I sat in Booth's SUV, in the parking lot of the retirement residence, reviewing some paperwork from our latest case. Booth had said he would only be a few minutes - he needed to drop off some things Hank had requested. I wanted to come in to say hi to Hank, but Booth had laughed and said if we both went in, we'd never get back out. We were on our way to Angela's birthday party at a local club, so our evening was pretty much full. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard, and noted that almost a half hour had passed since Booth went inside. I decided to go in and say a quick 'hi' to Hank, and thus give Booth an excuse to leave. Entering the lobby, I saw two elderly couples playing some sort of card game at a table next to a fireplace. It seemed like a nice enough place, but I somehow couldn't picture Hank Booth, lively and gregarious, enjoying his time in this sort of environment. I smiled to myself as I recalled Hank saying that he'd 'befriended' several of the widows and was doing his utmost to make their stay here 'enjoyable'.

I checked in at the front desk and was directed to the 3rd floor. When I stepped out of the elevator, an office door opened and Booth walked out. I smiled at him and was about to call out, when I noticed his face. He had a stricken, shell-shocked look. A look I'd seen before - just before we'd wheeled him into the operating room for his brain surgery. Now, as then, he was pale and tense-looking. I watched as a stately looking middle-aged woman with a sympathetic look, said a few words to him, and returned to the office. I immediately went to him and took his hand.

"Booth? What is it? Is Hank ok?" I asked.

Booth glanced quickly down a hallway and said in a quiet voice, "can we get out of here, Bones?"

I squeezed his hand, and led him back toward the elevator. Booth stared at the ground, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to make eye contact with me. We returned to the SUV, where Booth handed me the keys. I knew then that something was very wrong - Booth rarely let me drive. He climbed into the passenger side and leaned his head against the cool window glass.

"Booth?" I asked, softly. "What happened?"

Booth stared straight ahead, and then turned to me and gave me a look that made a lump form in my throat. Tears sparkled in his eyes and he pleaded with me,

"Can we just go home? I just need to," he paused, and took a shaky breath, "I just need to get out of here."

His distress was obvious. I still didn't know what had caused it, but knew that he was in no shape to be spending an evening drinking with our friends. I pulled out my cell phone and dialled Angela's cell number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Ange? It's me. Um, something's come up, and Booth and I can't make it tonight. I'm really sorry." Angela started to complain about us not coming, but I cut her off and told her that it was something important and I'd talk to her later. She didn't really like my vague explanation, but said she'd talk to me later.

As we drove home, Booth was silent, staring out the window with that same tense, scared look on his face. Seeing him like this took me back to those moments before his surgery. He'd looked so small and frightened during that time, and I wasn't sure how to help him. It was the same, now. I wanted to be able to say whatever it was he need to hear, but I just stayed quiet, and hoped he'd talk when he was ready.

We arrived at my apartment, where I took Booth's jacket and steered him toward the living room and told him to sit down. i went to the fridge and got a couple of beers and handed him one. Booth twisted off the cap, and took a swig of the beer, then fingered the label. Before returning to the kitchen, I gently squeezed his shoulder and told him to take his time and I'd be there to listen when he was ready. Booth flicked his eyes up at me and gave me a little half-smile. I left him to his thoughts and returned to the kitchen to warm up some macaroni and cheese I had in my freezer. I knew he loved my macaroni and cheese and thought it might give him a little comfort. I made a salad and prepared two plates for us, and set them on the dining room table. Booth joined me at the table, and with a smile that didn't reach his brown eyes, said, "Thanks, Bones." and sat down.

We ate in silence. Booth mostly just picked at the food, but managed to eat about half of his plate. I watched him as we ate and wondered if I should ask him again what had happened back at the retirement residence. Booth was now playing absently with the food on his plate, his fork making trails in the sauce. It was killing me to see him like this - Booth was the strongest person I knew, and whatever had happened had shaken him to his core. Without speaking, I stood up and walked to his side. I took the fork from his hand and pushed the plate away. Booth, surprised to see me there all of a sudden, started to push his chair away from the table. I pushed him gently back into his chair, and what I did next surprised even me. I'm not generally a person who expresses herself physically, but something deep inside me told me that this was the right thing to do. I slowly sat on Booth's lap, and gently pulled him into my arms. Booth's initial surprise at my actions was obvious, but after a few seconds, he wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my chest. I could feel him trembling, trembling which turned to sobs, as I held him close.

We sat that way for a few minutes, me stroking his hair and him sobbing quietly. Booth finally drew a shaky breath, and pulled away, looking up at me with soft, brown eyes. What he said next, made my own tears start to flow.

"He didn't know me, Bones..."

I was thrown back to that moment, after spending 4 agonizing days at his hospital bedside, when he'd awakened and said those 3 words that had shattered me -

"Who are you?" He hadn't known me, at that moment. I'd been terrified that the man I'd become so very, very close to, was gone.

I pulled myself back to the present, and hugged Booth again. I tried to stop the tears and calm my voice before I spoke again.

"Tell me what happened, Booth. Take your time."

Booth took a deep breath and told me how he'd entered the common games area, to see his Pops sitting at a card table. Booth had clapped him on the shoulder and Hank had pulled away, giving him a suspicious glare. Booth spoke in a shaky voice of how Hank had started rambling and backing away from him. The nurse had stepped over, and gently led Hank away. Booth said that the nurse returned a moment later and led him to a counselling room, and the doctor came in to talk to him. The doctor told Booth that Hank had had a few of these episodes recently, and that he was still having more good days than bad days. Booth's tears were flowing again, as he related the incident to me. My heart was aching and it felt like someone had tightened a vice around my throat. I hated that Booth had had to experience that, and even worse, that he'd likely have to go through it again.

We clung to each other until our tears slowed, and we were emotionally exhausted. I stood up and took his hand and led him over to the couch in the living room. I lay down on the couch and motioned for him to join me. Booth wiped his eyes and sniffled, and then cautiously stretched out next to me. I turned on the new flat-screen tv he'd helped me pick out a few months ago, and tuned it to some random movie channel. Neither of us really cared what was on, we just needed to be close to each other. Booth lay there for a while, then turned toward me and, with his head tucked beneath my chin, fell asleep. Without disturbing him, I managed to retrieve the throw I kept on the back of the couch, and covered us with it.

I lay there for a long time, listening to Booth's slow, deep breathing, and realized that the terrible pain of seeing a loved one - yes, for me, Booth is a loved one - not know you, is yet another thing that Booth and I now share. I felt a fresh wave of tears threatening when it occured to me that I'd got *my* loved one back, but Booth's would just continue to slip away. My heart ached for him, so I did the only thing I could do at that moment - I kissed his head and vowed to stand by him.

With that thought, I snuggled a little closer to Booth, and allowed myself to sleep.

-fin-