I was twenty four years old and visiting my mother back in England when I got the call. Six years before, I'd been at college and I met Vincent. We fell in love in a matter of six weeks. So,when he moved to be an intern, I transferred schools and I moved to America. Vincent is English too, so he was easy to relate to. And I really loved him.

I was in my mother's living room, three days after I'd arrived, when my phone rang.

"Am I speaking to Amelie Adams?" a female voice asked. She sounded distressed.

"Yes, this is her."

"I called Mrs. Harriet Nigel-Murray and she asked me to tell you for her."

"What's going on?" I asked, starting to get worried.

"I'm Dr. Camille Saroyan, I work with Vincent at the Jeffersonian and he was shot this morning." My phone fell out of my hand.

"Ame?" Mum asked. "What's wrong?" I didn't answer so she picked up my phone. I ran up to my room, zipped my suitcase, and ran back downstairs.

"She's on her way." Mum handed me my phone, told me she'd send my other belongings to me, and kissed my cheek. I ran out the door, finally gathering the courage to talk to Camille again.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Saroyan."

"It's all right, Ms. Adams. I imagine it's a shock for you. Now, the FBI is going to pay for your emergency flight home, since it's their case he was working on at the time. Just call me if they give you any trouble in getting your flight. It's already booked."

I was traumatized the entire nine hour flight back to Washington D.C. Only three words kept running through my mind. Is he dead?

As soon as my plane landed, I saw the FBI agents who were supposed to pick me up. I left my luggage in their car as I ran into the hospital.

A group of a dozen or so sat in the waiting rooms. I ran in, tears streaking my face, hair tangled, and in my pajamas.

"Are you Amelie?" a woman asked. Her dark hair was almost black. I nodded, tears freely slipping from my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Adams. I'm Camille Saroyan. We spoke on the phone."

"How is he?" was all I could say.

"In surgery," another woman piped up.

"Still? He was in surgery when Dr. Saroyan called nine hours ago."

"He was in the ICU, but he started bleeding again, so they took him back into surgery." The tears fell faster.

"Bones, be sensitive," a dark haired man reprimanded. "I'm Agent Booth by the way."

"It's okay. I'm glad she's honest. You must be Dr. Brennan." She nodded.

"Vincent was so glad you selected him to help you. I've never seen him so excited."

"What exactly was your relationship to him?" A third woman asked. She was eight or nine months pregnant. "I'm Angela. This is Hodgins, my husband."

"We're married," I said quietly.

"Then why is your name Adams?"

"We've only been married for two months. We had to go back to England to change it. That's why I was over there. That and to visit our mothers. Vincent had to stay here and work. I changed it yesterday. So, I guess I'm Amelie Nigel-Murray now."

"Would you like to tell us your story?" Angela asked.

"Can you tell me what happened first?" Booth started to speak. He told me all about Jacob Broadsky and what he did to my husband. He told me that he was going out to catch him tomorrow. I wished him good luck and then decided to tell them our story.

"I was eighteen when I met Vince. We were both at Leeds University, studying to get our baccalaureate degrees . I was there for French, he was there for anthropology. We met in a coffee bar. He was playing music. I was amazed. I've always wished I could play an instrument."

"What did you say to him?"

"I said, 'You play guitar? I'm jealous?' And he responded with one of those little random facts. 'Some male spiders are known to pluck their webs like a guitar to attract the females.'"

"Did he tell you facts often?" I smiled, for the first time since getting the news, but it was weak.

"All the time. My favorite was when he met my father. On the way there, he was really nervous. He said, 'It's not uncommon for a woman's lover to fear her male parent.' God, I love him. That's the one way you can guarantee to always calm him down. Spout off some random fact."

"How did you end up here?"

"Once we'd graduated, Vincent wanted to study under Dr. Brennan. I thought it was a great opportunity and I was so in love that I came with him. I started grad school and he began his internship. That was two years ago. I'm almost halfway done with my PhD."

"Excuse me, but Mr. Nigel-Murray is out of surgery." I ran up to the Doctor.

"How is he?"

"I'm afraid he's slipped into a coma. He may wake up, he may not." I slid down to the floor in tears.

"Can I see him?" I said weakly.

"What is your relationship? I'm afraid only family is allowed in at this point." I stood up, regaining my strength, and faced the doctor.

"I'm his wife and the only family he has in this damn country."

"My apologies, Mrs. Nigel-Murray. You may go in now." I walked into the room, even though I was terrified to go in.

Vincent was so pale. It broke my heart to see him lying there, so still.

"Vince, wake up," I said, clutching his hand. "I need you." The tears slipped out and I cried myself to sleep in the chair, refusing to let go of my husband's hand.