A/N – Two days in a row, I'm proud of myself. I hope you guys are still enjoying this story. I'm still not receiving as many reviews as I would like but I have gotten lots of alerts and favorites so I'll take that as a good thing.

Thank you so much for the reviews I have received. Please continue to let me know what you think.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit darker than what I normally write but it had to be done. Maybe a few things will make a little more sense now. I'll try and get the next chapter up soon too.

Thanks to GCatsPJs and Junkiecat for their help and MickeyBoggs for proofing.

Disclaimer – I don't own Bones.

Chapter 11

At first, it was a pleasant feeling. She woke with a weight on top of her. In the state between awake and asleep, she was sure that Booth was lying on top of her, that they had gotten closer and closer together as they slept. As she began to wake, however, that feeling of comfort turned into one of misery. Booth wasn't on top of her; her own body just felt as though she was weighed down by 180 pounds of brick.

Brennan rolled onto her back very slowly and quickly realized that it wasn't going to be a good day at all. She was achy all over, her throat hurt, and she was pretty certain that she was running a fairly substantial fever. She groaned audibly but willed herself to sit up. She was successful and when she was sitting, she glanced at the clock. "Ugh! 7:20," she said to herself. "I should have been at the lab an hour ago."

She let her feet touch the floor and winced a little bit at the harsh cold of her hardwoods on her bare feet. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and call Booth but she had a case and she had to get to work. They had the case meeting in a few hours and she had a lot of work to get done before then.

Her thoughts went to Booth. He had pampered her the night before by running her a bath and getting her tea. He was clearly different from all of the other men she'd ever dated. Most of them would have run as soon as she said she was too tired but not Booth. He stuck with her and just held her until she fell asleep. It was a very nice feeling.

She was slower than usual but in about 30 minutes, she was dressed, albeit casually, and ready to go. She stood in her kitchen and decided she needed to check her temperature and take some over the counter analgesics. She wasn't surprised when the thermometer displayed 101.8. She'd had postulated as much by her headache and generalized malaise. After downing 600 milligrams of ibuprofen, she grabbed her bags and was out her front door.

"You look like death warmed over," Angela practically yelled as Brennan ascended the platform.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan responded dryly and rolled a stool over to the exam table of the female remains. Standing for long periods of time over an exam table wasn't going to be an option that day.

Angela shook her head and stepped toward her friend. "It means you look sick, Sweetie. You haven't worn those canvas tennis shoes in years, your blue jeans have holes in them – you haven't dressed liked this since the first year you and Booth worked together. Plus, you never sit when you work," the artist fussed and then put her hand on her friend's forehead. "And, you have a fever so why aren't you at the doctor?"

"I called and my physician is going to see me as soon as we finish with the meeting on the case," Brennan confessed. "I have probably just contracted the infection Parker had. My glands are swollen which is indicative of an infection," she said as she examined the clavicle of the female victim. "I'll work until my appointment and then I'll go home if that's what the doctor recommends. I'll try and keep a safe distance from everyone so they don't get infected. Did you get any hits from the facial reconstructions or dentals yet?" Brennan attempted to change the subject.

Angela barely even answered the question posed. "I'm running them through the database now," she said hastily. "Booth is not going to like this," Angela quipped back. "Have you told him you're sick?"

Brennan shook her head. "He has a training exercise at the Hoover. He'll be here soon," she said before breaking out into a slight cough.

"Take it easy, Sweetie," Angela said as she handed her best friend a box of tissues and decided to leave her to her work on the platform. She'd keep an eye on her from a distance and if need be, she'd call Booth.

"I'll be fine," Brennan murmured as she heard Angela's heels click away from the platform.

"You're late," Booth said he met up with Angela as she turned the corner of her office and headed toward the stairs toward the lounge. They were both about ten minutes late for the case meeting.

Angela laughed a little. "Yes, but I have IDs on the victims. What do you have?" she picked back.

He just laughed and took the file that she was practically shoving toward his face. "Good work, Angela," he said as he started. "Where's Bones?" he asked.

"Upstairs already," she responded. "She's sick, you know," she explained. "I'm assuming she didn't call you." They were finally at the bottom of the stairs.

Booth ran his hand over his face as he took the stairs two at a time. "Damn frustrating," he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Angela said from behind him.

He completely ignored the comment and stepped into the lounge. Brennan was seated on the couch. She looked exhausted and like she felt awful. She was coughing some and her face was pale and flushed. He could tell she was struggling to pay attention to Cam as she spoke.

"I got a hit from the DMV files for both of the victims," Angela said as soon as Cam stopped talking. "Bronson Harrell, 33, a biology professor from American and Katie Byler, 26, a grad student finishing her last bit of research for her dissertation. Both were reported missing at the same time by another biology professor."

Booth wasn't really paying much attention. He sat beside his girlfriend on the couch and did the best he could to avoid kissing her. He knew that she wouldn't approve of public displays of affection in front of her coworkers. He did, however, sit very close to her and rubbed a few small circles on her back with one hand and placed the back of his left hand on her cheek. "You okay, Bones?" he whispered.

Brennan gave her partner a slight nod. Sure, she couldn't recall a time when she had felt as poorly as she did at the present moment, but she knew they just needed to get through this meeting, get some direction on the investigation, and then she could go to the doctor or at the very least, take a nap.

He knew she was lying through her teeth by saying she was okay but he also knew she was tough as nails. He'd make her let him take her to the doctor and then he'd take her home and nurse her back to health.

"So," Booth said when Cam finished asking Hodgins about particulates that he hadn't finished analyzing yet. "I'll go inform the families tomorrow." He wasn't really concerned with the case at the moment. His focus was on his forensic anthropologist.

"What, no," Brennan said followed by a cough. "We can go inform them now. They shouldn't have to wait."

"Whoa, no way, Bones. You are going to get some medicine and then you are going to bed," his tone was firm but he wasn't going let her kill herself trying to work when she was sick. He knew she'd done that for years but it wasn't happening under his charge.

"Dr. Brennan as your supervisor," Cam chimed in. "I cannot allow you to go into the field if you aren't healthy."

"I'm fine," Brennan fussed. "I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions in regards to my physical well being."

"Bones, seriously," Booth said with pleading eyes.

Cam knew better than to allow the stubborn anthropologist to intimidate her way into the field when she was sick. "I'm sure you are, Dr. Brennan but since you were slightly late this morning stated that it was due to physical illness, policy says that the Jeffersonian physician must clear you before you can perform any physical duties," the medical examiner was clearly referring to a rarely used policy but sometimes when it came to stubborn employees, a supervisor had to play the trump card. "So, if you are feeling well enough, go ahead and I'm sure Dr. Martin over at the health center will be able to see you in just a few minutes."

Booth knew that Cam had nailed her. No way she'd allow that. She had fussed on multiple occasions about his medical knowledge or lack thereof.

'Damn it,' Brennan fussed to herself. She knew when she had been beat. She considered calling a freebie but knew Cam wouldn't accept it and honestly, she knew she needed to see her physician and she shouldn't sacrifice her own health just for the sake of showing others that illness couldn't get the best of her.

She sighed. "I have already my plans to visit my physician when I have a spare moment."

"Alright then Bones let's vamoose," Booth said as he put his arm around her with the intention of guiding her down the stairs and straight to his SUV.

"I need to finish examining the male victim's remains. There are still a few marks. . . "Brennan began to protest.

"Dr. Brennan," Cam interjected before Booth could get a syllable out. "I think it's best for you to go ahead and go now. If you get a clear report and you feel well enough, you can come back later."

"Fine," she conceded. "But, Booth should go ahead and talk to the families. There is no reason why a slight infection should impede this investigation."

"Bones," Booth immediately protested.

"Booth, don't," she said as she stepped forward and he instinctively wrapped her in his arms. She continued to speak but her voice was a little more muffled since she was leaned against his chest. "I'm just . . . I'm just going to go home and go to bed after I finish at the office," she explained.

"You shouldn't be alone," he told her.

She pulled back from the hug and smiled at him a little. "I'll be fine. Go ahead and finish your work day and you can come over this evening. Although, I'm not sure that I'll be good company. I'm just so tired," she whined.

"I know Bones," Booth said. "Just call me if you need anything. I'll talk to the families and I have to brief Hacker and the others on the case at 3. I'll bring you some soup after that. Text me as soon as you get out of the doctor's office."

She just nodded. "I'm just going to go down and finish. . . "

"Bones!" he actually raised his voice a little bit at her.

Brennan looked at him and saw the concern etched on his features. "I'll just grab a couple of files to take with me so I'll have something to work on while I wait."

"That's my girl," Booth said. "Just promise me you'll rest. Please?"

"That indicates possession, Booth and clearly I am not a possession. I am a highly skilled. . ." She managed to protest until she broke out into a rather forceful cough.

"Uh huh," he said and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Just get checked out and I'll see you as soon as I finish up with my meeting. I can get out of it if . . . "

"That's not necessary," she said and he nodded at her before locking arms to head down.

"Temperance, your finger prick showed very low iron levels. Dr. Patel wants to get a whole blood test done on you," the young nurse explained and Brennan just nodded her head providing the consent for the test. "Let me go ahead and get your vitals and then I'll send the lab tech in to get the sample."

The nurse began doing her job and a normally talkative Temperance Brennan was fairly lethargic. The dose of ibuprofen she had taken that morning had worn off and although it didn't alleviate the aches or fever, it did take the edge off. She shivered as the nurse stuck the thermometer in her ear.

"102.4," the nurse announced. "Have you taken anything in the last 4 hours or so?"

Brennan checked her watch. It was now 11:45. "I took 600 milligrams of ibuprofen around 8," she explained.

"Let me just get your blood pressure and go ahead and get a strep test then I'll get you some Tylenol," she said before slipping the blood pressure cuff around her arm. After taking the reading she spoke again. "It's a little bit low but you are probably slightly dehydrated from the fever." She then swabbed Brennan's throat for the strep test and announce, "I'll be right back with that Tylenol and we'll get your blood work rushed so you can get some rest."

"I'd appreciate that," Brennan said.

It was just a few minutes when the nurse popped back in with the medication followed almost immediately by the lab technician for the full blood draw. Brennan was relieved when the lab tech left. She could finally ponder the low iron levels. In some ways she was nervous and in others, grateful. The low iron would explain her lack or energy. For that, she was grateful. What made her nervous however was the source. She hadn't made major changes in her diet and she had never struggled with an iron deficiency before. Hopefully this wasn't a sign of some kind of deficiency that would plague her throughout her adult life.

She leaned her head back against the ugly, brown chair she sat in. She couldn't be sure if she had fallen asleep or not, but she was pulled out of her stupor by a knock on the door.

"Dr. Brennan?" the male voice that clearly belonged to Dr. Patel came through the partially open door.

"Come in," she said.

He did and sat on the small rolling stool just in front of Brennan. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired, very, very tired," was her simple answer.

"I understand," the doctor responded. "You have some rather concerning symptoms. Your lab work should be back shortly. They should bring it in as soon as it comes in. Hopefully any minute," he went on. "Let me go ahead and check a few things."

For the next several minutes, Brennan underwent a barrage of pokes and prods. Her eyes, ears, glands, throat, and stomach were all checked. "Hmmm," the doctor said as she was lying on her back and he was palpating her abdomen. "Feels as though your spleen is a little enlarged, does that hurt at all?" he asked.

She nodded automatically and at that moment, Brennan realized that she was not going to be receiving news that she wanted to hear when the blood work came in. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach and, frankly, she became terrified.

The doctor offered her his hand to help her sit back up. Just as he was listening to her lungs, the lab technician knocked on the door but entered immediately. The doctor removed his stethoscope from Brennan's chest and accepted the paper. He looked it over with what Booth would call squinty eyes. He had been Brennan's primary care physician since she moved to DC and he had seen her through multiple sinus infections, minor injuries, and had cared for her after several of her injuries while working with the FBI. He knew that her knowledge of the human body and even the field of medicine were very extensive even though she primarily worked with bones. His own heart broke as he took in the information printed on the white sheet of paper. "Temperance," he said in a very compassionate tone. "I'm very sorry." He simply handed her the paper.

She felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her at his condolences. She took the paper and looked at the counts and she had her answer. She couldn't stop the tears from leaking from her eyes and onto the paper. "I know what that means," she said.

"Is there anyone I can call?" he asked. "I'll go ahead and make arrangements to have you admitted in a few minutes."

"I'll . . ." she struggled to find her voice. "I'll send a text," she said.

Brennan couldn't recall feeling this lost since that scary day as a 15 year old when he parents didn't come home from shopping. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a simple text message. 'I need you to come to the hospital,' she typed and hit send as if on autopilot. She knew she should explain further but honestly, she didn't know what she should say.