Between Sleep and Awake (Rated M, mystery, angst, fluff, insanity)

thanks! I'll have to look into it when I'm on the desktop (on the laptop now...) Thanks!!!

I'm sorry for the wait! I didn't want to post anything I wouldn't like.

Between Sleep and Awake

Part X: A Numbers Game

A vehement outcry nearly shook my resolve to remain crouched behind the decaying white oak.

"Nooooo!" The Ford's door snapped shut, rebounding from the rusted metal and screeching slowly open once again. "You cunt! Where are you? You bitch!"

I leaned on an elbow and caught a glance at Agent Prideaux, his face obscured by brush as he stalked through the fallen timber and debris caused by the wreck. His black tie was loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled above the elbows, perspiration moistening his thin blond hair. Rage twisted his features into a raw red glower.

He drew his side arm from his shoulder holster and fired it into the air. Blam! The blast drew a handful of wintering birds from the trees. Their black bodies retreated into the autumn gray sky, their caws muted by the low hanging clouds.

"Come on out, Dr. Brennan. Let's just make this quick." His voice was cold, phlegmatic. As icy as the chilled vaporous air.

He stepped over a large shrub, his black loafers sinking into a patch of snow.

"Comment voulez-vous être enterré?" How do you want to be buried? "My guess? Cremation. You seem like the cremation type." He loaded the weapon and cocked it, then continued toward the treeline. "I tend to lean towards the mass-burials, but for you can make an exception."

The vision from my one good eye was foggy at best from hemorrhagic blood vessels. Getting an accurate shot would be next to impossible under the circumstances and would most likely waste the ammunition.

Two bullets.

Should I wait for a close-range shot?

My hand dropped into the threadbare robe and retrieved the cell phone. I squinted at it.

One bar.

Why couldn't my kidnapper have gotten his cell through a company with less patchy service?

I stretched across the length of the log, my bare legs and stomach making contact with the frigid ground. A chill chased my spine as I extended my arm as far as it would stretch.

Two bars.

Would it be enough to make a call? And to whom? The last phone number I had memorized was in 1995. Pre-cell phone era. At least for me. And there hadn't been a need to memorize a single number since.

911.

My thumb, whose nail was caked in filth and dirt, descended on the 9-key.

It beeped in a loud A-Sharp tone.

The agent's .38 cracked through the air. The oak splintered just inches above my head. Fine saw dust rained down.

My free hand brushed scarlet blood mixed with white snowflakes from my cheek.

"Don't move him!" My voice echoed back to me, sounding much more unnerved than it usually does.

"He'll die out here, Brennan!"

I tripped over my feet, trying desperately to keep my hand on Booth's neck, and stumbled to the back of the ambulance that had just pulled up to the edge of the property.

"Ma'am, you can't ride with us." He was a young paramedic with curly hair and facial features indicative of Jewish ancestry.

"I'm riding with you. This is my partner."

An EMT and another paramedic gathered around the stretcher. A short red-headed woman straddled his chest and began chest compressions while the other team member began to intibate.

"Are you injured?" His voice was gruff. I pulled my eyes from my partner to the paramedic.

"Well, no, bu--"

He pushed my hand out of the way and pressed his gloved one on Booth's throat.

"I'm sorry, it's hospital policy."

The doors closed. Lights, red, white, red, white flashed against trees, flooding the branches in unnatural color.

Another hallucination.

Go back, Brennan! Go back!

First sensation. Cheeks so hot that they caused my vision to obnubilate and swirl like oil paints under an artist's brush. Insects with heads and jowls ridiculously disproportionate to their thoraxes and abdomens.

I breathed deeply, dirt entered my nasal passages with the inhalation. I resisted the urge to cough. It wasn't rational. Prideaux knew I was hiding in the woods. Feverish and infected, it was obvious that I hadn't gone far and he obviously knew my position by then. So, why did I try to keep so silent?

Something snapped to my right. A twig under foot. Before my mind had the chance to process what was occurring, he was on top of me. His hand to my throat, the cold circular barrel of his weapon to my temple.

My lungs were full of live coals. The heat scorched the tissues and wrenched the life from my body. Just as the fire had spread my limbs, he released the grip just enough so I could breathe, which I did gratefully.

The fire was slowly extinguished.

"You really fucking piss me off, Brennan. I can't wait to watch you die. I haven't decided how, yet." Eyes as green as his brother's, teeth much whiter. Every muscle tremored with misdirected hatred and fury. He gave my neck a squeeze, then he holstered his weapon, and fished the gun from the robe's belt and tossed it into the trees. His hand remained on my neck the entire time. "It's like an early Christmas. Fucking presents in November."

"How--s that?" I grunted, pressing his hand away from my neck unsuccessfully.

"Not every day you get to kill two agents in one day." His eyes glinted. He unsheathed the weapon and pressed it against my temple again.

"Wha--?"

"They pulled the plug thirty minutes ago. I saw his little boy. Patrick, right? He was crying his little eyes out. His ex was there. And you know what was going through my mind the entire time?"

My feisty remark never passed through my larynx.

"How she's got a nice rack on her. Firm and supple. Then they snapped that toe tag on Booth and rolled him to the morgue. Merry Fucking Christmas, Ed."

Wrong thing to say, Prideaux. The rage built until I could feel my entire body quaking with impassioned wrath.

My right hand began to search for anything. Within a second, my nails clutched a hard wooden object which I promptly bashed into the side of the man's head.

He fell back, dropping the gun. His blazing green eyes fixated on me, then looked more irate than ever. Jumping forward, he pounced on me once again, his hands clamping onto my neck. He slammed my head against the ground to emphasize his point.

Ice on a forehead.

He smelled like Old Spice and mint.

Back to earth.

"Bad move, Brennan. Now you're going to make you suffer." His breath was a stomach-twisting mixture of cheese and cinnamon, a far cry from the delusion just moments before.

A black dot appeared on Prideaux's bottom lip. The dot grew and leeched until it obscured his face.

Angela 'choked up' on an imaginary baseball bat. "It's a choke-up."

Zack leaned in, "To foreshorten the fulcrum."

The ink receded.

With the last bit of energy I had left, I swung at Prideaux's parietal. Once again, he backed off a bit, then came at me again.

I stumbled to my feet and choked up on the chunk of wood in my hands, my fingers gripping the frosted weapon. It collided with Prideaux's head.

He staggered. Lurched toward me.

Thunk!

I ignored the pain of tensed muscles against fractured ribs.

He stumbled, snatched up the forgotten .38 and aimed at me. His finger squeezed.

Bam!

A bullet whizzed by my head.

I fell to my knees, my lungs heaving, never able to draw in enough oxygen. My body threatened to shut down, go into sleep mode.

It's not a time to back down, Bones.

Bones.

I didn't take the time to process my internal use of the nickname. I pushed a hand on a knee and stood once again. One last burst of adrenaline. I ran forward, bashing the small log into the side of Prideaux's head once again.

His weapon fell to the ground.

My veins pulsed, a response to a raised blood pressure, physical stress, and other factors.

He reached up and touched his head. The flesh on his face was split down the bridge of his nose, across his forehead and behind a mangled ear. Sticky red blood bubbled from the wound and down his neck and cheek.

His knees buckled and he fell face-first to the ground.

Blackness. Flashes of light. Duct tape stars.

The screaming sirens of police cars.

Soil moistened from melting snow cooling a swollen cheek.

The last thing I remembered was the thin figure of an African-American woman standing over me.

"Cam?"

An obvious aberration.

"Told you I used to be a cop."

Other figures appeared around her, then the visions merged together into an amorphous meld of shapes and colors.

I laid my cheek against Booth's hand. Hospital white sheets billowed around his still body like gossamer waves rolling against a rocky shore.

"Sweetie?" Angela stood at the door. She smiled weakly and sat beside me, offering a cup of coffee. "I brought you coffee." Her gaze drifted to Booth. "How's he doing?"

"He's doing fine. He'll open his eyes soon." I was lying to myself, though. I didn't believe it was true. Logically speaking, the chances were against him ever opening his eyes again and in favor of him laying in bed for the rest of his life.

However long that would be.

A week. A month. A decade. Until he took his last breath.

"It's induced, right? The coma?"

I nodded.

She reached for my hand. It was the key to the flood gates. A tear slipped down the bridge of my nose and dropped onto the sheets.

Her arm slipped around my shoulder and she drew me near.

"I'm a mess, Ange. I--I never told--I never let him know..." Wait, that's not right. I did let him know. Making love through the night. Sharing innermost thoughts in the early morning.

"I know, sweetie. I believe you'll get that chance."

Calm in the memory. Tortured in mind.

My eye cracked enough to see a nurse walk in, check the IV drip, pull a thermometer from my parched lips and mutter, "Temp's down."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Russ' voice.

The sterile white hospital room blurred into a cloudy white macrocosm.

Yey, an update! I really, really hope that Agent Prideaux was lying about Booth being dead. I'll cry. :'(

The chapter was definitely worth the wait, Ma! Loved it.

Ohhhh. AN UPDATE!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
*does the happy dance*

This is so good. Bascally Brennan fought herself free. Yey. Go for Brennan. Hope she doesn't have any complications. Cause Booth's coma is ... iz bad Wohoo..
Mama, come here, let me give you a hug for the update.
*hugs mama really tight*


I hope to see new ones soon No pressure

love the update, love the feel of this story

MAMA!!!

HAHA, take that you french bastard!! You can never trust the french! I love that she kicked ass and took names, and all the while not believing a single word out of that bastards mouth. Now I can't wait for her and Booth to have their reunion! Brilliant job, and I'm so happy you updated!! Keep it up, you rock!!

Bella

wow. this story is so amazing! thank you for updating!

I'm glad you let Brennen take care of herself. Let her be the strong woman she is. Now let's hope there's someone to have survived for.

Thank you for the comments & compliments!
Welcome to the ABY, Cameomum!!!

Bella, you reminded me of this;
[Only admins are allowed to see this image]

I've been really busy. I read the beginning of this and was really intruiged but also really confused. So I said to myself that when I had time I'd go back and re read and then post a review when I could make sense of it. Well I got busy so that never happened, but when I saw the update today there were a whole bunch of chapters I hadn't read. So it still remains un-reread, but it's so much clearer to me now what was happening. maybe my head was to addled to try last time. Anyway, enough waffle. Wow. What a fic. I'm loving it. How seamlessly you blend Brennan's hallucinations into reality, mixing now and then, it's really well done!

I really really hope Booth's ok. I echo the threat of tears if he's not!

It's really good and I am loooking forward to going back and rereading, just still might take a while...

Lovin' it!

Thank you very much.

Thank you sadhbh!!!

You're welcome Cameomum!

by Cameomum Today at 3:00 pm

I'm glad you let Brennen take care of herself. Let her be the strong woman she is. Now let's hope there's someone to have survived for.

I concur. Vehemently.

ForensicMama wrote:Thank you for the comments & compliments!
Welcome to the ABY, Cameomum!!!

Bella, you reminded me of this;
[Only admins are allowed to see this image]

Haha, Mama, that's hilarious!! Thanks for thinking of me!!

POST NOW!!

Love you.....

Bella

PPS!!! This story is amazing! I absoulutly love it!
~~~~~~~Cassie~~~~~~

Wow! Thank you Cassie! Welcome to the ABY!!!

I'm working on the next chapter now. I'll have it up as soon as I can. I just got a call that my mom is coming out of the hospital and they'll need someone to watch her. Sorry for the delay. It isn't on purpose.

no problem! I understand about delays. I am sorry to hear about your mom, I hope she is doing well, and that it is nothing serious. You are an excellent writer! I love the way you word everything so beautifully.
~~~~~~~Cassie~~~~~~

Oh, my. What a good read! I'm not such an experienced reader, and at first I was like "Whoa - I do not know what is going on." I felt better as I realized that confusion was the desired effect.

One of the lines that caught me was:

"You're not leaving me again, Booth! God, please," I whispered.

His eyes opened just enough to flash an amused expression my way before rolling into his head once again.

I can just hear Booth's thought "That's my girl! Talk to The Man."

Thanks. I'll be waiting patiently till you can post the next chapter...

Thanks~! I'll be back tonight and tomorrow and try to get it up ASAP as my mom might need me this week. She's pretty ill, although she's too stubborn to admit it. Renal failure, heart issues, blood pressure issues, some strange unknown infection... either way, she's not doing as well as she lets on, so I may have to spend the week with her. So I'm going to try my best to get the next chapter up. I'm going now to start on it. Thanks everyone for the support!

Part XI: Torment

An acousma of voices, muddled and befuddled. Smeared and twisted. Mixed and dabbed.

A curio of mirages that danced and mocked me. Taunting and laughing. Shrilling and thrilling.

Then all was silent. My mind was vacuous, empty, barren.

A steady beeping.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

More voices.

Softly they spoke. One responded in turn. Gentle laughter. Sigh.

"Sweetie?"

My eyelid felt as if it weighed ten pounds. The shutter raised.

"Brennan?"

Cam and Angela stood over me.

"Jeez, you scared the hell out of me."

"Where am I?" I knew the answer before the question had passed my lips. White sheets. I'd been here before. "Where's Boo--"

Angela pressed her cheek against me and gave me a careful hug. A kiss on the forehead. "Sweetie. How do you feel?"

I tried to sit up to no avail. "Sore."

Cam smiled with relief. "It's good to have you back, Brennan."

"Did I see you...?"

A dimple dipped into her cheek, "Yes, you did."

"How?" It had felt good to sleep, but despite my best efforts, my voices still weak and frustratingly soft.

"I connected the dots."

"What dots?" Angela asked the question that was about to slip past my lips.

"Well, Dr. Brennan left the hospital in such a hurry that I did a little snooping around for myself. I looked a little into the bank heist in Canada. They had only one still of the guy."

"Which I clarified through nearest neighbor interpolation and bilinear filtering." Angela stated, then smiled. "You're getting that 'I don't know what that means' look again. Basically means I used Photoshop to interpret the spaces between pixels to make the picture clearer."

"Once we had a face, I took it to Cullen who sent me to the new head of the case."

"Prideaux," I said.

"Nail on the head. And he gave me the run-around time after time, saying that they'd already investigated that angle."

"I don't remember why I went there."

"I don't know, either. I was hoping you could fill in those holes."

"Why'd you suspect Prideaux?"

"Public records. Clarence Voigt is Prideaux's third cousin by marriage."

I processed the information as well as I could. Only a few seconds passed before the sedatives began to take effect once again.

Before the fog had a chance to roll in, I asked, "Booth?"

"Sweetie, they took him off--"

The hospital room vanished, the faces of my friends diffused into a million effervescent particles then dissipated into nothingness.

What was Angela trying to say?

"Sweetie, they took him off life support."

"Sweetie, they took him off oxygen."

"Sweetie, they took him off from the intensive care floor?"

My feet lowered to a tiled floor.

I walked out of the hospital and into the night, pulling a light wrap around my shoulders.

"Excuse me," I muttered.

A blond woman scooted in her chair. Her datelooked oddly familiar. Blond hair, green eyes.

"Bones!"

I pulled my eyes from the man and his date, walking past the dining couples to where my partner sat. He rose to his feet and pulled out my chair. I hesitated. I don't like to be catered to. But I sat anyway. No complaints. It wasn't the first time Seeley Booth had played the gentleman card and to say that I secretly loved it was an understatement.

"Sorry, the line for the lady's room was ridiculous."

"No worries," he smiled.

I leaned forward slightly, knowing full well how it made my breasts press together enticingly.

His eyes lingered.

"Here's to our partnership," he said, lifting a wine glass in the air. The cool night air made my skin prick with goosebumps. I wondered if my nipples were visible beneath the dress.

Partnership. His eyes drifted southward. There was no line tonight. No lines. Just two friends eating dinner. Two friends who might become something more.

"To our partnership." I raised my glass. They clinked together.

His breath hitched in his throat. "You look... great, Bones."

"And you, too. You look... very handsome." And when did he ever not?

"I'm glad you're back in D.C., Bones."

"Me, too." I was becoming less and less rational as the night wore on.

"We should, um, go."

"Yeah," I tucked in my chair almost too eagerly.

A car that refused to run.

A jacket around chilled shoulders.

We stood outside of his apartment. Keys dropped to the ground. Foreheads collided.

And that is where memories and hallucinations diverged.

"Bones. I'm sorry. You OK?"

I pressed my fingers to the aching spot. "Ow."

He chuckled and touched my forehead tenderly.

Then his eyes lowered and met mine. His fingers traced my face slowly, stopping at my chin.

Then I felt this indescribable ache. And I only wanted his lips to touch mine. For us to race into the apartment, start ripping at each other's clothes. For the white buttons on that shirt he was wearing to be torn from their threads and fall to the ground like ten tiny hail stones. For him to press me against the wall and make love to me. To wake up in the morning, still sweaty from a night of passion and just share things we've never dreamed to share about one another.

Rationality. Where had it gone?

His finger dropped. The gaze broke.

He pushed the key into the lock and we entered the apartment. My heart was still pounded in my ears as I sat at a dining room chair.

He looked in the freezer for ice. I could feel a blush rising on my cheeks. Should I feel so... hurt? Ashamed? Jilted? Annoyed? After all, we were platonic.

Just partners.

I shook my head almost imperceptibly as he came into the dining room and sat on a chair near me, pressing an ice pack to the swollen pink spot on my head. I lifted my hand and covered his.

"Bones, I--"

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"You need ice, too."

He smiled and lowered his hand. "There was just the one."

"We can share."

Dubiousness traced his features as he thought it through. What happened to tonight? Was he starting to distrust his advances? Rethink the date?

I tugged on his tie and pulled him close until his head rested against the ice pack, his lips so close to mine that it was killing me. And I was hoping that it was killing him, too.

Kiss me.

Kiss me.

Irrational thoughts. Thank G-d nobody can hear them.

I sighed, my eyes slipping to his top button. A few stray chest hairs curled from beneath the opening and I longed to thread my fingers through--

J-sus, Brennan. Get a hold of yourself!

Eyes traveled northward. Past soft lips and settling on chestnut brown eyes.

Eyes that slowly closed.

His lips closed a painful distance at an unbearably slow speed.

Dizzying passion, his tongue softly running along my own. His hands ran northward along my thighs. He grasped my butt and pulled my legs over him, the chair screeched across the floor. His fingers searched beneath my panties and brushed my clitoris.

He quickly pulled back, breathing heavily.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Bones. This isn't right."

I didn't reply, but perhaps that was prompt enough for him.

"We shouldn't--"

"If you're worried about Cullen--"

"It's not Cullen. Bones this isn't just... It's not just sex with me."

Of course it wasn't. I knew that, but I would have never admitted to it. I kept my mouth shut.

"I need to know that if we do this, you can return my feelings."

Tense seconds passed.

Too many seconds.

He stood. I stood.

Minutes later, I was letting a cool shower freeze away whatever torment was unfurling in my head.

Bump for the next chappie (Bottom of previous page). Enjoy.

Mama,

Brilliant, but I can't believe you left us hanging!! What happened to Booth, is he alive or dead? Darn you!! I loved the flashback though it was sweet!! Please post as soon as possible!!

Bella

Wow--what a cliffhanger. Booth was taken off of something and so we still don't don't know if he's alive and yet you managed to give us romance and Booth and Brennen. I'm glad you make her thoughts of him, always him. But I do wonder what was memory and what was hallucination--since they diverged. Hope she can continue to make memories with Booth.

wow, that was hot! i really hope booth is alright!! post soon, if you can! thank you so much for this amazing story!

Wow. that was intense! And so sweet. I'm going a little crazy here though! Booth *has* to be ok! I like the took him off oxygen best.

I can't wait for what's next. Booth info perhaps??

I hope you mam is ok xxx

Oh, also, love the letter to Santa