Author's Note: Reference to "The Pain In The Heart."

Brennan's emotions had hit an all time high by the time the ambulance rolled into the bay of the nearest hospital. Every moment lost was one in which Booth was slipping away from her. His hand clenched tightly in hers had become cold. The methods the paramedics had used to assist his breathing had been no more than a band aid set over a bleeding artery. Nothing guaranteed his ability to continue to pull oxygen into his lungs. Just as nothing promised his survival. She had seen Booth pull through amazing circumstances. Her faith in him; in his capability to save himself had never been shaken. Until now.

In the emergency room he was whisked away from her. She had no choice but to banish herself to an uncomfortable, hard plastic chair in the hospital's waiting room. A shiver ran through her, and for the first time she realized a chill had crept into her body. An instant coffee maker sat on a counter just besides a television that played the day's news at a low volume. A stack of Styrofoam cups were located just beneath the counter top. She withdrew from her chosen area to pour herself a cup. The taste of it was bitter upon her first sip, but she hardly noticed. Not much would register in her conscious for the next few hours. There were plenty of tasks she was aware she should have been doing. But her mind couldn't let go of enough of the shock to perform them.

Booth had been all but dead in her arms. His attackers had practically removed his identity. Had it not been for known identifiers she never would have known that it had been him laying concealed in that bed sheet. The recalled image of his broken face made her sick to her stomach. What had been the purpose in shooting him? He'd been dying well enough on his own. What did you do? She silently asked of him. What could have warranted such a violent attack on you? What did you get yourself into? No. the real question was, what had the bureau gotten him into?

Hours upon hours passed. It appeared as if she were the only one waiting for news, as one by one others spoke with doctors and left. The midnight hours transitioned into early morning, then mid morning. Brennan was fighting herself just to stay awake. The anxiety was taking a harsh toll on her body. When at last she could take it no more she left the waiting room to seek out a nurse at the information desk nestled at the entrance of the emergency room. "Excuse me." She drew the woman's attention. "My…" She paused. What exactly did she call Booth? "Partner," didn't make him sound important enough. She'd been laughed at when she used the word "mate." "Boyfriend" didn't feel right, either. "The father of my child was brought in hours ago, and I have yet to receive any information about his condition."

The nurse raised an eyebrow at her terminology. "Name?"

"Seeley Booth."

Her fingers pounded across the keyboard of a computer. "No one by that name's been admitted to this hospital."

Brennan scoffed. "That's not true. I rode here with him in the ambulance. You're wrong. Check again. You must be spelling his name wrong."

"Seeley like a seal, right?"

"No." She spelled it out for her. "And Booth as in John Wilkes Booth." She winced. He wouldn't be happy if he'd heard me say that.

Again the woman typed manically. "I'm sorry. There's no one here by that name."

"Then bring out someone for me to talk to. I know he is here. I demand a supervisor."

The nurse shrugged. She rose from her chair and left Brennan to stew in her anger and worry. How could he not have been listed as a patient? It wasn't as though he were in any shape to be discharged. If the worst had happened… if he'd passed away receiving medical care then there still should have been a record of him. None of it made sense. She felt as though she were in an alternate universe.

A doctor soon approached her with one of the paramedics that had been working on Booth in the ambulance in tow. The doctor kept his expression neutral. "You're the woman who rode in on the ambulance with Mr. Booth?"

"Yeah." The paramedic answered before Brennan could.

"Since you know he's here, all I can do for you is acknowledge that he is a patient. Beyond that I can't help you. His condition is classified."

Brennan wanted to scream in frustration. Classified. Why was everything classified? "Then how does it become unclassified? You won't be able to deter me from seeing him, so you are best off telling me the appropriate steps I need to take."

"Speak to the FBI. They're the ones who gave us the strict instructions." He shrugged back.

Brennan was outside the hospital, phone in her hand, within seconds. She dialed Hacker's office directly. "Why am I forbidden from seeing Booth? Why isn't he in the patient directory at the hospital?" She spit out in lieu of a greeting.

"Temperance, calm down. We've had to put agent Booth under an alias to protect him. There's a list of people who are-"

"Then why aren't I on it?"

"I'll call ahead now and have you added."

She hung up without expressing a word of gratitude. Her back turned on the hospital to stare out into the bustling world.

Dark, soulful eyes looked up at her. Despite the fact that he was sitting in a bathtub in no more than his birthday suit and a ridiculous beer dispensing helmet, he showed no signs of embarrassment. Just annoyance. "Fine. I will. The next time that I die, I promise that I will tell you."

"I'll look forward to that."

She exhaled deeply. That had been so long ago. Unfortunately however, this time there was nothing disingenuous about his attack. He wouldn't magically come around weeks later hidden in a military uniform. This time if he passed away she knew the news would be legitimate.

Another hour had to filter by before someone beckoned for her. An armed, burly FBI agent nodded to her when she approached. "You Dr. Brennan? Come with me." He never gave her the opportunity to answer. He stalked off so fast that she was forced to jog to keep up. "Where are we going, please?"

"You've been given clearance. I assumed you wanted to see agent Booth."

She did, but would have much rather preferred to speak with his doctor first to gather details about his injuries; to prepare for what she was to walk in on. However, she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Given the runaround she'd had to go through she was just grateful for the opportunity. "Yes. That is a correct assumption."

He cracked a smile. She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, "they told me about you."

The two wound through vacant back hallways that she imagined were reserved for hospital staff. Just outside the door that led into the ICU he stopped. "You can go on in. There's a nurse waiting for you. She'll direct you the rest of the way."

Brennan let herself inside. Just on the other side of the door were two more armed agents. They nodded in acknowledgment as she passed. A small tremble shook her heart. Tight security. Classified lists. Aliases. The bureau's concern must have run deeper than she'd previously been led to think. What did that ultimately spell out for Booth?

This unit was unlike any of the other ICU floors Brennan had ever been on. Though each patient was separated by cubicles they had little privacy as they had no doors or entrances to speak of. Nurses sat nearby monitoring the various situations. One in particular gestured for her continue. "He's in number four. You can go on in."

"I'd like to speak with his doctor-"

"Dr. Rogers was called away to another emergency. Since you can't spend long with him it was recommended you come see him first."

"I can't stay with him?" Brennan repeated.

"Right now everything is very touch and go. The number of visitors he has and the amount of time in which they are permitted to stay with him is limited. His condition is very fragile."

"Then lets not waste any more time." She strode widely away from her. Her heart pounded in a combination of both anger and fear. Anger over what had wrongfully been done to him. Fear over the possibility of him succumbing to his injuries. Even in his weakest moments Booth was still the strongest man she'd ever known. The person everyone referred to now felt as though they were talking about someone else.

That stranger laid before her in bed when she entered the spoken cubicle. Though she could still smell the alcohol used on his skin to clean the blood, little had improved within his appearance. Had she not known whom he was she never could have believed the truth. His one eye had swollen completely shut. The other hadn't quite reached that level of severity, but was none the less intimidating. A few of the gashes he'd sustained to his cheeks had required stitches. Another laceration marked his bottom lip. By far though it was the bruises that Brennan had a hard time dealing with. They were practically disfiguring, and colored almost every inch of exposed skin, it seemed. His pain was obvious without him even being awake.

As she drew closer she could see his right hand had been fit into a cast, and left to rest on the bed next to him. He was still intubated, and life support was forcing a rhythm into his lungs that she didn't think he was capable of making on his own. He fought for every inhalation he made. A faint whistling sounded in his chest. The bullet must have punctured one of his lungs. She made a mental note to request a viewing of his x-rays.

She pulled up a chair and lowered herself down into it at his side. Her gaze flicked down his body as she laid a gentle hand down on his arm above his cast. The blanket and hospital gown he wore concealed most of his other unknown injuries. But she thought she could make out the rough outline of a cast down around each of his feet. They didn't just beat him, they tortured him. The thought sparked pools of burning tears in her eyes. What else had they done to him that she wasn't able to see?

"You are a warrior, Booth." She found herself whispering to him. "I need you to be that person now more than ever. I know you have it in you to pull through. I've seen that drive within you before. The hospital is limiting the amount of time I can spend with you. But I will be here as much as I am able." She had to sigh to steady her emotions. "I know you're weak. But please. Just keep fighting."

He didn't give any indication that he'd heard her. She wasn't sure if she expected him to. But her peace was said. All she could do now was offer him her comforting touch, and silent (but strong) support and strength. She only hoped it would be enough.

The battle had only just begun.