You know how you suddenly have an idea for something to write and your muse is like "write it now or you will lose it forever MWAHAHAHA"? Sadly, I thought of this while sitting in a freezing cold restaurant with my family and I couldn't write it immediately, so it's not exactly how I imagined it. Hope you like it anyway!

This is really, really short. Just to get things kicked off. I'm going to upload this along with the next chapter so you'll have enough reading material, don't worry ;)

This story is going to be about the two weeks between Booth's "death" and his "funeral", except for this chapter, which takes place right after "Patriot in the Purgatory", on the same night when it ends. (BTW, Emily's acting was so amazing in that scene, OMFG)

Reviews are beautifully welcome and I love all of you who take the time to write any!

Dicslaimer: Nope. Still don't have Brennan or Booth or Bones in my possession.

Soon.

This might be longer than the actual chapter.

Oops.


Booth, you're going to be fine. I'm here. Come on, you can do this, You're gonna be fine you're gonna make this come on come on Booth come on you're gonna make this come on you can do this come on Booth it's gonna be fine come on come on Booth no come on come on come on

Brennan awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding and she was drenched in sweat. Slivers of the dream still clung to her consciousness and it took her a moment to remember where she was and adjust to her surroundings.

Her bed.

Her house.

Their house.

It was just a dream.

Brennan lay there for a moment, breathing heavily. Then she turned to her side and saw the sleeping figure next to her, his chest rising and falling peacefully.

He was alive.

Like it should be.

Everything was fine.

She realized that she was shivering, both from fear and cold. Booth had, as usual, turned in his sleep and all the blankets were on his side, and the window was open, letting in a cool breeze that swept over her, cooling her sweat and making it even colder. She could hear the rain pattering outside, smell the wet earth. Her hands and toes were freezing.

Everything was fine.

Brennan crawled over to Booth's side of the bed and got under the blankets. Booth instinctively turned over to her. His heat enveloped her and she immediately felt better. Brennan snuggled in next to him, wrapping her hands around his back to warm them against him and lay her head against his bare chest. She hugged him tightly. His breath was on her hair, in her ear. She smelled his Boothy smell. Toothpaste and soap and sleep and pressed shirts. His leg rested on hers.

She hugged him tighter.

"Bones, your hands are freezing." He murmured sleepily.

No response. Booth raised his head to look at her.

"You okay?"

Nothing.

"Bones?" Booth supported himself up with his elbow to get a better look of his partner. She looked up at him, a panicked look in her eyes. She shook her head. She was not okay.

"Hey, you're shaking." Booth hugged her and kissed her forehead, and then pressed his nose to hers.

"Everything's fine now, okay? It was just a dream."

Brennan nodded. Tears stung her eyes. She buried her head in his shoulder.

"Thank you for not being dead." She mumbled into his chest.

"You're welcome." He stroked her hair, twisting it between his fingers.

Everything was fine.