Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, heck, I don't even own this computer so please don't sue 'cause it's pointless!

Dr. Temperance Brennan glanced up from her work and frowned. Her F.B.I. pest, or partner depending what mood she was in, Special Agent Seeley Booth was standing on the opposite side of the lab table staring down at the remains of the latest victim; he had a white knuckle grip on the table's side railings.

"Female, age approximately thirty-five." She looked at Booth again as he nodded, still resolutely clutching the table.

"Cause of death?" His voice sounded normal… almost. Was it slightly fainter than normal? It was hard to tell.

"Damage to the vertebra suggest the throat was slit. Booth, are you alright?" she asked trying not to let any of her concern show in her voice.

"I'm fine, Bones. Can we stick to the case?"

Better not push it, Tempe thought.

"The crenellations appear to match those of a bread or steak knife, that's all I can tell you until Zach cleans the bones. We should have a positive identification for you in a few hours."

"Okay, great!" Booth straitened up and swayed slightly on his feet.

"Booth, are you sure-"

"I'm fine, Bones," the F.B.I. agent interrupted.

No, you're not, Tempe thought belligerently, rather annoyed with Booth's stubbornness. You're pale as a sheet, your eyes are glassy, and, from the way you're sweating, you probably have a fever…. What she actually said was,

"I've got the last of the findings on the NY case in my office." Booth followed Tempe rather unsteadily up and down stairs from the lab to her office all the while trying to cover up the fact that, to him, the floor of the Jeffersonian appeared to be pitching and rocking and everything appeared to have a double image of another color. He told himself that Bones was just being professionally annoyed that he didn't seem to be in tip-top shape. Well, he was just fine. He just needed to sit down for a couple of minutes….

"What was that you said, Bones?" Tempe glowered at him, temporarily ignoring how ill the F.B.I. agent looked. If he was going to be so stubborn, the least he could do was pay attention.

She did not deem Booth with an answer to his query but instead simply shoved the case file into his hands, spun on her heel, and took off at a good clip back toward the lab and her latest set of human remains. At least bones didn't make sarcastic comments or talk back to you.

"Hey! Bones! Wait up!" Booth dashed after her, hoping to amend what ever damage he had unwittingly wreaked this time. The world spun and dipped as he tried to jog down the long flight of stairs after her in his normal style. He was about a quarter of the way down before his tire mind realized that this hadn't been such a good idea. Booth felt his knees begin to give.

Tempe wasn't sure why she turned around, maybe she had decided to argue with Booth head on, instead of making him chase her the whole way across the Jeffersonian, maybe it was just luck. What ever it was, Dr. Temperance Brennan spun around just in time to witness Special Agent Seeley Booth laps into unconsciousness, or maybe he just fainted, she didn't really care which at that moment. All that Tempe cared about at that moment was that a certain unconscious agent was now tumbling a long flight of stairs towards the ground.

"No! BOOTH!"

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