My latest piece of angst. I don't know what it is, but I adore writing angsty stories. And I hope you adore reading my angsty stories.

The fifteen seconds that it took were in slow motion. He'd yelled at her to get down. The gun was turned on him. They both froze, eyeing the gun with fear.

The trigger was pulled twice

She heard the shot ring out. The bullets travelled faster than the human eye could follow, but she could practically see them tear through the flesh of her partner's stomach. She watched as he dropped sluggishly to the floor, as though his body had suddenly become boneless.

She began to scream and ran at the man who had shot him.

"You bastard!" Brennan shrieked, grabbing him by the shirt and forcing him against the wall. She wanted to beat him within an inch of his life, but there was no time. She hit him once, twice, three times across the face. Blood began to flow freely from his nose, and she rejoiced in this. Using one hand, she forced him to drop the gun. Her other hand was used to choke him. He began to turn blue and fight for breath. "You bastard!" she yelled again, squeezing his larynx tighter.

"Please, don't kill me," he choked out. But he deserved it.

"Too late." Dropping him to the ground, Brennan spun to Booth. The sight before her stopped her breath.

He was sprawled on the floor, his own blood beginning to pool beneath him, creating a dark red puddle. His eyes were open, he face showing a decidedly dazed look.

"Seeley!" she was brought out of the paralysing fear for him after a moment of watching the horrific sight before her. She ran full tilt until she was dropping beside him, she clothes immediately becoming soaked in blood. "Oh god, Seeley. Don't do this to me. Don't you die on me!"

Ripping open his shirt, Brennan found that the blood was pouring out of a two large wounds on the right side of his stomach. The scientist in her infered that his stomach acids would slowly seep into his chest cavity, posioning him slowly and painfully from the inside. She was frozen for a moment, staring at the holes in his abdomen, ripping through his body, like a child would slash paper. His chest was marred by the disgusting crimson liquid and the skin was torn and gapping.

It took Brennan a moment to fully except that two little pieces of metal could destroy the life of a completely healthy man in seconds.

"Bones?" his voice was soft, weak. She was surprised to see that he was coherent. "What happened?"

"Shh, Booth. Relax. You're going to be fine." She removed her shirt and pressed it against the wound in his side. He groaned in pain.

"Was I ... was I shot?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"Yes," she took his hand and touched the side of his face. "Why weren't you wearing a Kevlar vest?"

"I don't make a habit of wearing one unless completely necessary. Like if a situation is possibly dangerous. A trip to the lab isn't considered so," he whispered the end. It was as though his all energy reserves were being depleted. "Am I going to die?" She felt herself go numb with those words. She prayed to a god that she didn't believe in and had ignored most of her life. She prayed that he wouldn't die.

"No, you're going to be fine." She could hear sirens in the distance. Someone must have alerted 911 when the gun shots had been fired.

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise," she said, tears welling in her eyes. Truth be told, she didn't know if he would last much longer. He was already deathly pale, and his breathing had become ragged. "Where's the freakin' paramedics?" she asked out loud.

Booth moved slightly and groaned. "Bones..."

"I know, Seeley," she stroked his hair, which was damp with sweat and blood. Minutes felt like hours as she sat with him, the shirt she held to the wound was soaked with blood. She watched as he grew steadily weaker, eyes glazing over with pain, and was unable to do anything to help. "You need medical attention, now."

Suddenly, he started to convulse, as the adrenaline started to wear off and the pain became more apparent.

"Seeley! Seeley! Stop!" She placed her hands on his torso, trying to stop his thrashing. "Stay with me, Seeley. You cannot die on me."

"It hurts, Temperance," he screamed, his body jerking from the pain.

"You have to stop!" Booth felt her hands try to pin him to the ground. "You'll only injure yourself more."

"It really hurts," he yelled, struggling against her. She felt tears start to fall freely as she watching him fighting desperately to get away.

"Lay still, Seeley. Moving will not help." Slowly, to her relief, he started to become motionless, as the shock wore off.

"Really hurts, Bones," he said again in a soft voice, shivering slightly.

"Tell me what hurts..."

"Everything," he whispered. "I'm so cold." Her heart broke. He wasn't going to last much longer.

"That's because you've lost a lot of blood. We're going to get you patched up, okay, Seeley? You are going to be alright. I promise," her voice was quiet. She hoped it would convince him. It didn't convince her.

"Okay." She could see the trust in his eyes. He believed her. He believed that she would save him.

Moments later he succumbed to the darkness and drifted off into unconsciousness. Sobbing, Brennan placed her arms around him, her hair becoming matted with his blood.

Minutes ... or maybe it was hours later ... she felt someone gently pulling her away.

"Shh, it's okay," said a voice she didn't recognise. "Come with me. It's going to be okay." Hands started to pull her away. Away from her partner and best friend.

"No! I can't leave him! Let me go!" she screamed, fighting against the paramedic. "He's hurt. I have to ... I have to be ... I can't leave him!"

"I understand, but..."

"NO! You don't. Let me go!" she fought desperately against the person, twisting out of their grip. She started towards to gurney Booth was being loaded on, until she was firmly grasped by someone.

"Bren! Sweetie, please!" Angela. "Calm down!"

"Ange?" she turned to see her best friend.

"I joust got here, Bren. Don't worry, the paramedics will look after him, I promise," Angela said, taking Brennan into her arms. Covered in blood, sobbing, the anthropologist hugged her back.

"I can't ... I can't, Ange," she whispered. "I can't go on if he doesn't make it."

"He'll pull through," she replied. "He wouldn't leave you."

"I need 15 milligrams of morphine, stat."

"20 heart beats per minute!"

"Get some blood, now!"

"We've lost the pulse!"

One shot? Or do you think should I continue?