Hello All!
Again thanks for reading. It's been awhile hasn't it. Busy Busy Busy.
This is a shorter chapter than usual. But as always I hope you enjoy and Please review!

Brennan looked around at her desk. Scrawled across her usually pristine desk was crumpled up paper and writing all over. It was now quarter after three and she hadn't slept a wink. She needed some extra help. Being so close to the case was clouding her insight that might save her life. She had gone nowhere in the riddles presented in front of her. Rubbing her eyes, she reached for the mirror she had in her top drawer. Her hair was disheveled and her eye shadow made her look like a raccoon. Brennan went to the bathroom to clean up and look somewhat presentable.

Upon entering, she looked at the mirror and spoke to herself

"Look at what you have become Temperance." She shook her head and turned on the faucet. Just as the water began to pour out of the spout, she heard a scuffle in one of the stalls behind her.

"Hello?" She craned her head to see if anyone was in the washroom with her. There was no answer. Brennan placed her hand on her forehead and exhaled heavily. She was working too hard on this case. Turning her attention towards the faucet once more, she plunged her hands into the cold water filling the basin, and splashed a few hands full on her face. She repeated the process a few times and reached for the paper towels provided to wipe her face. Closing her eyes, she dragged the towel across her face and felt a warm breath on her neck. Someone was breathing on her. She stopped instantly and she eyes shot open. She looked in her peripheral view at the mirror and saw someone dressed in all black was standing behind her. She jumped forward and did a roundhouse kick to the intruder's stomach and made him reel back. His hands went to the small of his back and reached for a .19 mm glock and shot at her. Ducking behind a stall, Brennan's arm was grazed by the bullet and was starting to bleed and she let out a small scream. With all her martial arts she had learned over the years to protect herself, she knew she could never out battle a gun.

Brennan made a run for the door and the man in black chased her shooting at random times towards her body, always narrowly missing her. Everything around her, shattered into pieces. The glass from the beakers broke into shards and raced into the flesh on her face. Still she kept running. She raced towards her office and dove into the room locking the door. It was a useless attempt, being that her door was glass, but the glass was thick and would give her sometime to reach for her second desk drawer. She scrambled for the drawer and forced the semi-locked drawer open. She reached inside and grabbed her concealed .38 Smith and Weston just as her door collapsed into pieces. Again she was shot at and the bullet grazed her temple. Blood ran down her face and into her eyes and was blinding her view of the intruder. She shot at the black area she thought was the man but missed completely. He too, shot again. She ran a hand over her face and brushed the blood from her eyes. Brennan shot at the man again and the bullet came into contact with the man's left arm. He let out a loud scream, and ran out of the room.

Brennan got up and followed him. Once more, she shot at him and hit his right leg. The man ran out of the work area and Brennan stopped chasing him. Exhaling deeply, she reached for her chest and felt her heart beating rapidly. Tears streaked her blood soaked face. Brennan was whimpering and finding it hard to believe. The place which held her life was no longer safe. Reaching for her pocket, Brennan grabbed her phone and dialed a number.

"Booth," a groggy Booth answered at the end of the line.
"I need your help" Brennan was crying and sobbing in between each word.
"Bones, what's going on?" Worry rang through his voice.
"I've been shot at…" Just as the words left her mouth, Brennan fell to the floor and fainted.
"Bones? What Happened...? Bones? BONES!"