Chapter 14

Booth burst through the emergency room doors of the Washington Hospital Center, his eyes riveted to the pale, utterly still figure strapped to the gurney that was being rushed down the hall to an examination room. Medical staff surrounded her and orders flew thick and fast as they ran down the corridor.

"We need to get her stabilized!" an ER doctor shouted as they swung into a room. "Her blood pressure is dropping rapidly! What's her blood type?"

"AB+," Booth replied from the doorway, his hands gripping the metal doorframe until his knuckles showed white. "She's a universal receiver."

"Gillian, send up to the lab for six units of blood," the doctor barked to a trauma nurse, who immediately dashed to a phone. "She's leaking like a sieve," he muttered to himself as he tried to staunch the bleeding. "Trish, call up to the OR and tell them we have a trauma victim with a deep stab wound to the upper right quadrant of the abdomen. She's losing so much blood, the knife probably hit her liver. We're bringing her up now. Have them page Dr. Stoneman."

Suddenly a high-pitched whining filled the air and the doctor's eyes shot to the cardiac monitor. "Shit! She's in V-fib. Let's intubate her and begin compressions." A nurse began pumping Brennan's chest while the doctor inserted a long tube into her throat. "Airway is in," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "Charge the paddles and get me one cc of adrenaline." He held the defibrillation paddles over Brennan's chest and called, "clear!" The electricity surged into her limp body and she arched off the table, landing with a soft thud. "Turn it up to 300," the doctor instructed urgently. The machine hummed as it charged. "Clear!"

Booth felt himself gag and pressed a fist to his mouth. Come on, baby, he kept urging silently. Please, God, don't leave me here without her.

"Normal rhythm," the doctor announced, relief evident in his voice. "Let's get her up to the OR as fast as we can. That was way too close." An orderly ran in with six small bags of blood and the doctor grabbed one, passing it to a nurse. "Trish, get that hooked up and open her IV up as far as you can. She needs blood now. Let's go."

Booth stepped aside as the trauma team rolled Brennan passed him and he barely kept himself from reaching out to touch her. He was so focused on watching her as the elevator doors closed that he scarcely heard the nurse at his side attempting to speak to him. She finally had to shake his arm to get his attention.

"Sir, are you the patient's family?"

Booth began to shake his head when he heard a voice behind him answer. "They're partners," Cullen said firmly. "I'm Deputy Director Cullen. Dr. Brennan is a consultant for the FBI. As such, Special Agent Booth and I expect to be kept completely informed on every aspect of Dr. Brennan's care and condition."

"Of course, Director Cullen," the nurse replied immediately. "You and Agent Booth are welcome to wait in the Surgical Waiting Room. The doctor will let you know how she is doing as soon as he can."

Booth swallowed thickly, his throat tight with emotion. "We also need to now about Dr. Jack Hodgins and Angela Montenegro," he informed her. "They were brought in right after Bo . . . Dr. Brennan."

"I'll check on that for you and send word up to the waiting room," the nurse assured him. "Take the second elevator on your left to the fourth floor. The waiting area is right across from the elevator doors."

Cullen nodded their thanks and steered Booth to the elevator. "Come on, son," he said quietly, his hand firm on Booth's shoulder. "We'll wait together."

Booth sat slumped in his chair, his eyes fixed on the door, praying for a doctor to walk through it and tell him Bones was alright. They had been waiting for hours, how many he couldn't say. He only knew that they had been interminable. Cullen hadn't left his side for more than five minutes. He had gone to get a cup of coffee and had practically forced it down Booth's throat. His constant, steady presence had been the only thing that kept Booth sane.

The door opened and Booth started from his seat, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he prayed that it was Bones' doctor with good news. His shoulder slumped when he saw Angela and Jack walk in but he quickly went over and pulled the sobbing artists into a tight one-armed embrace, reaching out with his free hand and firmly grasping Jack's outstretched hand.

"No news yet," he told them grimly. "They let us know when they started the operation, but nothing since."

"Oh, God, Booth," Angela wept. "It's my fault she's in there. If I hadn't crushed up those pills . . ."

Booth pulled back and gripped her shoulders, stooping slightly to look into her eyes. "Angela, it is definitely not your fault," he assured her. "It's the Gravedigger's fault, no one else's. You can't let yourself think like that."

Angela pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, her red, swollen eyes searching Booth's. "You don't blame me?" she whispered shakily.

"Of course not," Booth said immediately. "You were only trying to help her. We both know how stubborn she is," he said wryly. "The only other way you could have gotten her to get some sleep – which she desperately needed – would be to hit her over the head with a baseball bat." He forced himself to smile. "That, I couldn't have forgiven. Let's just not make a habit of drugging friends without their knowledge, OK? That's kind of illegal and I am an FBI agent. "

Angela gasped and then chuckled wetly. "Thanks, Booth," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Booth held her for a moment and then pulled back. "How are the two of you?" he asked, his concern obvious. He took in the exhaustion evident on their faces, as well as the bandages on the back of their necks and around their wrists.

"We're OK," Hodgins replied. "Just a little banged up. They wanted to make sure he hadn't done anything to us while we were unconscious, which is why we weren't up here sooner. We've been trying to get information out of the ER staff but they wouldn't tell us a thing. They wouldn't even let the agents downstairs know what was going on."

"What agents?" Booth asked, confused.

"Booth, the ER waiting room is full of FBI agents. As soon as they heard about Dr. Brennan, they started coming in to give blood, trying to get news on how she's doing. There have to be more than a hundred guys down there."

Booth turned astonished eyes to Cullen, who had remained in his seat. The Deputy Director shrugged and said, "I knew they'd want to do something. We always try to help when one of our own is injured."

Booth clenched his jaw against a new wave of emotion and could only manage to nod his thanks to his boss. Clasping Angela's hand, and with Jack following, he led them to a couple of chairs next to him and Cullen and the four of them settled in to wait.

It could have been minutes or hours later that a blood-spattered, sweat-stained, exhausted surgeon came into the waiting room and made his way to the nurse's station. They spoke briefly and one of the nurses inclined her head towards the little group. The doctor nodded his thanks and made his way over.

"I'm Dr. Stoneman. I understand you're waiting for news about Temperance Brennan," he said wearily, his eyes dark with fatigue.

Booth shot to his feet, the others close behind him, their expressions a combination of hope mingled with dread. "Yes, we are," Booth replied quickly. "How is she?"

"The knife hit her liver, which is why she lost so much blood," the doctor answered. "Thank God he didn't hit an artery but the damage was pretty extensive. She's been given ten units of blood." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm not going to lie to you," he said grimly. "She's in bad shape. Critical condition in the ICU. But," he hastened to add, "she still has her liver and her blood pressure has stabilized. At least for now. It's still quite low, which worries me. If she makes it through tonight . . ." he paused for a moment. "All I can say is that the next twenty-four hours will determine what happens."

Booth cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Can we see her?" he rasped.

"Not right now," Dr. Stoneman replied. "We want to keep her as quiet as possible for the next few hours. If she remains stable, then we'll start allowing visitors. But only one at a time." He smiled kindly. "I know it's difficult, but you should go home, get cleaned up, try to get some rest. We'll call you if there's any change."

Booth opened his mouth to refuse but Hodgins spoke before he could. "We can't do that, Doctor," he said firmly. "We'll stay here until we can see her. We need to see for ourselves. But thank you for letting us know."

"It's up to you, of course," Stoneman said. "I'll make sure you get regular updates about Dr. Brennan. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on my patient."

Cullen took out his phone and quickly punched in several numbers. "Just letting everyone know how she's doing," he said quietly. "They'll want to know. And I'm going to get in touch with the agents guarding Russ and his family. They don't know what's happened. I thought it best to keep it from them until we knew anything."

He moved away from the group to make his calls just as Booth's knees buckled. He slumped in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands cradling his head. Angela immediately sat beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "God, Angela," he rasped. "How are we going to get through the next twenty-four hours? It seems like a lifetime. Her lifetime."

"Don't forget who you're talking about," Angela reminded him gently, tears streaming down her cheeks. "This is Brennan. She's never given up in her life. She's not about to start now." She felt Jack take her hand in a tight grip as Cullen rejoined them and sat next to Booth. "Brennan knows we're here for her," Angela said, her voice firm. "And she knows that she has too much to fight for."

AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read the story and to leave reviews. You guys are awesome! Please let me know what you think of this latest installment. The muse needs fuel!