Title: Nightmare Realm

Plot: Brennan is deeply affected by the events of her last case with Booth. Will this alter her working relationship with him or end their partnership?

Rating: PG-15..My own rating to keep the kiddies away.

Disclaimer: I own them! I own them runs from the Feds Just playing...

Notes: Yesh, you knew it was coming. Ta-da! Sequel time. I think it would help if you read Goodbye For Now, my previous fic. But I will throw in some background in this story, so you will prolly be okay. Thanks to the people who read my stuff last time. Your comments make it all worthwhile. Te amo!

Chapter 1

Temperance Brennan Residence

3:26 am

She could see it, the way the street lamps caught the silver of the gun and made it shine in the moonlight. Sounds were hard to make out. Was that Booth screaming? Yes, it had to be. Her own mouth was as dry as cotton, incapable of speaking. Her legs seemed to fail her, even as she desperatly tried to back peddle to the blazer. No, no this can't be happening, she thought to herself.Move Brennan, move! Had the world slowed down? It couldn't have. Everything seemed to distort and not move. Air was trapped in her lungs and she couldn't breathe.

Damn you Brennan. No, she had never even heard the round empty out of the chamber. The only thing she could feel was the searing pain in her chest. Her eyes began to blur, but not before running a hand under her breast, holding it out to see crimson wetness. It was hard to stand, the pain growing greater with each second. Strength drained from her and her right knee hit the pavement along with her left hand. The other hand stayed covering the hole. Before long, even kneeling had become a task. She had succumbed to the pain and layed back on thr ground.

She couldn't see Booth anymore. Where was he? Trying to gather herself, she sat up. Rolph walked up, smiling eerily at her. He waved it around, taunting her and laughing. Finally, anger twisted his face and he brought the gun to her head.

"Bye bye Temperance," he spat. His finger squeezed the trigger and the gunshot lit up the sound waves of the air, hitting her ears. Everything went pitch black.

Temperance Brennan jolted up in her bed, gasping for air and clutching at her heart. It felt as if it might jump out of her chest. Sweat beaded her forehead and clung to the strands of brown hair. She had risen at a funny angle, sending a dull pain through her, all the way to her shoulder. Raising up her grey tanktop, she peeled back the bandage over her wound. As she ran her fingers over it, she winced it pain.

It had been two weeks since she had left the hospital. It still hurt to move and she had little energy. Staying at home unnerved her however, and she had assured Goodman that she was well enough to return to her duties. Besides, this was the longest she had ever been home.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she got up and went into the bathroom. Reaching into her sinktop cabinet, she withdrew medical supplies to rebandage the wound. After a few moments, the job was complete and she let her top back down to cover herself. He feet left the cold tile of the bathroom and padded across the carpet from the living room to kitchen.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she turned on the sink and filled it with tap water. The water cooled her burning skin with its touch. A dog barked somewhere off in the distance, and she let her eyes scan the area as she looked outside her kitchen window. The street lights lot most of the surrounding houses, but with the moonlight absent from tonight, Brennan felt a cold chill still run down her spine, along with more uneasiness.

Somewhere, out there in the darkness, he was sitting and thinking of her. Of what he had down to those poor other women and to herself. At least she had been able to narrowly escape death and come out on the better end. That rat bastard. Where the hell was he?

Booth had assured her over and over that he would catch him, not rest an ounce until he was behind bars. That was two weeks ago, and no one had seen any trace of her attempted murderer. Every night since she had come home from the hospital had been a utter nightmare. She kept having dreams of him, smiling and arrogant over what he had done. He managed to find her in her illusions, no matter what. She didn't want to be at home, but there was really no where else to go.

Putting the glass back in the sink, she let her palms rest on the marble finishing around the sink. Leaning over, she looked around the yard once more, then glanced heavenward to search for a moon that she knew wasn't there. But she was also searching for something else. For comfort, for solace, for saftey, for him.

"Where are you Rolph? Where are you hiding," she whispered in the darkness.