Brennan couldn't sleep. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept. Sure, she had crashed on the couch in her office and her desk as well, but that was just from utter exhaustion. Booth usually woke her up with a text or a phone call saying that had a new case before she had passed out for too long. She longed for the days when she could sleep whenever she pleased. She would go home at night, work on her book, then put her head to the pillow and sleep. Now, she would go home, fail at writing her book, then put her head on the pillow and lie there. She would lie there in the dark afraid to close her eyes, because she knew she would have a nightmare. Her nightmares were no longer filled with the gravedigger kidnapping and killing Hodgins, Booth, or her. No, they were filled with Booth and Hannah. The images running through her head of Booth and Hannah dancing at the club, leaving the Jefferson with Booth's hand in the small of her back, and eating dinner at the diner tortured Brennan every time she was able to closer her eyes for a second. Sleep evaded her. She hated that she was slowly losing control of herself. She feared now that she would never sleep again. Tonight she didn't even bother trying to sleep for she knew once and for all there was no hope. She knew she would never shake the image of Booth proposing to Hannah at Jefferson Donors' Ball out of her head.