AN: Wow. School. Is Hectic. I apologize to those who have been waiting for updates.

Chapter Five: Encounter II

Booth slammed the door to his apartment with a thunderous bang that reverberated through the walls and shook the picture frames. Stalking to the kitchen, he went to splash his face with cold water, trying to wash away the red fuzzy haze starting to invade his vision. He was angry for making himself seem more on the verge of a mental breakdown in Brennan's eyes, and disappointed that she totally disregarded his suspicions about what was happening. She didn't believe in the supernatural or ghosts and life after death, but he put stock in some of those things. Wasn't that enough? Partners watched out for one another, and occasionally, took leaps of faith. Booth rubbed his forehead and sighed, exhaustion setting in. Even as he stood there, he knew he could not blame Brennan. His accounts did rather seem insane.

A sudden crash from the living room made Booth whip around, jumping with surprise. Grabbing his gun from the counter, he made his way into the living room, expecting to see a burglar, and even prepared himself for disgruntled suspects and criminals that Booth had crossed paths with. I locked the doors and windows though…there was no way he followed me into my house. Was the guy waiting for me beforehand? Sniper training becoming instinct, Booth stealthily made his way into his semi-darkened living room. From a mirror on the wall, he could see an overturned footstool. Everything else was in its place, and Booth saw that no one had crossed the hallway to go into the bedroom or bathroom. Groaning with confusion and frustration, Booth lowered his weapon and turned the corner to the other room.

He almost yelped when he came face to face with the black shadowy stranger. Stumbling back, Booth raised his gun as a chill swept down his spine. The previous red haze in his vision exploded and he felt feverish, shaky.

"What the hell are you, and what do you want with me?" Booth demanded. He prayed that his voice was stronger than what he felt, and more confident than the terror he felt creeping into his nervous system. He felt his muscles becoming rigid, and numbness spread through his limbs. The gun clattered to the floor as Booth's hands now hung loosely at his sides. The figure loomed over him and Booth felt himself slide against the wall to his knees. Why is this happening to me?

Spying his landline, Booth used every ounce of energy he had and reached out weakly. He barely managed to dial a speed button, his thumbs and fingers feeling like lead. Having no idea who was on the other line, he whispered when he heard an answer, "He's here."

Booth stared up at the figure, helpless. And then the room started to spin.

Brennan's phone rang and Booth's name came on the screen. She debated answering it, contemplating if it was best to leave him alone right now. She certainly hadn't helped a thing at the Diner. Swallowing, she received the call anyway. She could still try to help…after answering, she heard her partner's strained, waning voice and Brennan's heart froze as he uttered, "He's here."

Brennan's bags and the spare key Booth gave to her in case of an emergency were dropped in the doorway as she sprinted to his fallen figure. With horror, she saw quickly that he was having a seizure, sickly white-yellow foam coming from his mouth. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and he was convulsing with a slow rocking, his limbs contorting as spasms rocked his body. A cold wind brushed against her neck and she realized they were not alone. She instinctively shielded Booth with her body and prepared herself for a blow to the head. Instead, nothing occurred. She looked up, breathing quickly as adrenaline surged through her veins, and saw an open window. Whoever was with them was now gonw. Turning her attention back to Booth, she pried his mouth open to make sure he wasn't choking on his own tongue. Grabbing the phone, she dialed 911.

"We need an ambulance at 1293 Hayden Street, apartment C3…"

Stroking Booth's hand, she hoped he would react, to know that she was there. Her heart ripped in two when he shook harder.

"Only family of the patient are allowed to—"

"I'm his sister, Dr. Temperance Booth. I made the hospital call," Brennan lied to the receptionist efficiently and quickly. Booth had secretly made a pact with her, that if either were in dire medical peril, they could pose as brother and sister in order to see each other. Grimly, Brennan noted, she had envisioned a future with that never happening.

"Oh," the young blonde receptionist stuttered, "Doctor Leiby is right around the corner, he'll explain what they had to do for Agent Booth."

It must have been the look of sheer impatienence and determination sculpted onto Brennan's face, because it was only moments before a scruffy, weary E.R. doctor met up with Brennan. They shook hands and Leiby acknowledged, "Dr. Booth?"

"What's wrong with Booth?" Brennan asked immediately. Leiby looked suspiciously at her, wondering why a sister would refer to her brother by last name. Too tired and way to busy to question, Leiby nodded in confirmation.

"We performed CAT scans and saw the cause of his seizures weren't neurological, which led us to a poison. We pumped his stomach and most of the side effects were immediately reversed. He still has some tremors, and is feverish. Any longer, and the drug would have absorbed into his system fully, and ultimately killed him."

Brennan paled, recalling that she almost didn't answer the phone. Leiby glanced at his watch and announced, "You can see him. His boss at the F.B.I. was contacted, as per what law requires, and I'll have rehab programs listed if you would like to try them."

Brennan blinked in confusion, her mind short-circuiting. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Why was Cullen contacted already, and what do you mean by rehab? I thought Booth was going to be okay…"

Leiby looked like he mentally slapped himself as he explained, "I apologize, Dr. Booth. It's been a long night. We received a new policy working in conjunction with the Narcotics unit of the F.B.I. that if agents were brought in for this problem, we were to alert the higher-up."

"Narcotics? What the hell kind of poison was in Booth's system?" Brennan tried to understand. Leiby's vagueness was irritating her enormously.

"Phencyclidine," Leiby finally stated before turning to leave. "Agent Booth almost overdosed on PCP.