This is a continuation of NatesMama's drabble 'Amnesia', chapter 2 of her story "100 Years of Not-quite Solitude". I hope you like it.

I definitely don't own Bones.

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If this is real, then how can I be fine?

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Waiting for Brennan to return to his hospital room, Booth flipped through the channels on the remote trying to find the Phillies game he knew was supposed to be on. Disgusted to find that the cable channels were limited to the basic package in the hospital, he ran through the menu three times before turning the television off. Folding his arms against his chest, he glared at the darkened screen, waiting to be rescued from the temporary hell that he was in.

Her mind racing with things she needed to do, Brennan hurried into Booth's hospital room and over to where he lay, "Booth, your physician has ordered an MRI just to make sure that you're alright. When you fell, your head hit the pavement near the area of your skull where you had brain surgery five years ago and we just want to make sure that you're alright."

Disgusted with his situation, Booth growled, "Come on Bones, I was only out for like a minute or two. Except for the headache I feel fine. I didn't want to come here in the first place. This was your idea. I'm going to miss the game and the cable here is shit."

Squeezing his arm, Brennan gave him a pointed look, "You agreed to come, Booth. Now that you're here we're going to make sure you're alright. The area of the skull where you were operated on is weaker than the rest of your skull, you know that."

His irritation growing, Booth continued to complain, "Fine have it your way, but I think it's a waste of time and . . . "

Interrupting his tirade, Brennan kissed him.

Surprised, Booth returned her kiss and then smiled, "You have an interesting bedside manner, Dr. Brennan, very interesting indeed."

Amused, Brennan shook her head, "Max is going to pick up Christine from Day Care, so she's safe. He's going to take her to his apartment and keep her overnight, so we don't need to worry about where she is."

Relieved, Booth nodded her head, "Poor baby girl. There is never a dull moment in her life is there?"

Patting his arm, Brennan smiled, "No, I suppose not."

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After his medical tests came back, his physician agreed with Brennan that Booth was not in danger and that he had not sustained any serious injury to his brain. "You do have a concussion, Agent Booth. I need you to go home and get some rest. When I mean rest I mean no physical activity for the next couple of days and I need you to limit your mental activity too. You need to avoid reading, watching TV or using your computer."

Flabbergasted, Booth shook his head, "No TV, are you kidding me? What the hell am I supposed to do for the next two days then?"

Amused with Booth's outrage, Dr. Hendrick replied, "Nothing, nothing at all."

Glaring at his wife, Booth asked her, "You're not going to listen to this quack are you?"

A look of apology on her face, Brennan glanced at the doctor and then back at Booth, "Yes, Booth, I am. Dr. Hendrick is one of the finest neurologists in the area. You will comply with his orders."

Furious, Booth crossed his arms, "Damn it."

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As his wheel chair was rolled out of Emergency and onto the driveway, Booth looked around in puzzlement, "What's going on?"

A little confused, Brennan looked at the nurse pushing Booth's chair out of the hospital. "I don't understand."

Pointing at the snow on the grass, the icicles dangling from the overhead awning, Booth gave his partner a fearful look, "It's September, what's with the snow and ice?"

A little alarmed, Brennan squatted down near the chair and looked intensely at Booth, "It's not September, Booth. It's January."

His mouth suddenly dry, Booth shook his head, "No, that isn't right, it's September. I . . . I just got out of prison not too long ago. I . . . I just talked to Sweets this morning. Daisy is having a baby . . . she's having a baby . . . if it's not September then . . . I mean, this can't be right, it's just September."

Glancing at the nurse, Brennan gripped Booth's arm and tried to calm him down, "Booth, it's possible you have amnesia. Hopefully it's just temporary, but, it's not September. It's January. You're going to be fine. I'll get you home and into bed and you can rest. Perhaps your memory will return in a day or so."

Afraid of what was happening to him, Booth placed his hand on Brennan's hand and gripped her fingers hard, "If it's not September then . . . What about . . . I don't understand, Bones. Am I . . . am I working for the FBI now? Did we . . . did we?"

Her heart racing, Brennan stared intently at Booth, "Everything is fine, Booth. We solved our case. We discovered who killed Cooper and the conspiracy that was behind his death has been completely uncovered. We'll talk about it when we get home, but, we're fine. We're safe, you're safe."

Nervous, Booth released Brennan's hand, "Alright I trust you. If you say we're fine then we're fine. If you say this is January then I believe you. Go ahead and get the car so we can get out of here, my heads really starting to hurt."

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Settled in Brennan's car, Booth sighed as she pulled out into traffic, "So did she have her baby yet? What did Daisy and Sweets name their baby? I bet Sweets is showing pictures to everyone that will look at them. He can be such a pain in the ass."

Realization hitting her, Brennan quickly glanced at Booth and then back at the road, "Um . . . Daisy had a boy, Booth. She named him Seeley Lance Wick-Sweets."

Surprised, Booth shook his head, "Seeley, now why the hell did they go and stick a name like that on the kid? Wait until I talk to Sweets about this. I hope to God they're calling the little guy Lance or Junior. Seeley really sucks as a name. Well, Lance isn't much better, but it's a hell of a lot better than Seeley. I sure as hell will not be sticking any kid of mine with that name if we ever have another one. Seeley . . . Shit, why the hell didn't I talk him out of that? What's wrong with me? I couldn't have been happy about it."

Dreading what she was about to tell him, Brennan pulled into the first parking lot she saw and parked her car away from the few other cars in the lot.

Curious, Booth looked around, "Why did you stop here?"

Turning off the ignition, Brennan slowly turned and looked at her husband, "Booth, I'm going to tell you something and it's going to make you sad. You need to remember that this is January and what I'm going to tell you happened a few months ago. This is not a recent occurrence."

Wary, Booth swallowed, "Something happened to the baby didn't it? God, poor Sweets and Daisy."

Shaking her head, Brennan placed her hand on the back of his neck, "Booth, Sweets is dead. He was murdered while we were investigating Cooper's murder and we were uncovering the conspiracy that got you shot and thrown into prison."

Stunned, Booth shook his head, "No, what are you saying? No . . . No." Opening the door, Booth got out of the car and turned to stare at the full moon overhead, "No, I don't know what's going on, but no . . . He can't be dead. Why would he be dead?"

Listening to her husband yell at the almost empty parking lot, Brennan opened the door and exited her car. Walking around the car, she touched Booth on his arm, "I'm sorry, Booth."

Tears streaming down his face, Booth shook his head, "Why, I don't understand why?"

"Sweets served a warrant on Sanderson Chemicals for some documents we needed for our case." Pausing, she grimly shook her head, "We went to interview Jerold Norsky and Sweets took care of the warrant. He was murdered after he retrieved the documents we were looking for. An FBI Agent named Kenneth Emory killed Sweets. He was working for Durant who'd ordered the hit."

Confused, Booth shook his head, "Durant? You mean Sanderson. Sanderson was behind that conspiracy . . . wasn't he?"

Her grip firm on Booth's arm, Brennan assured him, "No, I mean Durant. He was the head of the conspiracy, not Sanderson. Durant is currently awaiting trial in fact his trial starts in two weeks. His lawyer has done everything he could to delay the trial, but Judge Morrow has had enough and the trial starts in two weeks."

A feeling of weakness hitting him, Booth turned and sat down heavily on the passenger side of the car. "And Sweets is dead?"

Kneeling next to him, Brennan placed her hand on his knee. "Yes, I'm sorry, Booth. He really is dead."

Placing his hands over his eyes, Booth felt the tears pour relentlessly from his eyes, "Did I . . . Did I get to say goodbye?"

Tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks, Brennan nodded her head, "We were able to get to him just before he died. He told you that the world is a lot better place than you think it is."

Weeping, Booth shook his head, "How is the world a better place when I keep losing people I love?"

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Let me know what you think of my little story. Thank you.