"Were you contemplating a life with this guy Bones

"Were you contemplating a life with this guy Bones? A guy you only met a few months ago, I should add," Booth said, as they stood at the cash register. "Are your views actually changing where marriage is concerned?" Brennan glared at Booth. He could tell he'd hit a nerve and part of him wished he'd have just stayed out of it, but part of him was enjoying the spar with Brennan.

"You know what, Booth. All of this is none of your business!" Brennan stalked out of the diner with Booth in hot pursuit.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I shouldn't have told Paul any of that," he said. Brennan was walking away, but stopped when he apologized. Part of her wished she could believe it. But she knew, knew, that Booth would continue bringing up her personal life whenever he felt it was necessary. And she couldn't stand for that anymore. He couldn't use her.

"Yea, you're right, Booth. And you know what. I've been forgiving in the past when you've told stuff about me, personal stuff, to other people. Like when you told Cam I was a foster child or you convinced the DA to bring up my parents in order to gain a conviction. But this," she held her arms out. "I can't forgive."

Brennan started to cross the busy street but Booth grabbed her forearm. Turning her to face him, his eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Temperance. Don't." he whispered.

Still angry, still fuming, she glared up at him, ignoring the pain in his eyes. Ignoring what her words would mean to them in the end. "I mean it, Agent Booth. I never want to see you again." She jerked her arm out of his grasp and stepped off the curb.

--

The previous evening…

Agent Booth and Agent Paul Shepard sat in the Alcove, a bar frequented by people on the wrong side of the law. It was a hole in the wall, situated in a back alley and fights broke out there often. Booth spied two guys sparring over a pool game. He fingered his badge, thinking it wouldn't be long and he'd have to use it to quiet the growing argument. Sighing, he was glad to see the two men finally take it outside. After all, he and Paul were waiting on a snitch.

"How're things going between you and Bones," Booth asked nonchalantly. He'd been the one that introduced the two and had since been given credit for them becoming an item. Paul had been enamored with Bones ever since they'd met. Booth did not like being responsible for that.

"Things are great, Booth. She's definitely the total package. Brains, beauty, everything I've ever wanted in a woman," Paul said, taking a swig of his beer. Booth scanned the bar again; making sure their guy hadn't arrived. Then he stole a glance at Paul. Paul's eyes always lit up when he talked about Bones. It irritated Booth to no end. And it didn't help matters much, either, that Paul wondered out loud how Booth had let such a great woman get away. There's a line, Booth had told him. One he'd wanted to cross many times, but didn't. There would just be too much at stake, he'd reasoned.

"So, I guess you two haven't had the talk yet," Booth commented without thinking, as he motioned for another beer.

"What talk?" Paul asked, curious. Booth froze. He had said that out loud? Bones was going to kill him.

"What?" he asked, feigning confusion. "Oh, nothing." Booth took a quick glance around the bar again. "Just don't propose marriage or talk about wanting kids. Those are the two subjects what will mean certain death to your relationship." Why was he suddenly helping Paul out? He mentally kicked himself.

"Why, Booth?" Paul asked, a little panic rising in his voice. Booth waved his hand in the air.

"Nothing, Paul. Don't worry about it," Booth said, trying to salvage the conversation. He sure had a way of sticking his foot in his mouth sometimes. But how could he expect Paul to forget that bit of information? And how could he expect Paul not to mention it to Bones. Oh, he would be in trouble all right! And she still had that big gun too.

"Seriously, Booth. If you have some information that I need to be made aware of…" Booth interrupted him.

"Again, it's nothing, Paul. It's Bones' call if she wants to talk to you about that or not." Booth's foot was down his throat now. He thought about saving Bones the trouble and just shooting himself when he saw their snitch walk in. "Look," he pointed. "There's our guy."

--

Booth ran to Bones and dropped to his knees beside her. The driver of the car was already exiting her vehicle when Booth shouted at her to call 9-1-1. Bones was conscious, but she was breathing short, raspy breaths. He knew not to move her, so he tried to talk to her. She hadn't even seen the car, didn't look before attempting to cross. It was all his fault. He had goaded her into becoming so angry with him that it clouded her judgment.

"Oh God Bones I'm…" he couldn't speak over the large lump that had implanted itself in his throat. His eyes burned with unshed tears and he stroked her hair, careful not to move her head in any way. He wiped at the blood that was running down the side of her face with his hand. He bent down over her saying sorry, over and over again, with tears falling down his cheeks onto her face. She mumbled something to Booth, and then lost consciousness. Booth felt excruciating sadness as he heard the sirens in the distance.

Since the paramedics were still attempting CPR when they left, Booth was forced to drive his SUV to the hospital. On his way there, he called Russ, Max, and Angela. He retold the story three times, with each time, the dread building. How would he face the people who loved Brennan the most after what he'd done? Like a man, he told himself. He would not bow out of his responsibility for the accident.

When he arrived, he was ushered into the waiting room. A couple of people already waited, panic written on their faces as they worried over their family members. Booth imagined he wore the same panicked expression. A few minutes later, Russ, Max, Angela, Hodgins, and Cam arrived and Booth had to retell the story yet again. Guilt beyond anything he ever felt weighed heavily on his heart and he noticed the disbelief and anger written on Russ' face. Russ walked over and got in Booth's face, beginning to say something, when the doctor came in. Russ and Max followed the doctor down the hall.

"I can't believe this is happening," Angela said, mostly to Hodgins. "What were you two arguing about Booth? What would have made her so upset that she just forgot to look both ways? That's not like her." He didn't reply.

"Booth?" Cam asked, and he didn't reply to her either. He couldn't tell them why. Because telling them wouldn't bring Brennan out of the coma…wouldn't make her well. It served no purpose. He closed his eyes, realizing he was thinking like Bones.

Russ and Max walked back inside the waiting room, their faces wet with tears.

"It doesn't look good," Max said. Booth looked from Max to Russ, noticing the anger that flickered in his eyes. Within seconds, Russ was on top of Booth, desperately throwing punches and screaming obscenities. Booth didn't fight back, he took every blow. He deserved it. Finally, Hodgins and a security guard were able to get Russ off Booth.

"It's your fault, Booth, and yours alone! I don't ever want you near my sister again!" Russ yelled, still being contained by Hodgins and the guard. "Never. Don't come back!" Booth, beaten and bruised, mouthed his apology and rushed out. Russ collapsed into a chair as Max relayed the news to the remaining squints. Brennan had a broken arm, leg, and several ribs. She also had severe cuts and scratches on her body and head. She had a concussion and had been taken into emergency surgery for internal bleeding. Everyone was listening to Max's recount, except for Angela. She still stared down the hall where Booth had run. She knew that they didn't know how Booth really felt for Brennan and she felt immediate sorrow for him. If his Bones died, Booth would not be able to go on living.

--

"Where am I?" Brennan asked, as she walked. Everywhere she looked, there was fog. The soft voice of a woman answered as the fog started to dissipate.

"You're in Heaven," she whispered.

"There is no Heaven," Brennan answered and received a laugh in response. "I must be having a dream." Brennan watched as the woman came into view. She was radiant, auburn hair billowing in the soft breeze. She wore only a white robe. Her lips were as red as an apple and her eyes were as blue as the sea. Brennan choked back a sob as she realized the source of the voice. Her mother.

"Mom," she said, running to her. Her mom embraced her, quieting the sobs that had erupted. "What's happening?"

"Joy, you are in Heaven, your version of Heaven." Brennan watched as the fog thinned and the lab came into view.

"Am I dead?" Brennan asked, and her mother shook her head.

"No, Joy, you aren't," she replied. "I'm here to help you." At Brennan's confused look, she smiled and then looked away. "Who is this man?" Brennan looked in the direction of her mother's gaze and saw him. Booth. In the suit he'd been wearing when she'd had her accident. Blood was smeared on his now-wrinkled shirt. Her blood. Brennan tried to summon the anger she'd felt, but failed to do so. All she felt was sorrow. She watched as Booth walked around the platform, still engulfed by a thin fog. His face was dirty and wet; his expression constricted with sorrow. He passed around the platform twice before slowly walking to her office. She watched as he softly ran his hand over her keyboard, desk, and the board where'd she put the notes on her latest book. She heard his sobs, gut-wrenching and full of grief. She saw his body shake as he made his way to her couch, falling onto it. Then the fog thickened to where she couldn't see him anymore.

"Booth," she cried, but he couldn't hear her. Brennan turned to the woman but she was gone. "What's happening? Mom? MOM!"

--

The doctor was bringing Max and Russ back to see Temperance when she flat-lined. The nurse ushered them out to the hallway while they tried to revive her. Minutes felt like hours. Max held his son as they prayed. Finally, the doctor came out, his brow shiny with sweat. He nodded and let them inside the room. They weren't prepared for how she looked. A thick, white bandage was wrapped around her face. Her face was swollen from the laceration to the side of her head. Her eyes were black. Her arm and leg were in a cast. Various scratches could be seen on the exposed parts of her arms and legs. Max slowly walked up and barely touched her face and broke down. Russ came over and slipped his arm around his father. The doctor walked to the other side of the bed.

"According to the paramedics, Temperance was conscious at the scene briefly but hasn't regained consciousness since. She's received twelve stitches in her head. She has a small crack in her skull. We're monitoring her to make sure she doesn't develop any swelling of the brain. The only good thing right now is she's breathing on her own." Max looked from his daughter to the doctor.

"Will she make it? Will she wake up?" The doctor's eyes were veiled.

"Only time will tell Mr. Kenan. One thing's for sure, she's getting the best care available. We'll do everything we can," the doctor replied and left.

"Temperance, its dad," Max whispered, leaning down. "Russ and I are here, as are all your friends. You're going to be just fine." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he kissed her softly on her head. Russ pulled a chair up for Max and then one for himself and they kept vigil.

--