It had been six months since Temperance Brennan had heard that Seeley Booth was dead.
Since then, she'd carried on working at the Jeffersonian as normal, although she'd refused to go out in the field again.
Five months ago, Dr Brennan collapsed in the lab.
There had been uproar. Cam and Hodgins were the first to reach her. She'd been examining the remains of a skeleton on the table and had fallen forwards so she was draped gracefully over it.
No one had been surprised. Dr Brennan had been pushing herself harder and harder since Booth's death and this exhaustion was inevitable. What hadn't been expected was the deeper consequence of his loss.
Angela had noticed it first. She had been driving Brennan home from the hospital, where the team had unanimously insisted she get checked out once she had regained consciousness, and realised that Brennan had not said a word other than to respond monosyllabically to the doctors' questions. And not even then, if Angela could answer for her. Further, she thought, Brennan hadn't protested about the hospital, just allowed herself to be led from the lab into Angela's waiting car. The woman resisted the hospital even after she'd been blown up, for heaven's sake! so what was going on? Angela had decided to find out.
'Sweetie, I think I should stay with you tonight,' she said.
Brennan just stared straight ahead.
'Will that be a problem?'
Again, no response.
Angela had pulled up to Brennan's apartment and ushered her in. Brennan just stared into space.
Angela had busied herself with making coffee and settling Brennan on the settee. When they were both sat down Angela had made light one-sided conversation with a vacant Brennan until she had idly picked up a takeaway menu sitting on a nearby table, covered in dust to order them some food. Brennan's hand had reached out and snatched it away before Angela could blink. She put it down carefully on the table and had turned to face a shocked Angela.
'No,' was all she had said.
Angela had eventually ended up making an omelette for each of them in between fielding phone calls from what seemed like half the Jeffersonian enquiring after Dr Brennan. At about 10pm a still silent Brennan had started to look tired so Angela packed her off to bed. After a final reassuring call from Hodgins Angela had gone to sleep on the settee, feeling safe in the belief that Brennan was finally starting to deal with her grief.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
The next morning Angela had woken up feeling momentarily disorientated before remembering where she was and why. She had hurried to Brennan's room only to freeze in the doorway.
Brennan had been sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. Her knees were up to her chin and she hugged something to her chest as she rocked gently back and forth.
'Oh god, Bren!' Angela ran to Brennan's side. 'Are you ok?' Stupid question, she chastised herself. Of course she's not ok. Gently, she had prised Brennan's fingers off the object she was hugging and turned her attention to it.
It was a photo frame with a picture of Brennan and Booth together, taken during their second year as a team. Booth had presented it to Brennan as a Christmas gift. There was an inscription on the back of the frame. No matter what, I'll always call you Bones. Merry Christmas, love Booth.
Angela had felt the tears roll down her cheeks. She had turned to look at Brennan and realised that the doctor had slumped against the wall. Although still conscious, her eyes had glazed and she was just…vacant.
'Bren…Bren! Sweetie, talk to me!' Angela had got seriously worried by now. She'd grabbed her mobile and called Hodgins, then Cam. They'd arrived within fifteen minutes, bringing Dr Sweets with them. He had taken a quick look at Brennan's unmoving frame and sombrely told Hodgins to phone the psychiatric unit at the local hospital, Cam busy comforting a distraught Angela.
The hospital had declared Dr Brennan to have suffered a breakdown induced by the trauma of Booth's death. They gave her a private room, where she remained in a catatonic state. They called her Temperance.
As it happened, all four of them were with Brennan when it occurred.
Cam, Hodgins, Sweets and Angela had worked out a rota whereby one of them would visit once a day. Once a week all four gathered in her room. Occasionally her dad and brother would visit but neither stayed long. Sweets had taken charge of Brennan's case, citing his experience with Brennan and Booth. Brennan's condition hadn't changed in five months. Visually, her hair had grown and she was thinner, but that was all.
Suddenly there was a commotion outside. No one paid any attention. It was a commonplace event. Then the door burst open. A dirty, dishevelled, bruised and battered Seeley Booth stood in the doorway. Before the stunned visitors could do anything, he flung himself next to Brennan.
'Temperance, my god, what happened to you?' Booth looked ready to cry. 'This is all my fault. I should never have accepted that assignment. I'm sorry Bones.'
A flicker. Nothing more, but noticeable to all present.
Sweets knelt next to Booth and Brennan. 'Say that again,' he said. 'Talk to her.'
Booth took Brennan's face in his hands. 'Bones? I'm sorry I left you. Look at me. I'm back. Bones? Bones?'
With every time he said her name, more of the glaze slid from her face.
'Only Booth called her Bones,' whispered Angela to her dumbstruck friends.
Then Bones blinked and looked straight in Booth's eyes. 'Booth?' she whispered.
'Bones!' he responded before wrapping her in his arms. After a moment, she reciprocated and let the tears come. This wasn't a delusion. She wasn't dreaming.
Only he called her Bones.