Something that was originally supposed to be a one-shot but got a little bit out of hand. I am still a little foreign to these characters so please forgive me as I tried to stay as in character as possible.

Please note the fact that I am not a medical doctor and outside of my own recent personal experience with the illness and some basic research on the internet I do not know much about bronchitis. Symptoms of the illness can vary and this is how it was for me. Ergo that is what I wrote. I do hope it is accurate. Enjoy! Oh, and who else is excited that we will finally be having a new episode tomorrow!! Except for you lucky Canadians who already got to watch...I am jealous.

The Jeffersonian was busy with its usual craziness on a Wednesday afternoon. Things appeared as normal, Hodgins running around preforming complex and obscene experiments, Angela in the midst of some sort of drama, the interns all desperately trying to please Dr. Brennan the best they could and poor Cam trying to police it all. Today, however, there was one very big difference. Temperance Brennan was ill. A detail that she had seemed to of simply ignored.

For once the woman found herself grateful that there was no case at the moment. Being locked up in her office would mean that not only could she work in peace, but also that no one would hear her torturous coughs as they rushed heavily from her chest, or the fact that she was so obviously flushed, or that she looked as exhausted as she felt.

To her the symptoms were obvious, she was a doctor after all; cough, headache, slight fever, congestion, sore throat. Clearly, she had bronchitis. An illness of which she was well aware was contagious, causing her insistence of remaining in her office throughout the day. She had more than enough to do there and had every intention of making herself very useful. Perhaps venturing to the forensic platform later in the day. Although contagious she was still a grown woman who was capable of preventing the spread of germs.

She was well prepared to turn down whoever it may be that was coming to knock on her door-she had heard the footsteps approaching-but found herself unable to as air expelled itself forcefully. The harsh, barking sound of it surprised her. Her door being opened without a knock and a certain FBI agent rushing in with a panicked look however, did not.

"You sound awful, Bones," he comments as he takes in his partners state. Unhealthy, was the first word that flashed to his mind. From the light sheen of sweat that had broke out on her forehead to the fact that her shoes had been kicked off, it all told him just how awful she must be feeling. Which, by extension, would mean that not only would he be calling out of work for the day but that he should prepare to put up with one hell of a fight.

"It is not nearly as bad as it sounds," she denies to him. Temperance never saw the logic in lying, no matter what the situation may be, but when it came to her being sick she seemed to put more effort into keeping others from discovering of her illness than she did of trying to heal from it.

"I don't believe you," he tells her simply and honestly. Brennan could lie all she wanted but Booth saw through it all, he did knew her better than anyone else. Even so it did not take any sort of trained or well adapted eye to pick up on the fact that she was sick. Brennan may as well been holding up a sign proclaiming it with the way she looked today.

"That is your prerogative I suppose." She wanders from the couch where she had been doing paperwork over to her desk, shuffling papers and trying to remain collected and ignore his fixed and studying stare. "Do we have a-" Her question is cut off as the sharp and deep sounds resonate from her. "Case," she squeaks out before attempting to get a lungful of air.

"I was just coming to see if you wanted to go to lunch," Booth explains half-heartedly. His eyes have glazed over and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to be able to take her home and lay down with her until she felt better. He kept himself a safe distance away from her though.

"Lunch would be-"

"So not happening now," he interrupts, ready to begin an argument with her. Her well being versus the work that needed to be done. It was different this time. Booth had never actually seen Temperance Brennan sick. Injured, all the time, stalked/death threats, every other case it seemed, but sick? Sick was new to him. Sick scared him when it came to her. Because Brennan didn't get sick. It just wasn't her.

"Booth, please, do not start," she asks him as nicely and quietly, per the pounding headache that was increasing in its pain as she talked. "I am fine."

"Fine?" he questions incredulously. "I've heard fine and that isn't even close to it."

"It is just a little cough," she argues trying in vain to fight off the next set of them that erupted from her chest. It seemed to send her entire body into spasms, sending an actual pain through her body.

"Damn it, Temperance, don't do this to me." He sounded pleading, something that caused him to check himself before he would speak again.

"Do what?" she found herself asking breathlessly. She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly.

"Make me worry so much," he explains to her, somehow finding his voice to of dropped several decibels. He walked over to her, pushing a cup of water in front of her and crouching down beside the chair. "You're sick."

Brennan takes a sip of the liquid. It gave her a cooling effect in her mouth and then left a trail of fire down her throat. "It is not so bad."

"How long?" he asks with no further words. Of course she would know exactly what his question meant.

"Since Sunday," she tells him and hangs her head in shame. Brennan was beginning to feel the willpower in her drift away. The affects of the illness were wearing on her since she had awoken to the sound of her blaring alarm that morning and having Booth next to her sent her an irrational desire to give in and just submit to the illness and let him care for her.

"I should have come by before today," he mutters regretfully to himself. He had called her of course, and had missed her dearly over the course of these past few days, but he had held himself back until today.

"Booth, I'm fine," she tries weakly one more time as she squares her shoulders into her usual proper posture and begins to type something on her computer.

"Take the day off, Bones," he says with a touch of force but also a softness, a deep, underlying concern that he was unsure if she could detect or not.

"I hardly find it necessary." Her next argument of being perfectly fine was interrupted by just how not perfectly fine she was. Strong coughs took over her, each one weaker than the next from the lack of oxygen as they continued. Her head fell down to her desk as they continued, breathing in as fast and deep as she could only to have it exhaled just quickly and with three times the force. "Just today," she murmurs with her head still laying on the desk.

"Thanks, Bones," he tells her and gives her a smile when she lifts her head to look at him. "I'll run and tell Cam while you get what you need to take home?" he questions, hesitant on whether he should just leave her here. She would lecture him for if she knew what was running through his mind. Probably on how she was slightly sick not a complete invalid. The thought made him chuckle to himself.

"Alright," she agrees simply and watches him run off as she begins gathering her laptop and its cords into her bag. She was currently unsure if she was more upset or happier with this new arrangement. She wanted to work in solitude and just let the illness run its course. At the same time she nearly felt her heart swell from the fact that he seemed to at least care enough to do this in the first place. So far if anyone else had noticed that had yet to say anything. That was more her fault for locking herself in her office though of course. "Does she mind?" Brennan asks in a worry tone as Booth reappears.

"Not at all, Dr. Brennan," Cam herself says as she turns the corner into Brennan's office, stethoscope in tow around her neck.

"I feel comfortable in the assumption that you wish to listen to my lungs," Brennan says as she sits on the edge of the couch, dropping her bag beside her feet.

"Then you can feel free to go," she says as she takes the stethoscope, placing the parts in their appropriate places.

Booth watched as Brennan was instructed to breathe in and out, hold her breath, take a deep breath, more than once as well since she would begin her coughing so frequently. His heart ached as he watched her struggling just to breathe in. Suddenly he felt so much guilt over his absence for the last few days. He should have had lunch with her sooner or gone out to dinner with her or just come by to see her. Then perhaps it would not have reached such a degree.

"Definitely bronchitis," Cam assesses. "Although if you do not begin to take care of yourself, Dr. Brennan, you could very quickly develop pneumonia. Something you know as well as I do needs to be avoided."

Brennan nods her head in agreement suddenly feeling embarrassment over her boss diagnosing her. "Of course, Dr. Saroyan."

"I'm writing you a prescription and giving you until Monday off," she says and begins to fill out a piece of paper she'd had with her. "Mandatorily."

"Don't worry, Camille. I'll lock her up if I have to." Booth speaks up from the other side of the room for the first time and flashes a brief charm smile.

"I'm sure you will, Seeley," she tells him. Half replying to him just to counter attack in the name category. "Get well soon, Dr. Brennan." And with that she is gone.

"I've never understood why people say that," Brennan comments as she stands and picks up her bag again. "Their demand for one to get better in small time span will not actually cause the person to heal quicker."

"I know," Booth replies simply as he places his hand to the small of her back. They walk quietly from the building, his hand moving from her back to his entire arm wrapped around her, helping her support her weight some. "Cam called the drug store already so your prescription will be waiting," Booth tells her as they reach his car and he opens her door for her, allowing her to get in on her own. "I can just run in and grab it on our way home." He walks to his side and climbs in, starting the engine and pulling out.

"Sounds like a logical plan," Temperance agrees as she leans her head back, shutting her eyes and burying her face into her elbow as the violent cough over takes her yet again. She seemed to barely catch her breath before being assaulted once again. It was exhausting after a while.

Booth keeps his mouth shut as they drive, wanting to ask her how she feels or if anything hurts. He wanted to give her peace and just let her try and pretend to him that she was okay. That was how Brennan would want it and he wanted to respect that best he could. She needed independence but at the same time he couldn't be expected to sit back and just let her hang around in misery. Silently he gets from the car and grabs the things he knows she will need quickly before paying and getting back into the SUV. Her eyes open as he reenters the car, snatching the prescription from his hand. "Excited about taking that there, Bones?" he asks her with a teasing smile.

She shoots him a glance back before returning her gaze to the medicine. "I was just checking to be sure it was a suppressant along with an expectorant along with not causing me to be drowsy," she explains to him while she quickly scans over the ingredients, satisfied with Cam's choice. "What else did purchase?" she asks as she see the plastic bag in his hand.

Booth allowed her to finish her sudden coughing before replying. "Three different types of cough drops, for variety of course." He hands her one of the bags now, giving her a pointed look as he did so. "Some Motrin, since you told me it has the most ibuprofen which will help with both your fever and headache."

"I didn't tell you I had a headache, Booth," she says in a questioning tone, popping the honey flavored cough drop into her mouth.

"I could tell," he explains simply as he backs the car out from the parking space and back on to the road.

"What else is there?" she asks while trying to see herself through the thin plastic of the bag.

"That'd be a candy bar for me," he tells her with a smile. "I would've gotten you one, but you're Bones."

"I don't know what that means," she replies plainly.

"You know, you eat healthy and stuff."

"Stuff is not the most proper word but if you mean I don't believe in eating processed sugars and empty carbohydrates then yes, I do," she says and is surprised to hear a laugh from Booth. He answers her before she can answer though due to her next set of coughs.

"That's exactly what I mean, Bones."

He pulls into the parking spot for her apartment and grabs the bag, meeting her at the front of the car and placing his hand to the small of her back. They walk up to her apartment, Brennan trying to ignore the fire that was igniting in her lungs and Booth trying to ignore his desire to pull her closer and comfort her. He knew before she even opened the door that it would be a long day.

They walk in and Booth gets straight to business. "Medicine and then I think you should probably go lay down." He pours the red liquid into the dosage cup and hands it to her, smiling gently when she curls her nose up in disgust at the taste of it. "No offense but you look like hell."

"I do believe that is a bit offensive, Booth," she tells him all the while getting herself some organic orange juice to both rinse out her mouth and take the two ibuprofen which had been placed into her hand.

"Sorry there, Bones," he apologises, having decided against trying to explain the meaning of a person commenting no offense. She turns and walks towards her bedroom, Booth follows with her orange juice in hand. He tries hard to keep his eyes from wandering around the room in mystical wonder as he sets the drink on to her night stand for her. "Get some sleep."

"Are you-" she stops, holding the question from escaping from her mouth. A cough seemed to decide on filling its place. His gaze fixes on to her and once she catches her breath she knows there was little choice on being able to take back her originally intended question. "Are you going to stay here?" she whispers to him, eyes cast down in shame.

"Course I will," Booth tells her while keeping his voice as pleasant as possible. She had looked so sad while asking him, even his mind was unable to process the reasoning behind it at the moment.

"You know you don't have to, don't you?" She didn't want him to feel trapped. She wanted him to know he had a choice. At the same time she was not sure what she wanted for him to choose. Her heart, metaphorical one of course, screamed for him to stay, to help her to get better and to be there to care fo her. However her brain was disputing any such ridiculous notion. Why in the world would she want him to dare see her in this weakened and pathetic state? Surely he would think so much less of her after seeing such a thing.

"I'll be in the living room," he says and turns and walks toward the door. "Get some rest, Bones." With that he shuts the door and sits himself down on the couch.