As Booth dipped his fingers into the sticky can to dig out a handful of foul-tasting beans in the pitch blackness of the SUV, he realized that Brennan and he had reached an ultimate low. They were sitting side by side in the backseat, each with one hand wrapped around the can of beans. Booth had managed to open it with a knife, but messily so, and as they reached in to scoop out beans, they kept cutting their hands.

Booth flinched as Brennan made another gagging sound and he waited warily for the sound of vomit hitting the floor of the SUV.

"I'm fine," Brennan assured him when the sound never came.

She reached into the can to scoop out more beans.

"Are you sure you want to each more?" Booth asked nervously. "That's about the fourth time you've almost spewed everywhere."

Booth chewed his mouthful of beans. They weren't so bad really. Granted, he would kill for some of Brennan's macaroni and cheese right about now, but these beans were all he had to work with. He found that if one ignored the strong aftertaste of old cabbage and the tangy hint of rotten pork, the beans were actually pretty decent.

"I can't stop eating them," Brennan admitted. "I'm really hungry."

"Pretend you're at some foreign, exotic restaurant with weird food," Booth suggested. "It really helps."

Booth smiled when he heard Brennan's soft noise of skeptical amusement. He felt her hesitating in reaching for her next scoop of beans.

"Be honest Booth. Should I be worried about eating these beans? I mean, are you sure they're supposed to taste like this?" she asked.

"You should definitely be worried Bones," Booth said, smiling wickedly. "You know what they say about beans…"

There was a brief moment of silence during which Booth could clearly visualize the blank stare that Brennan was currently giving him.

"No Booth, I don't know what they say about beans," she replied, sounding slightly concerned.

Booth sighed.

"You know…" he said conspiratorially. "Beans, beans, they're good for your heart. The more you eat them the more you…"

He trailed off and waited for any signs of recognition from Brennan. When he received none, he sighed and tried again.

"Beans, beans the magical fruit?" he asked, now beginning to feel slightly embarrassed.

Brennan seemed to be digesting his words.

"I don't know what you're talking about Booth," she confessed finally. "And there's definitely nothing magical about these beans."

She released her hold on the can of beans and began attempting to wipe her hands clean. Booth heard her swish some of the flat soda around in her mouth to try and rid herself of the lingering taste. He shrugged and finished the can off. As disgusting as the beans were, Booth couldn't help but mourn their loss as he tossed all that remained of their food supply under the car seat.

The temperature was on a definite decline. Snow was beginning to tumble in the open windows from outside and no matter how hard they attempted to avoid it, both Brennan and Booth had managed to get slightly damp. There was a gnawing anxiety in Booth's stomach, which he was positive wasn't all due to his consumption of old peanuts, stale candy, and bad beans.

"You cold Bones?" he asked softly, staring through dark in Brennan's direction.

She hesitated, but seemed to realize that even if he couldn't see her shiver, he could still hear her teeth chattering; lying would be pointless.

"Yes," she answered honestly.

Booth blindly reached out and finally located her shoulder.

"C'mere then," he said, tugging her towards him.

Brennan resisted, and when she spoke, her tone was cautionary.

"I don't know Booth…" she said.

Her words contained an unspoken warning: remember what happened last time? Booth gulped. He remembered all too well. In any other situation, physical contact would be highly unadvisable if they wished to avoid another, similar scenario, but when it came down to it, Brennan's well-being took precedence over all. Booth assumed a light-hearted tone.

"Are you telling me you'd rather freeze to death than so much as touch me?" Booth asked, feigning hurt. "Ouch Bones, you really know how to deflate a guy's ego."

Silently accepting defeat, Brennan allowed him to pull her towards his larger, warmer body. As she settled in with her face in the crook of his neck, Booth reflected on how small the woman really was. She was tall, he'd give her that, but if he splayed his fingers, they spanned the entire width of her back. If there was one thing his partner lacked, it was body fat.

Her mind seemingly on a similar track, Brennan spoke up unhappily.

"You're warmer," she stated grudgingly. "It's not fair."

Booth ran his hands up and down her arms, attempted to restore some warmth in them.

"Yea well, at least I'm sharing the warmth here," he said lightly, hiding his concern.

Booth listened as Brennan began to babble about musculature and how men tended to produce more body heat than women. He knew she was rambling to avoid the other two, less comfortable venues of conversation: the topic of their relationship and the fact that their situation was becoming increasingly dire. He noticed Brennan stumbling over a few words and slurring a few others, and he immediately recognized the early signs of severe hypothermia. Unconsciously, he tightened his arms around her, fear gnawing at him.

He realized then that he would have to go out and try to find help. The only other option was to continue sitting in the SUV, waiting for someone to spot their flares. In a few hours, they would both be severely hypothermic. Brennan would die first. Booth felt vomit rise up his gorge at the thought and swallowed quickly, attempting to maintain calm. There was no other option. He wasn't capable of sitting around helplessly while Brennan's life was in danger. He'd get help for her, even though he was aware that it could be the last thing he'd ever do. It'd be worth it.

"You're not going to like this," Booth cautioned, interrupting Brennan's ramblings.

He felt her body stiffen against his. She didn't like it already. He continued.

"I'm going out," Booth told her. "The snow's stopped, so the snow emergency vehicles should be starting to clear the road. If I walk towards the airport, I'm bound to run into one sooner or later and then-"

"I'm coming too then," Brennan interrupted quickly.

Booth sighed, expecting this. Brennan's body was tensed up in anticipation of an argument. He rubbed her back soothingly in an attempt to calm her down.

"No you're not Bones," he told her softly. "As much as you hate to admit it, you're in more danger than I am. I have a much better chance out there. There's no room for argument here."

He knew that she hated him for that little piece of logic. It was the one thing she wouldn't argue against. He felt her back rise and fall as she let out a ragged breath. He let himself savor their closeness, promising himself it wouldn't be the last time he held her. He took a deep breath to brace himself before loosening his arms around her.

"Would you find the flashlight for me Bones?" he asked in voice of forced levity. "I'm going to try to layer up as much as possible."

Now with tasks to distract them, Brennan and Booth rummaged around the SUV. Booth put on shirt over shirt and pants over pants as Brennan focused a wobbly ray of light on him. Once he was dressed, they focused on the much more difficult task of digging up through the snow. After debating which approach would work best, they decided to have Booth chip away at the snow with the knife while Brennan pushed the loose snow out of the way with her shoes on her hands. Their technique turned out to be surprisingly effective, and when they were done, there was an opening to the outside just big enough for Booth to squeeze through.

Booth settled back into the seat for a second, adjusting his many layers of clothes.

"Here's what I'm going to do," he told Brennan, his voice adopting a tactical tone. "I want you to hold one end of the rope when I go out and I'll tie the other end to the guardrail up by the road. I'll set up the rest of the flares too, so I can find you after I get help."

With the help of the flashlight's meager light, Booth made out Brennan's weak nod. Attempting to recapture the fearless hotheadedness he had possessed in his early army days, Booth wrapped the blanket around himself to shield his face in preparation to go. He was stopped by Brennan's hand reaching out to grab his elbow.

"Booth wait!" she exclaimed.

Booth turned and to his surprise, she launched herself into his arms.

"I hate this," she confessed thickly, her voice muffled by Booth's many layers of clothing.

He stroked her hair, a sad smile on his face.

"I know you do Bones," he told her. "I know."

Booth gently loosened her arms from around him, hating himself for it. Brennan pulled back, but didn't let go of her ironclad grip on his forearm.

"Booth just promise me you'll-"Brennan began, her voice uncharacteristically anxious.

"I'll be back, okay Bones?" he interrupted quickly. "Everything is going to be fine."

Brennan slowly let go of his arm, her wide eyes reflecting the flashlight beam. Booth handed her an end of the rope.

"Now tie this around your wrist or something so it doesn't slip out of the SUV," he told her, tying the other end around his own.

She obliged and Booth grabbed the flares, squatting by the window he was going to go out.

"You know," Brennan said matter-of-factly. "Many Celtic wedding traditions involve the bride and groom being bound by a cord or rope to symbolize unity."

The comment was so inappropriate, so Brennan-like, that Booth couldn't help but chuckle. He turned back towards her, cupping her face in his hand and tenderly kissing her on the cheek.

"I guess I'm legally bound to come back then Bones," he told her, tracing her jaw line.

Her smile was faint but it was enough to remind Booth why it was absolutely necessary that he leave her immediately. He held her gaze for another second, multitudes of unspoken words building up between them. Brennan gave him a tiny nod and he let his hand fall. He felt her eyes on his back as he climbed out the window, leaving her alone in the dark SUV.


It was cold. It was really cold, so cold that it hurt. Booth held the blanket over his stinging face, squinting his eyes against the burning cold. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking. It seemed like ages ago that he had set flares up outside the buried SUV and stumbled up the hill to tie his end of the rope to the guardrail. It seemed even longer ago that he had left Brennan.

He swore loudly as he nearly slipped on the surface of the icy snow. He had already fallen twice and the brutal wind cut through the damp portions of clothing as though he were wearing nothing at all. It was dark out, but there was a slight sliver of moon that reflected off the snow enough to allow him to see where he was going.

Booth's mind was beginning to feel as numb as his body. He felt slow and stupid, his motions uncoordinated like a drunks. Feeling a soothing wave of sleepiness tempting him, Booth fought to focus his mind. He was slowing rapidly.

Think about Bones… he told himself through the haze that clouded his mind. Think about Parker.

Conjuring up clear images of their faces in his mind, Booth managed to quicken his pace slightly. His breathing was rapid and exhausted and each breath was like daggers as he inhaled the icy air. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

When he opened his eyes, he thought momentarily that the cold had somehow caused him to go blind, as all could see was white light. But then his eyes adjusted and he realized that he could still see the snowy world around him. The light was coming from straight ahead of him.

Headlights, he realized numbly as he heard the slamming of car doors and the sound of men shouting. Dazed, he stared into the headlights. It wasn't until he felt hands on his arms yanking him to his feet that he realized he had fallen to his knees. Feeling tremendously confused, Booth allowed himself to be hauled into the seat of the snow plow.

The plow doors slammed shut and Booth was struck by the sudden absence of freezing air.

"You still with us man?" a gruff voice asked, shaking him roughly by the shoulder.

Booth fumbled in his mind for the words to reply.

"Uhh," he replied intelligently.

He felt himself being stripped of his outer, damp layer of clothing and then his body being manipulated into a thick coat, still warm from body heat.

"We need to get him to the hospital Pops," a young man's voice said. "He's barely conscious."

The older man gave a grunt of agreement and Booth heard the revving of the engine. A tendril of panic crept up Booth's chest. This was all wrong.

"Wait!" he choked, flinging his arm out.

The older man gasped as Booth's flailing arms knocked the breath out of him. The two men attempted to hold him down and calm him. Booth's tongue felt slow and heavy as he attempted to form the words.

"My partner," he gasped finally.

Exhausted with the effort, he slumped against the seat.

"What?" the old man bleated.

"Someone's still out there Pops," the other man said, sounding anxious.

Booth began to doze slightly as he felt the vehicle go forward in the correct direct, oblivious to the two men's attempts to keep him awake. When he saw the blurry lights of the flares against the white snow he smiled. He heard the door open and close as the younger man exited the vehicle to retrieve Brennan. Booth waited, fighting off the overwhelming urge to sleep.

The door opened once again, and the young man re-entered the vehicle alone.

"Where's Bones?" Booth asked, his voice slurred almost to the point of incoherency.

The young man shook his head slowly as he watched the stranger next to him fight unconsciousness.

"Turn around Pops," the young man said.

"Why?" the older man asked. "What about the other per-"

His son cut him off.

"The cold must be making him delusional," the son said. "There was no one in there."


A/N: One more chapter to go baby!