Warnings: None on this chapter.

CHAPTER THREE
Healing

~*~*~*~

-Through Comfort And Despair, the Wounds May At Last Find Peace-

Angela had already laid eyes on her best friend on four occasions since her return. She'd embraced her each time, and more than once. It was late now, and she was sure Brennan was back at her apartment, settling back in and desperately seeking a hot shower. However, the artist couldn't rest easy knowing that her friend was alone. And she hadn't seen her in such a long time; she missed her. Which was why she was perched outside her friend's apartment at that very moment.

Using her own key to permit entrance, Angela eased in quietly incase Brennan was already asleep. The poor girl was probably exhausted. Not to mention starved and craving that hot shower. Or warm bath. Angela decided to run her one just as soon as she spoke with the anthropologist. Despite her excrutiating time away from home, Angela doubted her workaholic best friend had changed much.

To her blinking surprise, the room was engulfed in shadows. Not one light provided visual aid for the artist to navigate any sort of course. Her fine brow knit together, a little concerned, when she then noticed the only illumination. There was a slim shaft of light emanating from Brennan's bedroom, creating a narrow line on the carpet several paces ahead.

Carefully, Angela made her way over to the room through the dark, not bothering to shed her coat or dispose her purse. Her curiosity was a funny thing, and it was more than piqued.

She paused at the door which sat ajar only a sliver, angling her ear. She heard no sound from within. All the more curious, she set her shoulders and pushed through gently, stepping in. The sight before her made her halt immediately, and her heart melted.

Both the FBI Agent and the forensic anthropologist resided on the bed, curled up to each other and fast asleep.

After her initial tender reaction, she noticed immediately that neither had changed, and neither appeared to have gotten that shower. Booth's face was cleaner, though, and Brennan appeared to have washed up a great deal as well. But yet it was not enough for the hawk-eyed Angela to miss the tear stains on her cheeks.

Booth lay on his back, slightly angled towards his companion, who rested halfways atop him. Her cheek was rested against his shoulder and her hand over his chest, fingers curled around the black fabric of his shirt. His arms were around her, shielding her sleeping form, but one of his large hands rested over her own. His nose and lips were pressed lightly against the crown of her head; their steady breathing was nearly silent in the soundless room.

Angela felt a pleasant sting behind her eyes and cursed herself. She should have known better—of course Booth would never leave her alone. Especially not now, when they needed each other most.

They both lay on top of the covers, and Angela had noticed the chill in the apartment upon her entry. She stepped out of the room for a moment, returning a few seconds later with a warm throw. She moved over to the bed, and gently draped the blanket over the partners. Neither stirred a muscle.

Angela smiled softly. She had never really known a hero—in its truest form. Now, she was in the presence of two. It was more—it held so much more meaning when the heroes were only real men and women, with no super powers and everything to lose.

She watched them for just a little longer before she pulled the door closed quietly behind her. Finally removing her coat, she then settled comfortably onto the sofa, ready for some shut-eye herself. Three years of fatigue and endless endeavor added up quickly. Three years of playing Matchmaker for the Royal Masters of Denial.

Everything would come together on its own. Eventually, everything did. A lot would change—things would be different. But only the things that mattered. Hope was on the horizon. A contented sigh passed slowly across the artist's lips, and she savored it.

She wouldn't be there when they awoke tomorrow. She would let them wake together.

She knew their bond would only be stronger now. They didn't need her anymore to give them that nudge in the right direction. They would make it on their own, just fine.

Angela smiled, her eyes closing serenely. She had created a beautiful masterpiece, with the aid of Chance and Fate. The two weary souls in the other room had finally sealed the signature.

Through all the tears, laughter, and beautiful agony, a miracle was finally born.

The healing began with the rising sun.