Disclaimer: In addition to all of the usual things that aren't mine, Birdie is taken from Kathy Reich's novels. I'll try to return her safe and sound.
AN: I think this is the longest chapter in the whole story, if I'm not mistaken, so I hope you all enjoy it!

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Brennan's apartment looked as if some sort of wild animal had torn through it. Papers lay scattered on the floor, chairs were upturned, and her couch was lying on its side. She instinctively stepped back, one hand reaching for the door handle and the other for her cell phone. When she turned her head to look behind her, she saw him.

Rough hands were grabbing her before she had a chance to react, covering her mouth and trapping her. A low, angry voice hissed into her ear.

"You bitch, you're going to get it now. You tricked me once, but you'll never trick anyone again." She could barely hear him over the pounding in her ears and the voice inside of her, screaming- fight! Run! Go!

Her defense training took over, and with a few well-placed jabs and twists, Brennan had managed to wrest herself from Harryl's grasp, but only got a few steps away before he had both her wrists. They were both struggling, Harryl to keep her down, Brennan to get away. She was sure he was covered in bruises, but he was tenacious, and stronger than she would have thought.

Pain seared through her arm; he was bending it backwards and preventing her from moving. Then, she was flying backwards into her bookshelf, which wobbled but did not fall, though several shelves broke as she whammed into them. Novels, textbooks, encyclopedias and magazines rained down, and she heard glass shatter as the one picture frame she'd added to the shelves broke beneath her arm.

The glass had to be a thousand degrees, the way it burned her forearm and sent heat searing through her. She tried to move, but her body wouldn't listen. Through her shocked haze, Tempe saw him looming above her, something glinting in his hand.

Then, there was a terrific yowl, and the ball of grey fluff and claws Tempe referred to as her cat flew from where it had been sleeping atop the bookshelf and was attempting to attach itself in a permanent way to Harryl's face.

He swaggered back a moment, and Tempe knew that it was now or never. She sprang to her feet, biting back the bile rising in her throat, and grabbed the ornamental vase she'd gotten in Kenya. His back was to her, and she couldn't see her cat anymore as he turned. Before he had a chance to respond, she smashed the large piece of pottery over his head, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Panting, Tempe leaned against the wall, staring at Harryl's unmoving form. She could see his back rising and falling ever-so-slightly, but the man was definitely out for a while. Her trembling fingers reached for her cell phone.

Who to call, 911 or Booth? The question was too much for her stunned and tired mind. Booth would let her know what to do. She held down the key on her phone that she had programmed to speed dial him and hoped he wasn't asleep yet.

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Booth was on his way home when his phone chirped in his pocket. He glanced at the caller before flipping it open- Bones, the readout told him. Why would she be calling?

"What's up, Bones?" he asked, holding the cell to his ear.

"Booth." Her voice sounded unsure, heavy.

"Bones? What's wrong?" He changed lanes; if it turned out she didn't need him, he could always turn back around.

The line was silent for a moment, scaring him. "Harryl was at my apartment when I got home. He attacked me." She sounded bewildered, as if she didn't believe it herself.

Booth nearly ran into the car ahead of him as he accelerated the car. "What? Bones, are you okay? What happened? Where's Harryl?" He didn't mean to throw so many questions out, she already sounded confused, but he couldn't help himself.

"Harryl's bleeding all over my carpet. I knocked him out with a vase I got from Kenya. Booth, I haven't called the police yet, should I do that and then you can get over here and arrest this guy? Or maybe he needs an ambulance…" her voice trailed off.

"I'll call, you keep an eye on him and arm yourself," Booth instructed. "I'm on my way right now, I'll be there in five minutes," especially at the rate he was speeding, he thought, "but are you okay?" She seemed to be evading the question, he noted with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine, I have a few bruises and my arm has some glass in it and I think I might have a concussion or something because my head hurts and I'm a little dizzy-"

She was obviously not fine, but he was relatively relieved. It could have been worse. He didn't want to think about how much so.

"-but the bleeding is not profuse and I don't believe that I've sustained any fractures, breaks, or life-threatening injuries," she finished, swallowing. It was obvious that she was feeling more than a little dazed.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, Bones; you just hang on and make sure Harryl doesn't pull anything. I've got to call the ambulance now," he said softly.

"Alright. I don't think Harryl's going anywhere." Booth marveled at how she could keep her dry humor, not to mention her head, about her. He heard the line click, and he was glad she had hung up first, not him, because he didn't know if he would have been able to. He pushed a button on his cell and called in an ambulance and some backup.

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Temperance's world kept spinning around her, and it wouldn't listen to her when she screamed at it to stop inside of her head. She sucked in air and leaned against the wall. After a moment, the vertigo receded and she opened her eyes.

Tentatively, she held out her arm and gently removed the few shards of glass embedded with a hiss of pain. They hadn't gone deep, luckily. Her gaze involuntarily turned to the broken frame on the floor and she took a step towards it.

Her parents' faces gazed up at her. The picture was the one memento she kept in plain sight of them. It was her way of proving to herself that she had gotten to the point where the reminder of them was no longer painful. The problem lay in the fact that she felt coldness seep through her stomach whenever she glanced at it.

The picture was ruined now, she saw. It was punctured in several places, and blood had pooled onto her mother's face. Tempe shuddered and looked away. Sirens sounded in the distance, came closer and closer.

The door flew open, and Booth filled the doorframe, panting heavily. She was very glad to see him; she figured it was one step closer to being able to lie down and sleep for a very, very long time, though she suspected he would be doing paperwork into the morning. Besides, she always felt safer when he was there. He protected her in more ways than one.

His eyes did a one-over of the apartment, with its trashed drawers, tipped furniture, destroyed bookshelf, cracked glass, and unconscious Harryl, before coming to rest on Brennan.

"Bones." His voice caught in his throat as he strode over to her. She was bleeding from her arm, but not severely, she had a large lump on her forehead, and a few other bruises and scrapes. "Are you okay?" It seemed like a stupid question immediately. She rewarded him with a dazed stare, and he noticed that her eyes seemed to be two different sizes. A concussion, he concluded.

"I think you had better arrest him, Booth," Tempe said, struggling to focus, "He's been moving around a little." At that moment, Harryl let out a small groan, as if to reiterate Tempe's point.

Booth was more than happy to comply. He cuffed Harryl's hands together and took a good look at the back of his head, where a nasty bump was forming and some blood was running from, but it didn't look life-threatening. Booth decided he would definitely not want to be on the receiving end of one of Brennan's African vases.

Snatching a towel from the pile of laundry that had tumbled from the couch, Booth closed the distance between himself and Brennan. "Hold out your arm," he instructed, and she did as told. He folded the towel and pressed it to her arm to stop the bleeding. Tempe inhaled sharply, and then relaxed.

Her eyes met his. "Thank you," he heard her breathe.

The sound of heavy shoes thudding through the hall announced the arrival of the paramedics, with the other agents Booth had called in on their heels. Booth turned Brennan in the direction of the former and steered her towards them, keeping a grip on her arm until handing her off to an EMT.

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Ten minutes later, Booth was done making arrangements for the night. He would have a busy day tomorrow, for sure, but that could, and would, wait.

The EMT was looking into Brennan's eyes while the bruised anthropologist held ice to her head. Her scrapes were clean and bandaged, and while she knew she'd be sore the next day, she also realized it could have been much, much worse.

"Does she need to go to the hospital?" Booth's voice startled her, and she didn't know why.

"No, she has a mild concussion, but she'll be fine as long as she keeps icing her head. She should also stay up for at least another hour or so," the EMT responded, speaking to the both of them.

The agent nodded and gently tugged on her elbow. "Bones, I need to know everything that happened since you left the lab," he said in a soft voice, leading her over to her kitchen, which had been, for the most part, undisturbed. He did note a few scorch marks on the cabinet doors opposite the fridge, though; it seemed so long ago that he had been the banged and bruised one.

Brennan sat down across the table from Booth, fighting to keep herself awake, though she wasn't feeling quite as dazed as she had at first. Since when did she let Booth lead her around by her arm like that? She shook herself, which hurt, and then started relating the events to her partner.

"I drove home, went up the stairs, and opened the door, as usual. When I turned on the light, I saw that everything was trashed, and then Harryl grabbed me and said that… that even though I fooled him once, I wouldn't do it ever again." She closed her eyes for a moment and shuddered involuntarily.

Booth wished this conversation could have waited until morning, but he knew it would do more harm than good. Besides, the agents in the living room would need this information to hold Harryl until they could get concrete evidence on the murder.

Her voice cut through his thoughts. "We struggled, and he pushed me into the bookshelf, which broke, and I hit the back of my head on it. I also got hit by one of the books on the top shelf," she noted, pressing the ice pack firmly onto her scalp at the thought of it, "and it was probably the unabridged dictionary, judging from the way my head feels," she noted, grinning. The smile slid from her face as she continued. "Then, he was standing over me with a knife, but my cat-" she stopped a moment. "My cat attacked him. And I hit him over the head with a vase. But what happened to Birdie?" She stood, sliding the chair back and looking around agitatedly. "Birdie!" she called, as she strode into the living room with Booth following behind.

He saw it first; the pathetic grey and red ball of fur lying near the foot of the wall. She looked where his eyes were trained, and her hand flew up to her mouth as she took an involuntary step forwards and brought her hand down to her cat, her Birdie who made the nights not quite as lonely, who greeted her in the morning with a rough kiss and a yowling for milk, who napped all day long, and most of the night.

Her Birdie, who had saved Tempe's life and then left it for good.

She stood, shakily, and turned to face her partner. He was looking at her strangely, as if he didn't know what to do, or how she would respond. Her eyes filled with tears, and, as if that were some sort of permission for him, he pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest.

She was too shell-shocked already to be able to do much more than bury her face into Booth and try not to completely loose it. Just a cat, she told herself, but that didn't change the fact that someone else she'd come to count on was gone. She tried to breathe in deeply, but ended up just hiccupping into the clean white shirt her partner wore. A sob escaped her lips.

After a moment, she broke apart from his embrace and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just that…" she drew in a shaky breath and tried to give Booth some sort of smile, "…I've had that cat a long time. I'll be okay."

He was glad she hadn't objected to him comforting her. It had felt good to be able to do something to help her, to soothe her. The fact that she normally wouldn't have made it seem even more important.

Tempe breathed in shakily and surveyed the crew still picking at the wreck of her living room. Booth seemed to read her mind.

"They'll be here until late; they need to gather evidence to use against Harryl in court. You can come home with me and sleep on the couch, if you'd like."

She nodded wearily. "Yes, that would be nice, Booth. Let me get my things together." Stepping into her bedroom, she glanced around cautiously at first to make sure nothing had been disturbed. She would have to talk to Booth about how Harryl had broken in, she thought. This was the second time her personal space had been violated, and she resented it. It had taken her a long time to make home a place she wanted to be, somewhere she wanted to return to after work, and she wouldn't let jerks like this take it from her, she decided.

Booth was ready and waiting when she got back into the kitchen. He held the door for her as they left, and she could feel his eyes on her as they walked down the stairs and out the front doors of the building. On the way to Booth's they listened to music and talked about meaningless things, just to keep her awake until she reached the couch.

Finally, she was lying down, head on her own pillow, but lying on her partner's sofa.

"Good night, Bones," he told her after she thanked him for the tenth time for his hospitality, "I'm glad you're okay."

The lights went off with a soft click, and Tempe drifted to sleep.

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Very Long Closing AN: So much for returning the cat safe and sound.

I hate to break it to you guys, but I veered off the straight and narrow path of the All Powerful Story Outline, and as a result, the next chapter is the last, as in, the epilogue. I know, I know, I should be drawn and quartered, but really, it's better this way. The old plan called for two extremely boring chapters and THEN an epilogue, without any violence, falling books, or interesting interaction between Booth and Brennan. Sorry!

And what should you look for in this last chapter? Closure, of course! Brennan's cat, Booth's case, Brennan's publisher's ability to make money off of selling Harryl's books… all good things come to an end!

So… did you love it? Hate it? Got a favorite line? Think I should be nicer to cats? Let me know! Drop me a line, keep in touch, let me know what you think!