Hello, darlings. Did you miss me? No. Don't answer that. I'm fishing. Right. So...hi. I'm back, briefly, to throw another chapter at you. Originally it was longer, but my beta insisted I end it where I did, and continue on in chapter sixteen.

Just, HI!

I would also like to thank everyone who's so bloody patient with my updates. Like srsly. And HAPPY EASTER. Does anyone else get the feeling that I only post on religious hoildays?

WARNING: Graphic descriptiveness within. I actually did my research on mumblemumble. An experience, I tell you.

And remember: I'm not a doctor, nor do I have any medical experience! Pft, celebration if I pass this freakin' History assignment.

(HEY HEY YOU YOU I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND)

Chapter Fifteen – Point Of Origin

Temperance groaned softly in her sleep, her forehead damp with perspiration. The smooth lines of her face creased, bunched, tensed as she sat up abruptly; her eyes widening as the last pieces of sleep broke away into sharp planes of awareness.

Gasping desperately for air, she instinctively panicked; feeling the heavy pressure build in her chest. She brought her hand up to her throat, issuing a surprised cry that was drowned out by the calamitous presence rolling up from the pit of her stomach.

She knew what was about to happen, yet the first contraction caught her off guard; the pressure moving stealthily down from her chest to her abdomen; her diaphragm relaxing as her body prepared to emit the thunderstorm from within her. She gripped the bed sheets in her clenched fists, willing the nausea to subside. Her stomach muscles tightened, cramped with furious determination, and she released a small whimper.

"No." She murmured quietly, her lips barely moving, discouraging what would soon be the inevitable.

Stomach rippling with brutal tremors, she doubled over, her legs spreading and knees bending upwards, creating a small valley between them. She ducked her head, pressing her chin to her chest, repressing the fear that always came with this traumatic experience.

Her hands yanked tersely at the gathered covers, and she was again reminded of her vulnerability. She knew she had to get to the bathroom, and soon, but she felt idiotically paralysed. Her legs were like lead, pulling down with invisible force and keeping her securely tied to the bed. If she were to get up from this bed, she would stumble and fall, drunk with pain and weak from weeks of disuse. She cursed herself inwardly, afraid to move, but terrified to lay still.

She took a few deep, shuddering breaths; a futile attempt to withhold the contents of her stomach. She sat in relative darkness, the only light pooling in through the slip of her curtains. Heavy rain slashed at her windows, rattling the panes and adding to the desperate edge the air held.

She gasped and that was all the encouragement needed. Her abdominal muscles clenched angrily against her stomach, followed by a contraction pushing down hard on her diaphragm; the contents residing there propelling up through her oesophagus and out of her mouth in mere seconds. She choked and gagged noisily, already drained of much needed oxygen. The tears sprung unbidden to her eyes, rolling down endlessly to gather at the crevices of her mouth.

She felt desperately alone.

Booth rolled onto his side for the hundredth time that night, seeking a comfortable position that would allow sleep to follow without further trouble.

He sighed, his mind and body frustrated and heavy with exhaustion. Sitting up, he scrubbed his hand over his face; his weary eyes taking in the glowing red numbers on his nightstand. He groaned. It was far too late, and far too early. He felt uneasy, though the cause for this eluded him. The guest bed was nothing short of luxurious comfort; the pillows stuffed with goose down and the sheets made of countless threads of the finest Egyptian cotton. Temperance knew how to treat a guest.

As a former sniper, he had been trained to sleep anywhere, anytime. Within moments of closing his eyes he would undoubtedly find sleep. But not unlike many other nights since Temperance's hospital admittance, he had found himself in an increasingly difficult battle with the sandman.

His body would allow no sleep, for his mind would not shut off. He worried constantly about the woman three doors down. He released a tremulous breath and leant back against the lush pillows. His door was ajar, allowing thin, attenuated slithers of moonlight to creep in through the crack and into his room. He closed his eyes, and willed his mind to turn off.

A quiet, but discernable sound perforated the stillness of his room, and he strained his ears to ascertain the noise's origin. Curiosity or a sixth sense told him to investigate. He leapt from his bed and crept to his door. He poked his head from behind the bedroom door, looking up and down the deserted area. He noted at once that the sounds were coming from down the hall, from the door that stood half open.

Silence.

Rustling.

Again, the noises. They were intermittent, and smothered in unmistakeable sobs.

Temperance.

Raw panic sheathed him in a cold sweat as he flung his door open, hard enough to bang against the wall with a solid thunk. Heart hammering painfully in his chest, he raced down the darkened hallway, his feet slapping against the cool floorboards, stepping occasionally on a plank that harboured old creaks and complaints. His bare chest prickled with the chilled air, drawing tiny goose pimples from his skin.

He reached her door quickly, pushing it open and swiping his hand down the wall for the light switch. Finding it, he flicked it down and instantly the room was bathed in a soft glow. Booth never took his eyes off his partner as her head snapped up, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. "Booth." She croaked, blinking a few times to clear her vision.

"It's okay, Bones." He took the scene in in seconds, making his way to her with a few long strides of his legs. He ignored the sodden blankets, pulling them off her swiftly and sliding his arm around her waist to hoist her from the bed.

"…Don't feel well." Tempe whispered into his neck as she staggered to her feet with Booth's help. "Oh, God-"

Booth's eyes widened. "No. No. Hold it in." He beseeched urgently, readjusting his grip around her body and hurrying them both to the bathroom, a distinct feeling of panic fuelling his movements.

They reached the ensuite, and Booth swiped his hand down the wall again, searching the barren wall for the switch. He began feeling impatient, making wide circular motions on the wall, but finding it bare.

Tempe leaned heavily on him. "Clap, Booth."

Booth stopped his hand. "What?"

She pursed her lips tightly and looked at him with a pained expression. Her stomach was churning violently. "The…light."

Booth looked at her quizzically, and then put two and two together. He pulled her closer and she wrapped her other arm around his middle. He brought his hands together and clapped once, hard enough to sting, and at once the large bathroom was flooded with light.

He turned to her with raised eyebrows, but Temperance was already tugging him towards the toilet, and just in time, too. She fell halfway to her knees, her one good arm still wrapped around Booth.

"No, no. Stand up." Booth insisted, pulling her to her feet again. She groaned at him. "Keep your head lower than your hips." He directed gently, pushing her back down, until her face was hovering over the seat. "This is how you're supposed to stand. Protects your airways."

Tempe barely had time to take in his advice when she felt her stomach lurch. Booth tightened his arm around her stomach, feeling her abdominals contract beneath his fingers from the intense action. He gathered her hair with his other hand, pulling it back and away from her face.

Booth did everything right. He made the soothing, consoling noises that you'd feel embarrassed about later, but came so naturally in the moment. He rubbed his hand along her back, feeling the knobbly breaks in her vertebrae, pushing up through her skin and into his open palm. She stilled and drew in a deep breath.

"Booth?"

"I'm here." She straightened and stood, leaning back into his chest while he clutched her tightly to him. "Done?"

Tempe nodded. She felt impossibly tired. When Booth felt her sinking he lowered her to the ground so she could rest against the wall. He lathered her toothbrush in toothpaste and handed it down to her. She took it and awkwardly set about scrubbing her mouth with her unaccustomed right hand.

She forced a reassuring smile at him when he knelt beside her and dabbed her flushed cheeks with a damp towel. "I'm sowry." She said, her mouth full of minty bubbles. Booth looked at her sternly, eliciting a startled gasp when he gripped her shoulders fiercely.

"No."

She flinched at his tone. "Boo-"

"Don't be sorry. Not ever." He looked angry, serious, frightening. "Are you listening, Bones?" She nodded her head solemnly, dutifully. Her eyes felt heavy with tears, clouding her vision as she watched the expression on his face change, soften.

"None of this - none of it - is your fault." His voice hitched somewhere in the middle and she knew from now on that he was something she needed to worry over. "Tell me you understand." He looked at her expectantly.

What was she supposed to say? Everything - It was all her fault.

"Yes." Her throat was raw.

He released his grip on her, looking mortified at his disconcerted actions. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I wasn't…I know." She wanted to reach out to him. She didn't.

"Come here." He said eventually, pulling her to her feet. She rinsed her mouth out with cold water and nothing more was said, and when their eyes met in the mirror she looked away.

"My bed." Tempe looked hopelessly at the mess she'd made. She wanted to apologise again, but Booth lead her out of the room and directed her into his.

"Booth?" She asked with uncertainty, pressing her feet deeper into the thick carpet.

"Shhh." He pulled the duvet back and persuaded her to lie down.

"This is your bed."

"Not tonight." The bed was still warm. It smelt of him. Her head was foggy so she closed her eyes. He sat at the edge, adjusting the covers around her. She wiggled down deeper till only her nose was peeking out over the edge.

"Stay." She murmured.

Booth watched as her breathing evened out. "For a little while."

(NO WAY NO WAY THINK YOU NEED A NEW ONE)

Who wants to volunteer to do my four essays, two research assignments, and read three books for me? Just raise your hands nice and high so I can ditch the load and run. Quite far until you're done.