The next few weeks were indeed some of the hardest. Every time the phone rang Brennan checked it with hope that it was Dr. Kaplan's office calling with a cancellation. Each time she was let down. That didn't stop her. Often she looked at her phone even when she knew it hadn't rung, just in case she'd missed a call. However, that wasn't what was making the wait so difficult. It was actually Booth himself.

For the first few days he was back home he still rose early to go running. He then abruptly quit a few days later without providing Brennan with much of an explanation why. She feared the truth, and so she left it alone. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. Right then and there she needed to hold onto the hope that she could help him. That everything she was trying wasn't in vain.

Booth woke early every morning anyway just to be awake. She couldn't fathom how he was able to, since she knew his intolerable pain was the worst first thing in the morning. Still day after day he pushed himself. He ate through terrible bouts of nausea. He remained completely positive, holding them together when she was struggling. More than once he took her into his arms and just held her, providing silent comfort when really, it should have been the other way around. It was that selflessness that was killing her. She knew he was holding back a good portion of his battle in his silent fight. "How are you feeling?" She'd ask him.

If he answered at all it was usually something along the lines of, "I'm all right, Bones. Don't worry about me."

It was impossible not to. The seizures didn't stop. In those two weeks he had two more cluster episodes, in which he wouldn't wake from one seizure before starting another. After each one he slept for nearly two days straight.

The hallucinations were also stronger than ever. He'd unblinkingly stare straight ahead of himself without ever saying a word. For Brennan, he didn't need to. Just seeing his facial expressions alerted her he was gone. Several times a day she'd lose him to his own deliria. Sometimes even in the middle of a conversation. The hard cold fact was that whatever was going on with him, be it emotional or physical, it was getting worse.

The night before they were due to leave Angela came to visit for a while. The three of them sat together in the living room with glasses of wine. The conversation was kept light, filled mostly with jokes and happier memories from the past. After a while Booth excused himself. Both women waited for him to head into the bedroom. He appeared worn out and they were sure he was headed to lay his tired body down. Instead he surprised them both by slipping on shoes and going out the door.

"How's he doing?" Angela asked Brennan. "Really."

Brennan's eyes pooled with tears. "It's difficult."

Angela widened her eyes in shock. "He's being difficult?"

"No. He's being altruistic." She shook her head. "He keeps what he's going through from me. I don't know how he really is because he won't let on. We worked so hard to get him to this place, Ange. And now I just wish he'd get upset." She dropped her voice down to a whisper. "It'd be easier."

Angela took a hold of Brennan's hand and squeezed it. Then she went outside after Booth. She located him just outside Brennan's apartment building. He was leaning against a pillar attached to the overhang looming over the front entrance. His head was bowed into his hands. The muscles through his shoulders were clenched. Tenderly Angela touched his back.

Booth jumped. He whirled around breathlessly. Until he saw it was Angela he was ready to fight. His fists dropped back down to his sides. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have known better."

"No. I should be over it by now." He turned his back on her again to return to his place. Angela walked around to face him. "No, Booth. I'm not sure it's something you'll ever completely be over." She was sure of it, actually.

He didn't say much. He grimaced, putting his head back into his hands and closing his eyes. His breaths followed a harsh but steady rhythm. Angela could see he was in an extreme amount of pain. "Booth, you should let her see you like this. She can't help if she doesn't know."

"I've done research. I've looked up all my symptoms online. It's a brain tumor."

"You don't know that. The tests your doctors ran didn't show it."

"I'm dying," he insisted. "And after all the Hell I put Bones through for so many months she doesn't need to see this."

"Booth, she already knows something's really wrong."

"Amanda's finally getting her way." He muttered.

"What?"

"Amanda. The woman who…"

"I know who she is."

"She keeps telling me I'm going to die."

Angela gawked at him. "Telling you? Like, present tense?"

"I see her. She's standing right behind you right now."

Angela turned. Nothing was behind her but air. Worriedly she focused her attention back on Booth.

"She's always there, telling me I'm a coward. Telling me she's going to kill me; that whatever I got going on is because she's causing it. She'll kill me for killing her."

"She's a hallucination, Booth. She's not real."

"That's what they keep telling me."

"You don't believe it?"

"Sometimes."

Angela didn't know what to make of their conversation. She made a decision never to tell Brennan about it. "He's slipping," she mumbled to herself as she headed back inside.

Finally their date of departure for Las Vegas came. Together they woke up early and packed their luggage. They took a cab to the airport. Two hours were wasted running through various security check points. At last they were granted access to the plane. Brennan took Booth's hand in her own and led him to First Class. Booth smiled to himself. Brennan couldn't help but to share it. If that was all it took to make him smile then she wouldn't take it for granted. The two settled down into their seats.

"Are you nervous, Booth?"

"No." He blew her off. "Why would I be?"

"If Dr. Kaplan really is as good as Dr. Daniels seems to think, we might finally understand what's going on with you."

"But that's good, right? So why would I be nervous?"

"What if whatever happening to you is… terrible?" Fatal.

He shrugged a little. His turned his head away from her and looked out the window. Brennan spent a good long minute studying him. She was always known as the calculated cold one. Booth was always the warm emotional one. So why was he changing up their roles? What did he know that she didn't?

By the time the plane was ready to depart he was sound asleep. Brennan took his hand into her own. She affectionately rubbed the skin over his knuckles. She watched his face while he slept, glad to see he was finding peace. Her own eyes closed despite the bumpy ride of the plane launching itself up into the air. She relaxed enough to slip into a light sleep. Yet it wasn't long before she was awaken again. Booth's hand suddenly clamped onto her own. The muscles in his arm tightened. As a matter of fact his entire body tensed up.

"Booth?" She under toned.

His eyes opened. He breathed deeply. "Yeah. I'll be right back." Before she could question him he unbuckled his seatbelt. Dizzily he searched through the cabin until he found the bathroom. Inside he locked the door behind him. Then he collapsed straight to the plastic-like floor with his head in his hands. He gasped for oxygen so quickly he entertained the thought of hyperventilating. "Come on," he sighed out loud. "You can't get sick here."

The pain in his head increased in its intensity the higher the plane traveled. A sharp pain throbbed in his skull, feeling much as though someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a kitchen knife. How am I going to survive this flight like this?

Amanda knelt down next to him. "You're not." She smirked.

"Go away," He groaned. "I can't deal with you right now." His vision faded in and out.

"You'll always have to deal with me."

They both were startled by a knock at the door. "Booth? It's me." Brennan. "Are you all right?"

Booth hissed out a long breath. Great. He didn't want her there. Not with this going on. He'd made a vow to stay strong in front of her. But that strength was gone. He made a small cry of pain as the headache worsened.

"Please open up." She begged.

He couldn't get himself up off the floor. It took all the strength he could muster to push the lock on the door with his fingers. Then he fell face first onto his stomach. There he laid as Brennan flung the door open, too exhausted to get himself back up.

She fell to her knees immediately. "Booth!" Very carefully she helped him back up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the bathroom wall. She touched his face, his neck. Both were raging with heat. "What's going on? What can I do?"

There was nothing she could do and they both knew it. Brennan was just as helpless as he was. It wasn't as though she could stop the flight to let them off.

Amanda appeared again behind Brennan's shoulder. "That's right. Show her how weak you really are."

He tried to push himself up just to spite her. His muscles instantly quit on him.

"Don't. Stay down." Brennan cautioned.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

She pulled him into her arms and held him tightly.