"Well, Jester," I drawled, putting emphasis on his name. "I don't know how well you know my Booth, but he's not someone you can just talk about behind his back and expect me not to respond negatively."

The man grinned. "I didn't say it in a negative way. Semper Fi," he pointed at his shoulder.

My eyes went to the Marine Corps tattoo on his shoulder, one that just barely poked out from underneath the blue uniform top he was wearing, and rolled my eyes.

"He is what he is," I shrugged. "Leave him alone and don't talk about him."

The man crossed his heart. "I won't."

I poked at the antler one last time, grimacing in pain, and then turned my eyes forward as the ambulance pulled through the ambulance bay and stopped.

Booth pulled his bike right up onto the concrete behind the ambulance and got off, walking towards the back doors.

He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt...both snug and hugging his body like a second skin.

He had on gold Ray Ban aviator glasses, despite the near darkness, and stared at me as the doors opened to reveal me.

He didn't show a hint of discomfort at the huge antler that was sticking out of my body, only pulling me out without the help of either man on the ambulance with me.

"I'm not sure you're supposed to do their job," I told him dryly as his body got close enough to hear me.

"Don't give a fuck what they think," he said. "Only care that I can keep an eye on you."

I sighed.

"Do you think my Jeep's totaled?" I broached the subject.

"Totaled," Booth agreed.

"What about the deer?" I asked.

"What about him?" Booth countered.

"Did you take him to the dump or something?" I asked.

Booth shook his head.

"The game warden will come and take him," he expounded. "They like to keep a tally on the number of deer that get hit by automobiles."

That surprised me.

I hadn't realized that was what they did.

"What do they do with the deer, then?" I asked.

"They give it to the less fortunate," he said. "Someone who needs it."

That was nice, I guess.

A particularly bad bump in the concrete had me grimacing as I was pulled inside, and I gritted my teeth as Booth input a code into the panel beside the door.

Booth said something under his breath, and suddenly I was inside under the harsh lights of the ER.

"Booth!" I yelled when he disappeared from my sight.

Booth appeared in less than ten seconds with a haggard look on his face.

"What?" He asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Don't give me that attitude," I snapped at him. "I'm the one gored by a fuckin' deer, here."

He softened slightly.

"I was talking to the nurse that you're going to have," he explained.

I narrowed my eyes. "You'll start my IV if I have to have one."

"You'll have to have one," he agreed. "But I'm not doing it."

"Why not?" I challenged.

He rolled his eyes. "Because I don't work here, and there are protocols."

Five minutes later, Booth watched as the nurse that was trying to start an IV on me missed.

Again.

There'd been a reason that I asked him to start my IV.

My veins rolled.

And they blew.

Literally and figuratively.

They'd started in my hand on my left side. Then moved to the hand on my right.

Now they were on their fourth poke and their second nurse, and I was smiling.

Why, you ask, was I smiling?

Because I wanted to yell, 'I told you so!'

He didn't know this little tidbit about me.

I'd found it out during nursing school when Mia and I were practicing doing IV's on each other.

It took Mia forever to find a good vein, and it took her over five tries before she could actually get a successful IV.

That's why no one but her got to do them anymore.

Even when I had to go get my blood drawn for my insurance at work, I took her with me.

I watched as, once again, the nurse that'd been grabbed by my nurse got my IV.

However, after my nurse offered the suggestion to let the blood drip into the test tube that needed to be taken to the lab for testing instead of drawing blood like normal, Booth had had enough.

"Alright, bitches. Back the fuck off," he said.

My mouth dropped open, and the two women backed off hastily, letting my blood drip steadily on the ground from the IV catheter still connected to my arm.

He pulled a chair up, took a seat beside me, and then proceeded to finish the IV. Draw blood. And hook up the fluids that contained my antibiotics.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, but he caught it and narrowed his eyes at me.

"You could've just told me and saved yourself six pokes," he growled.

I shrugged. "I was mad at you."

He sighed and crossed his arms as he watched the doctor examine my belly.

The stupid antler was like a fuckin' exhibit for everyone in the God forsaken ER.

There'd been no less than fifteen people that were not supposed to be in my room, in my fucking room.

"Can't you just cut into my skin and pull it out that way?" I asked finally, annoyed that it was taking this long.

The doctor, a young man in his early thirties, looked up at me and shrugged.

"Yeah, I can," he stopped when a commotion from the other side of the room had us looking in the direction of the next curtain over.

"Do not, under any circumstances, use those scissors on my cut," a man all but bellowed.

The man's frightened nurse backed away, parting the curtain in between my portioned off room and his.

"Don't be fuckin' scared. I'm not trying to get you scared of me. I just don't want you to cut my cut!" The man growled. "Just help me get the motherfucker off."

We watched in stunned silence as the man's arm, which was hanging at an unnatural angle, flopped down to the side as he leaned forward and tugged off the leather vest he was wearing without the nurse's help.

Booth got up and went over to help while the doctor on my side of the curtain poked a needle into my skin without warning me first.

"Fuck!" I shouted, glaring at him.

The doctor didn't bother to look apologetic as he said, "Give that ten minutes and we'll get it out," he said, heading over to the other curtain.

He froze, though, when a woman that was being wheeled in fell off the bed she was laying on, hitting the floor with a hard smack as she convulsed on the floor.

The man on the bed, with the broken arm, flew out of his bed and ran to the woman, broken arm swinging in the wind like it didn't faze him at all.

"What the fuck, motherfucker?" Broken armed man yelled at the man that'd been pushing the woman into the room. "I fuckin' told you that you needed to watch her closely. She's been fuckin' seizing since I got home to her two hours ago!"

I watched the festivities as Booth helped get the woman back on her bed, then they put up the side rails that should've been up beforehand had they been warned of her seizing.

"You need to pad those rails," I offered to the nurse that put her on the other side of me.

The nurse gave me a look that clearly said, 'Fuck off.'

I, however, refrained from saying that she'd already been told that she was a seizure risk and closed my eyes, minding my own business.

"Ridley, man, chill the fuck out and sit the fuck down," Booth growled, making me open my eyes again and stare at the two men.

Booth had his hand planted firmly on the chest of the broken armed man.

I watched as the two spoke, Booth more softly than the other man, before he finally took a seat on his bed and stewed in relative silence, keeping his gaze on the young woman in bed on my other side.

I raised my eyes at Booth, and he looked at me and shook his head.

"Later," he said.

I nodded, then watched with a detached eye as the doctor came up to me, then immediately started cutting into my skin with a large scalpel.

"Well," I said ninety minutes later as we were on our way home. I looked down at my belly and the stitches. "That's going to leave a scar."

Booth snorted and pulled out into traffic, but instead of him heading for my house, he headed out of town.

"Where are we going?" I probed quietly, the pain meds they'd given me were making me tired.

But the moment I heard him say, "My place," I was wide awake.

"We're going to your place?" I sat up straighter.

He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "You can stay at my place this time. It'll be fun to have our roles reversed."

I snorted.

"You were high," I said. "I was gored by a deer. They're a little different."

He didn't reply, and I fell asleep waiting for him to say something else.

I only woke up long enough for him to lay me in the bed, then work my blood soaked shirt up and over my head.

I wasn't awake for the part where he put me into his shirt.

Nor was I aware that he stared at me while I slept for over two hours before he went to bed.

And not once did he let me go.