Rating: K

Spoilers: Hero in the Hold, Fire in the Ice, Critic in the Cabrinet, The End in the Beginning–BEWARE THERE ARE ACTUAL FINALE SPOILERS, NOT SPECULATION!

Disclaimer: Bones is the property of Kathy Reichs, Hart Hanson, Fox, etc. I do not claim it as my own; only the words of this story are mine.

Summary: It wasn't until she looked into his eyes that she understood, and when she did she had to grasp the bedframe to keep from falling to the floor.

Notes: I wanted to break my TV last night. I actually loved the episode...I would even overlook the lies the producers fed us about 'Booth and Brennan in bed' if it weren't for the ending. Booth's final line and all the emotions it incurred were the inspiration for this. Enjoy?


Call Me Bones

As they stood in the hallway outside of the interrogation room, Booth's words effectively halted everything. She couldn't think, could barely even breathe. Booth was hallucinating–all that mattered was helping him.

Booth had a brain tumor, apparently benign yet causing some interesting hallucinations. She remembered his talk of Parker, of Lucky Luc, and most recently the cartoon baby named Stewie. How had she not realized something was wrong? She should have known! But the doctors were going to operate immediately. This was one situation where she was happy to use her influence, though no one need know just how Booth was getting such quick attention for a benign tumor.

She held his had as they wheeled him into the operating room and did not let go until his was in recovery. Three hours of constant vigilance had her hand cramping painfully, and she had to go inform their friends of the results anyway. The surgery was a success, the doctors were able to remove the tumor in it's entirety and Booth should suffer no ill consequence.

They had shaved his hair off, drilled a small hole in his skull, and removed a mass the size of a large pea from his brain, but he would be alright. He wouldn't be hallucinating cartoons or old friends anymore, they filled the hole in his skull and his hair would grow back. In a few weeks time he would be back to his (new) old self.

But then he didn't wake up. It usually took a few hours for the anesthesia to wear off, but five hours ticked by and he was still unconscious. The doctors told them it takes a little longer for some people. So he was moved back to his own room and Brennan stayed with him all night. In the morning she woke up, having slept in the uncomfortable visitor's chair next to his bed, and his had hadn't moved from hers. She already knew what this meant but the doctor informed her anyway.

In a small percentage of cases post-op patients can go into a coma; a negative reaction to the anesthesia. Booth fell into that group. Brennan knew that comas were unpredictable. They could last days or years, and sometimes people never came out of them. But she was not giving up on Booth, he was strong and he was a fighter. He would wake up, he had to. For the first time in a very long time she had faith, but only in him. He never broke a promise he made to her.

So she spent the next four days by his side, leaving the room only a few times to go to her apartment for a shower and change of clothes. She grabbed her laptop and some anthropology journals one of those times. Angela dragged her out to eat on the second day, but after 5 minutes in the diner Brennan had to leave. All she could think of was Booth and his pie.

The next three days went by slowly, each second passing in an audible tick of the analog clock above the door. Dr. Saroyan brought paperwork to distract her but she finished it in a couple of hours. The hospital staff delivered meals to Booth's room just for her, but she barely touched the food. Hunger eluded her for the most part, her stomach remaining sour and clenched instead. She did try the mac and cheese one evening only to find it cold and bland. However the pudding was as good as Booth told her it was.

Most of her time was spent writing on her laptop. For some reason inspiration struck in the form of a contrived crime mystery that starred her and many of her friends and coworkers. And Booth. Every so often she would stop writing and read what she wrote aloud, whether to herself or to Booth she wasn't sure. She knew he could hear her but he would not remember any of it when he awoke, and he couldn't provide feedback while he was in a coma. Perhaps she just needed auditory stimulation after spending so long in the quiet room.

As she finished the ending narration she hesitated. Silently she read the last line to herself before deleting the whole story. For some reason she didn't want to read the end aloud, and for some reason she didn't want to keep the story. On a basic level it was proof that she did write about people she knew. This time the names were even the same, and to a significant degree the personalities were too. But she knew that, on a deeper level, it was proof of so much more. Booth would read into it just as well as he could read her. Others like Sweets or Angela would see enough to make her very uncomfortable. She had the feeling that the general public would glean more from it than she would like.

Most importantly though, she already knew what the others would discover. She didn't need proof in the form of a contrived crime mystery story that was suitable only for prime time television. Not that all of her writing was best seller caliber, but the overly emotional, cliche ridden storytelling of "The Lab" was, at least, exceptionally far removed from her usual writing style.

And so she was staring at the blank word document, contemplating writing style and deep emotions when she heard it. At first she thought he was just dreaming, but when it happened again she jumped out of the chair, just barely catching the laptop–and herself–in time.

He was awake!

Brennan almost laughed when she realized this. Actually she might have, she wasn't really sure. Of course then came the urge to cry. She was so relieved that she didn't care about the irrational ways her body was reacting. Never had she felt so much emotion in such a short span of time. After five days (had it really been such a short time?) of constant distress, of worrying and waiting and fear, she could finally breathe.

She was leaning over him by the time she realized he spoke. He mumbled that something "seemed so real". It was probably just a dream, which he already seemed to know. But she had to tell him about reality. "The operation was a success but you reacted poorly to the anesthesia. You've been in a coma for four days." Her words sounded breathless and excited, not at all conveying the seriousness they should have. But it didn't matter now, he was awake.

The whole time he was in the tiny hospital bed wearing the ugly blue gown and bandages wrapped around his head–a man who had brain surgery only days ago–he was just as imposing and confident as ever. But as she looked at him now he seemed small and fragile, almost childlike. He was awake now and the tumor was gone, and the hallucinations with it, but he still needed to heal. Still, it was a start.

She looked him over again, not unlike the way she assessed skeletons on her table, because she didn't know what else to say.

"Who are you?"

The words are so weak, almost whispered, that she thought she imagined them. But when she looked down into his eyes, she knew the truth and she had to grasp the metal bed rail to keep from collapsing onto the floor.

Deep breaths. She told herself to take deep breaths. The last thing she wanted was to pass out or dissolve into a state of panic. But Booth didn't know who she was! If she thought she couldn't think or breathe before, she knew she couldn't now. Distress etched itself deeply into his face and when she noticed she felt bad for her own reaction. She had to say something.

"My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan. We...we're partners. We work together." It was an astringent reply, but how could she convey who she was and what they shared when they never had need to in the past? Booth knew her when she didn't know herself, but now...

"Doctor..." She could see he was thinking. "So we're not...married."

There is was again, the laughter inside waiting to get out. How absurd considering how hopeless and distraught she felt. "No, we're just partners."

"Oh, ok." He closed he eyes, as if he was going to sleep. Maybe he was. Brennan felt lost, unsure of what to do or even if she should do anything. She felt the need to say something, to comfort him somehow even though he didn't seem upset anymore. But he spoke first. "I think I like it better this way Bones."

Letting go of the bed, she leaned over Booth again and wrapped her arms carefully around him. Finally, with her face buried in his chest, she gave into the urge to cry.

May 14, 2009; May 15, 2009

Minor editing