Who Are You?
Summary: This is a small missing scene from "Critic in the Cabernet," the episode where Booth had the surgery to remove the tumor, and when he woke up, he had amnesia and stared at Bones and asked Who Are You? I started it a long time ago and just found it on my hard drive. I dusted it off, put a bow on it, and present it here: way behind the times, small, but I hope you like it. Oneshot, Booth POV.
Rating: Meh. K.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, this show would be on HBO. Nuff said.
"Who are you?"
Her face fell as she stared at me, those eyes going from hopeful to hurt in a moment. She took in a deep breath as if I'd just punched her in the gut, and it took her a long time to speak. Like she didn't want to say it. Because saying it made it real.
"You don't know who I am?"
The vivid dream was beginning to dissolve from clear-cut story to slightly blurrier images, but she still stood out. Different, but somehow, exactly the same. I could swear she really was – but no ring – so maybe not – but – "You're not my wife?"
If my first question punched her in the gut, this one slapped her right across the face. I watched helplessly as her eyes filled with tears, though she controlled them remarkably well. "No, Booth. We work together –"
Her breath caught, and she stopped, unable to continue, looking down to try to hide her face as a few tears escaped. Guilt twisted my chest, and even without knowing why, I reached out a tentative hand to cover hers, trying to offer some small comfort. As she felt my touch, she looked back up, meeting my gaze with tear-filled eyes and a sad smile. But she didn't pull away her hand. "You're going to be fine, Booth. You'll remember."
"I know."
Within seconds the room was full of nurses and doctors – apparently losing my memory had elevated me to hospital royalty – and all too soon, someone made her leave. She paused at the door on her way out, looking back at me with those solemn eyes brimming with tears, before leaving, wiping hastily at her cheeks. But I saw her head down the hallway, and I saw her break down and cover her face to hide full sobbing before she passed the windows and left my sight.
Eventually the number of people fussing over me dwindled from a small army to just a few, one checking the IV drip, one taking my pulse. She seemed nice, so I decided to ask her. "Who is that woman? The one who left when you came in?"
"I'm not sure," she shrugged, writing something on my chart. "But you two must be close."
"Has she been here a lot?"
"She never left. Not even when we told her to."
"For four days?" And she wasn't my wife?
"Longer. She was in the operating room when they took out your tumor."
I started feeling sleepy again, and soon my eyelids were drooping. As I drifted somewhere between waking and sleeping, I couldn't stop picturing those beautiful blue eyes. I felt terrible for making her cry. And I knew she was in my mind somewhere. I couldn't forget that face. Those soft eyes were so sad and sweet.
I was fading into deep sleep when a memory flashed through my dizzy eyelids – fleeting and hazy for a moment – but for just a second, I could have sworn that I was standing in the rain, at night, kissing that lovely woman. I didn't know where, I didn't know why.
But there were worse things to remember, weren't there?
The last thing I remembered thinking, before losing all consciousness, was that I hoped she would come back. I wanted to apologize. I hated that I had caused her pain. I wanted to see her smile. She must have a beautiful smile.
I'm sorry, Beauty. Please come back.
END
Author's Note: ...I just really think Bones' hair looked better last season. She's always really pretty, but I preferred the old cut and color. I'm just saying.