It had been three weeks since Booth had woken up from his coma (who are you?) and Brennan was at a loss at how to handle his amnesia. Rationally, she knew that this shouldn't be painful. He had undergone brain surgery, and a coma, and a little amnesia was probably normal. These were the things she told herself. But, still. To have his warm brown eyes look at her in confusion, to not even know who she was! That stung, despite logic telling her it shouldn't.
The worst part was that she had no way of helping him. The doctor at the hospital said that on numerous occasions memory came back by itself. And if it didn't, sometimes it would snap back when they saw or smelled or heard something familiar.
So she brought scents she knew he liked, his favourite Thai food, even that brainy smurf her got her, to the hospital. But as the days wore on, and he continued to call her Dr. Brennan (or Bren, which was worse) her patience wore thin
She had been sipping a coffee in the diner, reading an article in Anthropology Today, when Dr. Sweets tapped her on the shoulder.
"Can I join you?"
"Sure." He quickly flagged a waitress and ordered himself a coffee.
"So how are you?"
"I'm fine." He looked at her dubiously, knowing that she wasn't fine. She eyed him right back, and he figured he could save that line of questioning for later.
"How's Booth getting on? I saw him the other day, and he seemed to be healing up alright."
"The nurse assures me that he will soon be released from the hospital."
"I'm sure he will be. Has his memory improved any?" He watched her face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction.
"He says that he remembers everything about his life before he started to work with me. But then, it's all a blank."
"Well, the human brain often divides life into recognizable sections. And beginning a new job, or partnership, is something that would characterize a new division in his life. He's not forgetting you personally, Dr. Brennan." He watched her for a moment. "Are you going to bring him to the Jeffersonian?"
"What purpose would that serve? We have no on-going case; there are no remains he might be interested in. It seems illogical to bring him to a place he no longer has a use for." The bitter edge in her tone gave away the nonchalant attitude she was attempting.
"Well, he should be back to working soon. And being at the Jeffersonian might just jumpstart his memory."
"I suppose that might be a valid suggestion." She checked her watch, and then hastily stood, dropping some bills on the counter. "I have to go, the hospital visiting hours start soon. Good-bye, Dr. Sweets." He gave her a little wave as she walked to her car, wondering if the Jeffersonian idea would prove helpful.
A few days after he had been released from the hospital, she took him to the Jeffersonian. He was trying so hard to remember, to think, to place her. The noise of her ID card swiping through to the stairs had given him a queerly intense déjà-vu feeling.
He concentrated on it, trying to remember; feeling as if he was trying to look through glasses where the lenses were covered in mud.
"Booth?" Her voice carried to him from the platform of the lab and he looked up in surprise.
"Uh, yeah, coming." He jogged lightly up the stairs, and stood next to her, looking at her face expectantly.
"Well, Dr. Sweets said that familiar surroundings might help you. So, I brought you here. Normally, we spend a great deal of time here, while we're working on a case together." He looked around at the shiny silver surfaces, willing his brain to make the connection.
"This is my office." She swung her arm around, encompassing the desk, the couch. He looked around, feeling like he should know this place.
She stood in the doorway still, face anxious. He walked further into the room, and broke into a grin when he noticed a little plastic pig sitting on her desk. He picked it up, twirling it in his fingers.
"What's this?" he was surprised. This cute little pig seemed out of place with the professional atmosphere, and especially with Dr. Brennan. "He looks like Wilbur."
"I don't know what that means. But his name is Jasper." Booth looked at her in surprise. The he broke into a grin on so big it looked like it was about to break his face. He started to laugh, then, and seemed to be acutely unaware of her irritation at being mocked so openly. She was about to tell him off for being rude, when he spoke first.
"Of course you don't understand. You're Bones! You don't watch T.V!" And at this he walked quickly to her and wrapped her in a big, tight hug. It took her a second to recover, but then she did and she was smiling and laughing and holding him to her with as much strength as she could muster. The word bones had never sounded so good to her.
"Oh, Booth, you remember!" He pulled back a little and smiled at her. His brown eyes twinkled; she tried to keep from crying.
"Of course I remember. You're my Bones. You never know what that means." He chuckled again and pulled her in for another hug.