only heard the overview of his condition and wouldn't mind learning more if the didn't get the attitude along with it. So he bit his tongue and listened.
"Even though your armor vest failed to completely stop any of the four rounds which struck you it succeeded in dissipating enough of their kinetic energy such that only the one penetrated the peritoneum into and through the abdominal cavity. The other three remained outside of the membrane of the peritoneum having lost more energy to the fibers of the vest for some reason, perhaps some variation in the manufacturing process of either the vest or the bullets."
Jack jumped in. "The battle of Dupont versus Dupont was almost a tie." He gave a small chuckle, clearly pleased with his own wit.
But not Booth. He gave Jack "the look", and this time it was Zack who translated, patiently even.
"Dupont holds the patents for both the Teflon coating on the slugs and the Kevlar fibers of your vest." Zack then tried to give Hodgins the evil eye, which coming from him just wasn't very intimidating. "Do you mind?" He didn't appreciate the older man poaching on his dog and pony show if the pout and peevish tone were any indication.
Booth groaned and rubbed at his tired eyes. God spare me from geek turf battles.
Zack continued, "The leftmost and lowest three rounds simpy lodged in the layers of muscle and fat of the abdominal wall."
"Fat?" It was Booth's turn to interrupt. "With all the crunches I do? Hardly." He almost slapped his abs in support of his denial but caught himself just in time.
But Zack wasn't fazed. "'Six pack' or no," he dismissed, "everyone has some abdominal fat even if there is relatively little subcutaneously. I wouldn't complain if I were you."
He had to admit the kid had a point.
"Anyway… you are lucky that with your situation being semi-stable the ER staff took the time for a diagnostic CT and discovered that those rounds were shallow in spite of what were no doubt impressive looking entry wounds. Otherwise instead of the moderate right subcostal laparatomy which you received you would have been subjected to a full midline from the xiphloid process past the umbilicus down to the pubic symphysis. Recovery from that procedure is supposed to be extremely painful."
Booth thought he got the gist but wanted to make sure. "Somebody? Anybody?"
Jack translated helpfully, "They didn't have to gut you like a fish."
Ugh. He shuddered at the image conjured up. Of course there was more from Zack…
"It was also a good thing that it was the fourth round and not the third which penetrated because it looks like number three stood a very good chance of hitting the portal vein which drains blood from the digestive tract into the liver for filtering."
"What's the big deal? At least it's not an artery, right?"
"The problem is the large blood volume and the fact that portal vein repairs are difficult to effect for various reasons. There is an approximately fifty percent mortality rate for that injury, and it is quite likely you would have completely exsanguinated."
The clarification sobered him for a moment as he digested it, but then he distracted himself by latching onto Zack's very last word. Gotcha! By now they knew how much he hated needlessly obscure words.
"A ha! 'Exsanguinated.'" He repeated the word again. "I bet you thought you got me, but you didn't. I know that one!" He even added for Temperance's benefit, "Better yet, I learned it on TV, and it wasn't from a documentary." She responded to the smug grin he sent her way with a small one of her own that warmed his heart.
He turned to Zack and repeated the word again, emphasizing his distaste.
"Exsanguinated. Why in hell won't you people just say 'bled out' or 'bled to death'?"
It was his turn to put his foot in his fucking mouth. He knew his mistake before the last word finished leaving it. Temperance's face instantly became an expressionless mask, and the other three froze as well, just looking at him like he was some kind of idiot.
And he must be one because he was talking about himself. Way to go, dumbass. He tried to recover with a sickly grin plastered on his face.
"Uh… um, maybe 'exsanguinated' is ok."
Zack sniffed his disapproval of the interruption then resumed his lecture. "While the fourth round did penetrate and follow a trajectory through the abdomen again it could have been much worse. It appears that round was slowed down substantially because your injuries showed no signs whatsoever of the hydrodynamic cavitation effects characteristic of high velocity gun shot wounds which are normally so devastating to soft tissue. As a matter of fact your injuries were more similar to a knife wound, say one caused by a stiletto, than to even a lower velocity GSW from a larger caliber handgun. Additionally, the round managed to miss both the anterior and posterior ribs which meant it did not tumble nor were there any bone fragments to impart further trauma. Finally, nothing of import was damaged in the retroperitoneal area behind the abdominal cavity, the trajectory was superior to the right kidney and adrenal gland and lateral to the inferior vena cava and the nerve ganglia closer to the spinal column."
Booth thought it was not a little scary that he actually understood most of that. Been spending far too much time around squints. But so much for what didn't get hit…
"So… what about what did get hit?"
"You had substantial blood loss from the damage to the liver, but it was not quite catastrophic although you did have to receive a few units. Most of the blood in your circulatory system is still your own instead of a stranger's, which is always a good thing. Better yet, you only lost a small portion of your liver to hepatectomy in the repair."
"Hepa-what?" That was the only new one.
"The surgeon had to remove a small pieced of the most damaged tissue, trimming it back to where the bleeding could be controlled by ligature and cauterization." Zack saw the look on his face. "Don't worry, I'm sure they'll be letting you drink beer again soon enough."
"More troublesome in the short term was the respiratory distress caused by damage to your diaphragm. It was lacerated and herniated, which let the bleeding from your liver to cause moderate hemothorax, as well as for the abdominal organs to displace into the chest cavity. Both of these factors reduced your inspired lung volume. Worse, the trauma caused a temporary paralysis to the musculature of the diaphragm itself meaning that your only way to breathe at all was by means of expanding the rib cage via the intracostal muscles between the ribs, which are not very efficient."
"You got that right. I felt like I was drowning."
"Well the excellent news is that your blood pressure never dropped to truly dangerous levels, and, better yet, your heart kept a good sinus rhythm and so never had to be defibrillated much less restarted. It looks like there is no reason you won't make a one hundred percent recovery, and probably more rapidly than you expect."
In spite of all the shit, Booth realized he had even more to be grateful for than he thought.
"Zack…"
"Yes, Agent Booth?"
"Thanks for the explanation." Temperance was looking directly at him again as Zack nodded in acknowledgment. Booth caught her eye.
He gave her a smile, reminded of another similar occasion. "Hey, I thought I said you shouldn't be looking at my X-rays."
Her smile in return as she obviously remembered gave him a small thrill of pleasure. Yes. She was starting to warm up.
But Hodgins spoiled the shared moment.
"Dude, back in the ER she saw a lot more than just your X-rays." This time Hodgins wore the shit eating grin in payback.
Just about the time he realized he should be embarrassed but before he could decide how to respond, it got worse.
Zack chimed in, "We all did."
Everyone just stopped for a moment. Zack slowly colored with all eyes on him.
Jack snickered first. Angela merely dimpled. Booth felt like he wanted to pull the sheet up over his head, but then he ended up chuckling too. What the hell. However his amusement faded quickly as he realized that Temperance was neither laughing at his or Zack's expense, nor sharing his discomfiture. Instead she was wearing what passed for her poker face. Shit. He had not missed the way she first shuddered at Hodgins' words. Monday night really must have been rough for her. Damn.
He couldn't decide if Angela sensed something or if it was just a coincidence of timing. She opened her small bag and fished out a set of keys.
"Zack, could you go down and get my car brought around?" She tossed the keys across the foot of the bed to him without waiting for his answer. "I've got her," she said, indicating Brennan and her chair with a nod. Booth was surprised at how Zack left without getting permission first, but then he supposed it was fully possible that Angela had actually arranged ahead of time to get him and Temperance a little privacy. If so, bless her calculating, matchmaking little heart.
He caught an odd look that passed between Temperance and Angela, but he had no idea what to make of it so he let it slide, turning back just in time to catch Angela nudge Hodgins with her elbow before she left him and backed out into the doorway.
Jack cleared his throat nervously then spoke, "You know, on some of the conspiracy boards I frequent the theory is already making the rounds that you were a plant. The Feds knew of the plot and allowed it to proceed as far as it did just so they could look good by saving the day. That's the real reason you just happened to be in the right place at the right time."
Oh fuck. This must be their unfinished business rearing its ugly head. He just wanted to forget it and move on without spoiling the moment. He really was not in the mood for more of this shit and knew he was probably going to end up losing his temper with the little bastard in front of Bones… which pissed him off even more.
Jack must have seen it building in his eyes because he held up his hands as if to stop Booth and continued in a rush, "Not me, man, honest! I told 'em I know the guy personally and asked if they really thought your playing bullet magnet was part of the master plan. They had the obvious comeback that just because you were a well-meaning dupe didn't prove them wrong. Some of these conspiracy buffs are fucking idiots."
As his words registered Booth's heart rate started settling down again.
Jack was trying to give him his most likable smile, and he cooled off the rest of the way.
"Man, I was such an ass last week, getting carried away like I always do. Angela was right. You really are one of the good guys. I'm sorry. I know I ruined your homecoming." With the last he glanced over at Temperance, then he looked back into Booth's eyes. "I never would have expected it in a million years, but I think we've become friends." He held up a hand again, "Ok, ok, I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, I didn't presume to say best friends." He chuckled at himself then sobered. "It's just that I'd still like to be a friend if you'll let me." Jack watched him warily.
Booth let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"You are an ass sometimes."
Jack's expression became downcast.
"But you're ok."
Jack looked up and a grin slowly lit up his features. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"We're cool? For real?"
Booth nodded.
"Thanks, man. I guess I'll be seeing you around the Lab then."
Hodgins turned and was passing Angela who was reentering from her spot in the doorway when Booth called him.
"Hodgins!" He almost barked it.
The entomologist practically jerked as he stopped and turned around. Booth almost laughed at the suddenly nervous look on his face.
"Yes?"
Booth indicated the tray table to his left with a nod. "Go ahead. You never quit eyeballing it the whole time. Just take the damned pudding already."
Jack's eyes lit up. "You sure?"
Booth nodded.
"Cool!"
Jack came around and grabbed the shrink wrapped dish which he immediately uncovered. He grabbed the spoon and took the first bite, and Booth thought that if the other man were a dog he'd be happily wagging his tail. Jack had the second spoonful half way to his mouth when Angela cleared her throat loudly and insistently. Jack was clearly torn between the pudding and orders and his expression was almost comical.
Booth was now looking at Temperance, and he was ready for him to leave too. "Go. Take it with you and leave it at the nurse's station."
Hodgins just nodded as he kept gobbling the stuff on the way out, but at the door he stopped long enough to swallow and speak with an empty mouth.
"I almost forgot…"
Booth looked his way again.
"…nice shooting."
As he nodded one last time to Jack, Angela darted back inside. Booth looked up at her as she approached.
"I don't care what you say, you're still my hero."
She bent and kissed him on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, "Thanks. You hang in there."
He squeezed her hand, and then she went back around the foot of the bed to Temperance on the other side. Angela bent and said something in her ear, then she straightened and said to both of them, "You two take as long as you need. I've got the boys." As she said it she pushed the wheelchair a foot closer.
Booth grinned as he watched her leave, admiring her nerve.
Now it was finally just the two of them, he and his 'Bones'. He was filled with nervous anticipation. Showtime.
Temperance was smiling a little now. It seemed she'd finally loosened up some. He gave her his most dazzling 'charm' smile.
"We've got to stop meeting like this."