(The Boy With the Answer)

This story is AU. Come to think of it, most of my stories are AU.

I don't own Bones, but then again, we all know that.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

The dryer was done and after emptying it, Booth dumped the dry clothes on top of the machine and started to fold them. Stacking the folded clothes on the table next to the dryer, Booth thought he heard a thud in the living room. Curious, he dropped his t-shirt on to the table and walked out into the living room. Not seeing anything, he walked over to the front door and opened it. Not finding anyone out in the hallway, he closed the door and waited to see if he'd hear the noise again.

Not hearing anything else, he shrugged his shoulders, walked back into the laundry room and finished folding his clean clothes. Placing them in a laundry basket, he carried it out into the living room and walked into his bedroom. Surprised, Booth felt a sudden pain in his back and then his chest which caused him to pause and look down. Unnerved he found a red stain spreading on the front of his shirt. Puzzled, he dropped his basket and touched the wet stain and suddenly found himself lying on the floor. Having difficulty breathing, he watched two boot encased feet walk over to where he lay, stand within inches of his face, turn and walk away.

Ooooooooooooooo

She knocked on Booth's apartment door and he didn't open it. Brennan waited a few seconds and then knocked again. Hearing music playing in the apartment, she finally decided that Booth might have forgot she was coming over to go over testimony for the trial. She used her spare key which she kept in her wallet, entered the apartment and noticed that the television was on. ESPN was showing a ball game of some kind, but the sound was muted. The music she'd heard out in the hallway was coming from his stereo which was tuned to a classic rock station that her partner liked to listen to. Curious, she walked into the bedroom to see if her friend was asleep only to almost stumble over him two feet inside the room.

Afraid for her partner, Brennan fell to her knees and noticed a red stain on the back of his shirt. Alarmed, she rolled him over and also found a large dark red stain on the front of his shirt. Placing her hand on his neck, she felt a weak pulse and knew he was still alive. Quickly, she grabbed the phone from her purse, called 911, reported the emergency and then dropped the phone on the floor. Lifting Booth's shirt, Brennan quickly found the problem. Grabbing two t-shirts from the spilled laundry basket, she placed one under his back and then pressed the other one against the wound on his chest. "Booth . . . Booth, I'm here. You're not alone. Help is on the way, Booth. Don't you leave me Booth . . . Don't you dare leave me."

Ooooooooooooooooo

Anxiously standing in the waiting room, Brennan was biting her bottom lip, trying not to think when she felt arms placed around her from behind. "Oh Sweetie, we got caught up in a traffic jam, but we got here as soon as we could. What's going on? . . . Is he okay?"

Nervously, Brennan shook her head. "He's in surgery . . . I arrived at his apartment to go over our testimony for the trial next week and found him on the floor in his bedroom . . . he was unconscious. He'd been shot . . . It's a through and through. He was shot in the back and it passed through his chest. I've already contacted the FBI and an agent said they were sending techs to his apartment. Deputy Director Cullen was here for a few minutes, but he left about ten minutes ago." Pointing towards three men sitting on chairs near the door, she frowned, "These agents are here to help me if I need it."

Hodgins was confused and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. "I don't understand, Booth hasn't been working on a new case for a few weeks. Why would anyone go after him? It doesn't make any sense."

Not sure either, Brennan shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I just know that he's been shot and he's still in surgery."

He saw the distant look on Brennan's face and Hodgins started to worry about her. He placed his hand on her arm and spoke softly to her. "Dr. B, maybe you should sit down."

A sense of foreboding filling her, she shook her head. "I'm not tired . . . I was working. He didn't want me to work today, but the mummy from Syria arrived last night and I wanted to do a preliminary examination today. I know it's Saturday, but we have plenty of time to go over our testimony for the Gravedigger trial. It isn't until next week . . . We were going to go to a ball game tonight after we practiced our testimony, so I didn't see why I couldn't go to the Jeffersonian this morning. I really wasn't at the Jeffersonian very long. I . . ."

Interrupting her friend, Angela shook her head. "Bren, he understood . . . He did. He knows you get excited when they send you mummies. I'm sure he didn't mind."

Tearfully, Brennan shook her head as she felt a tear escape her lashes. "But he did mind. He wanted to go over the testimony and then he wanted to take me for a drive before we went to the game. He said I'd been working too hard and he wanted me to relax. He didn't really have a destination in mind. He just wanted to go for a drive and I denied him that pleasure . . . If I'd gone to his apartment when he asked me to we'd have gone for that drive and he wouldn't be in surgery right now."

Interrupting her, Hodgins protested, "Dr. B. if you had been there, maybe you'd both be in surgery right now. Come on, stop blaming yourself. This isn't your fault."

Brennan noticed a woman in blue scrubs enter into the room, so she stepped away from Angela and Hodgins and towards the surgeon. "Is Seeley Booth out of surgery yet?"

Nodding her head, Dr. Monroe smiled at the younger woman. "Yes, Dr. Brennan. We were able to repair the damage to the lung, so we didn't have to remove any of the lobes. The bullet that entered his back must have a been a jacketed bullet because the damage wasn't as bad as I had first feared when I opened him up. He's in a recovery room right now and he is on a ventilator. We'll remove it tomorrow morning. The longer a patient remains on a ventilator the greater risk he has of deep venus thrombosis or pulmonary embolus."

Impatiently, Brennan interrupted the surgeon, "Yes, I know that . . . Thank you. I assume he has a chest tube?"

Dr. Monroe knew who Brennan was and was grateful that she didn't have to explain too much. "Yes. Hopefully we can remove it in a few days. As soon as his damaged lung starts to heal and it can inflate on its own he won't need it any more."

Concerned, Angela stepped closer and placed her arm around Brennan's shoulders. "Doctor . . . when can he go home? He's going to want to go back to work, I know him and . . ."

Slowly shaking her head, Dr. Monroe frowned at the question. "This isn't a scratch were talking about. He may be able to go home in a week . . . Once he's off of the ventilator he's going to need respiratory therapy and then some strength building therapy. Even after we let him go home, he's going to need to rest for at least a couple of weeks. After that, he might be able to return to work part time and I mean part time and only if it's not strenuous work. I'd think he might be able to return to work full time three or four weeks after that."

Realization hitting him, Hodgins rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "Oh shit."

Puzzled, Dr. Monroe turned to look at Hodgins. "Is there a problem?"

Upset with the situation, Hodgins sighed. "He's supposed to be witness at a murder trial next week. I don't know if you know anything about the Gravedigger, but the trial is about a serial killer. Booth is part of the team trying to put her away."

Nodding her head, Dr. Monroe pursed her lips. "Well, that's obviously not going to happen." Patting Brennan's arm, the surgeon smiled. "You'll be able to see him in a few minutes. I'll have a nurse come and get you when we're ready."

After she left the room, Brennan moved over to a chair and sat down.

Oooooooooooooooo

Okay, don't shoot me. There is a reason this is happening and you should know me well enough to know that Booth is not going to die. After saying that, what do you think of my story? Is it interesting?