A/N: Okay, I was working on What You Own, but I had a dumb idea that I decided to post before I changed my mind. I don't even know if I'm going to keep it up, haha. Whatever. I've never written this genre before, so why not? ;) Reviews would be lovely.

"'Cause we could be immortals, immortals
Just not for long, for long
If we meet forever now, pull the blackout curtains down
Just not for long, for long"

- Immortals / Fall Out Boy

The city has been dark for hours by the time Seeley Booth gets the call. A freak storm in the middle of February, rainy and cold, left homes lit only by the weak flickering of candles and dimming flashlights, streets pitch dark and silent. A sheet, as it seemed, had just come down over DC and left its people blind, lazily stumbling about in the night, asleep at dawn. It's then when the agent's phone rings, when the first thin spots of sunlight start brushing against his window.

He is certainly no stranger to wakeup calls at the break of daylight. So, tearing himself away from the warmth of his bedcovers, he sets himself upright and answers, his mind strolling along in his first moments of wakefulness. Another body, probably. It's always another body.

Instead of some other officer on the other end of the line, however, it's a stranger. It's this low, hushed voice, asking if this is Special Agent Seeley Booth she's speaking to. And if his badge and driver's license are at all in sync, the answer is an undoubted yes. He tells her as much. She goes right on.

"Agent Booth, I have to ask you to come down to United Medical Center as soon as you can."

Now something like that – that wakes him up.

He pushes himself off the bed with enough force to startle his wife awake, and he's halfway to the bathroom by the time he forces, "Why, is there an emergency? What's wrong?" out of his mouth. He starts using his shoulder to hold his phone up as his hands start moving at ungodly speeds, accelerating his morning routine to a new level of rushed activity.

"I would prefer to speak with you in person, sir, but to be honest, I'm just not quite sure what's –"

The drawers beneath the bathroom sink slam closed as Booth runs a wet hand over his face and says clearly into the phone, "I am coming, alright? I'm coming. I just want to know what's going on, so if you could just give me an idea –"

"Sir, I don't know what's going on," her voice is an eerie hiss, the slightest hint of fear crackling through the line. "But a man was admitted about an hour ago and is under observation, and you were the primary contact. But this shouldn't be happening, and I don't understand what's going on, but sir, you need to come right away."

"I am," he repeats, glancing over to see Bones, clumsily dressed and now wide-awake. She leaves the room, and he just barely hears the light jingle of car keys in her hand as she goes to wake Christine. They're rising with the sun outside, each one of them – up before the air loses its bite. "I am coming, do you hear me? I'm leaving my house now. So if you could stop being so goddamn cryptic, I'd really appreciate it."

"I'm so, so sorry, sir, but I can't. I can't, I can't – you really need to be here."

The line goes dead, and all Booth can bring himself to do after that is stumble out to the car, where Brennan is strapping Christine into her car seat, and get behind the wheel. As soon as they're set, he drives – and although dropping Christine off with Max takes an infuriatingly long time, it gives him time to think and mentally prepare for whatever this new crisis may be.

Jared must've gotten into some trouble. Or maybe Pops, maybe he took a fall – or what about Hodgins? If the entomologist were at all hurt, though, Angela would be the first person to call. But who knows?

Parker, he's with Rebecca, safe and sound to the best of his knowledge. And even if James Aubrey was in any trouble, Booth's name should not be anywhere near his emergency contact list.

He runs through his mental list of friends and family more times than he can count, and comes up with no conclusion. No conclusion that makes sense, anyway. But that's quite alright; the truth doesn't make much sense, either.

The sun has just barely risen by the time Booth pulls into the hospital, swinging into a parking spot with probably more speed than necessary. He climbs out of his SUV and just barely waits for Brennan to follow before he locks it, and they're inside the building before the fog of their breath can float away.

They're not alone in the lobby. There are a few people mulling about, waiting for something, but they're essentially being ignored. At least, that's what Booth is led to believe when someone rushes to meet him the second he speaks his name aloud.

The receptionist's hand moves to a pager, and within seconds, a woman who sounds strikingly similar to his wakeup caller appears from some obscure room, rushing to meet him with disheveled hair and wide eyes. She leads him down a maze of hallways, all but dragging him and Brennan in her wake as she speaks, words falling out and crashing together as she goes.

"Agent Booth, my name's Dr. Carter. Like I said on the phone, there was a man brought in a few hours ago, covered in blood, not saying a word. It looked like a mugging or some other attack, but we weren't sure. We cleaned him up and had the blood tested, and the blood matched his own – that wasn't surprising. But sir, once all the blood was off, we tried to find where it came from, and there were no cuts, no bruises, no anything. There was nothing there."

The detective in him rises and starts to speak before being cut off.

"But sir, that wasn't what made me call you specifically. Up until a while ago, he was a John Doe, see? No wallet or anything on him, and like I said, he wasn't saying a word. But we tried running his DNA through a database – maybe he'd been here before, right? Well, we got something back, but… Agent Booth, we got back the name of someone whose records say that he died several months ago."

The three of them slow to a stop just outside an observation window with a dark curtain drawn over it. Booth and Brennan, they can only stare at this doctor and wonder what kind of conspiracy they're being dragged into before Booth finally speaks up, his voice firm and hard.

"Doctor, I still haven't heard a name."

There is a deep, shuddering breath from a nervous doctor as she draws the curtain away.

And Booth, he's suddenly not sure whether he wants to yell at the woman or just turn around and walk out – because there is no way in this moment that he is not being played.

The words come out in a whisper, quiet enough to barely be heard. But, of course – Booth and Brennan have nothing if not keen senses. They stare as the words come and go.

"The man's name is Lance Sweets."

A/N: No clue when the next update is coming. Sorry I keep posting story beginnings - I'll finish everything eventually. In the meantime, I'd love a review!