Again, sorry for the delays between chapters, sorry! This chapter was hard to write. I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to go in for awhile, so hopefully you enjoy the road I've taken.
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"Sweetie!" Angela squealed as she entered the room, rushing over to her best friend.
Brennan smiled from the hospital bed as the artist sat next to her. It was the next morning and she had convinced Booth to go home, sleep and shower. He agreed reluctantly but called Angela to go keep his partner company.
"We were all so worried about you! When Booth called and said you woke up, it was the biggest relief, I am so glad you're alright. How are you feeling?"
"I'm sore and in shock still. How about you Ange? Are you alright?"
"I'm doing alright, but you're right about the shock, I still can't believe this happened."
Brennan shook her head, "You can't believe it and I can't remember it."
"You remember nothing?"
"I can't remember anything past the afternoon before everything happened."
Angela rubbed her friend's hand, "Maybe it's better if you don't remember," she replied, shuddering at the memory.
"It was traumatic, wasn't it? Whatever happened to me that day, I shouldn't want to know, should I?" Brennan asked hesitantly.
The artist's eyes were filling with tears, "Sweetie, we thought we were going to lose you. If it wasn't for Booth…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath.
The anthropologist raised her eyebrow, "What do you mean if it wasn't for Booth?"
"He saved your life Brenn; he risked his life for yours. If he hadn't found you, I don't even want to think about what might have happened."
"He saved my life?" she whispered.
"Booth won't talk about what happened. All I remember is him walking out of the Jeffersonian, he was covered in soot and he had you in his arms. The rescue crews wanted his ass for going in there, it wasn't safe, but he did it for you. He really is your knight in shining FBI standard issue armor."
Brennan's eyes were wide, "He didn't tell me that."
"He won't talk about it. All he did after you got here was stay by your side, the nurses had to kick him out when visiting hours were over, he even sweet talked a few into letting him stay a few nights. Brenn, he went through his own personal hell seeing you like this. He barely ate, slept or spoke, he wasn't Booth, I've never seen him like that before. It was like his spirit was broken."
Brennan was silent for a few moments as she took in the information. She couldn't imagine Booth that way, it scared her. He had once told her that he would be upset if she died, but she hadn't.
"I thought he would be strong if something happened to me. I didn't die. When I thought he was dead I was strong, I had to be."
Angela sighed, "Sweetie, Booth isn't like you, he doesn't compartmentalize his life like you do. You thought he was dead, you coped the only way you knew how, throwing yourself into your work. You, you didn't die but that was worse. For him, not being able to help you was killing him. His strength was in willing you to live in the only way he knew how, being here for you."
"He shouldn't blame himself for what happened to me. He did what he could."
"And you know he blamed himself anyways. Don't worry, I talked to him about that. But the point is Brenn, that Booth really cares for you and almost losing you, that really hurt him."
"Should I talk to him about it?"
"You can try, but I think he's just trying to repress those memories now that you're awake."
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After Angela left Brennan spent the next few hours contemplating what she had been told. Part of her wasn't surprised that Booth had risked his life for hers, he had done it before. She had never really gotten over the fact that he had taken a bullet for her. His dedication to keeping her safe still scared her, she had never had anyone in her life who cared for her that much. She knew their feelings went deeper than being partners, she had known that for some time. She was aware of the bond between them; she had just never wanted to acknowledge that she needed someone like him that much. Her need for him, knowing that he would always be there, depending on him, putting all of her trust into him, those were the most terrifying and exhilarating feelings. Her own self defense of putting up walls took over though; she was even more terrified of what might happen should she ever tell him her feelings out loud. And there was the line he had drawn between them and it loomed ominously over what she felt for him, so she had buried her feelings. Occasionally something would test their bond and just for a moment they would know it was there, maybe even acknowledge it, but for their own safety they stayed on their respective sides of the line. Until now:
When Booth faked his death everyone thought she was coping the only way she knew how, by compartmentalizing her life and throwing herself into her work. Yet what they didn't know was how she threw herself into her work to avoid thinking about his death, for if she stopped, even for a second, she knew she would fall apart, and she didn't know if she'd ever be able to pull herself back together. If she denied his death and kept working she could survive, yet inside she was already dead. He had promised he would always be there, yet he had broken that promise to save her life. His faked death betrayed her trust and she lashed out at his funeral to show him just how upset she was. Her anger had eventually subsided, knowing he was alive and that it was his superior's error that she was not informed of his plan helped her regain her trust in him.
Booth's fake death had forced her face that bond they shared. She had tried to repress the feelings with anger and denial, but they were still there, under the surface.
Now with the knowledge that he had saved her life yet again and had held a bedside vigil for her made her reflect again on that bond. If she was to believe Angela's description then Booth obviously had similar feelings for her and somehow she knew the line might never be the same.
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Even in that place somewhere between being asleep and awake she could feel his presence. Without opening her eyes she could sense him in the doorway watching her, almost smell his aftershave as he waited to see if she would wake. She turned her head to face him and gave him a lazy smile.
"Did I wake you?" he asked gently, "I'll go if you want to sleep."
He was perfectly content just watching her sleep, knowing that she was safe and on the road to recovery.
She shook her head lightly, "No, come in," she beckoned to him.
He made his way over to the chair and then offered her the take out cup he was carrying.
"I brought you some herbal tea. Cam said it's good for you."
"Thanks Booth," she said, taking a small sip, "It's nice. You look better," she eyed his freshly shaven face and clean clothes. He also appeared rested and calm, a big change since she had last seen him.
"It's the first time I've slept well in days," he said quietly, "Did Angela come by?" he quickly changed the subject.
Brennan nodded, "We talked for awhile," her eyes searched his and he dropped his brown ones to his hands.
"She said you saved my life Booth."
His eyes stayed on his hands and he stayed silent.
"She said you risked your life for mine and that you hardly left my side the whole time I was unconscious."
Still he made no reaction to her words.
"She said you won't talk about what happened that you withdrew inside of yourself. She said she'd never seen you like that before. I think she was really worried about you."
He was tense, his brows were drawn together and his mouth was a thin line.
"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.
His hands were coiled tightly together and she reached out, placing her own hand on his.
"Booth, look at me."
At her touch and soft words he slowly raised his eyes. Brown eyes bore into blue and she seemed to read the pain, suffering and sorrow in them.
"I can't even begin to thank you for what you did for me, but what I can offer is my empathy, because when I thought you were gone it was like part of my own life had ended. Losing you Booth, it was almost unbearable. Whatever you went through, whatever you felt, I was there too."
"No."
He was shaking his head, staring at her, "No," he repeated, "It was worse."
She raised an eyebrow at him, "I saw you take a bullet for me, I was there, covered in your blood."
"And then I died," he air quoted the word, "you weren't there. You didn't have to sit by my side as you waited to see if I would ever be able to breathe on my own again, or be faced with the decision of whether to end my suffering or leave me in a vegetative state. You didn't have to watch as the doctors took me off life support and then have to bring me back as I crashed each time. You didn't jump every time the phone rang when you were at home, praying that it wasn't the hospital calling to tell you I was gone. You didn't experience the fear of never wanting to leave my side, wondering that if you left, just for a moment, I'd still be there when you got back. You didn't live moment to moment, waiting to see if it might be my last. You didn't experience the emotional hell of feeling helpless, knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could do to bring you back to me. Losing me might have felt unbearable, but watching you ride the line between life and death, not knowing what the outcome might be, that was worse."
A tear slid down his cheek and she squeezed his hands. In an instant she was cradling him to her shoulder as he broke down.
She would not argue with him, she would not ask him again about what he had felt. Instead she comforted him the only way she knew how, by just holding him and letting him know she was there, always.
To be continued…
Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who has stuck with this story. Your reviews and support mean so much to me!
