Days Of Our Lives

by LikeBananasDo

Everyone who had anything to do with Booth, is there for him when is concluded he's suffering amnesia. Read how his closest friends struggle to find their pattern in between their separated lives. Ep. 85 is now up: The First Chapter.

Title: Days Of Our Lives
On 'Days Of Our Lives': The main reason why I wrote this is simply because the season four finale was...odd, and very much like some kind of soap. It doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing, but considering that Bones is not a soap, it kind of is. But, I'll leave my second thoughts far behind. I must compliment the actors, though. They did a great job on the hospital scenes.
Appearances of: Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth, Jack Hodgins, Angela Montenegro, Camille Saroyan, Lance Sweets, Michelle Weston, Jared Booth, Max Keenan, Russ Brennan, Caroline Julian, Vincent Nigel-Murray, Clark Edison, Wendell Bray, Lazio Jursik. (barring changes)
Author's Note: I tried to put everyone into it, and kind of make the story the size of an episode. So, I hope you have a good read.
Chapter: Ep. #85

It was a dreamy morning on Sunday, May 15th. A clear blue sky was coloured with traces of red and hints of white clouds. Sounds of traffic rushing and nature humming wove in together, making it a distinctive feature of a city yet to wake up.

This environment created a melody to the ones who were already awake, it embraced the ones who loved morning as the start of a brand new day.

For those this day had nothing in reserve but a new opportunity to live.

Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding
Fall into your sunlight
The future's open wide, beyond believing
To know why, hope dies
Losing what was found
A world so hollow
Suspended in a compromise
The silence of this sound, is soon to follow
Somehow, sun down

HOWARD UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, 6.35 AM

A quick peek into room #405-B forewarned Dr. Jursik that nothing has changed. The blinds were closed entirely, but the door, that was left ajar, did offer a chance to conclude everything had remained the same.

Lazio Jursik. Dr. Lazio Jursik. Neurologist, graduated top of his class, ten years of experience, and an immense list of doctorates and achievement awards administered the 35-year-old every right to be proud.

She was not in her younger years, Jursik knew, though there was no way she passed her thirties far and wide. Her brown, silky hair rested on her weary shoulders, moving up as those shoulders were pulled up and she heaved a long, enervated sigh.

Jursik forced back the urge to storm into the room, drag her out of that chair and envelop the poor woman into a tight hug. Instead, he pressed the chart closer to my chest as I swallowed back a lump and brought my hand up to the door to knock.

Knock, knock.

Her eyes immediately shifted from her laptop, to her partner, to Jursik. The FBI agent – Special Agent, as she inevitably pointed out to multiple times – was now only a reminder to her that sometimes love could hurt. She awaited for my words, as if expecting me to tell her that within hours, he could hop off bed and they could continue catching bastards like they did before.

"How is everything, Dr. Brennan?" Jursik knew she wasn't a medical doctor, and her knowledge in the forensic area was to no avail between these walls, but he was also aware of the fact that it made her feel good and she clearly was in such a state she could lose her temper right away.
"Just..." Her eyes trailed off to the man, watching his chest move up and downwards in a continuous escort. "...fine. Nothing changed."

Jursik heard by the tone of her voice she was having a hard time registering her once so strong partner – from work, as she has also pointed out – now lying weakly in a white hospital bed, surrounded by monitors that took in every breath and heartbeat.

Jursik trudged in the direction of the monitor, checked if everything was going alright, then nodded, content. "From what I've heard, he was very good in his job. Obviously, years of training cultivated his sympathic nervous sytem, triggering his instincts and reactions to dangerous occurrences. The dissimilation of his body stimulated him to pursue a career in the FBI...it was a good choice." Dr. Jursik paused, taken aback by his sudden internal struggle to find the right words. The anthropologist rose from her seat, placing her laptop on the small table next to her as she stepped closer and waited for the doctor to continue. Evidently, she must have understood that Jursik was heading towards damaging news. "I'm..." Jursik let another silence fall, before mustering the courage to inform her of his medical situation. "...troubled due to the fact that Mr. Booth may be suffering retrograde amnesia. In the worst scenario he's lost years of his life that led to the surgery."
She didn't blink, but in her eyes I saw a fear of setting the upcoming tears free. She altered her vision to the man lying in bed. "And afterwards?" she asked, her voice in desperate need of strength as its volume died down even before it reached his ears. Jursik didn't want to ask her to repeat that question, for he has seen how much pain he has caused so far. And he's still got so far to go. He briefly watched her move towards the bed, her fingertips sliding over the sheets. "I haven't perceived any symptoms of anterograde amnesia. It's possible he only suffers retrograde. Granting, I am not comfortable saying it's either permanent or a knack."
Her fingers delicately moved up to his cushion, were his head laid to rest, but before they connected, she withdrew them, sighing as she stepped away from his body. "Beyond reasonable doubt?" she asked, her weakened voice trailing off, though this time Dr. Jursik heard. He nodded. "Beyond."
"Okay." For a moment, he expected her to take her notebook and just type away as if nothing happened. She has been writing ever since he's been checked into this hospital.

Momentarily, Lazio Jursik thought to himself that this was surprisingly good writing material. And, being a bestselling author, Dr. Temperance Brennan was the perfect woman to elaborate. Moments passed and he felt like he's been standing in this piercing orbit of sullenness, when she stepped towards the exit and pulled the door handle downwards. "Dr. Brennan." Jursik stopped her, after she pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

She released her grip, the handle slipped into its usual position with a soft thud. Jursik quickly altered in her direction, stopped until only two feet fenced them. "You should probably go home." he softly told her, interrupting as she prepared herself to protest. "As much as I admire your attempt to compartmentalize, this is taking a really big toll on you. You're the doctor, just rationalize and you'll get there. Chances are, he's not going to wake up any time soon. Just take the time to collect your thoughts, assimilate...just a moment to regain your composure. I will make sure that you keep informed of every development in Mr. Booth's condition."

Brennan was definitely nursing a fragile heart, but she saw no probability into her leaving. She took a deep breath, tore her eyes away from me and crossed her arms. "I'm not going to go anywhere." She was persistent but that meant nothing to the doctor, who had been dealing with a lot of unrelenting patients throughout his career.
"Dr. Brennan," Jursik insisted, "...it's preposterous to think that it would make a difference to stay all the while he's not even aware of the fact. One might think you're abandoning him, but you're really not."
Her eyes flashed looks of horror and agonizing hurt as I dropped the word 'abandoning' and he realized he pulled a string there. "I don't care," she informed Jursik, her voice breaking, "...if he's not aware of the fact that I'm here with him. All I know is that I know he would greatly appreciate my company if he were awake. And more importantly, it matters to me."
Jursik felt as though someone was strangling his throat from behind, but he coughed his feelings away and continued. "Would he want you in such a distressing state? Just...go home for a few hours. Just take some quality 'self' time, and if you insist, I will call one of his friends to pay a visit to him, so he won't be alone. You don't necessarily have to go home, of course, as long as you offer yourself a chance to figure things out."

JEFFERSONIAN, MEDICO-LEGAL LAB, 8.00 AM

The young, blonde haired adolescent was soon signalled by Angela Montenegro, an artist with an enchanting outside look and a noteworthy heart of gold, although today, her usual shine was now caved in, her face now only providing looks of concern and impatient anxiety.

"Wendell." she let out, approaching him in surprise. He offered her a small smile, as she pulled him into a quick hug. "I thought you were informed you didn't have to come today?" Angela questioned, reminding him there was no need to work.
"Yeah," Wendell reacted as he brought his hand to his jaw and rubbed it. "I overheard what happened to Booth, and I just wanted to check and make sure he's okay." Angela smiled, pleased to hear how Booth has finally found himself a Squint buddy. "I wanted to pick up some flowers on my way to the hospital," Wendell started, frowning a bit, "...but then I figured we were men, so..."
Angela chuckled, leading him towards the exit. "You're totally right."

They say love is blind. That it is simply an indicator of our weaknesses and flaws. But they are wrong, as they are about everything related to love and hate.

We all shift forwards, individuals as we hustle through the illusions life plainly obtrudes. Sometimes we cross our paths, sometimes we bargain our future by holding the hands of those who were so close and yet so far.

And in one breath, it can all be lost. It can leave you standing at a harbour where last hopes drift off. It's irrational and obtuse to think that one could love by losing, but when you reach that broken heart, you feel that maybe...it's all worth it.

It's worth it. And everything around it, is worth it. It allows you to open up your window to the outside world and take in scents that soften your pain. Feelings of loneliness that were usually closing you in, now vanished and made room for something that made you believe that maybe there was something that could be referred to as 'faith'.

Faith is believing in something that logically seen isn't there.

And then you see that rain washes away all doubts and insecurities. You may feel you've given too much, that this day's ending only broke you from the inside out. It makes you run into endless circles, chasing something you can't put your fingers on. It embraces your fears and repels your dreams.

He breaths in and out again. You breathe in and out again.

And you see solace in the one that broke you the most. The one that made you the most.

Because what more is there to believe in, than faith, hope and love?

HOWARD UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, 10 AM

Letting out an heavy exhale, Brennan felt the aching pain slowly draining away, but crawling back upon her, as if it needed a sanctuary, a battered heart that has lost its ability to exile.

"I thought you went home."

Brennan whirled around, glad to find her best friend standing in the doorway. Angela proffered a – somewhat overburdened – smile, but her eyes glinted at the sight of her friend nonetheless. "Sweetie..."

And this was the first time Brennan turned off her brain and stood up from her chair, showing her vulnerability as she practically ran into the arms of her friend, seeking comfort and words that told her everything was going to be alright. Because she lost all of her faith in herself, but it would do no harm if someone else tried.

"What are you guys doing here?" Brennan asked, finally being able to flash Angela and Wendell a smile. A self-conscious Wendell found his place behind Angela's back, but stepped in the room when Brennan offered him a friendly smile. "Hey, Wendell."
"Hello Dr. Brennan," he politely responded, his gaze falling on Booth. "I wanted to pay a visit to Booth. But I didn't bring any flowers, or anything-" he added, taking in the flowers that surrounded him and the cards who were stitched to the wall.
Brennan chuckled at the boy's attempt to find an excuse. "It's not a problem, Wendell. Booth would say 'guys don't bring guys flowers'."
The three in the room grinned, their discreet utterances of contentment subsiding when they all realized there was no fourth man to laugh along. Wendell abruptly reached in the pockets of his blue jeans, as he pulled out a silver item, closing his fist and holding it above Brennan's hand. "I did bring him something at least." Brennan opened her hand beneath his, as he opened his and the silver necklace dropped in her hands. It had a pendant with two hockey sticks engraved into it. "I got it from my grandfather. I could keep it, but I think he'd be way happier with it than me."
"What is it?" Brennan asked, feeling silly as she realized it sounded much like 'I'm holding a necklace, but I don't know if it is a necklace'. "I mean, I know it's a necklace, but does it have some kind of value?"
"You'll figure its value out when he awakens." Wendell tells her, a smirk playing across his features, though it disappears as soon as it came.
"Yeah.." Brennan softly murmured, when Wendell focussed his look on his hockey buddy, that now showed no sign of the protective team player that could beat up a guy just for your sake. A long road was awaiting for all of them, and it was undeniable it would affect the greater part of the team, but all the way, Booth has been showing them that giving up was never an option. Keeping your chin up was only the best. And no one wanted less.
"Alright." Brennan whispered, biting her lip a little when she bend over her partner and laid the necklace next to his cushion.

THE DINER, 10.30 PM

"How are things going at the FBI." Hodgins was sure Sweets wasn't planning on answering that 'question', because for one thing, he was so far away with his thoughts the entomologist forgot the question mark and for another, the 23-year-old psychologist was not in the talking mood.
"I think we should just go back to the hospital. I've heard Angela's now there with Wendell. If Wendell considers himself someone to rush off to the hospital and be there for Booth, then who are we to just sit here and pretend nothing happened?" Cam suggested, when both men kept their mouths shut and silence reigned.
"Visiting a friend in the hospital doesn't always have to be the right choice. The right choice is taken a whole other way. It's about weighing the outcomes and factors, about letting our internal compass decide, and..." Sweets sighed, exaggerated as Cam shot him an understanding look.
"You have a hard time with this. It's okay. At least you've been there in the beginning. Everyone has trouble." Cam imparts, then turns to face Jack. "You coming, Jack? I can't stand not being able to be there."
Jack smiles weakly, taking a moment to overthink her offer, then reciprocates her look. "I'll be there."
Cam smiles thankfully, and rises from her seat, slipping on her coat. Hodgins stands up too, giving Sweets a look. "You sure about this?"
Sweets opens his mouth to say something he can't voice, shakes his head, and shares with them his impressionability when it comes to a good friend. "I'm...sorry. I just can't disobey my sensibility."
"Hey-" Cam reassures him soothingly, "We're not making a big deal out of this." Reaching for her wallet, Sweets stopped her. "I'll take care of that." Cam and Hodgins hesitated to leave, but when Sweets gave them a tiny smile, they turned around to leave the diner and head for their friend. The psychologist, who was supposed to be trained to handle similar situations, merely let out a groan and sat back in his chair, allowing his weary head to rest on its backside.

JEFFERSONIAN, MEDICO-LEGAL LAB, 12 PM

There's something about this situation, something entirely different, Lance Sweets has known from the very beginning in this event. All the while he should be there to support his friend, or hell, to support his other friends who sometimes failed to support each other, he was aimlessly wandering around the empty lab. Oblivious of the fact that he was now doing nothing more than the one thing that would mean the littlest, he found himself trudging into Brennan's office, skimming the area and concluding that it didn't tell him that something had gone wrong.

Seeley Booth was a fighter. He fought for what he was worth, and for the ones he loved. Sweets grinned a little, when he found a picture in a frame on the edge of the anthropologist's desk. Nice metal frame work. Picking it up, he silently studied it, taking in the smiles of Angela, Hodgins and Cam. There were sitting at some kind of bar, and it appeared that Angela was the one who took the picture. Cam and Hodgins were dramatically laughing, obviously having a great time. The look on Angela's face illustrated nothing more than glee in the company of their friends.

Close to Cam, sat Booth, holding up a fork with a small amount of pie balancing on it. Not much to Sweets' surprise, it was apple pie, a crunchy, fruit nourishment that could always make his mouth water. Brennan was nearly hanging over him, jokingly leaning in as he pretended to slide it in her mouth, his eyes twinkling, his lips curled up into a wide smile.

Sweets chuckled, placing down the frame again as he thought to himself how much he acted as thought Booth were dead. I feel like I just got sucked into an episode of Days Of Our Lives. He thought with a bitter smile as he reminded himself how pathetic and selfish he was.

"That's it." Sweets fasted his tie again, and paced out the door, determined to be a friend he needed to be.

Finding answers
Is forgetting all of the questions we called home
Passing the graves of the unknown
A reflection of a lie will keep me waiting
Love gone, for so long
This day's ending
Is the proof of time killing all the faith I know
Knowing that faith is all I hold
- Shattered, Trading Yesterday

Author's Note: Constructive criticism, as well as a compliment, is highly appreciated and triggers me into writing another chapter. Please point out any errors in my grammar or spelling, so I can learn from them and we all benefit.