Agony.

Definitively speaking, agony means extreme or generally prolonged pain.

I opened the door, and everything my hands touched didn't feel real anymore.

Agony can also mean an extreme outburst of intense mental or emotional excitement.

I was hollow.

Definition 3: The struggle preceding natural death: mortal agony.

I wish I were dead.

Or definition 4, a natural struggle.

I fought against my limbs furiously. Get out of the car. Don't look back, just keep moving. Something had shifted, back to the way it was? I could not remember the last time I felt like this. I do not think I have ever felt like this. Maybe I was dreaming. That was the most logical answer available to me at the moment. And tomorrow, I would wake up in my bed, alone, realizing with intense relief that this whole case was a dream. My whole world was a dream. Hm, maybe I was a dream.

Booth said something from behind me, but curiously, it seemed my hearing had stopped working properly. There was rushing sound coming at me from everywhere, like I was drowning in a waterfall of my own creation. Possibly I had been consuming copious amounts of alcoholic beverages. It certainly would make a lot of sense, for the odd haze clouding my vision couldn't be normal, and the furious shudders that racked my entire body didn't feel quite right either. But for the life of me I could not remember ever allowing those compromising drinks into my system.

"What?" I murmured. It came out defeated, almost exhausted. Understandable, I privately admonished. I had not had decent rest for days.

"You uh…" He cleared his throat a little. Those damn brown eyes of his caught mine; stealing half of the steely will I had to continue standing. I tuned back into his words. "-gonna be alright?" The night air swirled around me, whispering things that I wish he had said himself. Outrageous, I quickly corrected myself. The wind is not a sentient being, and therefore does not have the power to whisper anything to me. "Good." I finally managed, but then realized that I was not being coherent. I needed him to walk off and believe me, so I rephrased.

"Do not waste time worrying over me, Booth. I am a perfectly capable adult by all the markers of this society." I needed to get out of this with a bit of my dignity intact. Although, by now, I was pretty much fighting a losing war, as they say. He remained silent, and I could tell he was debating my sanity, weighing his options. "I can call someone." He repeated the same words from earlier, as if there was some kind of danger in leaving me alone on this particular night. What was so different? He left me alone every night these days. Pain and regret, mingling together, shot through me without warning. I persisted in the attempt to hold the pieces of myself together, supporting myself desperately by holding onto the door. Unless he left soon, I was going to collapse in front of him, and let all my walls down again.

This was not acceptable.

"Go." I spit the word with all the venom I was capable of dragging out at this point. After all this time, it was easy to recognize the subtle emotion of pain that flitted across his familiar features. Slowly, I lifted my hand to shove the car door closed, and the glass in the window rattled as it slammed. Somehow I seem to underestimate my own strength when I am emotionally compromised.

"Bones!" I heard Booth's muffled yell from inside the car, but my only response was to close my eyes and turn away from the man I…

The man I what? Choosing instead not to dwell on my feelings, instead I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Get up to your apartment. Well, that was reassuring. At least some part of my rational thought remained. I was tensed, all the muscles in my body resisted gravity, resisted the urge to crumple and turn to nothing but dust and ashes. Random facts and information threatened to resurface and overwhelm me, but I pushed them away. Just like I pushed everyone away.

There are 206 bones in the human body. 206 ways to go wrong. How many other ways could I go wrong? I was stumbling now, barely walking. No. Think about fact. Think about reason, and logic. The only reliable things left in this world, because Booth was wrong. People are not reliable. They cheat, they lie, they murder, and they leave you. Deep down inside, if I really wanted to dig that far and admit it to myself, I knew I was being completely irrational. And I was not being fair. It was my choices that brought me here, my own fear and the unreliability of my feelings.

Feelings. Dimly, I realized I was at my apartment door. Slipping inside, I was assaulted by memories. They took me under and replaced reason, helping me to drown in the increasing tide. It was a relief to succumb.

He grinned mischievously.

"Another case solved, eh, partner?" I rolled my eyes, not exactly sure how to respond to his reckless enthusiasm. Lately, Booth's behavior had been erratic and unexplainable, like some imagined thought or feeling drove him. At times, if I glanced at him without warning he would be staring at me with this odd look in his eyes. After his surgery, Booth had not been himself. As we both spend more and more time together, it was easier for me to recognize the slight signs. Vaguely, I wondered if it had something to do with his dream."Are you surprised?" I inquired blatantly. He laughed, seeming more carefree than I have ever seen him. "Nah, I mean, what else is new? Like these criminals even have a chance with Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan on the job!" But just as suddenly, he grew serious. "But you know, Tempe,-" my eyebrows went up. I was slightly surprised at the use of my name, but didn't mention it. "-you need to be more careful out there. One of those guys got away, and he could be going after you." Rolling my eyes at his typical protective madness, I responded appropriately as we neared my apartment. "You are being ridiculous, Booth." He let out a breath through his teeth in reply. "Am I, Bones? How many times have you been kidnapped, now?" "Booth, that's completely-" "Oh, and don't even get me started on how many times you've been shot at." I narrowed my eyes. "Why so suddenly concerned?" He shifted in the driver's seat, and his fists clenched on the steering wheel. "Look, I'm just saying because this guy got away." "One of the guys." I clarified, not wanting to downplay our hard work. "The point is-" he determinedly continued on, "-you should have somebody with you at all times." I was silent for awhile, not sure what he meant. "Booth, this guy is not even after me, specifically." "Nah, he's probably after me. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook either." I raised my eyebrows. His faulty logic was imminently confusing to me.

"What are you trying to say, Booth?" I finally asked as we arrived in the parking lot of my apartment complex. He shut off the car and turned to face me. "I'm saying I should stay with you. Just for the night." Without pausing to reply, I got out of the car and started walking towards my building. "Booth, I believe you're crossing an edge." "Crossing a line, Bones…it's crossing a line. And I'm not crossing anything! I just wanna make sure the creep doesn't come for you in the middle of the night or something." I spun around to look at him, and for a moment we stood there. Honesty emanated from him, and I found it difficult to remain coherent as his eyes captured me in their gaze. Which is actually absurd, because eyeballs cannot capture anything. Returning to the conversation, I retorted without thought, for once. "Fine." Surprised with myself, I headed upstairs. Booth followed behind, my own feelings mirrored on his face.

I yanked open the door, entering my apartment as I had thousands of times before, except this time, I wasn't alone. It felt…

"So, can I sleep in your bed?" He chuckled when I blatantly ignored him. "Good luck finding clothing." I snickered, which was very unlike me. Hm, there must have been something in those fries I consumed at the Diner. Booth promptly raided my large closet for something to wear, while I slipped on some sweats and tiredly fell into bed. I have to admit, it was quite…weird seeing Booth in an old shirt that must have been Sully's, climbing under the covers with me. "Booth. Couch." I muttered, but I was altogether too exhausted to put up much objection. "You know how bad my back is." He smugly replied. I muttered something about a Chiropractor, but he just smiled. Slowly, the room was getting dimmer as I let sleep take over. The last thing I saw was Booth's soft gaze.