So this is pretty heart-wrenching. It was hard for me to write it. Brought back all the early seasons feels.

If there is something medically incorrect, please let me know and I'll fix it, I am not an expert on the subject.

Written in Brennan's POV, which I hope works, because I almost always write in the third person.

Reviews are beautifully welcome!

Disclaimer: If I ever get a 3D printer I'll print myself a Booth and a Brennan and these won't be needed anymore.


"Booth, you're going to be fine."

Red.

"I'm here. Come on, you can do this."

So much red.

"You're gonna be fine, you're gonna make this."

I shake him. He stares up at me, wide eyed.

"Come on, come on, Booth"

The blood seeps through my fingers. I press my hands harder to his chest. This just makes the blood flow increase. Now it is pooling around us.

"Come on, you're gonna make this. Come on you can do this come on Booth it's gonna be fine come on come on Booth no come on come on come on."

His eyes close.

"No! Booth! Stay with me! Booth!" I scream, shaking him. My hands are covered in his blood. His eyes don't open. Now Cam and Hodgins are pulling me back. I kick and claw at them, screaming at them that we need to do something, stop the blood flow.

So much red.

They drag me away and hand me over to Zach and Angela. Hodgins takes my place over Booth's body, pressing his palms against his chest. Just like I did.

Why can't I do this?

He's my partner. I need to be the one saving him.

Angela hugs me hard to her. She's crying. So am I, I just noticed.

The Paramedics are already here, quickly hoisting Booth up into the gurney and rushing out.

Silence.

Only the six of us in the bar.

Zach and Sweets stand there, stunned. Angela is still crying on my shoulder. Hodgins goes over to Angie and replaces my shoulder with his. Cam runs after the Paramedics and insists that she goes with them. An argument is ensued. Cam wins. I can see her getting into the ambulance and it driving off.

All of this happened in less than ten minutes.

How did we get from singing and laughing and clapping to this in less than ten minutes?

Only now do I realize that everyone is assuming that Booth is dead.

"Guys, we need to go to the hospital." I say.

"Dr. B." Hodgins says soflty.

"No! We need to get to the hospital and talk to Cam and the doctors. He's going to be fine."

"Dr. Brennan." Hodgins says my name again, this time a bit louder. Why is he saying my name again? Is he trying to hint something?

"No! No! Come on, let's go! He could still be alive. He's still alive!"

"Dr. Brennan." This time it's Zach. "Look at the blood on the floor. That's at least 2.3 liters. There is a very slim chance that Agent Booth-"

"Zach!" Angie says sharply. He stops mid-sentence.

"We're going to the hospital." I declare, jutting out my chin. I step outside the bar and head towards the car. They all follow me, defeated.

We're going to the hospital.

"Brennan!" Hodgins yells after me. I turn to face him. In the dark I can see only the dark stains of Booth's blood on his clothing. Booth's blood. The blood that should be in his body, circling in his system. Making his lungs inflate and deflate, bringing in oxygen for his brain. Making his kidneys filter the waste, his liver remove toxins, his stomach digest his food.

Make his heart beat.

"I'm going to the hospital. You can either come with me or stay here, I don't care, but you can't stop me. If you try I will break your leg and you will have to go to the hospital anyway, and I won't be the one sending you flowers." I say.

Angela, Zach, and Sweets stand behind him. They know it's best not to interfere. Hodgins sighs.

"I'm driving." He says.

We all pile into my car and drive over to the hospital, bringing on the longest night of my life.


The last few hours were long and exhausting and terrifying.

When we got to the hospital, Sweets (who hasn't said anything the whole ride) went up to the front desk and asked about Booth. Half-an hour later a doctor with dark blue scrubs and a face that looked like it belonged to a dog came up to where we were sitting and explained Booth's condition. Cam was in surgery with them. He's lost a lot of blood, but they're doing everything they can to repair the tear in his heart.

Then we sat around for another hour. Everyone else brought up Booth memories as if he was already dead. I took no participation in this, finding it upsetting and unnecessary. After going to the bathroom to get cleaned up (messy hair, messy clothes, messy everything. I washed the blood off my hands but some of it was stuck under my fingernails. Nothing I could do about that) I sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the lobby and listened to the other's conversation.

At some point Hodgins went to get coffees and sandwiches for everyone. I drank the coffee but didn't touch my egg-salad sandwich. I had no appetite. Angela offered to drive me home so that I could take a shower and get changed (even though it was my car) but I refused to leave. So she took my keys and drove over to my apartment to get me a spare change of clothes, returning half an hour later with a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt and a jacket. I changed in the bathroom, throwing my blood-soaked clothes in the trash. There was no way I could wear them after tonight.

I spent the next hour curled up in my chair in the corner and drifting in and out of a light sleep filled with nightmares.

Two and a half hours after the dog-faced doctor talked to us, Cam walked out. She looked very tired, her eyes red. She explained that Booth is not getting any better. They were able to find the tear but were having a hard time closing it since it was in a difficult place to get to. At that point the surgeon told Cam that she wasn't needed anymore, basically throwing her out of the OR, so she joined us.

I knew that Cam was Booth's oldest friend. This was probably much harder for her than it was for me. Still, I kept thinking about what would happened if Booth would die. So many things unsaid.

I remembered those long hours with Hodgins in the buried car. I kept thinking how if I didn't get out of there, Booth would never know how much I loved him.

In a professional, friendly way, of course. Which was why I wrote that letter.

And how wonderful it was to open my eyes and brush away the sand and dust and see his face smiling down at me.

I remembered sitting with him at the diner, talking and bickering over nothing and everything for hours on end, even though we had much better things to do.

I remembered how concerned he was in that case in New Orleans that went wrong. How he tipped my head with his finger on my chin and inspected me, looking for any other bruises.

I remembered all those nights at my apartment after a successful case, eating take-out and drinking beer and listening to him whine about how I should get a television already.

I remembered all those times where I would look at him only to find he was already looking at me, and then quickly averting his eyes as if he was just caught doing something wrong.

I remembered the times when I was upset about my father or Russ or just about a case, how he would know how to say the exact right thing, or when a hug was all that was needed.

I remembered how safe I felt in his arms.

All that was two hours ago. Now the dog-faced doctor walks towards us. He keeps his head down, avoiding eye-contact. He's frowning, which makes him look even more canine. He stops in front of us. Takes off his glasses, wiping them with his coat. Even before he opens his mouth I know what is coming.

"I'm so very sorry to inform you that Agent Booth- well, the damage was too extent. We did everything that we-"

"What do you mean?" I ask, cutting him off mid-sentence. I want him to say it.

"Brennan." Angela says softly. So many people are saying my name for no reason today.

"What? I want him to say it." I need him to say it. To be absolutely sure. I'm not willing to accept this. Unless this doctor, who I'm sure is qualified for his job but no more than that, tells me straight out exactly what he means.

The doctor shifts his feet, clearly uncomfortable. He clears his throat, puts his glasses back on.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth is dead." He says. Clears his throat again.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." He walks away.

Dead

The words echo in my head.

Agent Booth is dead

Without a word, I stand up and walk out of the hospital lobby. Someone calls out after me. I don't turn around. The cold air outside hits me like a brick wall.

Dead

I start running, I don't know where. I just run. Run and run and run until I can't run anymore, until my chest and throat hurt and I'm gasping for air, which burns in my lungs. I stop where I am. Hot tears in my eyes, on my cheeks, down my shirt. People are coming up to me, asking if I'm okay, if I need to call someone.

I'm not okay.

I'll never be okay.

Booth is dead.