Disclaimer: They are not mine and yet I continue to do with them as I please.

A/N: I have updated as soon as I could so that I wouldn't leave you all hanging, please let me know what you think of it.

Temperance opened her eyes and realized she had only been out for a moment; the nightmare was still before her. She could see David bent over in the other room, he looked over at her, his eyes shining unnaturally bright, maybe she has lost her mind. He began walking toward her, stopping to open the door wider and she feels the bile rise in her chest as she realizes it's for the benefit of her view. He walks back over to Booth and she wants to close her eyes, wants desperately NOT to see but at the same time, a large part of her needs to know if her worst fears have been realized. She has to look, has to know if there is any hope that he is still alive. She feels the hot acid slide up her throat and thinks for a second she will start to choke, the tape making it hard for her to breathe, a vice tightening around her heart. David bent down and slowly pulled on Booths leg and she watches as his body is dragged by, covered in blood, in an impossible amount of blood. Then he disappears out of her sight and there is nothing but the blood all over the floor. He looked lifeless; no one survives three gunshots, one at close range, and that much blood loss without immediate medical attention. She hears a series of slow thuds and realizes his body is being dragged down a set of stairs. This time it's voluntary, she closes her eyes and lets the darkness take her.

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Agent Fischer was on the phone, wondering why Booth had not shown up at the apartment. He knew the man was half crazy with grief and worry and it was obvious why. In their brief meeting in the parking lot just two days ago he could feel something between them. At first he thought they were trying to hide something, the way Booth had kept glancing toward her, checking on her while trying to remain casual. It was Dr. Brennan that gave him the truth; in one glance at agent Booth her expression told him everything.

Fischer knocked on David's apartment door repeatedly and receiving no answer, he popped the lock and entered, gun drawn. He was certain the apartment was empty but experience taught him to err on the side of caution. He cleared the premises and began to look around, trying to get a grip on this guy. The apartment was unnaturally clean and orderly, this guy had definite anal retentive tendencies. He dialed Booth again and when he got no answer he checked his phone to see when the missed call had come in from him. It didn't make any sense. On instinct he called headquarters to see if Booth had checked in and was told they had not heard from him. The apartment was clean, even the garbage was empty; there were some bills on the counter, nothing of interest, no interesting meds in the cabinet. Something didn't feel right, he turned slowly around, noting Dr. Brennan's photo in a frame, it felt…what? Then it hit him, it felt staged, no one really lived here. He called headquarters and asked if anything came up on other properties owned or rented by David or his family. A cottage, willed to him by his mother two years ago when she died, on a lake. It was in the opposite direction that he had come, with city traffic it would take a while to get there and he needed to get more help before going. Still puzzled by Booth's disappearance he tried the agent's phone one more time.

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Temperance opened her eyes once again; she had no concept of time. David was sitting in a chair watching her. He came over and cut the tape holding her head, trying to be careful as he pulled it away from strands of her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pull away from his touch and began coughing. He pulled the tape from her mouth, a small piece of skin from her lip coming with it. She could taste the blood, the scent oddly comforting in its familiarity.

"There you go, that has to feel better. Now that we are done with that nasty business we can get on with our lives. I know you're upset right now Temperance," he stroked her cheek and she jerked her head out of his touch. "It's okay, with Booth dead you're free to love me, the way it was supposed to be." His voice made her head hurt and she couldn't bear to listen to a single word that passed his lips. She hated him.

She knew what she had to do.

"David untie me." Her voice was weak and scratchy, her throat hurt. He was staring at her intently, trying to read her. "David, I'm not going to run, you're right, I'm upset, but I'll be okay. There isn't anything I can do about the situation now anyway except move on from it." Her voice hitched at the word situation, she couldn't bring herself to say Booth's name out loud. "Come on David, I'm tired, I can't feel my hands and feet, I'm hungry and thirsty, get me out of this chair." Slowly he crouched down and began to undo the knots in the rope around her ankles. She watched the top of his head, picking the spot just above a wave in his hair that she would aim at when she struck him. He looked up at her and smiled and she gave him a small smile in return while she visualized how completely crushing his skull would feel. The rage moved within her like a living thing, crouched and waiting to pounce, burning with hunger, growing stronger by the minute.

"I knew it Temperance, I just knew it. You are a brilliant woman and I just knew that in no time at all you would understand. I didn't think it would be this soon but you always have been a quick learner." His voice rose with his excitement. He had her legs untied and was cutting through the tape he used to bound them to the legs of the chair. She wondered why she was barefoot. Her fingers twitched with the urge to be free and moving around.

He cut the tape going around her shoulders, peeling it away from her, watching it pull her shirt away from her body. His eyes fell to her breast and the red marks still bright against her skin. He reached over and touched the edge of her breast, her stomach coiled with the need to throw up, her hands were still bound. The burning in her chest was spreading, she couldn't think about Booth until she was free, she focused back on the rage slamming around behind her ribs, restless to be released.

"I'll draw you a bath later, call me old fashioned but I'd like to have his touch scrubbed off of you before I put my hands on you. We have plenty of time now, for those things." He remembered back to how she sounded through the door of her apartment and his penis twitched in response. He could hardly wait to have her, to touch her, to hear her say his name in that way. He smiled at her, a look thick with desire and she closed her eyes. He thought it was because she fighting her own desire for him. He started to work on her arms, finally getting the last of the tape and rope off of her so that she could move.

Temperance began rolling her ankles and wrists, massaging her hands together and intermittently rubbing her feet trying to restore circulation. She was unsure how long she had been tied in the chair but was aware from the state of her limbs that it had been long enough for all her limbs to be asleep. The sensation of needles spread as her blood flow returned, she tapped her feet on the floor, waiting to be able to feel them before attempting to stand. David was watching her intently as she moved her limbs, she couldn't look at him, her heart began pounding so loudly in her chest she was sure it would give her away.

"David I need some water." He slowly left the room and she pushed herself into a standing position, the pain shooting up her legs. She waited, letting her body adjust before attempting a step. He was back all too quickly.

"Here, drink this first, maybe you should rest for another minute." His voice was almost kind, almost the voice of the man she knew before all this started. She drank part of the glass, afraid if she drank it all that she would just throw it back up. Her stomach clenched as the water hit and she took a few deep breaths against the nausea. She handed him the glass and began to walk hesitantly into the other room, when she reached the door frame she rested against it, taking a deep breath as her eyes fell to the blood trail across the floor in front of her. She started to tremble, looking around to divert her attention away from the blood, her eyes fell on an end table, next to a cream colored sofa, there abandoned on a small lace doily sat a gun.

"You know David I need to eat, I'm starting to feel nauseous. Is there something you can fix quickly just so I have something on my stomach?"

His voice came from behind her, "I'll make you a sandwich, why don't you try to rest some more." He came up behind her and squeezed her shoulder, passing back out of the room from the other door, the kitchen must be behind her. As soon as he left the room she stepped forward, as she reached the blood she knew she couldn't step over it but as she placed her foot in the sticky substance her stomach lurched and she gagged. She couldn't think about what it really was, what it represented. Her foot slid slightly and she made the last few steps to the nightstand, she lifted the gun and made sure the safety was off before turning and waiting for him to return. She glanced around but didn't see a phone; there was a large stone fireplace behind her and an overstuffed chair. She had no idea where she was, how could she even call for help? Her mind was spinning now and she clutched the gun firmly in her hands.

She heard him coming, "Temperance, lunch is ready, we can eat on the…" The sentence died on his lips and a look of disappointment came to his face. He shook his head slowly, "Temperance, put the gun down."

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Agent Fischer knew something had happened to Booth, it had been too long since he had contact with the other agent. He called the Jeffersonian and spoke to the woman named Angela and was not so surprised at this point that she hadn't heard from him either. He had a difficult time getting her off the phone; she certainly was a persistent woman, making him promise to call her with any news.

Fischer was just a few miles from the lake with two other agents in tow when he heard the call over his radio, local police and an ambulance being dispatched to gunshots fired at the cottage address. He picked up his speed.

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Temperance Brennan held the gun in front of her and as David took a step toward her she pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening in the small room, reverberating off the stone. It took her a moment to realize he was still walking toward her so she fired again, two more shots in quick succession. David was on her, she blinked in disbelief as he grabbed the gun, wrenching it violently from her hands. She swung at him but he sidestepped it and swung the handle of the gun at her head. She twisted away from him, the blow catching the edge of her chin.

"TEMPERANCE, STOP THIS!" He grabbed at her wrist and she turned into a kick, hitting him in the meaty part of his thigh. He yelled and jerked her toward him with such force she felt her shoulder pull. He launched her past him and into the fireplace, she put out her arm and heard the wrist break as she tried to stop her fall and then the crack of her rib as she hit the stone hearth. She scrambled over as he came at her and grabbed the poker from the kit on the hearth.

"Temperance please stop this!" She swung wildly at him; on the second pass he let the poker strike him and then grabbed it, pulling it from her. She heard sirens in the distance and wondered who had called the police. The pain in her chest expanded with each breath and she realized the rib must have punctured her lung, she didn't have much time. She stepped back as he swung at her, the slick blood causing her leg to slide, she could feel herself falling. She hit the floor hard, a shock of pain searing through her chest, she swung out her leg, catching his ankle and forcing a fall onto one knee. She kicked at his groin as the poker came down and she twisted, feeling the impact to her shoulder. She heard the crash behind her and as the poker was raised again the shots exploded into the room.

The moment seemed suspended, David with his arms falling, an expression of pure shock on his face as his chest bloomed brilliant red and his body collapsed to the floor. Temperance was coughing, blood running from her mouth, she raised her hand to her face, she was covered in blood, Seeley's blood and as the thought struck her she started to sob, collapsing into a fetal position and wailing loudly, the pain in her chest engulfed by an infinitely greater wound.

People around her were yelling, handling her, poking her, lifting her. She was loaded into the back of an ambulance, agent Fischer was yelling something to her that she couldn't hear or understand, everything felt like it was far away, and then there was nothing.

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Temperance didn't open her eyes when she woke up, she didn't want to know where she was, didn't care. She knew she was in the hospital, could hear the sounds of soft shoes, humming machines and whispering nurses. She could smell it in the air, disinfectant, bodily fluids, antiseptic, illness and fear. It was a scent like no other.

She knew why she was here, remembered every horrifying moment and wished that David had killed her. It would have been so much easier than opening her eyes in a world without Seeley. The ache began spreading across her chest, her heart constricted and she could feel the tears leaking down the sides of her face, into her ear. The pain was crushing, she felt as though she had been gutted, an emotional autopsy while she was still alive. How do people survive this?

She let herself think about him for just an instant, his smile sparkling up into his eyes and the grief flooded through her, the images of him suddenly bombarding her, each smile, every touch, his laugh, his lips that first time he kissed her…she thought she would scream, each flash feeling like a hammer was striking her heart. She was hyperventilating, trying to breathe, trying not to breathe.

She heard a voice, a nurse speaking to her, "Dr. Brennan, open your eyes. Are you in pain? Dr. Brennan, open your eyes."

"Temperance."

She froze, absolutely still, her breath still rasping from her lungs.

"Temperance, please look at me."

She opened her eyes and turned her head toward what she knew had to be a hallucination or she had finally just lost her mind. Her eyes grew large and she began to tremble, her brain unable to process what was before her.

"You're dead. I saw him kill you. You aren't really here. You can't be here. There was so much blood. I saw him kill you." Her voice was hitching through the sobs, shock, fear, confusion and disbelief all moving across her features. He was here, standing next to her bed, a bandage around his head and a cast on his arm. There were no bullet holes, no other injuries, he looked so alive. She looked at his face, his eyes filled with worry and warmth, eyes she thought she would never look into again.

"Listen to me, the bullets were blanks. David had the gun rigged to the front door, when I opened the door the gun went off. He knew I would see you. He knew I would be distracted. He had come up behind me and hit me on the head. He poured the blood on the floor, it wasn't even human blood. It was all a show; he wanted you to think I was dead. They were blanks, do you hear me, blanks. He just dragged me downstairs and tied me up in the basement. Fischer found me. I'm fine, I'm here and I'm not dead."

He could see her flinch when he said David's name, saw her taking in the information, trying to make sense of it in her head. He knew he had to make her understand before she would believe it. It was the way of her scientific brain to understand first and believe second. He wanted so badly to touch her, to hold her, to wipe out the nightmare and let her see that he was real but he was warned to go slowly. She was staring at him, sobbing, lost. She was in shock, for her his death had been an actual event. He knew what it cost her, had heard David's conversations with her, the gunfire, the fighting, the sirens and her. He had heard her wailing in grief and could do nothing but listen, fighting his restraints, lying in a hell of frustration. In one plan David had found a way to torture them both and if he were not already dead when they released Seeley, then killing him would have been the agents' only goal.

She remembered firing the gun and how David had kept coming and the pieces started to make sense to her. There weren't real bullets in the weapon, that's why he didn't care about leaving it out. She slowed her breathing, stopped crying and looked at him.

"Come here, I want to feel you." She held out her hand and he stepped closer to her. She lifted her hand to his face and he bent toward her, letting her cup his cheek, run her fingertips over his lips and slide her hand around to his neck. As she pulled him to her he thought she was going to kiss him, but she moved her face into his neck and inhaled deeply. She loosened her grip, letting him pull back and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "It is you." His grin spread across his face, lighting his eyes and she started to cry again. He put his good arm over her, trying to be careful of her bandages, her bruises, her cast and her IV lines. She kept touching his face, running her fingers along his bandage, over his skin and into his hair. "You should sit down."

He moved the chair next to her bed and pressed the button to lower it as far as it would go. He laid his head near her breast, resting himself comfortably, so she could feel him, stroke his hair and slide her hand across his neck and onto his back. His cast rested next to him, his left hand curled up against her cheek. They didn't need to speak, not now, right now they just needed to feel each other.

"When can we go home?" She felt his body shake as he chuckled.

"It'll be a few days, but I'll stay right here until then. Okay?"

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Okay."

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