A/N:

Hey there readers! I was overwhelmed by my dedicated reviewers last chapter - I think the majority of you prefered the new chapter, which I am thankful for, because it means that we're all on the same page.

I am so pleased by all of you who are staying around to hear the story out; it makes it all worth it, when I know the story is being read. If you are enjoying it, don't be shy to put in your thoughts :)

Anyway - thank you again, all (big thanks again to dedicated readers alexindigo and forever-a-bonehead - your support is so great!)

Okay - Enjoy!

Xx G

20. One Brick to Build A Wall

Soft. The Egyptian cotton of her white sheets felt smooth beneath the touch of her weighted palms. She balled her outstretched hand into a fist, clutching for power, but releasing the tension when it gave.

Brennan felt weakly all over.

Closing her stiff eyes, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, concentrating on the gravity of each breath she took.

Once upon a time, she had been comforted by the thought that, no matter what happened, she would be okay. She could depend on herself. Although the future consisted of a near infinite number of variables, she was strong enough to pull through it on her own. Now, she felt as though she had lost that reserve of imperviousness. She felt weaker, and it frightened her.

Since she had arrived home later that night, she had slept restlessly, and tossed and turned all through the early hours of the morning.

It was now nearing half-past ten in the new day, and she had no desire to rouse from her bed.

It felt as though the fight wasn't left in her anymore.

It wasn't truly the fact that he had missed her speech; hell, it was no more than a commendation to her interns. She had just wanted to be with him, publicly. She had been dressed prettily, wearing Dior perfume, and slowly recovering a part of herself she had thought had been forgotten. Had it been so wrong of her to want something that she would normally never breach?

His neglect at keeping in contact with her, stung as well. He had so firmly told her that their argument hadn't been over, yet it was left to simmer, and go along unanswered.

She was so confused.

It was as if Booth had one foot in the pool, the other out, and couldn't decided whether to cannon-ball in and allow himself to get wet, or to shy away, and leave the surface untouched.

Had she really infuriated him so much, as to lose him? Whenever they had fought before, he had always been there. No matter what. He was always there for her. They got over it.

They fought like two siblings; petty. Other times, they fought heatedly like two lovers. Regardless, the issues were always resolved, because deep down, they didn't mean to offend one another. Deep down, they loved each other.

Bringing her hand to her face, Brennan felt it coat with thin moisture. Sighing again, she rolled over.

At that moment, a faint buzz from the door, broke her from her sorrows.

Her heart fluttered for a fleeting moment, when she realised that is could be her partner. Stumbling out of bed, she tossed her white robe around her and padded to the door.

Peeking through the hole, instead of her face faltering as it would have, she was more than happy than happy to see her best friend, holding a paper bag and two smoothie cups.

She switched the lock and peeped out.

"Banana and honey smoothie?" Angela offered brightly, holding up the two drinks. "I even brought croissants. How many friendship brownie points do I get?"

"I don't know what that means..."

Angela laughed and invited herself in. "You only just got up then, didn't you?" she asked over her shoulder as she waddled to the kitchen.

"What if I did?"

"Then I would say you're making process," Angela replied simply, fetching two plates from the cupboard.

"Progress, how? I have been immobilised all morning-"

"Too literal, sweetie. I mean that, emotionally, this is exactly how you're supposed to respond to situations like this. You're supposed to wallow in self pity for a day, devour a container of chocolate ice-cream, and watch a bunch of movies with your best girlfriend."

Brennan frowned. "It sounded like you made reason then, but it didn't sound like a very productive way of coping."

"I promise you, Bren. It's the way to go."

"I will accept your ideal."

"Good." She pulled out two large croissants, and pulled the cutlery draw open, hunting out a knife. "Have you got jam and butter?"

Brennan smiled and opened her fridge, retrieving the two desired spreads, and setting them down by her friend.

"You go and have a shower," Angela ordered, waving off her friend as she put the croissants on a tray to be reheated.

Her friend complied, and ten or so minutes later, Brennan returned just as the breakfast choices were coming out of the oven, towel piled atop her head, wearing an taupe coloured hopsack trapeze jacket, a white cotton singlet, dark jeans and white socks.

Angela appraised her appearance. "Where did you get the top?"

"The elastic-material singlet? It was from Target."

"What? No. The jacket...top."

"Oh, I bought it from a mixed label shop down town," she replied, grapping the part behind her neck, and craning to read it's label. "Twelfth Street by a designer named Cynthia Vincent," she read. "Do you like it?"

"I do. Very snazzy."

"Snazzy?"

"Y'know, Bren...ah, flashy. Fancy. You always dress well, sweetie. I if I wasn't bloating like a baloon right now, I'd still like, half of your wardrobe."

Brennan smiled softly, and swung her hands by her sides. "What are we going to watch?"

"Where do you keep your movies?"

"In the cabinet, across the room. Would you like to pick one?"

"Love to." Angela set the two croissants in front of Brennan, and strolled to her destination. "Wow," she mouthed, when she opened the cupboard, pointing gapingly at the collection. "Where did you get all of these?"

Brennan shrugged as she spread butter across their food. "I don't know. I just read the reviews in the paper, and bought them. I've never watched them though."

"You haven't even opened The Notebook," Angela gasped in mock horror, turning with the DVD in hand. "How could you have not seen this?"

"Like I said," Brennan laughed defensively, "I just buy them, but I never find the time to sit down and watch them."

"Ugh. Sweetie, you work way too much."

Brennan found herself smirking silently in agreement. When she had coated the croissants with strawberry jam too, she brought them to the kitchen table.

"Where are the remotes for the TV?" Angela asked.

"Coffee table. Where the phone home base is."

"I still can't believe you got a TV," she muttered as she fumbled for the devices. "Are you sure you're still the same person?"

Brennan pinched herself. "I think so." She laughed with Angela, before adding with a hint of amusement, "did you know that every ten years of a person's life, every cell in their body will have changed, so when you turn twenty, you're not the same person you were when you were ten?"

"Well that's a little weird."

"It's science."

"Yeah." Angela seemed absent minded at that point.

"What's wrong?"

"You've got one new message. It's from quarter past ten, last night."

"Could you please play it, Ange?"

"Yeah." Angela tapped the button.

"Hey, Bones, it's Booth," the machine played.

Brennan's heart faltered, and her hands began to clam with sweat.

"I tried your mobile, but I couldn't get through, so I tried your home phone. I know that you're probably already at the function, anyway...but something has happened. I'm at the city hospital-" The message cut off abruptly.

Brennan met Angela's eyes in alarm.

Her friend's eyes didn't hold the desperate answers she wanted.

.

-~B&B~-

.

White roof. Soft walls. Distant sounds; cars whizzing past below, distant ambulances whirring to save lives...the odd bird.

Normal sounds. Normal paces.

Everything seemed to be moving at a pace he didn't want to keep up with.

Stretching his legs out, Booth winced when he felt the jab of pain fire up his backside; the result of falling asleep in an armchair. Hospital armchair, add that.

He eyes wandered over to his sleeping son, whom had hardly stirred since his last dose of pain antidotes. It was a slow process, and although he wanted to be there for his little boy, he needed to shower and change. He needed food, and something stronger than water.

But he didn't want to leave his side, either. He didn't want him to wake alone.

Pressing a thumb against his temple, and rubbing his forehead, he inhaled and exhaled very heavily.

"That was a big sigh," a soft voice said quietly from the doorway, and there was a rustle of something metal clinking together. Keys.

The relief and wave of love he simultaneously felt the moment he heard her voice, was so overwhelming.

He wanted to burst into tears. He wanted to crush her in a hug. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her in frustration - for all of the petty comments she made without thinking, or for the fact that she didn't get his message any sooner.

She was here though, and despite everything, he was so grateful for that gift.

His eyes drifted open, and he lifted his head.

Her hair was damp, her soft bag slouched over a shoulder – which she held in place with a hand, and her other, clasped her collection of keys.

"Hi," she breathed, ever soft.

He stood carefully, still wary of his back, and took a few steps towards her. She too, stepped towards him, but after two strides, she hastened, and enveloped him grippingly in her arms.

He hugged her tightly in return, burying his face in her clean hair.

"How are you?" Brennan murmured, releasing her arms from around his neck, and resting back down onto flat feet again.

"I'm doing alright," he replied quietly, glancing from his son, back to his partner.

"You look terrible. You've been here all night?"

What kind of question was that? He thought a little irately. Then, aloud, "you can tell?"

"Yes, you're-"

"Sarcasm, Bones."

She pressed her lips together and nodded once.

"Have you eaten?" she asked after a moment.

He shook his head.

She dropped her keys in her bag, and rustled about for her wallet.

"What are you doing?" he asked, when she left her bag behind, and went to the door.

"I'm getting you something to eat and drink." Now, who was asking the stupid questions?

Quarter of an hour later, she returned with a paper bag, a coffee and juice.

"Bones, you didn't get anything for yourself," he objected, when she began to hand him food.

"Juice is for me; I missed out on my banana smoothie when I came here. Coffee is for you, because you need a fix of it."

"So you only got my message this morning?"

"I didn't check the answering machine when I got in last night. I was preoccupied otherwise."

"You brought someone home with you?" he asked roughly.

"No, Booth! I was upset. Listening to my messages wasn't a top priority."

"And this morning?"

"I was wallowing in self pity for the majority of it, until Angela showed up." She used her friend's phrase, figuring that it applied to what she had been doing. Her eyes travelled to his son, who, while pale, slept peacefully. Pain-antidote-induced, no doubt, but she was relieved that he was resting.

When she had reported to the desk just under half an hour prior, Brennan had discovered that it was indeed Parker who was ill. Her relief that Booth wasn't in some form of strife, was quickly replaced a fear that she really couldn't describe.

If she did put a finger on it, she thought that it was probably what a parent felt when it was their child in that situation. However scaled down her worry was compared to the biological parents experience, it was still there. It was a gut wrenching feeling.

"They said that he had a inguinal hernia," Booth told her lowly, finishing off the muffin she had supplied, and putting the rubbish in the bin. "Rebecca told me that there was two, but there was only one."

"Where is Rebecca now?" Brennan asked.

"Picking up Captain Fantastic from the airport."

"You're still calling him that?"

"It wasn't that I ever really stopped...she broke up with him though, and for a while she was either with someone else, or on her own. The two sorted it out, and they're back together."

Brennan nodded in understanding. "So he came home when he heard that Parker was in here?"

Booth nodded.

"Does that distress you?"

"Why would it distress me?"

"Because he is like a second father to Parker."

"Don't say that. Do you think Rebecca is intimidated because Parker looks to you like a second mom? No, so don't make assumptions like that."

"He does?" Brennan whispered, touched.

Booth's look of irritation melted away when he heard her soft, awed question. He had just scolded her, yet the only thing she heard was the fact that his son looked to her, like she was another mother to him.

She was touched.

He let it go, and watched his partner gaze at his little boy, as the same overwhelming emotional feeling returned.

"I'm glad you're here, Bones," he said quietly moments later, thumbs playing with the foam cup, and voice thick.

"I know."

"But this doesn't change anything."

She sighed, having only expected just as much. "Make up your mind, Booth," she said tiredly, eying the sleeping boy with caution, in case he woke. "You either want me, or you don't. It's simple."

"No, Bones, it's not simple."

"Yes, it is," she deviated lowly. "We left things on a bad note last time. I understand that. But I also know how abandoned I felt last night, when you never showed up." Motioning to Parker, she softened and amended, "though you had good reason. I grant you that." Stepping closer to him, she held his eyes with such certain intensity, she made it impossible for him to look away. "But let's make things clear; I will never let myself feel that way again. If you want to be with me, it has to be sure. The centre has to hold, because there is only so much fragility I can take." She reached out, and very delicately touched his lips with the cool tips of her fingers.

His hand trailed to the arm that she outstretched, and he felt the soft hairs of her skin prickle upon touch.

She shivered.

"Seeley?" Rebecca called form the door.

The two partners split apart.

"Rebecca," Booth greeted, tone breathless from the past moment.

"Brett is here."

His son's mother stepped inside, and Captain Fantastic followed.

Booth nodded tightly.

"Go home, Seeley," Rebecca urged. "Freshen up. Let us stay with him."

Booth wisped up his jacket, looped it over his arm, and put an hand on her shoulder.

"You'll call me when he wakes up," he made her promise as Brennan collected her things.

"Yes. Go." Rebecca settled down in the armchair by the bed.

Brennan stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of where her place was. Deciding upon leaving before him, she had made it a few metres down the hall before Booth's footsteps followed.

Strangely, they remained silent all the way to the parking lot, where they were to go their separate ways.

"I'll...call you," Booth stumbled, shrugging into his blazer.

"No, you won't," Brennan sighed, eyes down at her bag as she rustled about for her keys. "You'll say that we'll talk, but you'll put it off, and then we'll be silent for another three days." Successfully having found what she sought, her eyes lifted, but it wasn't to him that they rested on. "Don't go making promises you can't keep, Booth. It's not worth your time."

"Bones."

She turned and began to walk to her car.

He caught her arm in an iron grip.

"Ah!" she gasped in angry surprise, glaring down at his grasping hand, and then back to his eyes. "Let go of me."

He seemed to comprehend what he was doing, but instead, he said very lowly, "I will call you."

She yanked her arm back and just stared.

Booth held her eyes for a moment longer, before leaving her to stand on the pathway, hand against her throat in slight shock.

I hope you liked it :) Tell me what you think, if you feel up to it x

I'll update as soon as I can.

Adios, amigos!

Xx G