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Oooooooooooooooooooo

A strange feeling coming over him, Booth opened his eyes and found that he was lying in a bed. Raising his hand, he found a mask over his nose and mouth and after he moved it away he noticed that his left arm had tubing running from it to a bag on a pole. Alarmed, he moved his right hand to his head and moved his fingers through his hair. While running his hand through his hair, he felt a hand capture that hand and lower it to his side.

"Booth, be still. You're in a hospital and you need to remain calm and still."

The mask returned over his mouth and nose for him, he looked at the sad face of his best friend. Trying to speak, he reached up and moved the mask again. As he moved his arm again, he became acutely aware of the pain in his chest and his back. Gasping, he could barely made himself understood. "What . . . what's going . . . on? What happened . . . happened to me? Am I dying?"

Seeing the fear on Booth's face, Brennan leaned over and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "No Booth, you're going to be okay. You're not going to die. You've been shot."

Confused, Booth shook his head. "Shot? What do . . . what do you mean I've been shot? I . . . I don't understand."

Brennan saw how confused Booth was and she knew she needed to explain what was going on or he would just become more agitated. Clasping his right hand in hers, Brennan spoke slowly and clearly. "You were at home. Someone must have broke in to your apartment and attacked you. I found you in the bedroom when I came over to practice our testimony for the Gravedigger trial . . . ." Moving his mask back over his nose and mouth, she continued, "You have to keep the mask on, Booth. It's very important. You have a collapsed lung. The bullet that caused the damage missed your heart and luckily the damage wasn't extensive so your surgeon was able to repair the damage. Luckily, she didn't have to remove any lobes . . . You have a chest tube to help you. It's helping your lung inflate. Once it's healed enough and can inflate on its own, the tube will be removed. Do you understand?"

Worried that he couldn't remember what had happened to him, Booth reached up and lifted the mask away from his mouth. Feeling breathless, he tried to ask questions. "Who . . . who shot . . . me?"

Shaking her head, she moved the mask back down over his mouth. "We don't know yet. You're going to be fine, Booth, I promise you. Right now you're being giving antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs intravenously. You're also being given a diuretic to reduce fluid build-up. Your prognosis is very good. You may suffer from shortness of breath for a short period of time, but you are in excellent health and respiratory therapy should take care of that."

Booth shook his head and lifted his mask once more. "I'm not . . . I'm not in great health . . . Bones. I . . . I haven't been exercising . . . like I normally do . . . I've only been on runs . . . twice this week. Plus . . . plus I had brain surgery . . . a few months ago."

Certain she was right, Brennan moved the mask back down. "You are in excellent health Booth. Just because you've missed some exercise doesn't mean you're in bad health. You'll be fine."

Tired, Booth tried to take a deep breath only to cough raggedly. Shaking his head slowly, he managed to stop coughing and tried to ignore the pain. Afraid for the woman that he knew he loved, he tried to grip her hand. "Bones . . . I'm worried about . . . you. You know . . . I don't want to leave you . . . If something happens . . . to me and God decides . . . decides to take me don't . . . don't take it hard . . . You've been a great friend . . . the best. Don't get mad at me . . . if I leave you. You know . . . I don't want to go."

She saw the pain he was trying to hide and knew he was doing that for her. Brennan reached for his pain pump and pressed the button to give him some relief. Leaning closer and clasping his hand tighter in her hand, she noticed the sweat beading on his face. "You aren't leaving me Booth. You're staying right here. . . . Don't fight the pain medicine, Booth. You need to sleep. You need to relax."

His eyes closed, Booth felt very tired. Worried, he feared what would happen to her if he died. Fighting sleep, he tried to open his eyes again. "Bones. . . Bones . . . I love you. . . I've loved you . . . Don't be mad at . . . me . . ." Watching his face finally relax into sleep, Brennan pulled the chair closer to the bed so she wouldn't have to release his hand. Kissing the back of his hand, she sighed. "Do you love me Booth? Do you really love me?"

Oooooooooooooooooo

Filled with worry for his friend, Harris sat in Booth's office, going over a report with Charlie when Agent Holtz walked in to the room. "We hit pay dirt. There are two stores across the street from his apartment with cameras aimed towards the outside. The front of his apartment building has full coverage and we found his stalker. We pulled some head shots and I sent over copies to Angela Montenegro. Between her and our guys, someone should be able to figure out who the guy is. Also, Dr. Brennan called me a little while ago and told me that there is a hidden camera in the hallway outside her apartment door. It records 24 hours a day. She had it installed after that nut Howard Epps broke into her apartment. The camera is aimed at her door and the hallway. If anyone passes her door to the elevator or enters her apartment it's recorded. It's the responsibility of the security guards in the lobby of her apartment building to make sure that the recordings are taken care of. She says they're supposed to keep them for at least 30 days. She also had one installed in the hallway outside of Booth's apartment. I'm not supposed to tell him about that camera since she did it on the sly. His camera is monitored by a home security company. I'm on my way over there now to pick up whatever they have recorded in Booth's apartment building. I'm sending Agent White over to Dr. Brennan's apartment building for the recordings outside her door. I'm going to take both set of recordings over to the Jeffersonian. We're backed up at our Lab, so Angela says to bring them to her. She's going to give them top priority."

Disgusted, Harris leaned forward on his desk. "Well, I'm not really impressed with what ever company is monitoring Booth's camera. I may have a little talk with them." Drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him, he grimaced. "Yep, I think a little visit is in order . . . As soon as we find out who the stalker is, let me know. I want to be in on the arrest."

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

Quietly, Harris stood outside the front door to the neat three bedroom house and nodded at his team once they were in place. Agent Jackson holding a small battering ram swung it at the front door and once the door lock was broken stepped away from the door. Harris and his team cautiously charged into the house and spread out, rifles extended and searched for their suspect. Finding their intended target in the living room, holding a handgun, Harris shouted at the man. "You have two seconds to drop that or you're a dead man, asshole."

Terrified, Doug Clary dropped his gun instantly. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

Holstering his gun, Harris walked over to their suspect and pulled his handcuffs from his pocket. "Place your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent you stupid son-of-a-bitch. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law you mother fucker. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one the court will provide one for your sorry ass. Do you understand your right's you worthless piece of shit?"

Angry that he was being mistreated, Clary placed his hands behind his back and felt Harris grab them and place handcuffs around his wrists. "You have no right to talk to me like that. I'm a Federal Agent just like you. This is a mistake . . . I'll have your badge for this."

Yanking on his wrists, Harris then grabbed Clary's arm. "Didn't you hear me you idiot? You have the right to remain silent so shut the hell up. You aren't anything like me you sorry son-of-a-bitch."

Ooooooooooooooooo

Uncertain if Harris really knew anything, Clary looked around the interrogation room and then back at Harris who continued to stare at him in silence. Clary, feeling flop sweat sliding down his face, finally cleared his throat. "What did I do? Why am I here? You can at least tell me why I'm under arrest."

Leaning back on his chair, Harris coldly looked his suspect in the face. "Listen asshole, you invoked your right to an attorney, wait until he arrives or sign a waiver and I'll answer your questions."

Nervously, Clary licked his lips and stared at the cold blank face staring at him. "I have a right to know why I'm being treated this way."

Irritated with the Homeland Agent, Harris asked him, "Do you waive your right to an attorney?"

Shaking his head, Clary knew that would be the wrong move. "No . . . no, of course not."

With a sigh, Harris turned his head and glanced at Caroline Julian who was sitting next to him. "Why is it that they invoke their right to silence and an attorney and then they start talking?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Caroline frowned at the very nervous man sitting across the table. "Because their mother's dropped them on their pointy little heads and their stupid, Cher'."

A man entered the room, walked around the table and sat down next to Clary. "Sorry, I got held up in a traffic jam. I got here as soon as I could."

Shrugging his shoulders, Harris pointed towards Clary. "You are being held on one count of the attempted murder of a Federal Agent, one count of breaking and entering, one count of stalking a Federal Agent and some other shit, but that's the most important stuff right now."

The attorney, Eric Shipley, shook his head. "My client denies these charges. You've obviously got the wrong man. My client is a Federal Agent for Homeland Security and before that he served in the United States Marines with honor."

Unimpressed, Harris opened a folder and started placing pictures down on the table in front of Clary. Noticing Clary's eyes bulging, Harris smiled at Shipley and then back at Clary. "You will notice your client entering Agent Booth's apartment using a pick a lock. You will then notice a time lapse of eleven minutes when he opens the door and he leaves the apartment. Being the rocket scientist that he is, he took off his gloves, because who wears heavy gloves in the summer? Right? Your genius of a client leaned his hand against the wall beside the elevator doors while he was waiting for the elevator to arrive."

Placing a picture of a hand print down next, Harris jabbed the picture with his index finger. "Your client's hand print. Notice the time stamp on the video for entering and leaving Agent Booth's apartment? That puts you in the apartment at the same time as the shooting of Agent Booth." Placing more pictures on the table, Harris slid them closer to Clary. "These show your client stalking Agent Booth three days before he was shot." Coldly, Harris removed three more pictures from his folder and placed them on top of the others. "These show you standing outside of Agent Booth's apartment fifteen minutes before the agent was shot and this picture shows you entering the building."

His gaze taking in the pictures, Clary cleared his throat. "I'd like to turn States evidence. You're going to be going to trial soon against the Gravedigger. I can make your case a slam dunk."

Frowning, Harris glanced at Caroline and then back at Clary. Caroline, studying the suspect and frowned. "The best I can do is take the death penalty off the table in case Agent Booth dies. I might be able to shave off some years for the attempted murder charge."

Leaning over towards Clary, Shipley whispered urgently to his client. Clary nodding his head, stared at the pictures on the table before him. Shipley, leaning away from his client, stared at Caroline and made a counter offer. "Man 2 if Agent Booth dies and 5 years if he doesn't plus my client doesn't want to be charged for anything he did when he was working for Heather Taffet."

Not willing to give in, Caroline frowned at the lawyer. "Man 1 if Agent Booth dies and 15 years if he lives. As for being Heather Taffet's accomplice, I'll take the death penalty off the table for the murder of the three boys tied to the Gravedigger. I'll go second degree murder for those cases."

Shrugging his shoulders, Shipley glanced at the photos. "Man 1 or 15 and second degree."

Satisfied, Caroline leaned forward and stared at Clary. "Okay, now explain why you shot Agent Booth?"

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

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