Author's Note: I apologize this is taking me so long to get this written. The truth is, I'm stuck, and I'm trying really hard not to give up on this story. So although I'm not happy with it, here's the next chapter.

First thing the following morning Booth was swiping his clearance card to let himself into the bureau. It was early enough yet that he didn't run the risk of seeing too many people he knew. It was just the way he wanted it. He planned on getting in and out as fast as he could. Time was of the essence now. He'd barely been able to force himself to sleep overnight for fear of losing that sweet time. At last he'd convinced himself that he'd get nothing done if he was dead on his feet. For a few hours he'd been able to doze off.

He wound through the familiar halls until he reached his office. Inside he flipped on the overhead lights. Everything was just as how he'd left it since he'd been gone. Right away he got down to business. He went straight to his desk and booted up his computer.

Within fifteen minutes Booth had extracted more than enough information on Nicky from the database. He printed out the pages, standing and gathering his things while they came off the printer one by one. Because he was so absorbed in his own trauma he never heard footsteps enter his office.

"Agent Booth?"

Booth froze. Slowly he turned around. A.D. Hacker, his boss, was standing in front of his desk. The man appeared to be cross. His arms were folded across his chest.

Busted. Booth forced a smile. "Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing here?"

"You're upset?"

Hacker broke out into a smile. "Only that no one told me you were back!" He shook Booth's hand. "I never received any letters from your doctors."

Booth contemplated carefully before he spoke. If he went along with the charade, then he could easily get clearance into areas of information that he wouldn't be able to if he was still seen as nothing more than a disabled civilian. However, he didn't know if he had the strength to keep up with the grueling physical demand cases often required. His desire to bring Alejandro to justice won the internal debate in the end. If he was dying, then he might as well go out doing what he loved. "Really? I'll contact them and have them refax over anything you need." It was a bluff. And any other agent most likely would not have been able to get away with it.

"Great! I have such a back up of cases, I was getting ready to investigate some myself."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No." Hacker scoffed. "There's a reason why you're the agent and I'm the boss."

New case in hand and the information on Nicky hidden away, Booth took himself over to the Jeffersonian. The walk just from the parking garage to the building left him completely winded. Before going in to see Brennan he had to take a breather. The low grade pain he had been experiencing had kicked itself up a notch. Unconsciously he ran a hand over his chest, as though that would ease the symptoms. When he finally felt he'd been able to pull himself back together he headed inside to the lab.

Brennan was in her office. She was surprised to see Booth shuffle in. For a moment she just looked at him before speaking. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a case." His voice was bland.

"You're working?"

"Yeah."

"Booth, how can you-"

"Do you want to work with me or not?" He asked testily.

She pressed her lips together in a frown. Reluctantly she withdrew from her desk. If anyone else acted that way with her she would have put them in their place. Turned them down flat. But Booth was different. The sudden shift in his over all demeanor was a concern to her. Something was going on, whether he realized it or not.

The signs were more evident as time wore on. The two worked at a feverish pace to try and solve the case they'd been assigned. Booth was running himself ragged. After working all day he spent all night hunting down everyone involved in Alejandro's drug ring. Unfortunately he'd hit a brick wall. But that didn't stop him from trying. He'd hunt down Alejandro, even if he passed away in the process.

Which was seeming more and more likely. Because of how hard he was pushing himself Booth was hardly sleeping. Every day he grew sicker and sicker. If Brennan noticed anything, she didn't demand any answers for it. Then again, most of everyone in the lab was avoiding him like a plague. Booth's behavior was simply unpredictable. While he was almost always sullen, he seemed to become infuriated at the drop of a hat. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it.

At last Brennan had had enough. After Booth left the lab one night she discreetly trailed him home. Up to the curb she parked and slid down low behind the steering wheel. She'd been on enough stake outs with him that she knew what to do. Curiously she watched him leave his car and limp his way into his apartment building.

For a while she was able to sit until she got bored. What was she doing? There was no saying Booth was going to leave his apartment again. And if he did, what was she going to do? Trail him everywhere he went? It was stupid, she decided, sitting up. If she wanted to know what he was up to then she needed to just ask him herself.

She left her car. Across the street she jogged up to the front door of the complex. Just as she was about to buzz for access to the building, he came bustling out, nearly colliding with her. Once he recovered he took a few steps back apprehensively. "Bones."

Booth was wearing almost nothing but black. This didn't go unnoticed by her. "What are you doing?"

The pain in his body was increasing with his pulse. "I'm going out."

"Booth, I know something's wrong."

The rest of her talking faded away into the background. Another spell of vertigo seized his being. Her voice grew far away. His vision blurred and distorted. To his right side his body tilted, his hand struggling to brace himself against the brick wall of the terrace.

The episode took a new turn as he slid down completely to the ground. He fell flat out. Within seconds he'd stopped breathing.

Brennan was down on top of him almost instantly. "Booth?" She rolled him over onto his back. A few seconds passed by before it occurred to her that her partner was in serious distress. First she noticed his lack of breath. Next she felt for his pulse. It was growing wan.

Automatically she went into the motions of CPR. It didn't take too much to get him breathing again. However, she'd launched into one more chest pump before she realized it. His cry of pain made her back off immediately. "Booth?"

He was back, but too dazed to answer her. Brennan roughly yanked his shirt up over his chest so she could see for herself what had caused the yell. The green pellet wound loomed back at her. She felt her own breath get stolen away.

Brennan started to dial for paramedics when Booth stopped her. He weakly put his hand over the phone's display. She looked past her phone to see him shaking his head. So he didn't want an ambulance. Fine. Then she had to get him back to his apartment.

Together they managed to get back inside. Booth's legs were nearly useless. He had to lean heavily against her just to walk. Both of them were exhausted by the time they were back in. Booth collapsed straight down onto his couch. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Brennan stayed with him, sitting on the floor besides him while he slept. The full realization of what happened took its toll on her. Now she was too scared to leave him alone. What if he stopped breathing once again? Why had he stopped in the first place? And what had happened to his chest?

It was a few hours before he woke. His eyes half opened. A moment passed before he remembered where he was. Before the events leading up to that moment came back to him. Closing his eyes again, he blindly reached out to his coffee table to grab the bottle of pain killers he had on hand. The pain was roaring.

His hand swiped at dead air. Again he squeezed an eye open. The pills were gone. Oh no. Where had they gone? Feebly he pushed himself up on dead muscles. It was no use. He fell back down onto the soft cushions.

"Are you looking for these?"

Booth turned his head enough to see Brennan holding a prescription bottle. The anger eased in her eyes when she saw how awful he appeared. Silently she tapped out two pills. Then she gave them to him with a glass of water.

Booth dozed off for another hour until the pills took their effect. When he woke the second time he found Brennan had never moved from his side. She was watching him, waiting expectantly.

"I'm sure you have questions," he began in a roughened voice.

She just nodded.

While she listened he poured over the entire story with her. He recounted parts she already knew. But he found when it came time to tell her about the poison killing him, he had difficultly. By the time he finished her eyes were near flushed with tears waiting to break the dam.

"Booth," she whispered, sniffing and shaking her head.

"I have to find Alejandro."

"You're too sick. You shouldn't even be working."

Booth didn't really even have the strength to argue with her. He exhaled deeply, allowing his eyes to once again close.

Brennan's next words were so quiet Booth almost missed hearing them. "I can save you."

"Hmm?"

"I can take a sample of your blood." As ideas formed she spoke faster. "If I can identify what poisons are in your system we can find a cure."

"Bones, you're brilliant. You are. But you can't help me." Once again he began drifting off on a wave of exhaustion.

"I have to try." Speaking was useless. Booth wasn't hearing her. But it stop her from adding, "don't give up on me."