AN: I SHIT YOU NOT! EVERYTHING FROM BOOTH'S FIRST LINE WAS SCRIPTED. I HAVE THE PRINT OF THE SCRIPT ON MY COMPUTER AND EVERYTHING THEY SAY AND DO FROM BOOTH'S FIRST LINE IS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE PREMIERE OF SEASON 5!!!!

But of course, Hart Hanson, being Hart Hanson, did that whole "I don't know if I shot it, you'll just have to wait and see!"

But the information on the Harbingers and their utopia is true.

The psychic and the connection being true.

Cyndi Lauper being the psychic is true!

Hey if you didn't want to know you shouldn't have read, I warned you!

Enjoy my pretties and hold out, only a few more days until the premiere!!!!

WOOOOO *screams and cheers and runs around in circles for the remaining days until the premiere*

She trashed against the ropes tied around her arms, gasping and tried to force back the tears as she felt her skin tearing and her wrists dislocating. She couldn't get away, the only hope she had left was Booth, but she didn't know where he was.

She looked around the dark room. It looked like an attic, wooden floors and wooden supports lining the sides, and providing a place where these cultists could tie her wrists together and hang her from one of the supports.

She winced and looked over her shoulder, the dirt covered window behind her offering little view into the front yard as she searched for the dark suburban she was used too, but as she suspected, it was nowhere to be found.

Brennan hung limp as she ran through why she was here, the chemicals she was injected with wearing off as she began to remember what happened in the past few days.

Mass graves…her and Booth being connected in a very spiritual manner…psychics…cultists...called 'Harbingers'…want to live in an underwater utopia.

Now she remembered.

The Harbinger cultists use sacrifice as a way of pleasing their God, hoping that after a while their God will grant them the ability of living in an underwater utopia, which to them was like the Garden of Eden to Christians.

The willing sacrifices were poisoned, but the poison didn't work on one, and he just happened to change his mind about dying, so they shot him.

But that was unexpected, they expected her, so therefore instead of giving her a quick death, they're going to prolong it, heavily.

Two tears slipped down Brennan's cheeks as she heard footsteps near, and found no sign of Booth. They were chanting, speaking in some native tongue that Brennan didn't understand when they opened the door and blinded Brennan with the unexpected light.

They walked to her, all dressed in dark navy cloaks, one holding a leather bound book, the other holding a silver plate with multiple sharp instruments.

They continued their chanting as the one holding the book sat it in its alter across the room, lighting the candles around it, and opening it to a page marked with a dark navy ribbon.

Said book-holder began reading out of the book, holding up a basin of water, to which the sharp instrument holder dunked them in, as a form of purifying the knives before he walked to her and stood at her side.

Brennan clenched her hands as she felt the man carefully cut off the sleeve of her shirt, leaving her bare arm exposed as he pressed another knife, like a scalpel, to her arm.

Brennan gasped as he dug the knife into her arm, splitting her skin and slicing into the artery that ran through her arm.

She shivered as she felt the hot blood fall down her arm and splatter on the floor. She tried to keep herself from crying, but the pain was immense as she felt life slowly ebb away, and watched as her blood mixed with her tears.

The reciting stopped as Brennan heard the door get knocked down, but she was in so much pain, she couldn't concentrate on who it was.

Men yelled and ran through the room, but the next thing Brennan was able to comprehend was the usual pressure on her knees and feet she got from standing and pressure on her hips, where two large hands rested.

She looked up and shook her head, focusing on the familiar brown eyes she knew and found solace in.

"Booth?" she asked, as she glanced around and found nothing but an empty room.

"Bones, are you alright?" he asked frantically, holding her arm gently in his hand as he studied the cut "You're bleeding."

"I'm ok," Brennan said as she brought her uninjured arm up and wiped her eyes "Thank you," she choked out "He was going to kill me. Thank you."

"Are you sure you're OK," Booth asked again, his concern dripping off his words like her blood dripping from her arm "I called for an ambulance on the way."

"Yes, yes I'm bleeding but if you keep pressure on the wound until they get here," Brennan said in her usual squinty voice.

Booth nodded and placed his hand on her arm gingerly, squeezing but easing the pressure when she winced.

"Yes, thank you. Don't worry about hurting me, Booth," she said, giving him what he needed to hold her arm tighter.

"You saved me," she whispered, looking into his eyes and recognizing the fear in its deep brown depths.

They've had these moments before, they just seemed to be normal when one of them was in danger, but this one was unique, because after their momentary gazing, Booth advanced closer and placed his lips on hers softly, then harder as Brennan closed her eyes and tightened her hold on his coat as she returned his force and opened her mouth when his tongue asked for entrance.

Their breath became labored as their tongues battled for dominance, but with the lack of oxygen and blood loss on Brennan's part, her legs gave out on her and they both sank to the ground, knees hitting the wood floors gently as Booth caught her and eased them down, the only other sound to erupt into the air, being that of an ambulance speeding their way.