AN: I don't own Bones. That should be pretty obvious, though, yeah?

Holy shitballs! I am so sorry for the wait, everyone. With the exception of a couple of my stories, I seem to have run into a brick wall. I've been trying and trying to get everything updated, but the ideas have just been trickling in, and I really need to have them pouring in. (Sigh.) Writer's block is a real bitch.

Alright, alright. I know you didn't come here for me. Go! Read and enjoy!

For the first time in a few days, the only occupants in Brennan's hospital room were just her and Booth. While Booth was sitting beside her bed, in what everyone had automatically deemed 'his' chair, with his feet propped up on the other guest chair one of the nurses had dragged in, working on his book of crosswords, Brennan was fixated on the television screen hanging on the wall. The classic movie channel was currently showing a John Wayne marathon, and she was truly enjoying it. As a little girl, before her life took a terrible turn, she and Max used to curl up together every Saturday on their old floral sofa, and spend hours watching John Wayne movies. Those were some of her few happy memories from childhood.

It was during a commercial break that she broke the silence between her and Booth.

"Do you know what happened to my car, Booth?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

Booth blinked in confusion as he met her clear blue eyes. "Uh...it was totaled, Bones," he said, sorrowfully. "I...I thought you knew that."

Brennan frowned as she stared into his dark brown eyes. "No, I knew that, Booth. I meant where was it removed to? Where did the police have it taken away to?" she asked, clarifying what she meant.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, putting his feet down and sitting up to see her better. "I think they had it hauled off to a salvage yard somewhere outside Raleigh," he answered. "Why?"

Brennan shrugged. "Was anything recovered from it before it was taken away?" she asked.

"Uh...I'm not sure, Bones," he shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering if anyone found my cellphone, or my duffel bag with my clothing in it, or my purse, at least?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

"I don't know, but I can make some calls, if you'd like," Booth said, making a few notes on the legal pad on the bedside rolling table. "Anything else? What about your laptop, Bones?"

"It wasn't with me," she shrugged, turning back to the television. "I actually did no work that weekend," she added.

Booth raised his eyebrows in surprise, but chose not to say anything. "Alright, Bones," he said, grabbing his cellphone as he stood up, "I'll go see what I can do, and hey, while I'm out, I'll swing by the diner. Chocolate milkshake?"

Brennan smiled, nodding at him. "Yes, thank you, Booth."

"I'll be back in a bit, Bones. Try to get some rest," he said, pulling her door closed as he left.

Booth was standing at the reception desk in the small salvage yard, trying to be patient as the man behind the counter looked through his records.

"I know it's here somewhere..." the man mumbled, sorting through a big pile of papers. "What kinda car was it, again?"

"Prius. Blue Prius," Booth said, rolling his eyes. This man had asked him that question three times now, and always forgot in just a few moments. "Smashed up pretty good, should've been hauled in just a bit ago from North Carolina."

The man, whose name patch on his coveralls read 'Jimmy', looked up wide eyed at Booth. "That car?" he asked, surprised. "I didn't realize that was the Prius, Agent."

"Yeah, that's the one," Booth nodded.

"Here we are," Jimmy said, holding up a yellow paper, scanning it. "Let's see - twenty eleven Toyota Prius, cobalt blue color, involved in a motor accident in North Carolina a few weeks back..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's the car, Jimmy," Booth interrupted sharply. "Could you take me to it, or do I have to find it myself?" he asked.

Jimmy gulped, feeling it would be in his best interest to take the angry FBI agent to the car. "Uh, no, Sir. I'll take you to it," he said, hurrying out from behind the counter, heading for the door.

"Thank you," Booth sighed, rolling his eyes again, following the skittish man to the yard.

"Can I ask, Sir, did the driver survive?" Jimmy asked.

Booth nodded. "Yeah, she did," he answered. "Barely, but yeah."

Jimmy let out a low whistle. "She must be quite the fighter, then," he said as the car came into view. "'Cause I didn't imagine anyone surviving that," he said, pointing toward the Prius.

Booth stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Bones' wrecked car. Well, wrecked would be a severe understatement, actually. Decimated, demolished...even pulverized...would fit better in these circumstances.

"Holy shit," he whispered, eyes wide as he took in the damage. Where Bones' car was once merely small, it was now nearly miniscule. It was hard for Booth to even remember exactly what this car used to look like, in fact, without all...that.

Not to mention the fact that Bones had survived this! That alone was astonishing for him. It wasn't when he didn't know what the Prius looked like after the accident, but knowing now...Booth was having a hard time thinking straight. Closing his eyes, he took a couple of deep breaths and reminded himself that Bones was alright, and waiting for him back at the hospital, probably driving the nurses crazy by now.

"Okay, uh, Jimmy," he said, slowly opening his eyes, "is it safe for me to try and pry one of the back doors open, or what?"

"Why would you wanna open the doors?" Jimmy asked, a confused look forming on his dirty face as he scratched his chin.

"Well, Jimmy, if you must know, the owner asked me to see if there were any of her belongings in the damned car, and since it wasn't documented anywhere, I just assumed anything would still be inside," Booth snapped, getting annoyed with the man.

"Oh, no, that stuff came in separately," Jimmy said, oblivious to Booth's darkening mood. "The guy at the other salvage yard removed anything he found. He documented what he removed, too, just in case," he said.

Booth smiled, feeling less annoyed with Jimmy. "That's great news, Jimmy-boy," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, where might that stuff be?"

"Uh...in the office, Sir," Jimmy said.

Instead of words, Booth just pointed in the direction of the office, indicating Jimmy to walk in front of him. He turned back after a few steps, taking in the damaged car and sending up a prayer of thanks that Bones survived.

It was later that evening when Booth returned to the hospital, balancing the food and milkshakes in one hand, and Bones' things in the other. Spying Bones asleep, he toed off his shoes, kicking them out of the way, and walked softly across the tiled floor to set the food on the table, making sure not to spill the milkshakes. Truthfully, he was glad Bones was currently sleeping, as it saved him being questioned about why he had been so late getting back.

In reality, his day, including the trip to the scrapyard and then the diner, should have had him back in her room about an hour ago, but he had gotten detoured. It had taken about seven hours to get the car hauled to the scrapyard, after all. So, after an explanation to Bones, he had spent the day catching up on some work, waiting for the company to haul her car in. He had intended to be back much sooner. He really did. However, once he got sight of Bones' car, he had a few emotions and issues to work through, so he had retreated to the shooting range for a bit. There was something cathartic about shooting round after round after round into one of those paper targets they give you.

He hadn't realized that he spent three and a half hours shooting faceless, paper silhouettes, though. By the time he noticed the time, he packed up his things, called in the order, stopped by the diner, and then headed back to the hospital, all the while praying Bones wasn't too upset he'd been gone so long.

But, thankfully, she was sleeping, therefore missed his late entrance.

Turning to face his partner, Booth couldn't help but stare at her. He'd always known he was lucky to have her in his life, but even more so after his visit to the scrapyard. The sight of her car brought up all the thoughts he'd tried desperately to suppress that he easily could have lost her in that collision. The two had had a few close calls over the years, true, but Booth knew this was one of the closest.

He vowed to himself and to God as he stared at the wreckage that he'd be there for her, no matter what, and in any way she wanted.

"Booth," Bones' voice murmured, interrupting his train of thought.

"Yeah, Bones?" he asked, stepping closer to her bed. "Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually," she said, blinking as she slowly woke up, "I do."

"What's that, then?"

"Stop watching me," she said, her voice rough with sleep. "I can't sleep with someone watching me," she said.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Hey, are you hungry? I brought food," he said, going back to the table.

"I want my milkshake for now," Bones said, scooting up in the bed. "Ange and Hodgins stopped by earlier, and brought me some soup."

Booth nodded. "Okay, then," he said, grabbing her milkshake and a straw before walking back to her bedside. "Here we go, Bones. One Royal Diner medium thick chocolate milkshake," he said, smiling as he handed it to her. "And," he said, dramatically holding the straw out for her, "one straw."

Bones rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile as she grabbed it from him.

She failed.

"You're ridiculous," she laughed.

Review please.

Til next time!

XOXO - Onyx Obsidian