Bonesology fanfic challenge: What if Booth were badly injured while Brennan was on the run between Seasons 7 and 8?

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

She tried to keep track of what was going on outside of her bubble of solitude, so she watched the news on television when she could and read the Washington Post and local newspapers online when she had access to the internet. She didn't expect to see the names of any of her friends in the newspapers, but occasionally she could count on an article about the FBI and their search for her. It was annoying, but all she could do was stay in her bubble and wait until her friends and co-workers absolved her from the murder of Ethan Sawyer. She missed Booth so much and ached for him. She loved him so much and she knew that he must be frantic about her and Christine's welfare. She had hated to leave him behind, but his position at the FBI had to be protected and she hoped that he would forgive her when she finally went home. She had left him behind to protect him and she would do it again.

That day, the local news was concentrating on a fire in Buchannan's Birthplace State Park near Loudon, Pennsylvania and how the fire had been started by a careless visitor who had failed to dispose of his cigarette properly. Her motel was near the fire, but the fire was contained and the Sheriff of the county was certain it would be completely out by nightfall. Before she could turn the television off, breaking news started to crawl across the bottom of the screen.

A bombing has been reported in Washington D.C. this afternoon. FBI spokesman Jason Bennett gave a short news conference at 3 p.m. confirming that a bomb was detonated at the VA Medical Center. The motive for this attack is unknown at this time. First responders are at the scene searching for survivors. More news to follow at six.

A little concerned, Brennan chewed on her left thumbnail as she tried to tell herself that though the bombing was horrible, it had nothing to do with Booth. Frustrated that she was so isolated, she knew that trying to contact anyone could lead to her arrest. Most of her friends and co-workers were being monitored of that fact she had no doubt. As she stared at the television, hoping to see more about the bombing, she heard a sound outside her motel room door. Cautiously, she moved over to the door and gently moved the curtain aside with as minimal movement as possible. Relieved to see her father, she opened the door careful to step back so no one could observe who had opened the door. "Dad."

Feigning nonchalance, Max entered the room and closed the door behind him. "Hey Tempe . . . I just got off the phone with Ralph Saylor. You know he's keeping an eye on Booth for us . . . um, listen . . . Booth . . ."

Brennan felt weak as she sat down on the edge of the bed closest to the door. "The bombing . . ."

He should have known she already knew and now he had to make sure she didn't run off to try to rescue her boyfriend. "Yes, Booth was there. It looks like the bomb went off in the lobby right after Booth entered the building. Ralph tried to get in, but the door was blocked with rubble and . . . he called me and let me know what was going on. He said he'd stay and keep an eye on the situation and call me as soon as he knew something."

"Dad, I need to go." Brennan stood up and glanced at her child who was sleeping on the bed next to her. "I . . . Christine . . . "

Max placed his hands on her upper arms and held them tightly in his grip. "No, Honey, you can't go. You'd be arrested in a heartbeat. You know that . . . I called Hodgins on a burner phone just before I walked over here . . . He's on it, Sweetheart. He's going to drive over there and see what's what. His connections with the Cantilever Group should help him at least a little. I only talked to him for a couple of minutes, but he's on it. I gave him Ralph's number, so he can tell us what is going on. He's got this one Tempe. As soon as Hodgins knows something we will too. I promise."

Afraid that Booth was hurt and needed her, Brennan tried to reason with her father. "If he's hurt then they need to know about the injuries he has suffered in the past . . . his brain tumor. They could affect his recovery and . . . and his sensitivity to anesthesia . . . if they need to operate on him and they give him the wrong anesthesia he could go into a coma again . . . he might not recover from a second coma, Dad. I have to be there."

"No!" Max was terrified for his daughter. "You can't. Cam has his medical information. I know she does. Hodgins mentioned it. He wanted to make sure I knew that Booth would be taken care of and he will be . . . Tempe you're expecting the worse. He might not be hurt at all. For all we know he was on the other side of the building when the bomb went off and now he's busy helping the victims. That would be just like him, right? Booth to the rescue? Right?"

"It's possible." Brennan didn't know what to do. She was used to taking charge of situations as it was warranted, but now she was in a situation where she couldn't do anything at all. She hated it and debated whether or not if it was worth risking her freedom to help Booth. "I don't know what to do Dad. I need to see if he's alright."

Max knew that his daughter was ready to ignore his pleas and run back home. "Tempe . . . Tempe, Ralph is there and he'll know as soon as the victims are found. Hodgins is going to be there using his influence to keep on top of things and you know Cam is a good friend. She won't let anything happen to Booth. You know that . . . what do you think it would do to Booth if you were arrested and put in prison? You know Pelant could arrange to have you killed. Believe me, it isn't as hard as you think it is . . . You can't go looking for him. You have to protect Christine. You have to protect yourself."

Her father made sense, but it tore at her that he was right. It made her feel sick and it filled her with grief that she couldn't do something for the man she loved. Unable to prevent it, Brennan felt tears stream down her face and she knew she would do as her father asked. At least for a little while.

Oooooooooooooooo

As soon as Hodgins got off the phone with Max he contacted the Cantilever Group's board chairman, Roger Parsons. The chairman did what he could to find out what was going on at the VA Medical Center, but the situation was chaotic. Roger used his connections and offered to set up a tent for the rescue workers with food, drink and cots to rest on. He also offered his services as a physician to help render aid and to help the EMTs if they needed it. His offer had been accepted and Roger personally supervised the setup of the tent in the parking lot and then kept an eye on the rescue attempt, helping where he could. Occasionally he had called Hodgins to give him an update about who had been rescued. So far the building had been successfully evacuated, but no one had been able to get to the Lobby yet.

The bomb had not been a small one and it had destroyed the entrance to the medical center. The floor above had collapsed on the floor below and it was thought the front of the building was unstable. Because of this, rescuers were careful about removing debris to get into the building. To minimize the danger to the rescuers and possible victims, some of the rescuers were dispatched to entrances in other parts of the building and they had worked their way to the disaster zone. The entire building had been evacuated which had taken time. They had to make sure no one else was being placed in danger.

While that was going on, the men and women caught in the blast were trying to rescue themselves if they were able. The counter in the lobby had buckled, but not completely and offered some protection for those near the counter. When Booth had entered the building he had walked around the counter and was approaching the stairwell when the blast had gone off. He was immediately thrown from his feet and debris had rained down upon him in a few short seconds. Stunned he had laid where he was for several minutes while he tried to understand what had happened to him. His head hurt and so did his upper left arm. Eventually he forced himself to move and when he did he noticed blood on his clothes. Gingerly removing his jacket he found his white shirt sleeve covering his left arm was now an unhealthy bloody mess. Carefully he moved his fingers over the wounded area and realized there was something embedded in his upper arm.

He had seen many such wounds in his life and he knew that he couldn't remove the object. He didn't know how deep the wound was or if the object was located in a major artery. If he was foolish enough to remove it he knew he risked bleeding out. He also knew he needed help and he needed it soon. Woozy he lifted his right hand, rubbed his head and found it was wet. Inspecting his fingers he found blood which told him he probably had a head injury.

His mind clearing, he remembered that he had not been alone when he entered the building. Agent Martinez had followed him from the Hoover to his appointment at the Va Medical Center and entered the building right after Booth did. The FBI was no longer pretending he wasn't under surveillance and they didn't care if Booth knew that he was being watched or not. Calmly, he moved to his knees and searched behind him. Spotting Martinez near him, he crawled over the debris and found the agent was dead. Furious that a good man was dead because the FBI didn't trust him, he knew that he would have a few things to say to Flynn when got the chance. While he fumed over the death of the agent he heard a few moans which caught his attention. Booth called out.

A shout closer to the counter drew his attention and he moved debris from his path as he tried to move closer to whoever had shouted at him. A few feet nearer to the counter and he found an older gentleman lying on his side covered with a ceiling tile. His mangled wheelchair was close by and held up a very large piece of wood. Booth was sure that the wheelchair had protected the old man from harm. "Hey . . . Hey are you hurt?"

The man looked at Booth with a look of disbelief and shook his head. "Son does it look like I'm alright? . . . I threw myself to the floor when the explosion went off. Probably a dumb move for someone my age, but instinct took over . . . I really don't feel so good. Maybe I'm just bruised, I'm not sure. I was already kind of broken up before this happened, so who knows."

"Would it be okay if I tried to move you closer to the counter?" Booth pointed at the ceiling where detritus was still falling from the roof above to the floor below. "The roof doesn't look too stable to me."

Slowly, the man moved up onto his elbow and looked up. "Shit . . . I guess you'd better help me."

Booth moved around the older man and cleared a path to the counter. Once that was done, he moved back and with his hands under the man's armpits moved him. The pain in his arm was excruciating, but he couldn't leave the old man where he was. Slowly, Booth dragged him over to the counter and helped him sit up. "Are you in pain?"

"Son, I'm always in pain . . . But I know what you're asking me and I think my knees might be heavily bruised. I don't think anything is broken. Lots of cuts and scrapes . . . not too bad really. Thanks . . . I guess I need to buy a new wheelchair, damn it."

Relieved Booth patted the man's shoulder and called out once more. "Anyone need help?"

A weak voice around the other side of the counter called out. "Yes please . . . My leg is trapped and I can't . . . I can't move it . . . maybe you could . . . maybe you could help. I'd appreciate it."

Booth moved over the rubble covered floor, moving whatever he could out of his path. Some pieces were too big to move and he had to crawl over them. Once he was on the other side, he noticed the ceiling overhead was groaning and he didn't like the sound of that. "I'm here." As he placed his hand on the shoulder of the person lying before him, he realized that the person lying there couldn't have called out to him. The man's head had been crushed and he was dead. "Where are you? Say something."

"Something." The voice was towards the left and very close by. He couldn't do anything for the dead man, but he could help the living. Moving a piece of ceiling tile he found an older woman lying on her back staring at him with a look of relief. "You may not be able to help me . . . but if you could try I'd be grateful."

Nodding his head, Booth removed as much material from her body as he could and then studied the beam pinning her leg down. "Okay, I don't think the beam is really lying on your leg . . . it looks like your leg is being protected by other junk and that stuff is holding the beam off of you. Let me see what I can do."

Grateful for the help, the lady smiled and nodded her head. "Thank you. If you have to cut my foot off warn me. I hate surprises."

Carefully, Booth moved his hand under the beam and removed some crushed ceiling tiles from the side of her foot along with some pieces of cement. It was trapping her foot and removing it gave him a little room to move her foot. Struggling, he removed her shoe and once that was done, he was able to pull her from the trap she had been in. Her legs were heavily bruised and the trapped foot and shin had some tears and deep abrasions. Tearing strips from the tale of his shirt he made crude bandages and tried to slow down the oozing blood. Once that was done, he moved her over to the counter and propped her up so she was sitting up. "Okay then. Let me see if anyone else is here. Did you notice anyone else in the lobby?"

The woman nodded here head. "Yes, there were two people sitting behind the desk and I saw a man pushing a wheel chair into the lobby. It had a box sitting on it . . . I thought that was odd, but people do odd things . . . now I guess I know what was in the box."

Disgusted with the situation, Booth nodded his head. "Yeah." Moving back to where the old man was sitting, he found the gap allowing entrance into the reception area was covered with heavy debris. "Hey . . . anyone need help?"

The sound of silence met his call and Booth felt that the two people that were supposedly there were either unconscious or dead. He tried to move the material inside the counter area, but suddenly felt faint. With little choice, he sat down and realized that his arm was throbbing. The old man noticed the blood on Booth's arm and became a little frantic. "Son, come here. Come here Son. I need to try to slow down some of that bleeding. It's okay, come over here. Let me help you."

Booth heard him, but felt sick when he moved. He knew he had no choice if he wanted help. He would have to move towards the man, because the old man couldn't come to him. Slowly, he scooted over to the stranger and stared at him. "Don't pull the thing out of my arm."

"My name is Marvin . . . I won't do that. I know better." After he removed his shirt leaving him in a torn t-shirt, Marvin tore it into strips and using some of it as padding, he placed it around the object sticking out of Booth's arm and then bandaged it as best as he could. "Okay, I don't really think it's deep or you'd be pumping blood . . . You can't move anymore shit around. You need to sit still."

Alice was feeling better and though her foot and legs were stinging, she felt she could move over to where the men were if she just used her hands and wiggled her butt over the ground. Keeping close to the counter she was soon sitting next to Booth. "Hi, my name is Alice . . . if you'll listen you can hear someone trying to get to us . . . hear it?"

Both men felt relief. Booth touched his head where the cut was and realized that it was still oozing blood, but he didn't think it was really serious. He knew that head wounds always bled a lot. Alice motioned towards Marvin and snapped her fingers. "Marvin, throw me some of your shirt and I'll fix this young man's head or at least cover the wound. It's a nasty cut."

"I'm Booth and thanks." He sat there between the two senior citizens while they fussed over his head wound. Once that was done, he laid down and stared up at the ceiling. "My girlfriend is going to be upset with me . . . I hope she doesn't hear about it . . . she's out of town . . . I miss her and my little girl."

His voice was low and almost too faint to hear, but Alice and Marvin heard him. Alice felt that something else was wrong with Booth, but she didn't know what it was. She wasn't a nurse and she was afraid if they weren't rescued soon the young man was going to be in serious trouble. "I'm sure she won't be angry with you."

Booth laughed quietly. "You don't know her . . . she thinks I get hurt too much . . . I miss her." His voice took on a tinge of sadness. "I'd like to hear her fuss at me one more time. I wouldn't mind. I don't know if she's even alive or dead." His face grew pensive and he thought about his Bones and how he might never see her or their daughter again. "I'm sorry, Bones."

The younger man was becoming too still and his words were disturbing, too disturbing for Marvin's peace of mind. The old man turned his gaze upon Alice. "Alice, lets yell some so that the people outside know we're here. Booth you stay quiet."

Alice nodded her head and started to shout along with Marvin. As they shouted they heard return shouts and they both smiled. "Well at least they know we aren't all toast in here . . . damn I wish I had eaten breakfast this morning. I could use a piece of toast right now . . . maybe an egg on top of it . . . some bacon, who doesn't like bacon?"

Amused, Marvin shook his head. "I don't. I'm a vegetarian."

"That's too bad." Alice never understood vegetarians. "A good BLT with lots of bacon on a fresh roll with mixed greens and mayo . . . okay let's stop talking about food . . . damn I wish I had eaten breakfast."

A noise towards the back of the room, the sound of falling masonry and suddenly they weren't alone. "Anyone hear me?"

So happy to hear a new voice in the room, Alice called out. "Over here. Two old codgers in need of rescue and one badly hurt superman. Hurry . . . he needs help."

As quickly as possible, several EMT's arrived by the trio and after a quick exam realized that Booth needed the most help. With quiet efficiency, they worked on him while the agent slowly lost consciousness.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Does this sound interesting?