AN: Beware, angst (ah-ngst : [British speakings!]) , loveiness, sadness to ensue!!!! (It's Coilerfan by the way, and I apologize for the day downer soon to come)

He gasped as her hand wrapped around his wrist, unsure of what she was doing until his arm was pulled over her hip, and his hand rested on her stomach.

He knew this was dangerous, seeing as how his dreams for his partner have become a nightly thing, but the best of could hope for was either to wake up before she did, or to get a dreamless night's sleep.

The former seemed like the best bet.

His thumb moved against the fabric resting over the taut stomach, lulling her into sleep quickly, her breathing becoming slow and deep, her heart beat against his chest slowing into a barely there thudding.

He buried his nose in her hair, the soft brown strands smelling strongly of vanilla and lavender, along with the scent that was naturally Bones.

His thumb still moved against her stomach, as he started falling asleep, and for all he knew, kept her in her comatose state well into his own dream.

*****

At first it was just moments crossing across his line of vision. He was in Vegas, lying on his stomach as a strong man grabbed at his hair. Booth's eyes looked up, but he only saw empty space.

He was lying on his side, his limbs still tied to a chair, his whole body sore as a man gasped in fear, a screwdriver dug deep into his chest. His head turned as best as it could, but no one came to his aid.

He was lying in a hospital bed, soft fabric pressed against his head, his head hurting as his eyes fluttered open. He mumbled incoherently and turned his head to the right, but the chair beside his bed was empty, a sinking feeling weighing down his heart like lead in water.

His eyes opened and he sat up, his eyes roaming around his room while he took deep cleansing breaths.

His legs swung over his bed and his muscles felt uncharacteristically weighed down as he made his way into his closet and slipped his suit on, a tie sliding around his neck before he made his way out of his apartment and looked up to the Washington D.C. sky.

The sky was grey, and almost filled with sadness, the first thing coming to his mind when he glanced at the color being a sad, pale face with puffed eyes from crying.

He shook off the melancholy feeling and slid into his car, roaring the engine to life before he drove forward, traffic slowed and defeated like the sky above them.

It took him a good half an hour to get to the Jeffersonian, compared to the usual 5-10 minutes it took on a normal day. He just sighed and shook his head, closing the door of his suburban before he jogged up the narrow steps and stepped into the building, walking down a few halls before he walked through the sliding glass doors into the Medico-Legal lab.

Even the lab seemed grey, the people moving around the lab slumped as they moved up and down stairs, in and out of offices, and around desks covered with evidence.

It was habit for him to walk around the platform and to walk to his partner's office, his heart speeding up as he recognized the rare sight of an untouched office, light off, door locked, and a lifeless desk.

He looked over as someone ran into him, his eyes widening as he looked at Angela's pale face, and lifeless, red rimmed eyes.

"Ange," Booth whispered, wrapping his hand around her arm gently "What's wrong?"

"Please Booth," Angela pleaded in a pathetic, tear jerking voice "Don't pretend you don't know."

"Don't know what?" Booth asked, catching up to her and grabbing her shoulders as she just shook her head and walked away.

"Booth, what do you want?" she hissed through clenched teeth, her hands shaking as her eyes swirled with sadness and anger.

"I want to know what's going on, what happened to Bones?" Booth asked, his heart increasing in speed as a single tear slid out of Angela's eye the second he said her best friend's name.

"Hey!" Hodgins growled, pushing Booth away and wrapping his arms around Angela "What the hell is wrong with you man?"

"Wha- Nothing," Booth said "I just don't know what the hell is going on and no one will tell me!"

"You were there," Hodgins said, his usually bright blue eyes, a dark, almost black color "What kind of sick joke is this?"

"This isn't a joke;" Booth hissed "Why in the hell is everyone so pissed and sad? What the fuck happened? And where is Bones?"

Angela sobbed at the name again, her hands covering her face as she pressed her cheek further into Hodgins' shoulder, his arms coming to hold his ex-fiancée closer to him "You're fucking sick man," Hodgins hissed "You really are," he finished before he steered Angela away from the stunned FBI agent.

Booth stalked forward, eyes trained on Hodgins as he meant to catch up and demand he tell him what's going on, before he felt a strong, but feminine hand on his arm, his gaze turning too looked into Cam's dead eyes.

"Stop it Seeley," Cam ordered "Now!"

"I can't stop it Camille, I don't know what the fuck is going on and no one wants to be nice enough to grace me with the information," Booth growled under his breath, tearing his arm from Cam's hand and following after her as she strode into her office.

"Would you like to share?" Booth asked, motioning his hands to her.

"You know what happened Seeley, you were right there with her, and even though Sweets thinks talking about it will make the pain go away, it's just going to make it worse," Cam said in a drained voice as she bent over a piece of paper and scribbled her pen across it.

Booth stepped forward menacingly, but Cam held her hand up, closing the file under her before she stood and walked around her desk "Just, stop," she said finally, walking from her office into the autopsy room.

Booth sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands, curiosity getting the best of him as he walked forward and flipped open one of the covers of the folder, reading through the heading before he closed the manila cover quickly and ran from the Jeffersonian at light speed.

'Federal Alert of Loss of Governmental Employees'

*****

"Bones!" Booth screamed as he slammed his fist against her apartment door, his ears ringing and his whole being nauseous as continued screaming her name.

His heart fluttered as he heard locks turn, and watched as the door opened, but instead of the beautiful anthropologist he was expecting, he came face to face with the angry face of her brother.

"You're not welcome here," Russ hissed, moving his hand to close the door before Booth's arm shot out and kept the door open, stepping into her apartment before the door was closed on him.

"Booth, get the hell out of here," Russ ordered.

Booth looked around her apartment, boxes littered everything, and many of the things that were rested around her apartment were wrapped up and placed in said boxes. "Russ, what's going on?"

"You know what's going on Booth, don't pretend you don't," Russ growled, his fists clenching as he stepped forward and shoved Booth against the wall "You were supposed to protect her!"

"Russ," Max said calmly "Stop."

"But dad," Russ said, tightening his hold on Booth's jacket "It's his fault!"

"No it's not," Max said, shaking his head in disapproval "Now, step away from him."

Russ growled and pushed away from Booth, wiping his tear stained eyes before he took one of her priceless figurines off her book shelf and wrapped it in newspaper before he placed it gently in a box, closed it, taped it, and scribbled something on it before he carried the box to the other sealed ones in the corner.

"Max, please tell me what's going on," Booth pleaded, eye brows shooting to his hair line in confusion as a single piece of a newspaper was placed in his hand.

He looked down to the clipping and gasped, tears coming to his eyes as he read through the head line, and the supporting text below it.

World Renowned Forensic Anthropologist Dead On Scene

The world renowned forensic anthropologist and author, Dr. Temperance Brennan, was discovered dead on the scene of a mass shooting between two murder suspects, and Dr. Brennan's FBI partner Special Agent Seeley Booth. Both suspects were dead on the scene as well.

His hands were shaking as he looked at the date the article was printed…November 8, 2009. A week ago…

"Where is she?" Booth ordered, his fists clenching the article as tears fell from his eyes and stained the black and white picture above the head line "This isn't funny."

"No, son, it isn't," Max said, placing his hand on Booth's shoulder and squeezing supportively before he whispered "You should probably go."

"No!" Booth screamed "Tell me where she is! Where is Bones?"

"She's dead Booth," Max whispered "You were there, you held her in your arms as she died."

"No," Booth said, backing up until his back hit the wall, his knees supporting him as he slid into a crouch and his hands came to tear at his hair "No, no no no no! Tell me where she is! Tell me now!"

"She's with her mother-"

"NO, SHE CAN'T BE DEAD!" Booth growled "She isn't dead."

"Booth, you need to go," Max said "Go talk to someone about this."

Booth shook his head and jumped up, running from her apartment and down the stairs, until he burst out onto the street, finding himself in the middle of a cemetery, a single tomb stone in front of him, decorated with bright flowers that accented the freshly turned earth.

The newspaper clipping fell from his hand as he read the name in front of him.

'Temperance Daesee Brennan: Beloved friend, daughter, and sister.'

He stepped forward, his movements almost zombie like as he crouched in front of the smooth marble, tears falling from his eyes freely as his fingers ran over her name carved into the stone.

Paper snapped at his feet as he picked up the same newspaper clipped he dropped seconds ago. Her bright eyes stared up at him, a smug grin smiling at him as he recognized the picture she had printed on the back of her books.

He looked between the picture and the marble stone in front of him before he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"TEMPERANCE!" he screamed, his face moist by his never ending tears, his voice raw as he screamed in pain when he heard her voice whisper his name.

*****

He was sitting straight up, his chest heaving violently, his face moist with tears and cold sweat, when he recognized the waking world.

"Booth," Brennan whispered gently, being awoken from him screaming her name, and flying from her arms.

He looked over and sighed in relief, his arms flying around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest, his hand holding her head to his shoulder as he sobbed gently into her hair.

She ran her hands up and down his back soothing, shushing him gently, as his whole body shrouded around her, was shaking.

"Booth," she whispered again "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I," he choked "Couldn't…protect…you."

"What?" Brennan asked gently, surprised by the intimacy as he pulled back and wrapped his hands around her cheeks.

"We went to confront suspects in a case, and you got shot, and you died in my arms but I couldn't remember anything, and I went through my normal routine but you weren't there, and I had to ask everyone what happened but they wouldn't tell me. And, and I went to your apartment and your brother and your dad were all packing up your stuff, and Russ slammed me against the wall and said it was my fault and your dad gave me the clipping the newspaper released of your death, and I ran outside and was in front of your tomb stone, and I, I, I…"

"Booth," Brennan interrupted, her own hands coming to rest on his face "Relax, breath, for me, please," she whispered, her heart skipping as his eyes bore into her.

His breathing was ragged, as his finger tips twitched against the soft skin of her neck, his lips moving from their usual spot to between his teeth as he moved a fraction closer, Brennan's pulse rocketing into her ear as she saw the want to kiss her crash in his eyes.

Their lips centimeters apart she took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, heat coursing through her body as she whispered "We should…probably…go back to sleep."

He nodded and reluctantly pulled his hands from her face, watching as she turned onto her side and rested her head on her pillow, her back to him as he mimicked her position, his body turned away from him as he remained wide awake, staring at the blackened wall in front of him.

There would be no sleeping tonight; these dreams weren't just lust in weird situations any more. It was fear, and love, and anger, and hundreds of other emotions, in real, possible, situations.

The dreams were shifting.