A/N: This chapter is named after the song "Breakdown" by the band Daughtry.
Booth was really about ready to dismiss himself from the hospital if the nurses didn't stop treating him like a patient. He brought in a girl with intensive bleeding and penetrating abdominal trauma, and what do they do? They tell him he has to calm down and try getting him to go back to his own room. The consolation was that Brennan was a doctor and while Booth was confined to his own hospital room, she was getting information on Holly. If they had the paperwork, Brennan could be her medical proxy, since Holly had no next of kin.
As it was, Brennan was already advising the doctors on how to treat Holly from the moment she found out what had happened. There wasn't much out of routine they could do without consent of a proxy or the subject, so Brennan was finding out what medications they were using and what processes for treatment they decided on.
Booth sat up as Brennan came into his room. He'd been sitting and contemplating his own worry and guilt over what had happened for the last hour. As the anthropologist sat down next to his bed, Booth couldn't tell if she was relieved or scared.
His own emotions were all over the place. He'd trusted Kenton and then the man had turned around and betrayed them, having been on the wrong side for who knew how long. Kenton had tried to kill both of his partners multiple times, and because Booth hadn't seen it, Kenton had nearly succeeded. He felt crushing guilt for being unable to stop Hollings from killing Penny Hamilton already, but he knew it would be at least tripled if Kenton had succeeded in doing those horrific things to Holly, someone who he knew and trusted.
"Where is she?" Booth asked quickly, not letting Brennan sit in silence any longer. "What's happened?"
"Holly was…" Brennan took a moment to pause and shift herself into a more comfortable position. There was a certain stiffness to which she moved, probably having been hurt trying to put out the fire that resulted from the bomb in her apartment. "... Hemodynamically unstable. There's a team prepping her for exploratory surgery, but they're still running blood tests. They need her blood type for transfusions." He knew he'd read her blood type in her file, along with other basic information, when he'd first met her, but before she'd been a friend and a colleague and someone to protect, she'd been a murder suspect - not unlike Camden Destri or Abigail Zealy.
The term exploratory surgery immediately put Booth on edge. "That doesn't sound good," he murmured somberly.
Brennan offered him a shrug. "It's more dangerous to base it on observational data than it is to take the risks of surgery at this point. They're not entirely sure as to the extent of the damage but the location of the wound doesn't seem too concerning. It's mostly just…" she faltered slightly. "... Precautionary… and there was too much blood."
Booth shut his eyes and sighed. He didn't want to hear this but he knew that he needed to. Stab wounds were always serious, and Holly had been a little out of it when they'd found her. Her sweater was too baggy; he hadn't noticed that it was stained with blood, and he hadn't even looked to see her hands. He'd only found out when Hodgins pointed it out that there was something wrong with her wrist by the way it was swelling. He just attributed her daze to fear.
He really should have known better. Of course Holly got afraid - who didn't? - but Holly didn't deal with it by accepting comfort. She dealt with it with anger, sarcasm, and sometimes made scathing comments after the fact. She didn't like to talk about things she felt if they portrayed her as less than invincible. It was sad she felt the need to maintain that front even around him, but it was something that had been built up for years and years.
"So what exactly are they going to look for?" He asked, eyeing the pudding cups sitting on the table. He hadn't been able to get enough of them before, but now he couldn't stand it. Brennan told him Holly had stayed with him the whole time she was waiting in the ER for him to wake up. Now he understood why she hadn't gone to get a snack or take a nap. In the reverse situation, Booth didn't feel like eating anything.
Brennan blinked at him. Her voice was weary and told Booth that she was feeling the same myriad of emotions that he was, draining her energy. "A number of things. The most important would be for organ damage. The surgeons will search out any harm done and fix it as best as they can. They said they'd stitch up the incision and then set up a blood transfusion when they get it. And they'll probably sedate her for a while to keep her from moving around and ripping stitches."
Booth nodded absently while she talked. "What do you mean, 'when they get it?'" He looked up at her curiously.
Brennan raised one eyebrow at him in mirthless bemusement. "Do you think they keep supplements of human blood in the staff refrigerators?"
"God, I hope not." He was pretty sure his jell-o cups came from a staff fridge. "Does she need the blood now?" He looked to his arm speculatively. He knew she'd lost a lot because it had tie-dyed both of their clothes before she'd even made it to the hospital, and he was also pretty sure that her blood type was common.
"The transfusion would wait until after surgery." Brennan's answer was quick, as he had suspected it would be. "If her body rejected the blood during the operation, the results could be…" she took a deep breath. "A rejection itself is the antibodies fighting the foreign blood. Her veins would become a war zone until she was stabilized again. It resembles more of an infection than a transfusion at that point. If her body reacted negatively while in surgery, the consequences could be lethal. Unless her blood loss reaches a dramatic low, they would wait to transfuse until after she was sterile and medicated."
"Well…" Booth grimaced as he reached to press the call for the nurse. "Let's see if I'm compatible." Brennan opened her mouth, probably to ask why. "Look, Bones, I know I'm clean, and I put her in this mess, so if I can help her, I will. It might be faster than going through the donor channels, anyway."
Brennan watched him for a long moment while they waited for the nurse, and Booth looked over at her once he noted that it was going on for a while. "What?" He asked, reaching up slightly self-consciously to rub at a bruise on his jaw from the explosion.
Brennan shook her head at him slowly. "You're doing what she told me not to," she answered softly. "Blaming yourself."
"Well, she was under my protection and she nearly died." Booth looked away from Brennan, unwilling to have a long conversation about whether it was or was not his fault. He knew that Kenton would have gone to extents to hurt them, but he also knew that it was pointless to have that argument. No matter what was said, he would still feel the guilt of not managing to shield his charge better.
He figured he should have known better than to let her refuse protective custody at all. Sure, she said no, but she wasn't legally an adult, nor was she emancipated. She lived on her own, as far as he knew, but she still lived in her legal parents' name and residence and, he assumed, money. If he'd refused to give in, she could have been kept with a heavy police presence at all times and she'd never have been kidnapped or stabbed.
The point was driven in deeper when he pulled the comparison to the rescue mission with Donovan Decker and every other time she'd put herself in danger. Seventeen year olds weren't supposed to have the fighting abilities of professional fighters or the reflexive impulses of trained professionals, but she'd kept herself alive by both force and the knowledge of how to handle situations with what resources she'd had.
Until now, she'd escaped several instances where things could have gotten fatal - Ken Thompson trying to burn both herself and Brennan alive being at the top of that list, because that was what had taken him by surprise the most. What were the odds that the kid he was tasked with protecting was actually capable of working in an equal capacity as the squints that sometimes enjoyed making him feel stupid? That had been almost immediately followed by her near-suicidal chase after Farid Masruk, who she knew was a terrorist with a dioxin bomb. She hadn't done it for the consequential fame or gain, but to keep him from using the bomb. The way she had handled Randall Hall had been surprising, to say the least. It was interesting how she hadn't liked him even before she had a reason to suspect him, and once she did, she knew enough to stay within the confines of the law, but harassed him as much as possible in the meantime before he assaulted her, giving her a reason to lash out the way she wanted.
Then had been the Howard Epps case. Although it hadn't been a dangerous situation to them, he'd been thrown when she all but told him to indirectly murder the serial killer. He didn't doubt that if it weren't for her pride, she would have easily fallen bait to Epps' snide comments and sent a few punches. She had been so serious and so determined, and then so angry. It was a stark contrast to how she'd treated Brennan when the scientist's boyfriend had double-crossed her and then made her relive the disappearance of her family, when Holly had been gentle and understanding and seemed almost frightened of stepping the wrong way at times.
Still, the insane emotional rollercoaster had bridged the wide gap between Holly, Booth, and the Jeffersonian team. Spending a holiday together was tense because of the stunning issues, between the potential pathogen and the revelation that Holly had lied to him and that most of her body was damaged, but the companionship between them all wasn't unbearable. It had been comforting to have Brennan and Holly with him when he was blocked off from Parker.
So, of course, it was totally rational that the first thing he did upon receiving a case that involved traveling was to find the flight information the FBI had gotten and book another ticket. Lo and behold, he wasn't disappointed that Holly wanted to go with them. He got a pretty good idea of her beliefs on superficial views and individuality, although there was no way she gave out all the information while knowing she was only making it easier to understand her.
He supposed the paramount moment was the rescue of Donovan Decker. Holly had been all for taking the case, even though the statistics she'd spouted out at the beginning had done little for her mood. Had it been earlier in their relationship he probably would have figured she'd just watched too much crime television to understand what it was really like, but even knowing she wasn't illusioned, it was still shocking to watch her handle a gun and talk down a would-be murderer like she'd been doing it for years. If he listed off everything at once, it wasn't too much of a surprise that he gave in to her stubborn insistence to let her go in after the child in the raid. She'd snuck past and fought off a mercenary but had been merciful enough to keep him alive, then got the kid and got out. There were so many ways it could have gone wrong, so many possible outcomes that resulted in her harmed or dead that it was ridiculous in hindsight to believe she would be able to go in and get out relatively unscathed, and when she had, it only seemed to boost the level of invulnerability she liked to portray.
Then she went and got herself on a hit list after picking a fight with a gangbanger. Protecting her seemed like second nature, so of course, he went after the person responsible for ordering her murder. Holly had figured out what had happened, but had seemed fairly unrattled before proceeding to go behind the back of someone responsible for allowing her access to the cases she clearly loved in order to have a murder investigated. She'd been prepared to follow her own beliefs, regardless of whether she had anyone else's support. Jesse Kane had gotten to her even more than he had Booth, so he hadn't seen her all that much during the investigation.
Understandably, he felt like he was personally threatened when someone decided to take some shots at Holly. But he never would have thought it would culminate into this disaster, with both of them hospitalized, Holly nearly killed and being readied for exploratory surgery. It certainly knocked some sense into him. He'd attributed strength and ability to Holly that he would expect of an army buddy, but the time that she really needed someone's help, he hadn't known until too late to do anything very useful.
"You can't blame yourself for this, Booth," Brennan's gentle tone reminded him that she was there and there were things he needed to handle more important than stewing in his own thoughts. One of his partners watched him sympathetically. "It's upsetting, yes, but it happened. The most we can do now is hope that Holly is okay, and be supportive of her when we can, whether or not she chooses to continue working with us."
That alone was jarring. Nearly dying was enough to knock anyone's perspective down, and it would be rebuilt with a different mold. Wanting adrenaline and adventure and experience was one thing. Risking your life for it was completely different. Holly wasn't even an adult. None of them had a right to force her to continue living in their up-and-down lives that tended to revolve around the murders they investigated, especially not when she could safely work up enough money and apply for a college scholarship. Even with knowing her a short time, he knew that if she chose, she could do nearly anything she chose to. Still, the thought of working without Holly along for the ride seemed wrong. A lot more wrong than it would have been if someone had told him that just after meeting her, that's for sure.
Coming back into consciousness was a slow process and one that I really wished I could reverse.
It was hard to determine what was going on - there were too many distractions. I was lying down; I knew that for sure, and I was being moved on wheels, judging by how smooth the ride seemed despite the passing of the blocks on the ceiling. I squinted against the light. It was too bright. It burned my eyes.
I groaned aloud, just to make sure that whoever the hell was moving me was well aware that I disapproved.
Almost immediately a face leaned down over me. It was a woman, with blonde hair, green eyes, and she had a white paper mask pulled over her mouth, held in place by a band of elastic. She was far too close for comfort. Mask? Hospital?
"You're alright now." Her voice was distant. I was thankful because it seemed a bit high pitched and I couldn't deal with that on top of everything else. I vaguely remembered being carried out into flashing lights and then a sharp stinging in my arm from some sort of needle, but I did know that by all rights, I should be feeling as though I was being ripped apart. Instead, my body was numb - I couldn't feel most of the nerves in my lower stomach, and the throbbing and pins in my wrist had dulled down like I was experiencing it secondhand. "You're safe, I promise."
"She needs to get in ASAP." That was a masculine voice, deeper and less painful to the ears, but it was unfamiliar, as far as my brain could tell me. "Put her under."
Under? Under what?
"Here, sweetie, breathe in." A mask was placed over my face, covering my nose and mouth. The plastic lining seal felt too warm against my skin and I wondered briefly if I had a fever before dismissing that as the least of my problems.
I tried turning my head to the side but the woman reached down and cupped my cheek, turning my head forcibly back up to the mask, and I inevitably breathed in. It didn't smell all that bad; a bit unnatural and chemical-like, like nail polish, but I didn't think it was chloroform.
And then my eyelids got too heavy for me to keep open and I was pretty sure that I realized too late it was a drug.
Booth picked at the bandage over his arm without thinking about it too hard. It was more like a distraction than an actual issue, but it was a distraction gladly taken. He wasn't sure how much blood had been taken, but obviously it wasn't too much, because other than a bit of dizziness, he was fine. Well, and the injuries from the explosion, obviously. And even then, he wasn't sure if the dizziness was from the blood loss or just watching his blood be drawn and bottled.
"Angela's going to get the address from the FBI and go over to Holly's house," Brennan was saying, pocketing her cellular after taking a phone call. "She says she's going to pack a bag for her - basically, clothes, toiletries, and anything she thinks Holly might want. Booth, are you listening?" The last sentence was tinged with annoyance and Booth looked up guiltily.
"Yeah, I'm listening," he replied. "It's just…" He wanted to be distracted. He was sad and of course he didn't want to let himself focus on that. "I'm listening," he reiterated more firmly.
Brennan's stern glare softened in understanding. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Er, Holly's doctor says she's out of surgery. They said she's stable. They'll be administering the transfusion as soon as possible… they'll come tell us so we know for sure how your blood compared in the tests."
"Great!" It was probably the first genuinely good news that Booth had heard all day, and as such, his response was not only fervent, but also sincere. "When can we see her?"
"It'll be a bit longer," Brennan said almost wistfully. "They'll want to keep her isolated for a few hours in case she starts to crash." She reached over, seeming to sense his mood, and she set her hand on the edge of his mattress. "I promise we will go to see her as soon as we can."
Booth nodded gratefully in acknowledgment before clearing his throat. "So, apparently Kenton is telling the FBI everything." He shrugged as best as he could with his shoulder still bandaged. "I guess he figures, he was caught red-handed. If nothing else, he's going in for kidnap, assault, and attempted murder. He's got nothing left to hide."
"Agent Booth?" He looked up at the interruption. A nurse stood just inside the room and when he acknowledged her, she stepped further inside. She wore the typical cartoony scrubs and had her hair pulled and pinned back in a loose bun. Her name tag called her Jennifer. "The blood tests proved compatible. They're setting up Miss Kirkland for the transfusion presently."
"Good. Yeah, thanks." He would be lying if he said that that wasn't incredibly relieving, because if she was good for a transfusion, then didn't that mean that the doctors assumed she would pull through?
The nurse voiced a soft acknowledgment and left to do something else with her time.
When they finally got to see Holly, it had been a long time coming that Booth would ask what all had happened to her. That something had happened was forcefully driven home. If anything would send the point clearer than her clothes soaked in blood, then it would be the image of her lying in a hospital bed, looking small and pale with several needles dripping IVs into her arms.
Brennan gently picked up the chart at the end of Holly's bed. She was in the intensive care unit and there were only two people allowed to visit at a time, which worked, seeing as there were only two of them at the moment. Booth moved to sit down in the chair at the left of the bed. Were she not looking so frail and had she been more like other people, he probably would have taken her hand - more for his comfort that she was still alive than anything.
She looked so different from what he was used to that it was a staggering surprise to see her. He supposed a big difference was the clothing. He was used to seeing her in jeans and baggy sweaters, the fabric excessive and colors dark, but the hospital staff had fit her with a hospital gown. No hospital clothes were made to necessarily fit, in the normal sense of the word, but it was closer to Holly's size than most of her jackets, so without the extra bulk for her to hide behind, she looked a lot smaller. It showed most of her arms so that she could have the IVs and vitals being monitored, and the white wasn't much of a contrast against her skin. The neckline dipped so that her collarbones were visible and the strings tying it around her neck were loose.
Then was her actual physical state, which was much better than it had been last time he'd seen her. Someone had brushed her hair so it lay flat against the pillow. The black stood out sharply against the cheerily-colored hospital bandages placed over her face. The last time Holly had been beaten was by a wifebeater and it had taken a few days before she stopped using bandages, and after that it took another week for the signs to disappear. It was truly sad that he was so used to seeing her injured. There was a slice on her cheek and a bruise forming on her jaw. He tried looking to her arms to see what other damage had been done but had to concede grudging defeat when he wasn't sure what marks were from the fight with Kenton and which ones were older.
One of her hands was in a cast, bound firm and secure. Higher up, at the crook of her elbow, a needle was taped in place so that in case she moved in her drug-induced sleep, she wouldn't be able to jostle it.
"What happened to her hand?" Booth asked, significantly calmed by seeing the lack of blood and that she was, indeed, in one piece.
Brennan looked up from the chart. Booth saw the moment her eyes landed on the sleeping girl's face because her eyes softened with both sadness and empathy. He wasn't sure how Brennan classed her relationship with Holly, but he knew that she'd gone out of her way to help Holly before, and wouldn't be surprised if Brennan became violent on Holly's behalf.
"It says there's a torn ligament," she answered. Booth frowned and looked back at the cast protectively.
"That doesn't sound good, either."
"It's just a sprain, Booth," Brennan explained. "It's not completely ripped, just torn. It will heal." She waited a moment before gesturing to the cast. "Look, it's not even on her dominant arm. She'll need physical therapy and quite possibly pain medication, but she can make a full recovery."
"Yeah, I know…" Booth watched her carefully, unsure whether he really wanted her awake or asleep - because if she was awake, then he could make amends, see for himself she really was okay. But if she stayed asleep then she could stay out while the drugs ran their course, until she was healed enough so that she didn't feel like she was being gutted every time she moved. He wasn't an idiot; he could tell she didn't sleep that much, and he hoped that, at the very least, being passed out for so long would at least fix part of the sleep deprivation issue.
Brennan's phone rang in her pocket and although it was irrational, Booth tensed, thinking at first that the noise would wake Holly up, regardless of her drugged state - the girl laid absolutely still aside from the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He didn't see any sign of discomfort, which was a plus in his books, especially considering she'd been on the brink of death mere hours earlier.
Brennan got the phone quickly and offered Booth a wince in sympathy at his reaction to the noise before holding it up to her ear, accepting the call, and stepping out of the room to afford Holly the respect of keeping the room quiet for her rest.
Booth stared at Holly, just hoping that she would wake up sooner rather than later. He felt responsible for her safety and was kicking himself for letting this happen. Although he was supposed to have Parker for the coming weekend, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay away from Holly for that long, especially if she remained in intensive care.
Then again, Parker had seemed to immediately like Holly from the time they'd met at Easter, so maybe Parker would want to visit her himself? With the obvious omission of exactly what had landed her in the hospital, of course…
Obviously he didn't want either of them to have a reason to be in the hospital, but he hadn't been joking when he'd said they were his favorite child and junior agent-squint. In all actuality, Parker and Holly were his favorite children, period. It's not like he knew all that many kids, but that was beside the point. However much Holly wanted to be treated like an adult, she was not only a minor, but she was also just one of those people that refused other people's assistance far too often, and as a result, Booth was determined not to force her to have to recuperate on her own - especially when the only reason she'd been hurt was because she'd had an allegiance with him.
The thought made him first think to call her family. She's spoken somewhat fondly of her most recent family - the family that had abandoned her. She was far more forgiving than she probably realized, because they'd left her without a second thought. When Holly talked about them, she had been smiling with the same gentle glow as when she'd watched the squints with their family on Easter. He doubted she realized it, but she made it easy to tell that she wished things hadn't ended on such a bitter note.
And, much as he wanted her to have that familiarity, he also respected her reasons for not wanting to see any of them again. It wasn't the silly, immature reasoning of a child - of a pathetic grudge held strong; it was the deep, thoughtful reasons that came with experience and age - she knew herself well enough to know that she couldn't honestly hope for a tear-filled reunion of hugs and love, knew she wouldn't be able to accept or reciprocate. She wanted to leave her memories as untainted as possible so she could reminisce with as much affection as she could.
Clearly, it was up to himself and the Jeffersonian team to make sure she had the emotional support she needed. Whether she wanted it or not was another story.
That wasn't even beginning to cover the issues presented by medications and therapy. Time management was already a struggle for her, between two radically different jobs and going between the Jeffersonian and the FBI as well as balancing a job as a barmaid. Then came that she was a teen in a job that didn't offer spectacular healthcare plans, and she lived on her own. She would need help affording everything - he swore up and down that he wouldn't let her brush off important things due to constraints and end up being constantly pained or not healing correctly.
When Brennan stepped inside again, she wore a puzzled frown that hadn't been seen as often since Holly and Booth started acclimating her to modern culture and references. "That was Angela," she said in response to the silent question in the tilt of his head. "She went to Holly's address… but she says there's no way Holly lived there."
Booth blinked, unable to understand how the two facts contradicted so wildly. "What is that supposed to mean?" And if he came across as a bit confrontational, well, that wasn't on purpose.
Brennan offered him a slightly stern look in response to his tone but she answered. "According to Angela, there wasn't much of anything there… next to no food, and what was there was mostly in one place or packed up. She says there's a lot of dust, and it doesn't look like things were used in a while."
"Wait… so…" Booth's mind spun in stunned shock to the revelation. He glanced at Holly in worry. She seemed completely fine with being under scrutiny; her unconsciousness might have something to do with that. "She lied to us about where she lived?"
Brennan shrugged, this time at a loss. "There's not really a way to know what happened or why until she tells us herself." The woman looked at the prone form on the bed, not taking her eyes away as she sank down into the chair opposite Booth's.
Booth was torn between being irritated with Holly and upset with himself. Clearly, no one could really shoulder the blame for Holly's lies except for Holly - but while she showed sometimes reckless judgment, she didn't lie unless she had a larger picture she was working towards. He liked to think that despite everything, Holly trusted him, at least, enough to know where she lived - but that brought another issue to light. He hadn't asked since she had first told him, and at the time he'd been treating her as a suspect to a major crime.
So maybe the blame for the misinformation was a little bit on both of them, because if he prided himself on understanding people, then he should known enough to have double-checked to make sure that Holly hadn't continued a lie for security in her relationships, something that he knew she needed, because when she was around someone enough to start caring about them, she lost backbone when it came to her own needs, as when Booth had gotten angry and taken a rough tone with her, trying to order her into accepting protection. The only differences between then and the fight they had over Holly refusing to translate his words to a supposed gang member's sister were that Holly had stayed firm when defending someone else, but gave in when she was fighting for herself.
And if that didn't speak volumes on how she considered herself compared to others, then he wasn't entirely sure what would, short of her saying it bluntly out loud. Coming from Booth, who didn't particularly appreciate the insight of psychology into anyone's head - which he considered to be a personal space - it surely meant something.
"Hodgins claimed her on his insurance," Brennan ventured softly to break the silence. "He said he had good coverage, and that the plan would cover most of the surgery expenses."
Booth nodded slightly in acknowledgment, grateful to the entomologist. Though he hadn't seen Hodgins much since raiding the warehouse, he knew the scientist was privy to what had happened and had likely been around to check on Holly's welfare since. What Brennan didn't know was that Hodgins was the sole beneficiary of his family's company, the Cantilever Foundation. More likely than not, Hodgins had put Holly on his healthcare plan with the Cantilever association rather than the Jeffersonian. Though he wasn't entirely sure what the plan entailed, a fact of life was that connections to high places got people what they wanted, or, in this case, needed.
"So she'll be okay." Booth stated firmly, not wanting to consider anything else. Wasn't it a reasonable conclusion? For one, the surgery had gone without complications. If any did arise, then she was in a hospital. She'd have near immediate medical care until she was stable. She'd have the medicines she needed and as a silver lining, she'd get regular sleep and nourishment that she hadn't had beforehand. It should really go without saying that she would have the team's support, and honestly, he would be surprised if Angela didn't start smothering Holly in attention and concern the moment she woke up.
"It would seem that way." Booth looked up, automatically bracing himself at the new voice before seeing the man in scrubs smile at them pleasantly, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. "I'm her doctor. I was wondering where her parents were, but I was told you were admitted yourself."
"I'm fine," Booth said quickly with a steely tone, not wanting to get put on bed-arrest again. Unfortunately, there was little to do to hide the burns, bruises, and bandages, but hey, maybe if he didn't seem bothered then the doctor would just ignore the details. What the doctor said then processed and while he was thrilled Holly would recover, he felt he should probably correct the man's misconception before Holly heard about it and got angry. "And we're not her parents."
The doctor canted his head to the side in confusion. "You're Seeley Booth, right?"
"And Dr. Temperance Brennan," Brennan confirmed, lifting her hand slightly and motioning vaguely to herself.
"Then I'm afraid I don't understand." The doctor's expression turned to one of puzzlement and very slight annoyance. "You're not her parents?"
"No," Booth emphasized, beginning to wonder if maybe he should be more concerned. He was fairly certain none of his speech skills had been impaired in the last fifteen seconds, so why was there a difficulty with conveying this point?
"Oh…" the doctor stopped and looked away and to the chart on Holly's bed, but he didn't pick it up. He seemed extremely uncomfortable all of the sudden, which made Booth a bit suspicious that he was missing something.
"Is there a problem?" He asked testily, eyeing the doctor.
"Sir, in the blood tests we ran before the transfusion, we compared your blood to Miss Kirkland's, purely for medical reasons," he started to explain, already taking a step back like he really didn't want to be here. "Now, normally we require in-hospital donation to wait until the patient is stable and to record the information correctly, however we identified the similarities in your DNA and made the exception for familial relation."
Booth had never been a straight-A science nerd in school, but he knew enough to know that DNA comprised genetic material and, more importantly, was hereditary. He looked straight to Brennan, unamused, unimpressed, and even a bit mad at the doctor. Brennan was looking at the doctor with wide eyes before she looked to Booth and then at Holly in speculation, probably trying to do some anthropology thing to decide if they looked alike enough.
"What the hell is he talking about?"
"I apologize profusely that you have to find out something like this under these circumstances," the doctor said earnestly, seeming sincere enough. "But we authorized the blood donation because your DNA had a paternal match."