At 7.00am the morning after the shooting, Angela Montenegro was back at Temperance Brennan's apartment. The previous evening, at Brennan's request, Angela had reluctantly left her best friend alone then taken a taxi to Hodgins' place. His house was further away than her own apartment, but she was happy to pay the extra cab fare because she absolutely did not want to spend the night on her own after the tragic events of that evening. She wanted to spend the night in the arms of the man she loved, counting her blessings that she still had him. Hodgins had wanted to wait for Angela in the car while she escorted Brennan to her apartment, but Angela told him to go as she had fully anticipated she would be spending the night at Brennan's. However, she hadn't expected Brennan pleading with her and almost forcing her to leave. Angela acquiesced because she knew better than to disagree, but there was no way she was going to leave her alone any longer than necessary.

In those few hours she had spent at Hodgins' house, Angela had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her best friends face, broken and in pain. The haunted look Brennan had worn after they had been told of Booth's death would stay with Angela for the rest of her life. She looked so utterly devastated yet empty at the same time. She had shut herself off, like Angela had seen her do on several occasions when they were working on a difficult case. Except this was worse than that and Angela knew it was a bad sign. Temperance Brennan was an incredibly strong woman, but that didn't mean she wouldn't feel the pain. Angela knew she would force it back and tuck it away, but the dam wall she was holding it behind was leaky and weakened by grief. Sooner or later, it would burst, and Angela was worried that Brennan would drown in the inevitable deluge of sorrow.

The solid oak door to Brennan's apartment rattled a little in the frame as Angela pounded on it. She had been trying to rouse her for the past ten minutes to no avail. She had tried calling her cell and her landline but had no answer from her on those either. Thinking that maybe she had gone to the lab already, Angela called the Jeffersonian. She spoke to one of the guards on the security desk who stated that Dr. Brennan hadn't been logged into the building yet that day.

Angela's already high level of concern suddenly skyrocketed. She snapped her little silver clamshell phone shut to end the call before she hammered on the door again. "Brennan!" She yelled, not caring if she woke the neighbours, but there was still no answer.

She was insanely worried. She thought she knew how close Brennan was to Booth, but now, she was beginning to wonder if she had underestimated exactly how close they had gotten. Brennan seemed to be taking his death really badly and Angela had a new concern creeping up on her that there was a possibility she might do something stupid. Something really stupid. Angela hoped she was wrong, but she just couldn't take that chance.

She quickly turned on her heel and dashed down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. She needed to get into that apartment. Now. She paced quickly into the lobby and headed straight for the service desk. She tousled her hair and adjusted her black scoop neck shirt to show a little more cleavage, hoping that the concierge wasn't a straight woman or a gay man. Although occasionally, neither of those were beyond the reach of Angela's charms. She tapped the gold bell on the counter and waited impatiently, tapping her foot.

The concierge approached the counter from a small back office. Dressed in a grey suit and tie, he was handsome with dark cropped hair, and young. No more than early twenties Angela estimated. Perfect she thought. As he walked towards her, she could see the small silver name badge pinned to his chest identifying him as 'Ricardo'. He smiled warmly at Angela before he said,

"Can I help you, miss?"

Angela plastered her best charming smile on her face and with one arm resting casually on the counter, leaned forward a little so Ricardo would get the full effect of the low neckline of her top. Her smile grew a little wider as she saw his eyes being drawn towards her chest. So far, her plan was working.

She pulled her Jeffersonian ID from her purse and kept her fingers crossed that she was capable of duping this guy because Brennan's life may depend on it.

She quickly flashed the badge in the concierge's face before concealing it again in her palm.

"Angela Montenegro, FBI." She stated confidently. She was careful not to call herself 'agent' because she knew impersonating a federal agent was a felony, but this was the only solution she could come up with at such short notice that she thought would convince the concierge to let her into Brennan's apartment. And besides, she did work with the FBI, so it wasn't technically a lie…

Ricardo the concierge nodded and, encouraged by his apparent lack of suspicion and friendly demeanour; Angela continued.

"I'm trying to contact a colleague of mine, Dr Temperance Brennan in apartment 22. She works for the Jeffersonian, but she also sub-contracts for us. There's no answer at her apartment and she isn't answering her cell. You see, we're working on a very important case and the suspected perps have made threats against her. So, the fact that she's not answering her door means that right now, I'm very concerned about her safety."

Angela raised an eyebrow as she watched Ricardo's eyes slowly work their way up from her chest to her face. He blushed as he realised she had caught him ogling her breasts and he stammered a little as he spoke.

"I- I'm sorry Agent…?"

"Montenegro." Angela prompted, pleased that he seemed to have fallen for her ruse.

"Agent Montenegro, I'm sorry but I can't allow you access to Dr Brennan's apartment. My boss, he was very specific about not using our keys to let anyone into any of the apartments except the tenants themselves."

Mimicking what she had seen Booth do on a few occasions, Angela worked her facial expression into one of disappointment with a hint of anger.

"Even for law enforcement, Ricardo?" She made a point of squinting at his name tag before emphasising his name.

Ricardo's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped nervously and withered under Angela's glare. If the situation had been different, Angela would have almost been enjoying herself, but she was getting frustrated with how long this was taking.

"And what will your boss say when he finds out that you let Dr. Brennan bleed to death because you wouldn't let me in her apartment, huh? Or, how about I just shoot out the lock and let you explain that to your boss?"

It was over the top, but it worked. Ricardo floundered for a moment before scurrying back into the office and grabbing a large ring of keys. Angela followed as he headed for the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't called her bluff. She actually found herself feeling a little guilty that she had been so hard on him as when they reached Brennan's door, Angela could see his hands trembling as he fumbled the key into the lock.

Ricardo finally pushed the door open and stepped back to allow Angela to enter. She quickly turned around in the doorway and placed her hand on the frame to stop him following her into the apartment.

"Thank you for your help, Ricardo. I can take it from here." She said with a saccharine smile that fell immediately after closing the door on the concierge's face.

Angela sighed in relief that she had finally gotten into the apartment. She placed her purse on the counter before slowly surveying the scene in front of her. Brennan's black jacket that she had been wearing yesterday was still in the same spot on the floor from where she had dumped it last night. Nothing else had changed since Angela was last here a few hours ago apart from a cupboard door in the kitchen lay open and a half bottle of scotch was sitting on the side near the sink.

Wondering exactly what quantity of the scotch Brennan had drunk, Angela walked quietly towards the bedroom, uncertain of what she would find there. She gently pushed the bedroom door open a crack and slipped inside, pausing when she spotted Brennan fast asleep in bed, the movement of her deep slumbering breaths obvious beneath the covers. Satisfied that she was alive at least, Angela turned to leave the room to let her sleep but paused when she spotted something through the open closet door that was seemingly out of place.

Succumbing to her nosy tendencies, she quickly and quietly advanced towards the closet. She crept inside, pulled the door behind her until it was almost closed, and clicked on the light. Neatly hung up in front of her were two black suits that were too large and masculine to have been Brennan's, along with three white dress shirts. Puzzled as to who the owner of the garments could be, she looked around to see if there were any more clues. The answer came when she saw what was in one of the drawers that was hanging open at the other side of the closet. It was obvious what this drawer was because she had one at Hodgins' house and he had one at her apartment. In it was an assortment of possessions, all required when staying over at your lovers' place. There was underwear, pyjamas, ties, and T-shirts, but it was the socks that gave it away. She had only ever seen one man wear socks like the ones tucked neatly into that drawer.

Angela felt tears prickle behind her eyes as she inhaled a shaky breath. It was obvious that she had underestimated how close Brennan and Booth had been after all. Grief for her best friend flared in her chest, heavy and aching. Brennan hadn't just lost her partner; she had lost the man she loves too. Angela clicked off the closet light and gently closed the door behind her. She was almost to the bedroom door when she heard a quiet voice.

"Angela?"

She slowly turned to see Brennan's blue eyes peering out from behind the covers. The drapes were closed, and it was dim in the room but even through the semi-darkness, Angela could see that Brennan didn't look good. Her complexion was pallid, her eyes were sunken and dark, and her hair was a crazy auburn halo around her head.

"Yeah Sweetie, it's me."

"How did you get in here?" Brennan asked in an accusatory tone, completely unnerved that she had slept through Angela entering her apartment.

"I got the building concierge to let me in. I've been calling and hammering on your door, and you weren't answering. I was worried about you, and I had to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine Angela." Brennan glared at Angela in disapproval as she shifted herself upright. She was all too aware of what Angela's techniques are for getting what she wants, and it usually involved utilising her uninhibited sexuality.

"No, you're not. Please don't give me that crap Brennan. I know you better than that."

Brennan didn't reply. She couldn't deny that Angela was right. She wasn't alright. Not even close. Last night she had cried herself into a fitful sleep before slipping into a deeper sleep, one where she dreamed of Booth. Dreaming that he hadn't left her, that he hadn't died. The dreams had done nothing to ease her pain, in fact they had made it worse. The only difference was now, the pain was no longer a surprise to her, stealing her breath as it overwhelmed her. Instead, it was a constant presence. An unwanted companion to accompany her for the rest of her life.

Angela saw the agony flit across Brennan's features. She walked over to the bed and perched on the edge near her feet. The tears she hadn't shed while Angela had been with her had clearly broken free at some point because she not only had the dark circles under her eyes, but they were bloodshot and swollen too. Angela also noticed that she was wearing a navy-blue FBI T-shirt which pretty much confirmed her theory about Brennan and Booth being a couple.

Angela felt her heart breaking for her best friend. She took Brennan's hand in hers, prompting her to lift her aqua blue eyes to meet Angela's deep browns.

"He was more than just your partner, wasn't he." Angela stated rather than asked, only wanting confirmation for what she thought she already knew.

"Yes." Brennan said simply. She could see no point in trying to conceal that fact from Angela. She had obviously seen the T-shirt she was wearing and more of Booth's possessions around the apartment that indicated he had been more involved in her life than anyone knew.

"I'm so sorry." Angela said softly.

The sympathy was clear in Angela's voice and Brennan felt her bottom lip begin to tremble as she fought back tears. She bit down on her lip and took a long deep breath, refusing to cry any more. She couldn't keep breaking down. If she was going to survive this, she needed to be stronger than that.

"Please don't tell anyone, Ange. About me and… Booth." It hurt to say his name. The name that she loved saying. The name that to her was synonymous with safety and comfort now just meant pain and grief.

"Why? I mean, of course I won't say anything if you don't want me to. But why don't you want anyone to know? I'm guessing you kept it a secret because of the FBI and your partnership, but that doesn't matter now, does it?"

Irritated with Angela's questioning, Brennan raised her voice. "Because it will be hard enough having to deal with the sympathy and pity people will try to impose on me already and it will be even worse if they know we weren't just work partners! I don't want sympathy or pity! I just want to be left alone!"

This was hurting too much, and Brennan felt compelled to escape. She needed to go to the lab, to go to the only place where she knew she would be left alone, where she would be able to focus on something that was important, to focus on the only thing left that gave her life meaning. She yanked her hand from Angela's grasp and pushed herself out of bed, going straight to the bathroom and slamming the door.

Angela sighed deeply and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Brennan's pain was palpable and Angela's concerns about her wellbeing had not been assuaged at all. If anything, she was more worried now than she was before. She knew exactly what Brennan was going to do now. She was going to lock herself in the lab away from everyone and suffer in silence, refusing help from anyone. But Angela wasn't going to allow her to do that. Not this time. Brennan needed her help and Angela was determined to try to support her any way she could.

Giving Brennan her privacy, Angela left the bedroom and went back to the kitchen. She was going to make some tea and see if there was anything in the kitchen that she might be able to encourage Brennan to eat. As she crossed the room, something crunched under the sole of her shoe. Angela stopped and lifted her foot to see exactly what it was she had trodden on. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she saw that it was a small, dark green button. She stooped to pick it up and as she did so, she noticed several more of the same button scattered across the kitchen floor. She picked them up and held them in her fist as she looked around for some clue as to where they might have come from.

Failing to find anything to suggest where they had originated, she deposited them into a small decorative dish that was amongst Brennan's numerous artifacts and curios she had collected on her travels to keep them safe.

Angela returned her attention to making tea, setting about boiling the kettle, rummaging in the cupboards to find the teabags and the coffee grounds. The late night, early morning, and emotional turbulence of the past 12 hours meant Angela desperately needed the caffeine boost that only coffee could provide in order to be able to function. She was just about to toss the old coffee grounds into the trash when she spotted something in the can. The scrap of fabric looked familiar somehow, partially hidden under some food packaging. Angela moved the trash aside to see the scrap of fabric was the blouse Brennan had been wearing last night, torn and blood stained. Suddenly the buttons on the floor made sense. She had ripped it from her body, scattering the buttons in the process. Angela instantly regretted listening to Brennan last night when she had asked her to leave. She had obviously been in far more distress than Angela had known.

She replaced the trash and tossed in the coffee grounds, going back to her task of making tea and coffee. Her heart felt heavy with sorrow. She was devastated about Booth's death herself. He had become more like a friend than a colleague and Angela was going to miss him immensely. But she knew her pain was insignificant compared to how her best friend must be feeling and she had a horrible feeling that she may never recover from it. She knew how Brennan tried to shield herself from strong emotions, so to be experiencing this profound grief must be overwhelming.

As she was finishing up making the tea, soft footsteps drew her attention. Brennan was standing in front of her, now dressed and more presentable. Her clothes were muted, black pants and a plain grey blouse. Angela also noticed her usual chunky jewellery was missing, her neck and ears lacking her usual colourful and eclectic adornments. She had tamed her hair somewhat and applied a little make-up, but she still looked ashen with apparently no amount of concealer able to disguise the purple shadows under her eyes.

"I made you some tea." Angela said as she pushed the cup towards Brennan.

"Thank you." Brennan said quietly before picking up the cup and taking a welcome sip. She hadn't drunk anything since she vomited up the scotch she had hastily drunk last night and her mouth felt desiccated.

Angela watched surreptitiously while she drank her coffee as Brennan slowly moved through the apartment, absentmindedly tidying the few things that were out of place. The bottle of scotch went back in the cupboard, the glass that was in the sink went in the dishwasher along with her now empty teacup. She picked up the discarded black jacket and hung it up on the coat stand, not really looking at it and turning away as soon as the task was complete.

She was doing exactly what Angela feared she would. It was like watching a robot, an automaton, and it was painful.

"Do you want to get some breakfast?" Angela asked hopefully. She had failed to find anything in the kitchen suitable for breakfast and she wanted to make sure that Brennan ate something.

"No." Brennan said with a shake of her head. The tea didn't feel good in her stomach, and she was certain that she would end up vomiting back up any food she ate.

Brennan couldn't stand being here any longer. She appreciated what Angela was trying to do, but she needed a distraction. There were too many memories of Booth here, intimate memories, and she needed something to divert her mind from these searing, agonising shadows of her love.

"I'm going to the lab." She announced abruptly, pulling on a different jacket from the coat stand and grabbing her bag.

"Okay, I'll go with you." Angela agreed quickly, already anticipating that this was where she would want to go.

"No." Brennan almost shouted. Realising how it sounded, she tempered her tone. "I'd prefer to be alone, Angela." She opened the door and said over her shoulder, "You can let yourself out."

Angela's shoulders slumped as Brennan walked out of the door, feeling completely out of her depth. Helping her best friend in her time of need was going to be harder than she anticipated, but Angela wasn't going to let that stop her. Making sure to set the latch on the door so it locked behind her, Angela grabbed her purse and set off to follow Brennan to the lab. She was going to make sure she was close by, ready to rescue her when the dam breaks.