Cam needs sleep, so of course, it does not come. The night is dark, as most nights are, interrupted only by a glimmering streetlight or the flash of headlights. There is a New York silence, which is to say that the only noises are the rushing of cars, yelling of late - night drunkards, and the breaking of glass a few streets away. Just as Cam is lulled into that void, the limbo between awake and asleep, there is a rattling knock on the glass of her windows. She jolts awake.

"Seeley! What the fuck?" She hisses, opening the window with as little noise as possible and praying she doesn't wake her mother.

Booth is panting as he pushes Jared through the window, then steps in himself. "Sorry. It got too bad… we wouldn't have made it to Pop's house."

"Wouldn't have made it…" her question trails off as she realized that his stomach is bleeding, badly. "Shit. Okay. Um.." She looks around. "Sit down, try not to get blood on the bed." She can play it off to her mother as her period, but she'd rather not have to do too much explaining. Before she can act further, however, Booth shakes his head.

"Jared's arm is hurt. Fix him first," he pleads. Cam rolls her eyes. Turning, she examines Jared. It's clear immediately what the problem is.

"Jared, go lean against the closet door, facing me. Seeley, get behind him and hold him still. Uh.." She spies a rag sitting on the desk. It looks clean enough. "Bite down on this." Jared takes the cloth and stuffs it in his mouth, looking wary.

"Do you trust me?" Cam asks him. He nods. "Alright. I'll warn you; this will hurt." With that, she grabs him arm and pushes it up and back into the socket. He gives a scream of agony that is barely muffled by the rag. Booth clamps a hand over Jared's mouth just in time. After everyone is silent, Cam holds up a hand, signaling the others not to move. She listens for a minute, then nods. "Seeley, on the bed. Take off your shirt and relax."

Booth smirks. "Wow Camille, let me at least take you to dinner first."

She glares at him and stuffs the rag in his mouth. "Don't call me Camille."

Even though his response is unintelligible around the cloth, she knows what he says next.