A/N: Okay, next chapter! I think at this point it's only fair to let you wonderful readers know three things about me:
1) I try very hard to keep our beloved team in character and the stories within established canon. Please let me know if I slip up.
2) 1 strongly dislike character death stories, so the chances of me writing one is close to nil.
3) I am, however, not above torturing characters OR readers...
Okay, we all clear on this? Then please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times and your seatbelt securely fastened and here we go...
Disclaimer: Still don't own the show. Unfortunately, still DO own the headache!
Brennan divided her time on the drive between giving her father directions to Booth's place and begging her partner to respond to her on the phone. The continued silence on the line caused her mind to come up with all kinds of horrible scenarios.
They pulled up to Booth's apartment complex. The first thing Brennan noticed was her partner's car, parked at it's usual spot. "His car's here," she said to her father as they got out of the car. She pulled her gun out of her purse and held it in one hand, her phone in the other.
Her father stared at the gun in her hand. "Baby, that gun's way too big for you."
"Dad, not now." Brennan scanned the area, looking for the fake rock she'd found a few months ago. "There. Booth keeps a spare key under that rock."
Frowning, her father retrieved the key. "Booth's a smart man, but this is silly. Anyone with half a brain could find this."
"I know," Brennan said as she led her father into the building.
It turned out the key wasn't necessary. Booth's apartment door stood slightly ajar. There was the low sound of voices inside.
The minute he saw the door, Brennan's father was in front of her. "Give me your gun."
"Dad –"
He grabbed her gun from her with a stern look. "If you think I'm not going to protect you in a potentially dangerous situation, you aren't as smart as I thought. Now keep quiet and stay behind me!"
Before she could argue her father crept to the door and eased it open wider. Brennan sighed and followed him.
The television was on, casting a dim light in the room. Brennan noticed the remains of a Chinese dinner on the coffee table. But no sign of anyone in the room.
Booth wasn't the neatest person in the world, but he didn't leave food out like that. Something was wrong.
She opened her mouth to call out. Her father noticed this and quickly put his fingers on her lips.
"No," he said softly. "If someone's here, we don't want them to know where we are."
She swallowed the shout she'd been about to utter and nodded. Her father scanned the area, the gun moving in front of him. Aside from the television, the only things she could hear was their soft footsteps and her father's breathing.
They didn't see anyone as they went from room to room. Brennan thought about the last time she'd been there – she hadn't wasted time on a tour, she'd just wanted to confront him. Now she just wanted to find him alive and well.
They came to a door that stood ajar. When Brennan looked in, she forgot about being quiet, forgot that someone might be in the apartment. All she saw was her partner, his left hand dangling over the side of the bed, his body trembling.
"Booth!" She ran to the bed, pushing past her father to do so. She kicked something as she got there – his phone, she realized – and bent down to examine her partner.
He was unconscious. His face was damp with sweat. She pressed her fingers to his neck to check his pulse and was alarmed at how hot his skin was. He groaned at her touch but did not wake up. He continued to shake as if he was freezing, even though he was clearly running a high fever.
Suddenly light flooded the room. She turned to see her father at the door, hand on a light switch. "No one else is here. Is Booth all right?"
She shook her head and turned to resume her examination. "Call –" she stopped when she saw two items she hadn't noticed in the dimness of the room.
On the pillow near Booth's head there was an empty syringe and an envelope. In handwriting that was all too familiar to her, it read:
Dr. Temperance Brennan
11:36 PM
"Tempe?" Her father was at her side. He followed her gaze. "What the…" he reached out towards the envelope.
"Don't touch anything!" she snapped. She saw her father's startled gaze and tried to inject some calmness to her voice. "It's evidence…you shouldn't touch it without gloves." She took another deep breath. "Call 911. Booth is seriously ill."
She ran out of the room. In the bathroom, she yanked a towel off the rack and ran water in the tub until it was tepid. She soaked the towel and wrung out the excess water as best she could then carried it back into Booth's bedroom.
She began blotting her partner's face as her father hung up the phone. "Ambulance is on its way. Anything else I can do?"
"Find some washcloths or towels and wet them with tepid water," she said as she continued to wipe Booth's face and neck. She noticed some blood on her partner's neck – probably where he'd been injected. "Then, see if Booth has any small reclosable plastic bags."
"Evidence bags," her father said, nodding. He left the room.
Brennan turned her full attention on her partner. She yanked the covers down to below his waist, knowing that modesty was the least of his worries. She sponged his chest and began talking quickly. "Booth, it's Bones. I'm here. Wake up now, wake up!"
Finally his eyes fluttered open. The brown orbs were cloudy, unfocused. He tried to push her hands away. "Bones…don't…cold…"
She almost burst into tears at the sound of his voice. "I know it's cold, Booth. But you're running a fever, I'm trying to bring it down."
His teeth began to chatter. "Bones, it's cold…" his eyes started to close.
Brennan saw her father come back in the room out of the corner of her eye. He went to the other side of Booth and pressed a washcloth to his face. "Hey, Booth, come on now, stay awake and tell us what happened."
Booth shook his head. "Drugged…Professor…drugged…"
Brennan looked at the syringe again. She yanked on a pair of latex gloves. "Booth, I know you've been drugged. Did you see him? Did you recognize him?"
"Clock…ticking…" Booth's voice was getting weaker. Brennan's father pulled the covers back up on the shivering agent. "Food…drugged…rough time ahead…"
"Booth, stay with me," Temperance begged. She took the syringe and placed it into a plastic bag that her father handed her. While Max blotted Booth's face Brennan steeled herself and picked up the envelope.
She read the enclosed note, dread growing with each word.
My dear Dr. Brennan,
First and foremost, please do not discard the envelope that contained this note. It has important information for you.
Please accept my sincere apologies. I had intended to give you more time with your current victim before providing you with another. However, certain circumstances have forced my hand – I do not have as much time to test you as I thought.
I was also presented with an opportunity to subdue Agent Booth. He was alone tonight, and it was an easy thing to drug his food. I won't tell you how I did it – I'm sure you and your team will quickly determine that.
If you were contacted soon after my visit to Agent Booth, no doubt you find his symptoms somewhat alarming. Rest assured that with prompt treatment he will experience some temporary relief.
However, his relief will be temporary. I have recorded the time I injected him with my toxin on the envelope. Approximately 12 hours after that, Agent Booth will begin to manifest certain symptoms. These will include fever, nausea, and body aches.
They will start out as minor, but grow in severity as time goes on. In fact, after 36 hours it is quite possible these symptoms will be so severe as to completely incapacitate him. If not then, not long after.
48 hours after he was injected, if Agent Booth has not received the antitoxin, he will die.
I feel you have not been urgent enough to solve my crimes. Therefore I have attacked someone I believe you and your team have some feelings for. That, plus a definite deadline, may well be the motivation you need to show yourself worthy.
Are you more intelligent than I, Dr. Brennan? If ever there was a time to prove it, that time is now.
With high regards, I remain,
The Professor
A/N2: It's going to be pretty intense for a while, but the good news for you guys is that the story is completely written and just needs to be uploaded a chapter at a time, so I hope you won't have to wait too long!
Thanks for reading!
