My undying gratitude to FauxMaven and my husband for their excellent advice on this chapter.

Not much fluff to this chapter, but there will be a good deal more in the next one.

Disclaimer: It's 90 degrees here and I've only got a crappy little fan blowing warm air at me while I type this out on an ancient laptop. Do you really think I own Bones?

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Brennan's legs dangled from the platform, swinging gently back and forth. The wood felt rough and weathered under her palms as they rested alongside her thighs. She watched her fellow hikers moving about the clearing, eating dinner, reading books, or just relaxing after a long hike. Brennan, too, was grateful for a moment's rest. Booth was relatively quiet at the moment: he sat with his back to the corner of the shelter, knees drawn to his chest. He rested his head on his knees and only groaned or mumbled something from time to time.

This was a vast improvement over his behavior on the trail. The three mile hike had been torture for both of them, although she was sure it had been rougher on Booth. He had only vomited once while they were walking, but when abdominal cramps had come on she had barely been able to keep him moving. It seemed like every five or ten steps he would either trip and fall or else just sink to the ground in a fit of obstinate, paranoid muttering. It was all she could do to pull him to his feet and urge him on further. She was a little embarrassed to admit that she had even resorted to bribery, figuring that in his confused state he wouldn't remember, much less ask for his bribe when they reached the shelter.

And he certainly hadn't. When they finally arrived, he had lurched down the path that led to the water source, wobbling and zigzagging along the way. She had stopped him from plunging his head directly into the stream, but it had been a close thing. He drank the water as fast as she could filter it and then promptly vomited it back up. Her lesson learned, she only let him have small sips of water after that, despite his pleading and grousing about his dry throat.

The hikers still glanced worriedly at her and Booth from time to time. She had apprised them all of the situation since she could not hide illness. At times he seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings, like now, but other times he would argue vigorously with Brennan or whoever else was around. Even more disturbing, he would occasionally dissolve into fits of laughter for no apparent reason.

Glancing at her watch, Brennan groaned. She had called the Shenandoah Mountain Rescue Group upon reaching the shelter to give them an update on their location and Booth's status. Once she had gotten a moment to sit and think about their situation, she had recognized the familiarity of Booth's symptoms. She was fairly certain that he had been poisoned with Atropa belladonna, commonly known as just Belladonna. She had told the rescue group her suspicions, hoping that they could perhaps bring an antidote. While she had them on the phone, she also requested an estimated time of arrival. According to her watch, she still had at least two hours to wait.

While Booth was quiet, Brennan decided to call the lab to check in. She pulled the phone from her pocket and turned it on, waiting for it to find a signal. After a moment, she dialed Angela's office.

"Angela Montenegro," the artist answered.

"Hey, Ange, it's me."

"Bren! How's it going?"

"It could always be worse, I suppose. But Booth's not well, we're waiting for the rescue group to arrive."

The alarm in Angela's voice was unmistakable. "Rescue group? What's going on up there?"

"Booth was poisoned. He's almost totally incapacitated. But don't worry, I was able to fight off the killer," she reassured Angela.

"The killer? He's up there?"

"Yes, Angela, who else would have poisoned Booth? Anyway, he took off and I only have a few bruises and a cut on my forehead. Oh, and the gash on my stomach. But everything is fine." More or less.

"Oh my god, sweetie, are you sure you guys are okay up there? What if the killer comes back? Does Booth have a gun?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Booth would be more of a danger to himself and to me if he had a gun. He already nearly shot me once. No, I took all of his weapons away."

"He nearly shot you?" Angela sounded incredulous and Brennan couldn't blame her.

"I'm sure it was just because of his blurred vision and he may have been hallucinating, too," she said.

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. "Bren, I don't think you should do field work anymore."

Brennan chuckled. "Have you guys made any progress on the case?"

"Yeah, hold on," Angela sighed. She was gone for a minute before Brennan heard a click and the rush of noise that indicated being put on speaker.

"Zack's going to tell you about what he found," Angela told her.

"Hi, Dr. Brennan," Zack started. "We've been able to identify the murder weapon. The markings on the bone were made by a combination shovel and pick. I took Booth's suggestion and looked at camping gear first—the four inch pick matches the markings exactly."

"Great job, Zack," she said. Maybe such a pick was in the killer's pack. "Is Hodgins there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Booth's been poisoned. I'm fairly certain it's Atropa belladonna. I want you to see if Lessard and Chouinard were poisoned as well."

"What are his symptoms?" Hodgins asked.

Brennan glanced back at her partner. "Nausea, vomiting, loss of balance, blurred vision, dilated pupils, confusion, abdominal pain, dry throat, tachycardia, and possibly hallucinations."

From behind her, Booth groaned. "My head," he muttered.

"And a headache," Brennan added.

"Okay, I'll get right on it, Dr. Brennan."

"I have the killer's pack with me, I'll have it sent to you as soon as we're off the trail," she told them. "I have to check on Booth now."

"Sweetie, please be careful," Angela said, clearly worried.

"I'm always careful," Brennan said and disconnected the call.

Shoving the phone back into her pocket, she turned around and crawled up to Booth, sitting down next to him. She took his wrist between her fingers and felt for his pulse. He lifted his head and stared at her hand. She had noticed that his heart was racing earlier and as she counted the beats now, she was slightly reassured to see that he wasn't out of breath and didn't seem to have any chest pain. Brennan offered him a sip of water which he took gratefully. When she took the bottle away before he was ready, Booth glared at her.

"You're spiteful," he grumbled.

She sighed. "I know. How do you feel?"

"I think my head is going to explode."

"Explode?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Will you leave me alone?"

Brennan leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She knew he didn't mean any of what he was saying and she did feel bad for him. But she was also exhausted, physically and emotionally. While his symptoms didn't seem life threatening at the moment, Belladonna poisoning could be fatal and she wasn't sure how much he had in his system. His dehydration could lead to serious kidney problems and if the tachycardia got worse or lasted too long he could be in serious trouble. She struggled constantly to stay calm. After all, she had just told Booth that panicking was unproductive. But it was one thing to know that rationally and another thing to control the fear that gnawed at her stomach.

It was getting dark out and she still had to manage a modest hike down the mountain. With a sigh, she began preparing their supplies for nightfall. She safely discarded the food that the killer had been carrying and set his pack next to where they would sleep in the shelter. She had eaten what little food she had brought along so she felt safe leaving their pack inside the shelter as well. After setting up their one sleeping bag on top of the ground cover, she cajoled Booth into climbing in.

She sat behind him, leaning against the rear wall of the shelter, Booth's weapons concealed behind her. Struggling to draw Booth close to her, she pulled him between her legs and settled his head on her abdomen. She knew she was inviting him to ruin another pair of her pants if he got sick again, but she didn't want to risk not hearing him get up in the night.

"Try to get some sleep, Booth. The rescue team will be here in a few hours," she told him.

She couldn't hear what he mumbled, and his eyes were only half closed, but she was unable to keep herself from dozing. She fell quickly into an uncomfortable slumber.

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A wavering beam of light fell across Brennan's face, urging her awake. She raised a hand to cover her eyes from the glare and tried to go back to sleep, but the voices wouldn't stop. Finally, the fog in her mind cleared and she realized the voices were calling her name. She squinted, trying to see through the brilliance, and mercifully the light was lowered. Dimly, she could make out the shapes of several men standing just outside the shelter.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan?" one of the men asked.

"Yes. This is Seeley Booth. Special Agent," she corrected herself, clearing the sleep from her voice.

"Yes ma'am. I'm Trevor White with the Shenandoah Mountain Rescue Group. How's he doing?"

She blinked and looked down at the still form resting against her. His chest was rising and falling steadily but she couldn't see if his eyes were open.

"I don't know, I was asleep. He's been calm but in pain since seven o'clock or so."

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the fitful light. The man who had identified himself as Trevor was middle-aged, had ruddy skin and a mass of thick brown curls, and he looked competent. He reminded her a little of Hodgins. The other men were similarly rugged-looking. She felt an immense sense of relief at being able to share the burden of this ordeal with people who knew what they were doing. One of the men stepped forward, much younger than the others, maybe in his mid-twenties.

"Dr. Brennan, I'm Chris. I'm an EMT. We have a Medevac chopper waiting at the trailhead for your partner. Before we move him, could you tell me a little about his condition?" he asked earnestly.

Brennan went through the long list of symptoms, explaining when it had started and how it had progressed. The man called Chris took notes as she talked. The other men set about preparing a stretcher that they would use to carry Booth down to the waiting helicopter. Booth's head was heavy on her belly and his sweat had soaked through her shirt. Her muscles grew impatient with the need to stretch and move but she kept still, not waiting to disturb him until they were ready. Finally they told her they were ready and she reached out to touch Booth's shoulder. She rubbed circles on his shoulder, then shook him gently.

Booth emitted a strangled cry and propelled himself to his feet with amazing speed. The sleeping bag pooled around his feet as he stared wildly around. His gaze fell on the group of men standing outside the shelter and he raised his fists, his lip curling. The men stared at him, frozen with alarm.

Pulling herself to her feet, Brennan reached out to still Booth's arm but as he felt her touch, he lashed out, pushing her back into the wall. He leaped off the edge of the shelter, rushing towards the closest of the men. Booth's shoulder connected with the man's chest and they both fell to the ground. Two of the men grabbed at Booth, trying to pull him off their colleague. Booth's fists flailed, catching one of the men in the jaw. The man who seemed to be in charge, Trevor, yelled at the EMT to get a sedative.

Brennan sat where she had fallen, watching the melee with a detached kind of fascination. She saw the EMT, Chris, manage to inject Booth with something. Booth continued to struggle for a few minutes before calming, finally collapsing off to the side of the poor man he'd had pinned underneath him.

A hush fell over the clearing and Brennan was aware that she could no longer hear the muffled snores and snuffles of her fellow hikers. The ruckus surely must have awakened everyone at the campsite. Trevor climbed into the shelter and helped Brennan to her feet.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

She nodded at him. "I'm fine. What did you give him?"

Chris spoke up, "The first injection was a sedative." He was kneeling next to Booth, starting an intravenous line. "Now I'm giving him diazepam, and then physostigmine to counteract the anticholinergic symptoms."

Nodding at the EMT, she thanked him. While the majority of the rescue group worked quickly to properly strap Booth to the stretcher, two men approached her. They introduced themselves as FBI agents and questioned her briefly about the poisoning and the brief fight with the killer. Apparently they had been brought up to date on the case and seemed to know what they were talking about. The men told her that they would question the other hikers here before heading back down the trail. She gave them specific instructions regarding the killer's pack and the other evidence she had gathered.

The rescuers were well-practiced and efficient; it wasn't long before they set off along the trail. Brennan could hear the other FBI agents questioning the first group of hikers and she felt sympathy for them, knowing they would probably be up just as late as she would be.

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A light tap on her shoulder roused Brennan from her dreams. The chair she had fallen asleep in was unyielding and her muscles shouted in protest. Sunlight streamed through the windows in the waiting room and Brennan blinked to clear her vision. She looked up to see Angela standing above her, offering her a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Ange," she mumbled.

"Yeah, not that you deserve it. Do you know what I had to do to find out where you were? Why didn't you call me when you got back?"

Brennan shook her head. "It was late and things were under control."

Angel hummed in response. "How's Booth?"

"I haven't heard anything for a while, I guess they just let me sleep."

She glanced around for someone who could give her an update, but the hallways were quiet. It must still be early. The floor to which Booth had been admitted was a contradiction of silence and incessant noise. She could hear the steady whine and monotonous beeping of machines, but no voices or movements of people.

Angela indicated the butterfly bandages on Brennan's forehead. "They didn't use stitches on that?"

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "No. It wasn't deep enough to require them. The laceration on my abdomen would have, but it's been more than 24 hours so they won't suture it. They just used more butterfly bandages."

"How did you get cut there?"

Brennan told her about the tree and falling and how Booth blew ever so gently across her skin to ease the sting. Angela grinned.

"So, I know this is a serious situation and everything, but did you get to talk to Booth at all?"

"No. He tried to explain himself in the car, and I more or less understood what he said. But I told him I didn't want to talk about it right then."

Angela nodded and the two friends lapsed into silence, occasionally taking sips of their coffee. When Brennan was feeling sufficiently awake, she told Angela she was going to find someone to tell her about Booth.

The nurses station was at the far end of the hallway and as she approached she became aware of the bustle that never really stopped in a hospital, even at night. She hoped she would be able to get Booth transferred to a hospital in D.C., but she wasn't sure how long he would need to stay. Regardless, she definitely appreciated Angela making the drive out here.

She stood at the counter for a moment, looking for someone who didn't look totally absorbed in anything vital. She finally caught the eye of one of the nurses. Identifying herself as Special Agent Seeley Booth's partner, she asked if there was a doctor around who could apprise her of Booth's condition. The nurse spoke quietly to a white-haired Indian man who was dictating orders to another nurse. The man rose and approached her, a gentle smile on his face.

"I'm Dr. Saeed," he told her. "Let's go into the family room."

The family room was a much smaller room, separate from the waiting area. The doctor indicated a chair for her to sit in but Brennan remained standing. She'd had enough sitting.

"Please, Dr. Saeed. How is Agent Booth?"

"He's doing much better. We haven't been able to confirm that he was indeed poisoned by Belladonna, but the medications we've been giving him have resolved all of his symptoms."

Brennan nodded. "So what is his condition now?"

"He's doing much better. Our only real concern right now is that his dehydration may have damaged his kidneys. We're rehydrating him and if his kidneys are fine, he should be back to normal quite soon."

"When can I see him?"

"You can go now if you like. He's most likely still asleep, though."

The doctor showed her which was Booth's room and she thanked him before quietly opening the door. He was indeed still asleep, so Brennan closed the door again and headed down to the waiting room. After giving Angela an update on Booth's condition, she told her friend that she didn't have to wait around for her, and that she'd call the lab later. Angela rolled her eyes and assured Brennan that she'd be there in the waiting room when she was ready for breakfast.

Back at the door to Booth's room, Brennan waited for a nurse wheeling a noisy medication cart to go past before easing herself through the doorway. She seated herself in the rocking chair near Booth's bed and let her eyes roam over Booth's still body. Bruises had bloomed on his arms and what she could see of his chest. Fluid trickled from a bag hanging above the bed through Booth's IV and the pulse oximeter made his index finger glow pink. She watched the numbers on the monitor indicating his heart rate fluctuate slightly, though well within the normal range.

Rationally, she knew she had done nothing to cause Booth's condition, nor could she have prevented it, but still she felt something akin to guilt as she sat there watching her unconscious partner. Nothing had gone smoothly for them lately and she had been hoping that this case would be a straightforward one and that they'd be able to spend some time working out their fledgling romantic relationship. That idea was laughable now, with Booth abed. But she had so wanted to make some progress and the memory of his lips on hers tormented her.

She watched the clock, wondering when Booth would wake up. As the hour hand approached nine o'clock, Brennan decided she would need to call the lab soon. She needed to make sure that the evidence had arrived at the Jeffersonian.

After watching Booth for another few minutes, Brennan rose and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her. In the waiting room, she collapsed into the chair across from Angela.

"How does he look?" Angela asked.

"Not bad. He's bruised from all the falling, but he's lucky he didn't break anything. He's still sleeping."

Angela nodded. "Going to call the lab?"

In answer, Brennan picked up the receiver of the phone on the table next to her and dialed Cam's office. She gave her superior a rundown of Booth's injuries and his recovery, then asked about the killer's pack. She could just barely hear Zack's voice in the background.

"Zack says the pack just arrived," Cam told her.

"Okay. The pick he mentioned might be in there. Can you transfer me to Hodgins' workstation?"

"Sure. Are you going to stay with Booth?" Cam asked

"Yes. Hopefully he should be able to come home soon."

Cam signalled her assent before transferring the call to Hodgins.

"Hey, Dr. Brennan. How's Booth?"

"He's better. They haven't been able to confirm that it was Atropa belladonna. There might be some more poison in the killer's pack. If not, I also sent you a sample of Booth's vomitus. Maybe you could find out if it was Belladonna before the doctors here can."

"You collected a specimen of Booth's vomit?" Hodgins asked.

"That's what I said."

"Dr. Brennan, that is so not cool."

"What? Why not?"

"You couldn't leave him just a shred of his dignity, could you? I mean, he's what, falling down, babbling, vomiting everywhere, as if that's not bad enough."

"I'm sure Booth will understand."

"Yeah, don't count on it. I'll get to work on the specimens."

Brennan thanked him before hanging up. She put the phone back into her pocket and leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. More than anything, she just needed a bed. She would give anything for somewhere comfortable to lie down. Somehow, though, she got the feeling that wasn't going to be an option any time soon.