Author's Note: I am sure that nearly every writer is trying to wrap their head around this bombshell of an episode. As if writing a continuation will somehow make the pain of waiting more bearable. I like to think that is what Brennan was doing as she waited. Writing her version of fan fiction. Trying to make heads or tails of it all, trying to pass the time. Trying to have a cathartic release of all the questions that swirl about. Welcome to the world of Fanfiction Dr Brennan.

Three Little Words

Life could move unbearably slow when you are waiting, especially waiting unable to breathe. Brennan hadn't felt oxygen in her lungs for four days.

Each day was a revolving door; friends, family, agents, his priest each one came. She tried to be friendly when they were there, knowing it is what he would want. The truth was she wanted nothing but to be alone, to sit the in the quiet room and listen to him breathe.

One day it finally happened. In a quiet moment his eyes softly fluttered open. She moved swiftly but calmly to be by his side. She didn't want to startle him. "Booth?" She called softly, barely containing the urge to throw her arms around him. She tried to reassure him in soft soothing tones. He tried to look at her, but his gaze was unfocused.

He was confused, and was talking about something being "real." Brennan couldn't really hear or understand, the rushing sound of her own racing heart drowned out nearly everything. But she did clearly hear him say three little words. Not the three little words that she longed for. Instead they sent her world crashing instantly in a million tiny pieces. Three little words that would change everything…"Who are you?"

The doctors were in the room examining Booth and she was relegated to the hallway. That one question sent her world crashing down around her once again. Who are you? It was a fair question. Who was she? Who was she to him? For a brief moment it was like a montage going through her head, all the times he knew her better than she knew herself. She thought back to that awful day on the pig farm, when he held her and told her 'I know who you are.' It wasn't just that he knew she was Temperance not Joy. It was that he knew HER. She would give anything for him to say those words now.

For the next week Brennan continued to sit a near endless vigil in the hospital. Something she would give Booth a break and wait in the lounge instead of his room. Most times he seemed to prefer her presence so she would remain right by his side. Test after test showed that Booth was making a superior recovery. There appeared to be no indication of impairment. He passed all tests with flying colors. Save one.

After extensive interviews with a psychologist it came to be understood that he had concrete memories that began in early childhood. He had met with another psychologist named Sweets, but it was clear that he cared too much about Booth to do a very objective job of treating him. He was sure of himself up until about the time he left the military. He could recall in near perfect vivid detail each mission, each target. His life at the FBI is where it started to become unclear. Things were still there but detached and in pieces.

He knew he had a child, but didn't know anything about him. He knew he was an agent, but couldn't give information on any case. There were other memories. He recognized Dr. Wyatt's picture, but didn't know his name. He recalled building a barbeque with the man. The name Zack Addy meant something, he just didn't know what. But for the most part everything else, including his partner, was a dark gaping abyss.

He knew that the woman who sat in his room was beautiful. He didn't need memories to see that. His observation could also tell him that she was dedicated, she rarely left his side. The deep worry lines in her face told him that she cared very deeply for him. And he knew he must care for her, because despite not knowing her, the pain in her eyes broke his heart. She was brilliant sometimes she would ramble about things to fill the silence between them. He rarely understood what she was talking about but he actually rather enjoyed trying. He somehow got the feeling that for the most part he would be just as confused even if his brain was completely intact. In comfortable moments she would hold his hand, and it felt as if even if he didn't, his hand recognized hers.

Brennan tried to rationalize Booth's condition. Knowing that it was not just her, but whole parts of his life that disappeared. But even she knew that deep down it hurt that he didn't remember her. Not even a passing shadow. He knew Zack but not her. She suspected that guilt is what he remembered about Zack. Guilt was something they all dealt with when it came to the loss of their friend. Guilt was something that always was foremost in Booth's mind, this version of him would be no different. He was still Booth, despite the fear and uncertainty she could still see a hit of the sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes.

Booth felt honored at the number of visitors that he had but was having trouble keeping track of them all. He didn't really recognize any of them. Someone said once that they were trying to reach his brother, but he was far away in India, and hadn't been contacted yet. He realized that all of the people that seemed to matter in his life hadn't been in it for more than a few years. It was as if his life began when he started working with the Jeffersonian. He found that he was far more comfortable with their visits if Brennan was there to help him navigate. She had become the one constant in his dizzying world. Rarely ruffled, instead she would give him mini summaries of his life, enough to understand the other people in his room. He appreciated it more then he could say. He may not remember her, but that didn't mean he couldn't like the woman he just met.

Booth had learned so much about the rest of his life from Brennan, but he noticed that she intentionally did not go into much detail about herself. Occasionally some other visitor would start to say something and would get shot down with a single look from those ice blue eyes. Part of him was afraid to ask, afraid that if he pushed she would go away. But one day his curiosity was stronger than the fear.

"What am I?….you know to you?" Booth asked quietly, out of nowhere one afternoon.

She looked at him with her gentle eyes and simply said. "You're my partner, with the FBI and…and you're my friend."

Somehow he felt there was more. "Were we close?"

She thought for a minute, and looked like she was having an argument with herself, and finally said "Well if by close you mean I tell you things I tell no one else. Than yes we're close. If you mean that I look forward to seeing you, then yes we were close. You were a friend, a good friend."

"Are you my best friend?" He asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

"Well Booth, I can't say how you felt about me. I wasn't in your head, that isn't logical. But I can say with certainty that you were mine."

As the days progressed it became increasing clear that Booth counted on Brennan. He no longer called her Bones. He said it didn't feel right. No one really cared or pushed, so he called her Brennan just like everyone else. He looked forward to her visits, except when the dark shadow crossed her face, the one she got when she realized that he still didn't know her. His friends had brought him things from home. Pictures, clothes, magazines, they flooded him with images that were supposed to be familiar. While it helped him get a better sense of things it didn't really make anything "click."

On the tenth day of Booth's hospitalization he was cleared to return home. The surgery seemed successful and all physical scans of his brain showed that it was safe to release him. Panic shot across his face when the doctor came in to give him the news. Where was he going to go, he didn't even know where he lived. But once again there was a calmness coming from over his right shoulder. "He'll come home with me. Just get us the release papers." Once again he felt grateful for his friend.