Booth whistled as he climbed the stairs to Bones' apartment. He'd been taking care of Parker for the weekend, and as much as he loved his son, he'd been in severe Temperance-withdrawal... as he walked along the hallway to her door he considered the irony at the lack of temperance he was able to show with regards to Temperance – the word, of course, meaning along the lines of 'to moderate your intake'.
He had no intentions of moderating his intake of Bones.
As he knocked on her door, all the mirth drained from his face and his hand strayed suspiciously to his belt where it hovered over his gun.
He watched the door swing away, half a hinge all that was holding it up. He almost yelled out as he saw the state of her home.
Her place was upturned – like someone had picked it up, turned it upside down, and righted it again.
A couch was overturned, chairs askew and on their sides, and he really did pull out his gun angrily as he saw a small blotch of blood on the floor in her kitchen. He crept towards it, listening for any stray sounds in her apartment, and noticed in horror that above the small splash, her bench and counter were smeared with blood. The streak stopped abruptly about halfway down, and menacing drips had sunk further from that point.
Almost like she was stabbed or shot, fell a bit, then someone caught her and took her away, he thought instantly, cursing himself for having a military trained mind.
He analytically observed the scene, his anger threatening to overflow, and he turned worriedly, looking for any other blood spots that could lead to her location.
He immediately noted a path of destruction, like she'd been violently dragged towards... the bathroom. Blood had dried into her carpet in droplets, marking an unmistakable trail.
He loaded his weapon and padded towards the large bathroom, eyes flicking around.
Preparing to unceremoniously kick the door in, he paused as he heard the small sounds of splashing coming from inside. Turning the knob in complete silence, he pushed the door open a few millimetres and looked in.
A tall man was at the sink, washing his hands. The water was red as it swirled down the drain, and Booth's eyes widened as he noticed a small, bloodied hand hanging over the side of the bathtub, which was drawn with a plastic curtain.
A red haze crept over his vision, and he yelled out, smashing the door open so hard it bounced against the tiled wall, smashing a few said tiles. He cocked his gun, relishing the fear on the attacker's face as he span around from the sink.
"Here's your warning, you damn son of a bitch," growled Booth, shaking. "I'm going to FUCKING shoot you."
He fired off several shots into the man's shins, watching in satisfaction as the guy cried out and slipped in the splatters of blood. He made sure to kick the man viciously as he ran past.
Ripping the curtain violently from its hangers, he reeled back with shock as he saw his Bones lying unconscious in the tub.
"Oh my God... Bones...."
Her hair was matted; her clothes wrinkled and obviously put back onto her in a hurry, and she was soaked in her own blood. He almost cried as he saw the jagged knife wound; all the way through her side, and he noticed bruises beginning to blossom, spiderwebbing up her arms and neck. His fury mounted.
His unconscious partner / best friend was almost dead, and even as he turned and saw her assailant bleeding out, he simply called a single med unit to the apartment.
"Let the prick die," he snapped to himself furiously, crouching beside his partner but daring not to move her in case he hurt her further.
It was pretty obvious what had happened, so they didn't need the nameless attacker for any investigation, and Booth didn't really mind if the guy died slowly and painfully.
He noted with some satisfaction that there were two deep scratches on the man's face and he also sported some impressive bruises and blemishes on his forearms and face. Bones had fought back, but a big strong guy with a knife and apparently good reflexes would have been too much for an unsuspecting Brennan....
"Agent Booth," called out the head medic from the hallway.
"In here," he yelled back. His voice was steady, but he felt his raw emotions beginning to surface. So far it'd been action; reaction... fight and figure things out. But now, as he looked tenderly down at his partner, and stroked under her jaw to find a weak and stuttering pulse, his anger and hatred were slowly overpowered by fear and despair.
He stood up and turned as the meds streamed in, all five of them instantly seeing the man on the floor and bending to attend to him.
"Not him!" barked Booth furiously. "Her!" He pointed commandingly at the bath, and the frightened medics jumped and hastened to attend to her. There were a few muted gasps and the head med started calling out statistics and injuries to his people. One medic stepped away and bent to the injured man, despite Booth's grumblings.
As the men attending to Brennan began to sound more desperate, radioing the hospital to secure an immediate operation, Booth stepped away abruptly, not wanting to hear what Bones was suffering with.
It all came crashing down on him – his partner. Bones, the one he fantasized about holding and kissing, about waking up to in the morning. She'd been attacked – violently. Attacked. Bones. Attacked. It just didn't gel, and the fact that she was laying there, all emotion and life drained from her along with the blood in her body; and the knowledge that it was a very real possibility that she was going to die... he babbled frantically in his mind, and it all made him afraid – so very afraid.