Sorry about the delay! I was really hoping to get this finished by the premiere, but I've still got a few chapters to go.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
His throat burned, and his eyelids felt like they were welded shut. Fighting to get at least one eye partially open, Booth groaned as a sliver of light temporarily blinded him. Automatically, he tried to lift his right hand to his eye to rub it, and found himself unable to get the hand to move. He tried to move his left arm and held back a scream before deciding to give up on movement. As he focused again on opening his eyes, he became disoriented by the noise of monitors.
"Easy there," came an unfamiliar voice. "Don't fight."
He tried to form words, but could only groan weakly.
"Relax. You might not be able to speak yet. That's OK."
He swallowed, feeling the unpleasant burn as he tried again to form words. Managing to get one eye open, he blinked furiously at the outline of a person several feet away from him.
"Can you see me?"
He gave a slight nod, wincing as his head throbbed with the motion.
"That's good." The shape moved closer, and Booth's vision gradually began to clear a bit. "I'm Rachel. I'm one of your nurses tonight." She studied her patient's confused expression. "You're in the hospital. You've sustained several gunshot wounds, and you've been in surgery."
"So that's why I feel like I got blown up," Booth thought, still groggily trying to focus on the woman in front of him.
Rachel continued, "You're in the ICU. You've been out of surgery for a couple of hours."
"My … wife," Booth finally uttered, the words still difficult to pronounce from his sore, dry lips.
"She's not here." Noticing Booth's concerned expression, Rachel quickly added, "But she's OK."
"She's … here." Finally able to get his other eye open, Booth was looking around the room, moving his head slowly as he searched for Bones.
Rachel shook her head. "No sir, she's not here."
Booth knew he had heard Brennan's voice earlier, and he was fairly certain he had seen her, too. His next word, nearly coming out as two syllables instead of one, thanks to his parched throat, was harsh and clear: "Liar."
The nurse, seemingly unoffended, simply shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess you remember what happened earlier. But no, I'm not lying. She's not here." Rachel glanced over her shoulder, and slowly, Booth followed her gaze. "That's Doug. He's been here all night, too."
Booth's eyes narrowed as he squinted to see the dark figure at the doorway of his room.
"He's with the FBI. He's your guard. And fair warning — he's going to cut me off if I say something that I'm not supposed to say." Rachel sighed. "Your wife was here earlier. They wouldn't let her stay because you're under arrest."
A series of choice curse words flew through Booth's brain, and he opened his mouth to express his displeasure.
"Hold up, no reason to talk or ask questions yet," Rachel anticipated. "Let me finish and then we can see about you talking." She pointed to Booth's wrist. "That's the reason you can't lift your arm. And no, I can't take it off. I'm really sorry about that."
"They handcuffed me to the bed? Where am I — prison? No, wait … she said hospital." He stared at his right hand in bewildered disbelief.
"You're under watch by the FBI and I get to stay in here all night, too." She gave him a halfhearted smile. "Sorry that you're stuck with me. I'm the only critical care nurse with a law degree, so they make me do stuff like this. Now before you ask any questions, I want to check your pain. On a scale of one to five, with one being nothing and five being unbearable, where are you? Try holding up fingers to show me … let's test those muscles."
Gradually, Booth forced his index finger and thumb together, brandishing three shaky fingers.
"Liar." She winked and laughed. "No way in hell do you feel that good. You died in the ER tonight — twice. And once in the operating room." She watched as his eyes widened. "Yeah, that's right. You're lucky to be here. Now let's try that again. How many fingers?"
His index finger extended, joining the other three fingers.
"A four — now that sounds more like it. Let's get you another dose ready to go."
"No." He knew it would make him fall asleep again.
"I'm just going to get it ready. I'll give you a few minutes to talk." She rummaged around the table next to his bed. "What do you need?"
"My … wife."
"I can't get her in here, sir. I'm sorry. For the record, I'm not happy about it either."
Booth paused. "Water."
"Yeah, now that I can do. Just a sip, though."
His nose wrinkled in disapproval.
"Sorry. Can't let you drink a lot in case they have to take you back for more surgery. Maybe in a few hours after you've proved you're going to stick around for a bit."
Booth gratefully accepted the cup held to his slips and slurped greedily. When Rachel moved the cup, he frowned instinctively.
"Sorry." She smirked at the disappointed look on his face. "Maybe more in a couple of hours."
"When … do I see … my wife?" The water helped Booth's throat not burn quite so badly.
"He's talking a lot." The guard moved slightly closer to Rachel. "They're going to want to speak to him."
"You'll have to take that up with the doctor." Rachel nodded at the clock on the wall. "In thirty seconds, I have to give him these pain meds. He'll be out for at least a few hours."
Saved by the drugs, Booth …