Author's note: So my trip got cancelled thanks to bad weather. Oh well... (shrugs) Randomness of life, I guess. Anyway, here's the third chapter. The big question a lot of you are pondering about---will I kill off Sully?---will be answered in this chapter. It's slightly more dramatic than the last one. I wonder if I've gone over board...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also thanks to Addictt for being my guinea pig, M for looking over my grammar and Amasayda for the medical mumbo jumbo.


Chapter Three - I'd Give My Heart

Wednesday May 30th 2007 -- 02:48 p.m.

She rested her bottle of water on her thigh, locking her stare on an unknown point in the distance. Brennan watched cars pull up at the rest stop and saw them leave again a couple of minutes later. Mothers came out of the market, loaded with drinks and snacks for their husbands and children waiting in the car. There were one or two groups of teenagers who exited the store with cans of beer, probably bought with fake IDs.

Content studying the steady stream of people, she didn't notice the anxiety playing over Booth's face. His bottle, already finished to the last drop, was rested next to him on the Harley. His hands flew from his thighs to the edge of the saddle where his fingers began a fast tapping. The crease in his forehead deepened and his gaze flicked between his partner and the people crowding the parking lot before he crossed his ankles and let out a deep sigh.

When Brennan was finished with her drink, he immediately sprung into action, glad to do something instead of just standing around. Whenever Booth didn't feel comfortable, he began to fidget. He needed an outlet for the pent up energy his emotions burdened him with. Taking the empty bottle from her hands, he pushed himself away from the motorcycle and crossed the parking lot to reach the trashcan. All the while, he kept an eye on their surroundings. After what had happened, it had become second nature to check and double-check every square inch. He'd turn every stone to see if some twisted mind was hiding underneath it if it wasn't for Brennan keeping an eye on his behaviour. He didn't want her to worry any more than she already did. She needed to sort out her own nightmares. She didn't need his on top of hers.

Brennan turned her attention from the happy families going about their everyday lives to her travel companion, who was pacing a couple of yards to her left. She didn't attempt to calm him. In the last few weeks she had come to understand that it was his way of dealing with whatever was bothering him. He'd cease the nervous movements when his mind quelled his anxious thoughts. After a while, he seemed to slow down. Brennan assumed all his pacing around had calmed him down. Booth halted for a second to study the anthropologist, who was still leaning against the motorcycle. He started towards her, his gaze darkening with every step he took in her direction. It was as dark as the night by the time he reached her.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said, shoving his hands down his pockets and surprising her with his statement at the same time.

---°---

Thursday April 26th 2007 -- 10:58 a.m.

"Bones, what are you imply-" He was stopped short by the sound of footsteps, closely followed by something that made his blood run cold---the soft click of a hammer being pulled back.

Following the sickening click, a loud bang echoed through the living room. The warning shot had barely buzzed the table when Sully leapt to his feet, gun ready to fire and his phone crashing to the floor.

"Sully, no! Don't!" Booth's shout was drowned out by the loud retorts of their attacker's gun being emptied on the threesome. Sully's first reaction was heading for Brennan to protect her, but he changed plans when Booth yelled, "Hide. I've got her!"

Sully lunged to the right behind a nearby armchair to protect himself. However, Brennan and Booth were still in plain sight, providing the murderer the perfect opportunity for some target practice. Booth pulled his gun while dragging Brennan towards him by her good arm trying to keep her safe. He turned in the direction the shots had come from waiting for the shooter's muzzle flash to reveal his position, keeping Brennan behind him as he moved towards potential cover. He heard the shooter load another clip and let his military experience guide him as he raised his gun and fired. Blood spattered all over the old television set dating from the early 70's behind the killer right before Booth's bullet split the screen in dozens of pieces. Though the shooter was bleeding profusely, it didn't stop him from opening fire again. Booth locked onto the muzzle flash and fired a second round. A second later the man's fate was sealed with a clean shot between his eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground, but the shots he had fired were flying at a merciless speed towards the targets he had aimed for, destroying everything they came across.

Warmth grazing his thigh and side sent a flash of pain through Booth's body. His cry matched Brennan's when a red hot explosion seared his skin. The ten seconds Booth had needed to wound and kill their enemy seemed to last an eternity as he finally ducked behind the large cupboard they'd been heading for. Together with Brennan he roughly bumped into the wall. The blow momentarily stunned him and intensified the pain he was already suffering from. His shoulder felt like it was on fire. Cracking one eye open through the blinding pain, he roughly tucked his gun in his holster. "Bones?" he tentatively tried, reaching out to touch her.

"Booth," her whimper came. The helpless breathless tone of her words made him forget all about his aching body. She slowly slid down the wall, her good hand cradling her left side. His breath hitching in his throat, he ignored the stabs in his leg as he knelt down. He gently pushed her hand away to see what was causing her such anguish. Moments later a loud curse rang through the room. Right at the bottom part of her ribcage near the long slash over her stomach was a hole the size of a penny gaping at him.

Sully appeared from behind the armchair. The closer he came to the pair, the more color drained from his face. It had been one thing to see Brennan being stabbed. Now that she'd been shot as well, everything around him seemed to spin out of control. Their surroundings, all the blood, Brennan's injuries...They all reminded him of the tragic event where he had lost his partner. The memories made him queasy, so he turned away from her, instead opting to check if the shooter was really dead.

Brennan moaned and brought her hand back up to touch the small river of blood running out of her body and over her stomach, where it mixed with the fresh blood seeping out of the knife wound. It slowly dripped down her side, onto the carpet. Her eyes rolled back when Booth swatted her hands away again so he could apply pressure on the gaping wound to stop it from bleeding. Pain beyond words exploded through her midriff, knocking all the air out of her lungs.

"Bones," Booth warned her. "Don't panic." It was to no avail. A spasm shook her body, her fingers cramped up and her head rolled to the side. Pain---there was just too much pain. She couldn't shake it off. "Damn it, breathe," her partner begged. "Don't go into shock, Bones. You need to breathe."

And then the pain was gone. All she felt was numbness in her stomach and a pressure on her skin. Relieved, she sucked in a deep breath. Her fingers relaxed and her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was blood spatters trickling down the legs of the dining table. Then she caught sight of Booth's face---worry was radiating from the depth of his eyes and beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead. There was something about the way he pinched his lips together. She recognized his look from when he had rescued her from Kenton. He was hurt, and he was ignoring his own pain because he was concerned about her.

"Booth," she softly said.

His eyes flew to her face. All he found there was wonder. Booth grimaced and muttered, "I can't believe you. That bastard blew a frigging hole in you and you're as calm as a Tibetan monk. I swear to God, you never cease to amaze me." He brought one of his hands to her face to feel her forehead. "You're cold," he murmured. "Sully, get over here. Apply pressure on her wound, will you?" The FBI-agent in question hesitantly drew closer, only to become rigid moments later. Booth's stare grew cold. "Damn it, Sully. Now is not the time to make like a statue. Get your ass over here!"

Booth's harsh words shook Sully up from his paralysis. This was the woman he loved, not his partner. He had to help her, painful memories or not. He slowly squatted down at Brennan's side. With horror written all over his face, he placed his hands on the bloody patch of skin. Groaning and gritting his teeth, Booth pulled off his jacket. That wasn't an easy task, Sully soon understood. As Booth's jacket slipped down his arms, it revealed a growing bloodstain on his shoulder and side. Their assailant had gotten to him as well.

Booth draped the piece of clothing partly over Brennan's upper body and took over from Sully. He nodded at Sully's phone lying forgotten a bit further along. "Someone has to call 911."

"I'm on it," Sully replied, quickly picking up his discarded phone to call for medical backup again. He was more than happy to have something else to occupy his mind. As he explained their location and the extent of their injuries, he moved away from the pair.

"Thank you," Brennan murmured, gazing up at Booth. He mumbled something under his breath in response. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"Looks like it's a clean through and through."

She closed her eyes. A through and through… Brennan dared to take a peek at Booth pressing down hard on the bullet wound. "It's bad." This time it wasn't a question, but a confident statement. "Booth," she tried again. "This is bad."

"No, it's not. This is..." He paused to touch her forehead again. "This is not bad. You're strong. You're a fighter. We..." His voice broke. "We can handle this."

Brennan was all too aware of the possible damage that bullet could have caused. Stomach, spleen, Arteria and Venia linealis, pancreas, intestines---they could all have been hit. There was blood seeping out of a hole somewhere in her midsection. Who knew what exactly was injured. If she didn't get attended to, she wouldn't make it. She would bleed to death at this rate. Those were the facts---facts Booth refused to accept. The emotions clouding his eyes caught her attention. He was afraid to no end. She felt sure she could touch his anguish if she could muster the strength to reach out. He didn't want to let her go---not here, not like this. Brennan gritted her teeth. It dawned on her what she would be leaving behind if she didn't put up a fight. She would slip away in a dark dream if she didn't try to survive---a nightmare where Angela would have no one to tease during coffee breaks, where Zach and Hodgins didn't have someone to vouch for their unauthorized experiments, and where Booth couldn't give her grief about her lack of pop culture knowledge.

Sudden fear overwhelmed her. With that fear, the numbness in her stomach was again replaced by the stabbing pain Brennan had first experienced. Her body arched up in an attempt to escape the agony storming through her limbs and gut. With cramped up fingers she clawed at Booth's arm. "Help me," she choked out. "Booth..." Her eyes rolled back in their sockets and her vision blurred. No, her mind screamed. I don't want to…No!

"Bones," Booth exclaimed. "Not again. Stay with me." He gasped as he pushed her body down on the ground to stop it from shaking. "Bones!"

---°---

Wednesday May 30th 2007 -- 02:57 p.m.

"You did everything you could," Brennan told him.

"It wasn't enough."

"Sometimes you give everything you have and it still isn't enough."

Booth ran a hand through his hair. Narrowing his eyes a bit, thereby making his stare even more intense, he said in a low voice, "I'd give my soul to turn back time...to make sure you were safe."

"You can't control everything, Booth," Temperance sighed.

"I should have tried…for you." He kicked a small piece of rock away. "I have to find a way to fix this---to make things all better again."

"Not everything is fixable," she softly pointed out, crossing her arms and averting her gaze to the small rock he had just sent flying away. After a moment of silence she tilted her head up again. "I have to deal with what happened on my own, but your presence here is making it bearable. For what it's worth, you're helping me piece myself back together. You can't change the past, but you're fixing me now."

So I didn't kill of Sully...Big deal! Sue me! lol Anyway, let's see what we've got so far...Blood on the television set? Check. Blood on the legs of the dining table? Check. Blood seeping into the carpet? Check. The "Damn it, breathe" comment? Check. Anything I forgot?