The night is still. A darkness that only comes with a new moon. Everything is quiet. It's as if the air is waiting for the chaos that is about to ensue. For the lives that are about to be changed by one single event.

In the early evening hours of this night a man lies on the floor of his apartment. He's collapsed. His wrists have been cut. His body is full of drugs.

The sound of a gun shot rings clear and true out into the air.

***

Three Days Earlier

"She was mad that her husband and his girlfriend received custody of the child, so she killed him?" Brennan was sitting at a bar with Booth by her side. She'd no more posed the question before taking a sip from a bottle of beer in front of her.

"Exactly. Classic case of a domestic. I'm just glad it's over."

"What's going to happen to that child now? His father's dead. His mother is going to jail."

"Child Services will step in."

Irritated, Brennan shook her head. "People make irrational decisions."

She paused, waiting for Booth to say something in argument just as he always did. If she was the brains then he was the heart. No one else in her life could make her see things the way he did. It was a talent, one she was grateful he had.

This time he was quiet. He simply took a swig of his own beer and stared straight ahead at the wall.

The two were partners who worked for the FBI. He was an agent. She a forensic anthropologist. For years they had been working cases together. Only that day had they finished their latest involving the remains of a man found at the bottom of a lake by a scuba diver.

"Booth?"

"Hmmm?"

She finished her beer and ordered another one. "Don't you think people make foolish decisions?" Why hadn't he fought with her? In a way she wanted him to.

"Sure," he replied absent mindedly. His thoughts suddenly seemed to be turned elsewhere.

Brennan frowned. Booth had been distant for a few days. There was no rhyme or reason to it. In the middle of their case his demeanor had just changed without cause, as far as she could tell. Something was bothering him. Whatever it was, he hadn't said a word about it. She hadn't pressed him. Yet. In time if he didn't improve then somehow she'd get him to talk to her. She always could. Besides being partners they were best friends.

Before she could say anything else their other friends arrived. It had become a tradition after a case for Brennan's team at the Jeffersonian to meet the two for a night of celebration. Celebrating the end of a case. Celebrating the answers to life lost. Putting it to rest.

The remainder of the evening was lost in a blurred reality. Brennan lost herself in the fun, drinking entirely too much. Every time she glanced at Booth his eyes were on the door, as though he was waiting for somebody. His body was on high alert. Clearly she could see the muscles in his arms taught underneath his shirt. Something was indeed very wrong. She made a mental note to speak with him privately later.

As the night came to a close Brennan and Booth were the only ones left in the bar. Brennan was inebriated and aware of it. She leaned against Booth, tilting her head to look into his eyes. "Booth, I think I have a high level of ethyl alcohol in my bloodstream."

"You're drunk," he chuckled. Rising to his feet, he helped her off her bar stool. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

She was sound asleep in the passenger seat by the time Booth pulled into her driveway. He turned off the ignition. A moment passed while he sat just watching her sleep. Dozens of thoughts raced like lightning through his mind. At last he put them to rest. Tenderly he woke her to take her inside.

Later, she would swear as she was coming to she heard him whisper, "I'm sorry." Of course at the time she was in no shape to really fully comprehend what he'd said. She let him lead her inside and into her bedroom where he laid her down in bed.

"You don't have to leave," she slurred tiredly as he pulled her blankets up over her.

Booth knew she didn't mean what she was saying. It was just drunken jabber. "I can't. I'll see you in a few days, all right?"

"A few days?" She repeated, sitting up. "Where are you going?"

"Special assignment."

"Without me?"

"Just this once." He smiled, but it was forced. On the edge of her bed he sat down. Delicately he guided her back down onto her large fluffy pillows.

Given his behavior she would have preferred he stayed near by. But she let him go. Tired. All of a sudden she was so tired. "Not without me," she murmured as her eyes drifted closed.

Booth smiled truly now. Very gently he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Goodnight, Bones."

***

If she had known what was to happen, maybe she would have said something else. Something more meaningful. Maybe she would have insisted he stay the night. Maybe she would have even pulled him into her bed besides her. But of course she had no way of predicting the future. Brennan had no idea of the events that were to take place in a matter of days. She had no idea she was losing him.

It all seemed routine. Without a current case Brennan had no reason to speak with him while he was away. That didn't stop her. Every day she made excuses for reasons to call him. Booth probably had caught on to her game. He was always happy to talk to her. One topic he wouldn't discuss however was the case he was on. Anytime she asked him he remained vague. It only further extended her curiosity. What was he up to?

Then out of the blue the communication stopped. Booth stopped answering his phone. Eventually it didn't ring, instead just going straight to his voice mail. The battery had gone dead. Brennan began leaving him message after worried message. It was when his mail box filled that she kicked herself into action. Something was very wrong.

Whilst in her office in the lab she began making phone calls. Her first call was to the bureau. She called the assistant director he reported to. "It's Doctor Brennan. Are you able to tell me what special assignment Agent Booth was on?"

"Special assignment?" He echoed. "Doctor, Agent Booth took a leave of absence."

Brennan's heart hammered in her chest. She thanked him and hung up. Booth had lied to her. He never lied. Not to her. What was going on? First his peculiar behavior and now this?

Brennan stood up so fast that her chair flew out from underneath her. It collided with the wall. None of it made any sense to her. She had to find him. The sooner the better.

Luckily, since it was in the evening there was no one left in the lab to explain her actions to. She raced out into the parking lot to her car. There was little traffic as she sped to his apartment. The closer she got the more anxious she felt. By now she determined something had to seriously be wrong. But what? Her mind just couldn't wrap around it. Everything in her world consisted of order. Of ration. Booth wasn't that way. He'd never been. She was sure that was why she didn't understand his actions.

On the street she found a parking spot. Her car was no more in park when she jumped out and hurried to the front door. Rain was beginning to fall from the sky. A bright bolt of lightning illuminated the entrance into the lobby.

Brennan was breathing heavily by the time she reached his front door. She pounded as hard as she could on it. "Booth!" She yelled through the hard wood. Again she went to knock when the door unexpectedly crept open all by itself. Uncertainly she took a step back. Why would his door not be latched? Before stepping in she did her best to control her emotions. If only she'd brought her gun!

Deeply she exhaled as she moved across the threshold. "Booth?" Again she bellowed. Her gait was light. Cautious. In the living room what she saw nearly brought her to her knees. There on the floor lay Booth in an significant puddle of blood. Blood covered his wrists. More was oozing from a cut across his forehead. His gun laid haphazardly near his right hand. The man was completely motionless.

"Booth?!" Down onto the floor she fell besides him. Along his neck she felt for a pulse. The beat was weak. The pale skin beneath her fingers was cooling. Tears already were forming in her eyes. Using as much as a clear head she could muster, she dialed for paramedics.

Once she hung up she put her phone down onto the floor next to her. Carefully she wrapped her hands around his wrists, applying pressure in an attempt to deter some of the bleeding. Tears fell from her eyes as she kept a close eye on his chest. His breathing was sporadic; slow. Numerous seconds would pass before he'd take another breath. Booth was just barely holding on.

Paramedics came, did what they could, and transported him to the hospital. Brennan never left Booth's side. In the ambulance she clung to his hand as though it were a life line. More tears fell when she noticed how ashen his color was becoming.

In the emergency room she was forced to be separated from him. Outside the doors leading inside she stood, feeling lost. Finally she turned towards the waiting room. Numbly she was about to take a seat when she became conscious that others were gaping at her. There for the first time she saw she was covered in blood. His blood. It had rubbed onto her clothes. Her hands were covered. Quickly she excused herself into a nearby bathroom.

Behind her she locked the door. She turned the faucet on in the sink. Grabbing some paper towels, she first attempted to dab at her shirt and pants. For the most part all she did was smear the red stain. No matter. Brennan could call Angela and have her friend bring her a fresh outfit. But then she would have to explain the situation. That she was not looking forward to.

Next she washed her hands under the warm soapy water. While reaching for paper towels she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Under the dim fluorescent lights she appeared as though she had aged ten years. Her own image brought a sudden wave of unanticipated emotions. Booth had been on the floor dying. His pulse had been fading underneath her fingertips while she'd gripped his wrists. If she'd been any later she most likely would have found him dead. And even with the safety of the hospital she doubted his fight was far from over.

A sob rose from her belly, surprising her. The next one pushed her against the wall, bringing her slowly down into a kneeling position on the floor. Just what had happened to Booth?