One, Two, Buckle my shoe;

The room was dark, darker still now that the electricity had gone out. The storm outside was loud and intrusive. The constant flickering of the lightning had the effect of a strobe light, and the occupant of the room lie on her bed, staring out the window at the raindrops on the window. She was unaffected by the angriness of the storm, and the wind blew violently against the panes sending the rain sideways in spurts against the window. It felt as if they would break.

Her eyes closed against the constant flicker, though the reflection was still visible through the thin skin of her eyelids. A phone rang in the distance, somewhere in the apartment, she could hear it and knew the person on the other end of the line was concerned, but it was unwarranted. She was fine, she was going to be fine.

Fine. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

She made no move for the phone, no move to answer it or even acknowledge it. She felt pain in her chest, a swirling unchanging pain, but pain nonetheless, and the phone kept ringing, and she remained sitting with her eyes closed, and her mind focusing on the sound of the thunder.

Three, four, Knock at the door;

She had no idea how long she had been on the bed, how long she had been focusing on the raindrops and thunder and lightning. Her heart trembled in her chest when the knock came.

Perceived by the man on the other side, it was a simple knock, to her it was just as loud and lulling as the thunder. She ignored the knocks with great fervor, she ignored the pounding, the phone ringing, everything. There was no time for distraction, just rest as everything around her fell apart. She turned to look at the clock, finding that the face was still dark, indicating that the power was still out, she didn't care. What did she need power for anyway? The thunder crashed loudly outside, rattling the windows of the apartment, flashing simultaneously across the bedroom.

She couldn't figure out why the man continued to knock, why he continued to call her name. He had someplace to be, he had someone to be with. She had nothing and was content with that. Content with nothing. Having nothing. Content and settled. She had settled.

Five, six, Pick up sticks;

His pounding became louder, the apartment shaking with his words and his fist on the wooden door. He called her name again and again, the darkness of the hallway swallowing him.

"You know it's me, Bones… and I know you're home."

His voice traveled through the apartment like the whipping wind, barreling through the walls of the building and into her eardrums. She covered her ears at the sound of his voice, not completely sure if he was actually there or just a figment of her imagination. She turned her head.

"Go away!" She exclaimed through the apartment, the knocking pausing for a moment before it started again, louder, more desperate, and she pulled the pillow over her head.

She didn't hear the sound of the wood cracking, or the door flying off at its hinges. She didn't hear the sound of artifacts falling to the floor as the wood split at its weakest points, or the sound of pounding feet as he entered her apartment and heeded no warning as the bedroom door opened with a resounding slam against the wall.

"I told you to go away." She said in a cold, detached voice, muffled by the pillow. "How did you get in here?" She asked as she pulled the pillow from her head. The darkness allowed nothing but a slight shadow across his face and the sound of his breathing, heavy and shaken.

"How do you think I got in here?"

Seven, eight, Lay them straight;

"I told you to go away." She replied, hearing his shoes as they clunked against the wooden floor, feeling his breath on her skin as he knelt on her bedside, she flinched from his touch when he attempted to move the hair from her face. For a moment she wondered how he could even see it, and realized quickly that it wasn't a need to see her, but to feel her.

"I am not going away."

"You broke down my door." She said, knowing exactly how he had gotten into her apartment.

"You weren't answering your door, you weren't answering your phone. It's been two weeks."

"Leave me alone." She tried to roll, but his hand rested on her shoulder.


"Just leave me alone." She said, pulling harder against his grasp, he relented and let her roll to her back, and to her other side, facing away from him farther across the bed.

"Bones, you need to talk to me."

"I don't have to do anything."


"Stop it."

"Your father is dead."

"Stop it!" She shouted.

"Max is dead, Bones. Okay? He's gone, we have to deal with this."

"Shut up!" She shouted, rolling onto her back, her hand swung blindly, capturing the side of his face, and the moment she felt the contact of his skin against her hand, she gasped, sitting up in bed, she pushed herself against the back board. "I'm sorry." She gasped.

Booth had seen a flash of white at the contact on his face, blinding him in a second, and he was surprised by her next words as she stared at him through the darkness. The flashing lightning highlighted the pale complexion of her skin. She looked frightened, exhausted, filled with pain, and the hollowness of her eyes frightened him. "Bones, please."

Nine, ten, what do we do then?;

"What do you want from me?" She whispered fiercely, her teeth gritted, though the pain in her voice was apparent. "What do you want?"

"I haven't heard from you in two weeks, Bones."

"Why does that matter? I can't work on the case… Cam put me on mandatory leave. Leave." She said angrily. "Just leave."

"Bones, I'm not going anywhere. They determined that Max's death wasn't accidental."

"What?" She asked, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping just a bit and he heard just a slight whimper in her words.

"It wasn't accidental, he didn't have a heart attack, Bones."

"How did… I told you I didn't want an autopsy! His remains were to be cremated!" She exclaimed, pushing at his shoulder, she stood up, wobbling at the sudden movement, he caught her, without even being able to see her in the darkness, he knew she was not stable on her feet. "Let go of me!" She said, pulling out of his embrace, she stumbled across the room and caught herself against the wall. "Just go."

"I'm not leaving."

"I'm not asking." She snapped.

"You could be in danger, Bones."

"Good." She said as she turned and blindly left the darkened bedroom.

Booth took a step toward the door and kicked something that was nestled at the floor beside her bed. The heavy glass object rolled against the wooden floor, and Booth bent down to scoop it up. He unscrewed the cap and took a deep breath, nearly coughing at the strength of the alcohol that reached his lungs. "Bones, have you been drinking?" He asked as he put the bottle on the bedside table and walked from the bedroom.

Eleven, twelve, Dig and delve;

He stepped out into the hallway and looked both ways, he heard her stumble over something in the living room and made his way quickly toward the sound. "Bones, are you drunk?"

"What's it to you? Why does it matter? I'm in my home! You broke my door." She said, staring at the open space that was once her door. The lightning flickered in the room as the thunder pounded, and her voice turned to a desperate whimper. "Why would you do that?"

"I thought you were hurt… I thought they came after you." He whispered.

"I'm not hurt." She shook her head. "I'm fine." She said, taking a deep breath as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't need saving." She said, putting her hand on her forehead, he stepped toward her, fully expecting her to push him away, he pulled her into her arms and that was when the waves began to crash.

Moment after excruciating moment was filled with her inconsolable sobs. She clung to him like a child in danger, and he enveloped her in his strong arms to ensure her that she was safe.

Thirteen, fourteen, these issues need sorting;

She cried until she ran out of breath. She cried until his arms were almost too tired to hold her as they stood beside the doorway. She cried until her breath was mere hiccups into his shoulder. She cried until there were no more tears to be shed, but each and every one had soaked into his clothes, into his flesh, into his soul. He held her until her fingers finally released their grip on his shirt, dropping to her side as he tenderly gathered her farther into his arms. She gasped for air as she calmed.

"It's okay." He whispered, something he had been whispering for the longest time but she had only just heard.

"It's not going to be okay." She said, reaching for his shoulders, she pushed herself off him and tried to turn, only to find his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. "My father is dead, and now you're telling me its murder. Does that sound 'okay' to you?" She asked, running her hand over her nose and mouth as she tried to regain any sense of composure. "Does that sound okay to you?"

"Bones, you need to try to calm down."

"I don't want to calm down!" She exclaimed, watching the pain in his face with each flash of lightning. "I don't want to." She said again, her voice soft and broken. "I don't want to…"

"We'll figure this out, Bones."

Fifteen, sixteen, The time is ticking;

They stood just a mere foot apart, their eyes connected despite the darkness. "How are we going to figure this out?" She whispered.

"Well first… we're going to find out what killed your father. Cam thinks it may be something that he ingested. In the meantime… you're coming with me."

"I'm not coming with you." She whispered. "I can… I can handle this myself. There's no proof that whoever killed my father is targeting me."

"I am not willing to take that chance. If whoever killed him is expecting to remain anonymous, and they find out we're onto him, he could come after you." He replied.

"I'm not leaving."

"Then neither am I." He replied, lifting his hand to her face, he gently touched her chin. "You're going to have to do a hell of a lot more than a slap across the face to get rid of me, Bones."

Seventeen, eighteen, The answer is waiting;

She turned her back to him and walked across the room toward the couch, listening to the crunching of glass on the floor beneath her slippers from something that Booth had broken on his tirade through her door. She sat down on the couch, the location of which she knew from memory as she listened to his feet crunching across the floor as well. She felt his weight push down the cushions of the couch, though he gave her room to breathe, and for that she was thankful.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, the lightning flashing outside. The wind seemed so loud against the windows, that she almost felt like she needed to shout. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Bones. It was a slap."

"I'm not talking about the slap. I meant to slap you." She replied, her voice nearly back to normal, her strength quickly coming back despite the slight slur in her speech.

"Thanks, Bones."

"I'm sorry that I let you believe that I didn't need you." She whispered.


"I feel alone." Her words escaped her lips before she could stop them, and before the sentence was complete, his arm was securely around her.

"You're not alone, Bones."

"That doesn't mean that I can't feel that way." She whispered.

"No, it doesn't… but it also doesn't mean that I'm going to let you continue to feel that way." He said, kissing the top of her head, as he held her close to his body, transferring his warmth to her, as she did the same for him, content in their surroundings for the time being, as the storm slowly lifted, and with a soft and barely noticeable 'pop' sound, the lights came back on, bringing them both from the shadows of despair, and into the bright, invading chaos of reality.

Nineteen, twenty, My heart's not empty.