Disclaimer: Bones is not mine, I'm just having fun with them.
Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or put this story on their alert list. I'm quite honored how many of you like it thus far.
Marinusky: She will freak out... slowly ;-)
xAbiVx: thank you :-)
Cody101: Great that you love the story. I will do more, one chapter after the other.
icydragon14: That's quite a compliment for the story. I'm honored :-)
LiTTleMiSSmOOny: You're ideas are interesting, but: No. Life (and Fanfiction) is never as easy as it could be, isn't it?
BonesDBchippie: Thank you for your comments. Perhaps I should give her a clown... in a few chapters :-)
---Chapter Five: There's no Hope---
It was lunch break when Angela Montenegro entered the hospital. With her came a large flower arrangement and a equally large box of chocolates. Booth had phones her early that day to inform them about Brennan being at the hospital, but he hadn't been sure about the room number.
Now Angela made her way to the information counter, hoping that there would be no need to show her chemise before getting any information. This was a tactic she had used before and would use anytime again - as long as she was comfortably with, at least - but hopefully not today with flowers and all.
"Hello."
One nurse at the counter scribbled something, than the phone rang. Her colleague answered it. "Washington Memorial, what can I do for you?"
Angela closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. Slowly letting the breath out, she tried again. "Hello."
"No need to rush, this is a hospital, not a football stadium." Elderly nurse looked Angela up and down. Her eyes made it clear that she didn't like her style with large heart-shaped neck-line and dangling earrings.
"I'd like to know where I can find Dr. Brennan."
"We don't have a Dr. Brennan." Voice made it clear that she meant to say 'You're wrong, hit the road, girl!'
"I was informed that she's a patient at this hospital." Angela spoke overly correct, but with the tone used for two year olds.
Fingers flew over a keyboard, then: "Floor 3, room 51. You need to check in with the station nurse."
"Thank you." A sweet smile and off to the elevators she was.
Angela used her elbow to open the door to Brennan's room. Shuffling herself through the door with full hands, she started to smile and said in a light voice: "Hello Sweetie."
But there was no answer. A good, thorough look at the bed confirmed that she was in the right room and that Brennan was sitting in the bed, eyes open. Angela blinked and walked to the bed.
"Brennan, are you awake?" The woman in the bed blinked, but gave no sign that she'd heard Angela.
The artist put flowers and chocolates onto the table, not caring about getting a vase. Then she stepped at Brennan's left side, carefully taking her uninjured hand. Up close she could see the tears the other woman wasn't allowing to flow, the eyes clouded like something had shocked her thoroughly.
"Shh, it's all right. Can you tell me what has happened?"
The first drop of salty water made it's way over the anthropologists face, rolling down her cheek, kissing the corner of her mouth and finally falling from her chin.
Angela was alarmed. She had seen Brennan shocked, angry, furious, deeply hurt and clueless before. She had even suspected that her friend might have shed tears, but never so openly, so quite. Showing that much emotion was as much out of character for her as no showing her feelings would be for Angela herself. She started to wonder what Booth hadn't told her.
But then she just reacted like a friend, putting her arm around Brennan. Now the other woman started to sob really hard, each sob rocking her whole body. Brennan's face rested against Angela's shoulder, her tears leaving large wet spots on the thin fabric of the shirt.
The artist made soothing sounds, her hand rubbing Brennan's back. At the same time her mind sprang back to the phone call Booth had given her early this morning on her mobile:
"Montenegro."
"Angela, it's me." A male, well-known voice, but not Jack.
"Booth?"
"Yeah, listen, Brennan had an accident yesterday evening." The words made her feel cold. And worried.
"Is she hurt? What happened?"
"She hurt her hand. I took her to Washington Memorial and they kept her the night." Not good.
"Oh my God! Is it serious? How long will she be there?"
"I have no idea, her doctor wouldn't speak with me. And she was asleep before the doctor could tell her. Angela, could you please visit her? I'm pretty booked up the whole day, I can't go before 4 pm earliest."
"Sure. I'll tell Jack and Zack."
After this call she had expected to find her friend up and pestering the doctors to let her go, not shocked and crying. The bandaged hand, okay, Booth had spoken about hurting her hand. But the IV?
"Shh, girl, what has happened?" But Brennan was crying too hard to answer. Angela felt really helpless and worried, not used to see the normally strong anthropologist hurt and broken like this.
Several minutes later the sobs subsided, leaving a hiccup and tear smears on Brennan's face. Angela let go of her friend and dug in her purse for some tissues. Awkwardly Brennan blew her nose left-handed and dried her face. When her eyes connected with Angela's, the artist could see that the first storm was over, but the clouds were still there.
"Sweetie, what is it? Your hand?" She glanced at the thick white bandages.
Reluctantly Brennan nodded, but kept her red-rimmed eyes away from Angela's. She got suspicious that this wasn't the real cause, but didn't want to put more pressure on the fragile looking woman before her.
"Can you tell me about it? Booth just told be that you hurt yourself, but not why or how."
"I..." The other woman staggered. "I tried to make up all the time I had lost yesterday and worked late. The Booth came and I wanted to show him something at that rib." She sighed. "Suddenly an evil cramp made my hand clench and the rib was in my hand. Ange, I've never felt that stupid before!"
Angela could only shake her head. "You're right, that is stupid. Have they told you how long you need to stay?"
"No, not yet. At the moment they fill me up with antibiotics and painkillers."
"And that's all that's bothering you?"
Blue eyes met her dark ones. "Isn't it enough?"
"Sure." But she wasn't convinced. "Do you need anything?"
Angela remembered the flowers and chocolates she'd brought with her and stood up. "Here, the flowers are from the boys." She showed her the arrangement. It was nice, natural and colorful. "I thought you'd need something more comfortable." Now the artist held up the chocolates and handed the package to Brennan.
A slow smile curled Brennan's lips and she stretched her hand with the IV attached out to get them. "You know what I like."
"Yep, that's what friends are for."
Brennan hesitated a moment, than spoke again. "Could you go in my condo and get some stuff for me?"
Angela glanced at her watch, quickly calculating. "No problem, but it'll be evening before I can come back."
"I won't run away."
Brennan told her what she needed and where to find it and Angela started a list. Then she gave her the keys and Angela rushed out.
It was late afternoon when Booth was finished for the day. Angela had called him earlier and requested that he may stop by at the Jeffersonian and meet with her there. She had handed him the things she'd gotten out of Brennan's condo and bid him to take them to Brennan.
Because of this, Booth was pretty much packed up when he entered the Washington Memorial. Angela had managed to put everything except the laptop into one large bag he now carried over his shoulder. The laptop case and another box of chocolates was in his hand.
"Delivery for you, ma'am." He announced as he entered the room. But the occupant didn't react, not even with one of her 'don't fool me, Booth' comments, head toward the window and back to the door.
Booth let both bags slip to the floor, put the chocolates on top and walked around the bed. "Bones, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." But her blotted face and red-rimmed eyes told him what loyal friend Angela hadn't told. She'd cried at least once in the last hours, probably started after Angela left and finished just minutes before he arrived.
"No, you're not." He moved his hand towards her left, slowly as to give her a chance to retreat without offending him too much. But her hand stayed where it was, skin cold to his touch.
Wisely she didn't try to argue, but that itself gave him the creeps, too. Bones not talking back? Something must have been really hard on her. He decided to find it out. But lightening her mood seemed more important at the moment.
"Angela told me to bring these bags to you. She's sorry, but she can't make it tonight."
"'s okay. What do you have in there?"
He went to get the larger bag. "Don't know. Care to look inside?"
"Open it. There should be slippers and a bathrobe and a bag with toiletries."
As she had said, inside were necessary personal objects. On top was a thick terrycloth robe, creme colored and quite expansive, if the thickness of the material was any indicator. Below he found the toiletries. Curiosity nudging him to look inside. Would there be more than toothbrush, hairbrush and some face-lotion? But no, it was her personal space.
Next came some slippers he had never seen in her condo. Completely covered with fur, they resembled rabbits. Or what the designer thought pink rabbits with long fur would look like. Holding the pair up, a large smile spread over Booth's face.
"Oh no." She blushed. "I'm sure they were well-disguised at the corner of my closet. How did Angela find them?" Bones exclaimed.
Laughter filled his voice while answering. "Where did you get them from?"
"Gift at my 30th birthday. I never knew who had given them to me, they just appeared out of thin air." Some color tinted her pallid cheeks.
"I think they are cute. And the color goes well with your cheeks." He teased her.
Reaching up, she covered one burning cheek with her cold hand. "That's not fair. Are there any books inside?"
"Yes, about half a library. I will stack them inside here, this convenient?" He indicated at the sideboard-table next to her bed.
"Sure." She lay back, turning her face away from him. After their little banter Bones quickly went back to the shocked looking woman who's room he had entered.
Booth finished his task, giving her a little space. But finally there was nothing in the room left he could do. "Do you want to be alone?"
His words left his lips and he bit down. It would hurt, really badly hurt, if she told him to go. But staying when he was no longer desired was not something he wanted to do.
"No." The sound of her head turning on the pillow. "Please, stay, Booth."
"Thanks." That was good. He even had a special surprise for her in his coat. He sat down next to her bed again, trying to make eye contact. But she was looking elsewhere, her mood sober and low.
That was when he decided to brighten her mood. "Bones, would you like to watch a movie?"
"Movie as in cinema?"
"Yes, exactly." He smiled brightly at her. "I thought you might enjoy Finding Nemo tonight."
"Finding whom? Is it from Jules Verne?"
Booth laughed out loud. "No, it's a animation movie, Nemo is the name of a clown fish."
When she opened her mouth, certainly to argue that fishes couldn't speak, he placed a finger over it. "Shh, wait and see."
He opened the second bag he'd brought with him and set her laptop up. Finishing the arrangement with a DVD, he placed everything in a way that she could watch easily while half-sitting in the hospital bed. Booth himself had watched Nemo so many times with Parker that he was pretty fluent as Marlin.
He started the movie and lent back to watch. Well, he watched Nemo, no question, but at least one eye was always on her. Angela had warned him about her being not herself and that was exactly what he had experienced in this room. Last night she had been hurt and drugged and sleepy, but she had been his Bones. Today something had happened, something she wouldn't or couldn't speak about neither to Angela nor to him. That hurt him. He was here for her, he would fight her demons for her if she needed him to. But perhaps this was part of the problem: She was used to fight her own demons, handle her own trouble.
Once or twice her lips formed a smile, at points in the movie where Parker burst out laughing. So his idea had been good, she enjoyed herself. Booth relaxed a bit more, his mind still at her unknown problem.
Finally he could see that she got tired, her eyes a bit less open than before. The movie was nearly over, Nemo had been flushed down this minute and now the seagulls screeched their "Mine, mine, mine". A small sound left her lips, not enough to qualify as laughter but the nearest to this great sound he had heard all day.
Then it was over, Marlin had found his Nemo and the family was reunited. Booth had concentrated on the movie for the last minutes and was now astonished that tears filled her eyes.
"Bones, what is it?" Softly his voice broke through the music.
She shook her head. There had to be a way for him to help her, hadn't there?
"Can I help you somehow? Do you need anything? Are you in pain?"
"No, Booth, there's nothing you can do. Nobody can help me."
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