paladinsuitsyou | OOM: In the hospital

OOM: In the hospital

It hurts to move.

That's the first thing Booth realizes, when he wakes up. The second is that, amazingly, his mouth no longer hurts, though it feels strangely...puffy.

He touches his cheek, winces. Yeah, definitely puffy. Probably he was given some Novocaine along with...whatever made him just achey. He should, he realizes, be in much, much more pain after the vaguely recalled torment he went through.

But at least there's pudding, which will present no problem for his pained mouth.

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At the tell-tale signs of consciousness, Brennan gets up out of the uncomfortable hospital chair and leans over to ascertain whether or not Booth is really awake.

She smiles to see that his eyes are open.

"Hey."

"Hi," he says, the greeting coming out just a little bit more breathy than he'd normally like, thanks to the puffiness. "You wespthinble for pudding?"

It sounds (and kinda feels) like his mouth is full of cotton. He just hopes he's making some kind of sense to Brennan.

Brennan nods, reaching back to pull the chair closer to the bed so that she can sit.

"I didn't know when you would have last eaten."

Booth had been missing for approximately 24 hours. And given that he had been tortured, it was logical to assume that his captors hadn't been concerned about feeding him.

"How do you feel?"

Booth manages a weak chuckle. "Don't really remember," he says, trying hard to enunciate.

"M'OK. S'kinda hard to tell, but I think OK."

"You've been given a fairly massive quantity of pain killers."

Brennan is trying hard not to look worried. Emphasis on trying. Rationally, Booth has been rescued and is going to recover, therefore the time for worry should be past.

"Did you want one of these?" she asks, holding up one of the cups.

His eyes light up and he nods as emphatically as he can. Distantly, he's aware that this really should hurt, but it doesn't, thanks to those beautiful painkillers.

"Please."

That came out pretty clear, he thinks. Well, maybe not the 'l,' but the rest of it seems to be all right.

Understandable enough at any rate.

Brennan pulls the lid off of one pudding cup, unwraps a plastic spoon, and hands both to Booth.

"Gallagher came looking for Kennedy and found you?"

The FBI is likely getting these answers out of Gallagher at this very moment, but Brennan had opted to go to the hospital, not FBI headquarters (assuming she would even have been welcome without Booth along).

She hadn't even contemplated going anywhere other than the hospital, honestly.

"Yeah. When I got to Icepick, he hit me from behind and wrapped me in a carpet." Booth winces, embarrassed that an old, one-legged assassin got the drop on him. "Gallagher and his 'flight instructor' came by, and took me instead."

"Dad did say that Kennedy was wily."

He would have to be to get the drop on Booth.

"And let me guess. Gallagher wanted to know what you knew about Kennedy? If he was alive?"

"Shoulda listened."

Booth just nods. "Guess they wanted to be certain."

"And you didn't tell them."

It's not a question. It's a statement made based on knowing Booth's character.

Brennan is quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry it took us so long to find you."

Booth attempts a smile. He has no idea if it's successful or not.

"Hey, you found me in plenty of time," he says. After all, he still has both his eyes.

Not that she's ever, ever going to find out about that.

It's a close enough approximation.

"I called everyone while you were being treated. Cam, Hodgins and Angela, Zach, Hannah."

"Everyone's been very worried."

"Thanks," he says. It's good to know the appropriate people have been notified. He figures his boss is taking care of Rebecca and Parker. It's hardly Bones' job to do that.

It's weird, that he feels oddly obliged to apologize for worrying people. It's not like he meant to get kidnapped, after all.

Brennan would be the first one to tell him that such an impulse is highly illogical.

"The doctor said that you have a large number of cuts and contusions. Considerable bruising, but no serious internal injuries or bleeding. Some fractures, particularly to the rib cage. And a severe burn to the right thigh."

"And we found your tooth."

Booth is probably well aware of the injuries he's sustained, but it's rather second nature to her to list and categorize such things.

He sort of knows, but a lot of the details have blurred together.

"I don't want it back," Booth says, trying to make a joke. It's feeble, he knows, but it's all he's got. "I'll probably still have to go to the dentist, won't I?"

"You should. On the plus side, it should seem a lot less scary now. Comparatively speaking."

What's a pick compared to a red-hot screwdriver?

Especially when you're not sure when the screwdriver could be aiming at your eye at any given moment.

He tries to make a face at her. "I guess. But since when is fear rational?"

Brennan nods. "That's very true," she concedes.

"I'm afraid there was a lot that wasn't rational about this case."

Between Booth going missing and her father stepping in to help (in his own unique ways) Brennan rather feels that rationality has taken a hiatus for the last day or so.

"Not so much."

Booth pauses to eat some more pudding - chocolate, it's pretty good - then asks, "Have you seen your dad, since?"

She was wondering when the subject of Max Keenan would come up. Because of course it has to.

"No."

"When we left the warehouse I came straight here. One of the other agents--I forget who--gave me a ride; we followed the ambulance. And I've been here since. Even if he was going to check in, he wouldn't have had an opportunity."

"No one's said anything about him either."

Which means, in all likelihood, that the FBI hasn't caught up with her father. Brennan's logical and emotional sides are still arguing over whether that is a good or a bad thing.

"Pro'bly they don't even know he was there," Booth says.

Every other time she saw him, she called the FBI. There's no reason for them to think she wouldn't have done it if she'd seen him again.

Brennan chuckles a bit.

"It might eventually occur to someone to ask where my car went. I can't imagine they think I walked out to Virginia."

On the other hand, given the level of chaos and confusion, they might not.

"I...haven't had a chance yet to inform anyone of his presence there."

Which is strictly true, but Brennan knows she'll have to inform the FBI eventually.

"I'll put it in my report," Booth says. "That'll be enough, I think."

Of course, he has no idea what he'll say in that report, but there's time enough to worry about that later. There will be enough crow for a banquet, when he's done with it. He screwed up, big time.

"It will establish that he was present when you were rescued, but little else."

"I'm the one who allowed him to get away. And accepted his offer of help in the first place. I imagine I'll have to answer some questions."

She doesn't sound too worried about it though. The FBI got one of their agents back alive. Given the notion of 'brotherhood' among FBI agents, she's inclined to think that they may not be too harsh about the methods she employed to get Booth back.

"Yeah, probably," Booth says, thoughtful. He'll do what he can to minimize that - it's unlikely she's got much useful information about how to find Keenan, and there's really no need to get into too many details.

"And given that you were tied to a chair having been beaten, I don't see how they can possibly hold the fact that you didn't arrest him against you."

Brennan makes a face at the tidy stack of pudding cups, not meeting her partner's eyes.

"I thought my father was the best chance I had for finding you. And it turned out I was right."

It's as close as she'll probably come to defending her actions to Booth. But she does want him to know that consorting with criminals (even if they are relatives) is not going to become a habit.

"I did what I could," Booth says, attempting a shrug. It doesn't go well.

He polishes off the last pudding cup and stacks it with the others.

"I know. Thanks."

It's quiet, and a bit garbled, but overall, a sincere expression of appreciation.

Brennan smiles and echoes his shrug. Hers goes better.

"I know you probably would have done the same if our places were reversed."

"Well," she adds, "not exactly the same thing in that your father is not a wanted fugitive and, as far as I know, has no experience in dealing with the criminal element. But in general--resorting to extreme measures."

Bailing each other out of tight spots without thinking twice seems to have become almost second nature to them at this point.

He did try to dig her out of a hole with his bare hands, so he guesses she's got a point.

"I'd do everything I could, you know that."

Privately, he's pretty glad his father's not an old whacko criminal on a mission for vengeance. Or whatever.

"Yes. I do."

In fact, it wouldn't occur to her to doubt it.

"I mean, we're partners. Right?"

"Right."

He beams at her, and then his mouth twinges in pain.

"Even when you manhandle me to look at my teeth."

In response Brennan smiles a very wide, bright smile.

Things are going to be okay.

"I'd hug you," she says. "But it would probably really really hurt."

"Yeah," Booth says. "You're probably right about that."

He still looks happier than any man who's just been beaten and tortured has any right to look.

Beaten and tortured, but alive and safe. That's cause for happiness.

"Did, ah...did you want some more pudding?" she asks, smile completely undimmed.

In lieu of a hug, it's the best she can do.

Booth shakes his head slightly. "No, I think - I think I just want to sleep again. If you don't mind."

"No--you should sleep. It's recuperative."

And Booth can definitely use the recuperation.

Brennan settles back in her chair with the air of someone who is planning to stay there for a while.

"Just make sure there's pudding when I wake up," Booth says softly as he starts to drift off. "'S'all I ask."

"I can do that," Brennan replies.

She smiles fondly at her friend.

"Sleep, Booth."

And with that reassurance, he's off in the land of dreams, populated by pudding.

[What ho! Is this a wrap I see? :) ]

((I believe so! And I posted it in Booth's most recent entrance post, so I think we're all good!))

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OOM: In the hospital

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