Fast Forward - Chapter 3
Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing of the Bones franchise…
Chapter 3 - The Art of Emergency Rooms and Partnership
Special Agent Seeley Booth sat hunched over in an uncomfortable waiting room chair in the George Washington University Hospital emergency room. His head pounded to the rhythm of the muzak playing above him and the ammonia and stale air freshener smell around him made his stomach churn. The hustle and bustle of impatient families and rushing doctors sounded far away, as though he were listening through water.
“Agent Booth.” He shot up out of the chair and walked toward the nurse who had called his name.
“How is she?” His eyes were wide with concern.
The nurse smiled at him in reassurance. “She’s a little worse for the wear, but she’s going to be fine. She asked for you.”
He moved to go to her room. “I’ll draw up the paper work for her release and you can take her home.” He nodded a thank you at her and hurried off down to where Dr. Brennan was being treated.
His head spun as it replayed the nights events ad nauseum in his head. He could see Brennan shackled to the cold brick basement wall, trails of blood dripping down her face and neck, her clothes ripped and dirty. He tried to shake them away as he reached his destination.
The room he walked into was less than private and most definitely less than empty. Considering they were at the height of tourist season in Washington D. C., Booth wasn’t overly shocked. Brennan sat on the edge of a made up hospital bed, slightly hunched over, one hand protecting her tender ribs, the other poised to swat away the incessant hands of the older nurse bandaging a cut on her neck. His stomach did a flip flop as she realized he was there and her face immediate lit up. She tried to smile at him, but flinched as it started to stretch the twelve new stitches on her right cheek and the eight across her chin.
“Easy there, Bones.” Brennan’s look of joy immediately blinked into a look of annoyed frustration.
“I’m fine, Booth.” A cringe punctuated the end of her sentence as the over-zealous nurse applied a few more dabs of antiseptic before securing the bandage. “Just get me out of here. Please?”
Before he could open his mouth to reply, the nurse he had spoken to in the waiting room swept in. The name tag on her Snoopy-covered scrubs said Janet. “A few signatures, Dr. Brennan, and you can go home.”
Forty minutes later, Booth had one arm around a limping Brennan and one hand turning the key to get into her apartment. He helped her into her bedroom and pulled a particularly comfortable looking pajama set out of her drawer. She accepted them silently and began to attempt the few feet to her bathroom, sharp, pained breaths punctuating each step.
“Need any help?” She waved a hand at him without turning around that meant she thought she could do it by herself. Booth pulled the comforter back in preparation and took a seat at the end of the bed. He sat in impatient silence as a random sampling of moans and gasps made their way through the slightly ajar door every few seconds.
Finally, an irritated, tear edged plea for help made its way through as well. “I can’t get my shirt off.” Brennan didn’t look at him as he gently started to lift her shirt, first on her uninjured side, and then the other, all without a word.
Reversing the process to put on her brown cotton tank top, Booth pulled the last bit of fabric down over her back and stepped back. “You good?”
She nodded and began her attempt back into the bedroom. With much effort, she finally lowered herself into her bed. He could see her eyes begin to drift shut as she lay her head on the pillow. “I’m hungry.”
Booth let out a few amused chuckles as he pulled the covers up over her and sat down on the bed beside her. “Wong foo’s?” She nodded at him, eyes closed. “You get a couple of hours of sleep and I’ll return with food.”
“Mmm” was her answer and he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears before shutting out her lamp and leaving.
Two hours later, he quietly let himself back into her apartment, a brimming box from Wong Foo’s in tow. As he set the keys on the counter, he saw her lamp flicker back on and mentally cursed himself for waking her up. She smiled at him as he walked in, laboriously pushing herself up into a sitting position. “Sorry.”
“I never really fell asleep.” He offered her a container and a diet Coke, which she gratefully accepted.
“From Sid, with love. He called it his ‘Battered & Bruised’ combo,” he said with a snort, taking a hefty bite of an egg roll.
“Tactful,” she replied, popping in another healthy wad of noodles. Sitting them down on the end table, she looked back up at him expectantly. “Say whatever it is you’re not saying.”
He leaned heavily against the dark wood door frame and ran a slightly bruised hand through his hair. “You really want to do this now?” Brennan raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged. He inhaled deeply.
“You can’t do this anymore.” His serious dark eyes met her watery light pools. She responded with another shrug.
“Do what anymore?”
He stood up straighter, crossing his arms across his chest. “No more field work.”
She sniffed loudly at him, pushing herself back against her hand-carved mahogany head board. “I’m fine. If Cullen would give me a gun, I wouldn’t have to get so physical.” She reached for the half filled glass of water on the night table next to her as he moved closer to the bed.
“Stop it. This isn’t about whether or not you can defend yourself, this is about your life. Do you realize that you could be dead right now? If I hadn’t gotten there when I did--” She interrupted.
“What? If you hadn’t swooped in to save me? I don’t need a bodyguard, Booth.” She popped a couple of her pain pills and readjusted her position again.
His hands moved down to his hips and his eyes bore into her. “Oh, so that’s what I am now? Well, fine. Maybe you should just go back to your Iron Age warriors and Egyptian Pharaohs.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “It means that maybe we should just stick to what we’re good at and leave it at that.” He paused, looking down at her cherry wood floor. “Maybe we shouldn’t be partners anymore.”
She scoffed at him. “Excuse me?”
He looked back up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. “I trust you with a lot of things, Temperance, my life being one of them-- but can I trust you with yours?”
“So, what, you think I’m on some sort of suicide mission?” She pushed herself up straighter, squinting at him in the dimly lit room. “I know the risks, Booth. I know what’s at stake.”
Booth let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you really? Because I gave you an order tonight to wait for back-up, an order you completely disregarded.”
An incredulous look splashed across her face, red creeping around the bruises on her checks. “Orders, Booth? Partners don’t give each other orders.”
“No, they trust each other. They work together.” Their eyes locked and they stared at each other in tense silence until Booth forced himself to look away. “Maybe this has just run its course.”
“Well, if that’s the way you feel then I think for the sake of full disclosure, you should know that I love you.” It came out as a statement, solid and unwavering.
He blinked at her. “You what?”
Brennan shrugged. “I love you. I just think if this is the decision you’re going to make, you should have all of the facts first.”
Another exasperated sigh. “Dammit, Bones.”
“And I’m not quitting field work.” She gazed across the room at him in utter defiance.
“Bones…” He took another step closer to her, his voice full of warning.
She held up a finger at him. “How about tonight we be ‘widely emotional’ and tomorrow we be rational?”
He grinned down at her. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together. “So, couch then?”
She returned his grin as best she could. “Bed.”
And, just in case you didn't catch the first couple of installments...
Chapter 1 - All the Pharoah's Men
Chapter 2 - Surprisingly Not Spontaneous
Chapter 3 - The Art of Emergency Rooms and Partnership
Special Agent Seeley Booth sat hunched over in an uncomfortable waiting room chair in the George Washington University Hospital emergency room. His head pounded to the rhythm of the muzak playing above him and the ammonia and stale air freshener smell around him made his stomach churn. The hustle and bustle of impatient families and rushing doctors sounded far away, as though he were listening through water.
“Agent Booth.” He shot up out of the chair and walked toward the nurse who had called his name.
“How is she?” His eyes were wide with concern.
The nurse smiled at him in reassurance. “She’s a little worse for the wear, but she’s going to be fine. She asked for you.”
He moved to go to her room. “I’ll draw up the paper work for her release and you can take her home.” He nodded a thank you at her and hurried off down to where Dr. Brennan was being treated.
His head spun as it replayed the nights events ad nauseum in his head. He could see Brennan shackled to the cold brick basement wall, trails of blood dripping down her face and neck, her clothes ripped and dirty. He tried to shake them away as he reached his destination.
The room he walked into was less than private and most definitely less than empty. Considering they were at the height of tourist season in Washington D. C., Booth wasn’t overly shocked. Brennan sat on the edge of a made up hospital bed, slightly hunched over, one hand protecting her tender ribs, the other poised to swat away the incessant hands of the older nurse bandaging a cut on her neck. His stomach did a flip flop as she realized he was there and her face immediate lit up. She tried to smile at him, but flinched as it started to stretch the twelve new stitches on her right cheek and the eight across her chin.
“Easy there, Bones.” Brennan’s look of joy immediately blinked into a look of annoyed frustration.
“I’m fine, Booth.” A cringe punctuated the end of her sentence as the over-zealous nurse applied a few more dabs of antiseptic before securing the bandage. “Just get me out of here. Please?”
Before he could open his mouth to reply, the nurse he had spoken to in the waiting room swept in. The name tag on her Snoopy-covered scrubs said Janet. “A few signatures, Dr. Brennan, and you can go home.”
Forty minutes later, Booth had one arm around a limping Brennan and one hand turning the key to get into her apartment. He helped her into her bedroom and pulled a particularly comfortable looking pajama set out of her drawer. She accepted them silently and began to attempt the few feet to her bathroom, sharp, pained breaths punctuating each step.
“Need any help?” She waved a hand at him without turning around that meant she thought she could do it by herself. Booth pulled the comforter back in preparation and took a seat at the end of the bed. He sat in impatient silence as a random sampling of moans and gasps made their way through the slightly ajar door every few seconds.
Finally, an irritated, tear edged plea for help made its way through as well. “I can’t get my shirt off.” Brennan didn’t look at him as he gently started to lift her shirt, first on her uninjured side, and then the other, all without a word.
Reversing the process to put on her brown cotton tank top, Booth pulled the last bit of fabric down over her back and stepped back. “You good?”
She nodded and began her attempt back into the bedroom. With much effort, she finally lowered herself into her bed. He could see her eyes begin to drift shut as she lay her head on the pillow. “I’m hungry.”
Booth let out a few amused chuckles as he pulled the covers up over her and sat down on the bed beside her. “Wong foo’s?” She nodded at him, eyes closed. “You get a couple of hours of sleep and I’ll return with food.”
“Mmm” was her answer and he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears before shutting out her lamp and leaving.
Two hours later, he quietly let himself back into her apartment, a brimming box from Wong Foo’s in tow. As he set the keys on the counter, he saw her lamp flicker back on and mentally cursed himself for waking her up. She smiled at him as he walked in, laboriously pushing herself up into a sitting position. “Sorry.”
“I never really fell asleep.” He offered her a container and a diet Coke, which she gratefully accepted.
“From Sid, with love. He called it his ‘Battered & Bruised’ combo,” he said with a snort, taking a hefty bite of an egg roll.
“Tactful,” she replied, popping in another healthy wad of noodles. Sitting them down on the end table, she looked back up at him expectantly. “Say whatever it is you’re not saying.”
He leaned heavily against the dark wood door frame and ran a slightly bruised hand through his hair. “You really want to do this now?” Brennan raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged. He inhaled deeply.
“You can’t do this anymore.” His serious dark eyes met her watery light pools. She responded with another shrug.
“Do what anymore?”
He stood up straighter, crossing his arms across his chest. “No more field work.”
She sniffed loudly at him, pushing herself back against her hand-carved mahogany head board. “I’m fine. If Cullen would give me a gun, I wouldn’t have to get so physical.” She reached for the half filled glass of water on the night table next to her as he moved closer to the bed.
“Stop it. This isn’t about whether or not you can defend yourself, this is about your life. Do you realize that you could be dead right now? If I hadn’t gotten there when I did--” She interrupted.
“What? If you hadn’t swooped in to save me? I don’t need a bodyguard, Booth.” She popped a couple of her pain pills and readjusted her position again.
His hands moved down to his hips and his eyes bore into her. “Oh, so that’s what I am now? Well, fine. Maybe you should just go back to your Iron Age warriors and Egyptian Pharaohs.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “It means that maybe we should just stick to what we’re good at and leave it at that.” He paused, looking down at her cherry wood floor. “Maybe we shouldn’t be partners anymore.”
She scoffed at him. “Excuse me?”
He looked back up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. “I trust you with a lot of things, Temperance, my life being one of them-- but can I trust you with yours?”
“So, what, you think I’m on some sort of suicide mission?” She pushed herself up straighter, squinting at him in the dimly lit room. “I know the risks, Booth. I know what’s at stake.”
Booth let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you really? Because I gave you an order tonight to wait for back-up, an order you completely disregarded.”
An incredulous look splashed across her face, red creeping around the bruises on her checks. “Orders, Booth? Partners don’t give each other orders.”
“No, they trust each other. They work together.” Their eyes locked and they stared at each other in tense silence until Booth forced himself to look away. “Maybe this has just run its course.”
“Well, if that’s the way you feel then I think for the sake of full disclosure, you should know that I love you.” It came out as a statement, solid and unwavering.
He blinked at her. “You what?”
Brennan shrugged. “I love you. I just think if this is the decision you’re going to make, you should have all of the facts first.”
Another exasperated sigh. “Dammit, Bones.”
“And I’m not quitting field work.” She gazed across the room at him in utter defiance.
“Bones…” He took another step closer to her, his voice full of warning.
She held up a finger at him. “How about tonight we be ‘widely emotional’ and tomorrow we be rational?”
He grinned down at her. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together. “So, couch then?”
She returned his grin as best she could. “Bed.”
And, just in case you didn't catch the first couple of installments...
Chapter 1 - All the Pharoah's Men
Chapter 2 - Surprisingly Not Spontaneous