On the Midnight Mile
by Hobbesian
Description: You push the thought out of your mind, for as much confusion and pain that you live in now, you're not totally sure that you want to completely surrender the memories of your dream to the reality that is Seeley Booth.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, or any original works that are mentioned here. I'm just playing around in Booth's brainpan for the time being.
Author's Note: Booth's recovery from his coma didn't quite sit that well with me. More at the bottom. Oh, and this is written completely in second person narrative. You (pun fully intended there) have been warned.
Prologue
You're sitting in your bathtub with your beer helmet on, taking small slow sips. The doctors had mentioned that drinking alcohol would inhibit your recovery, but it's felt like almost a lifetime since you've drank anything, so you figure that just a little bit won't hurt that much. Besides it's not like you could be doing any worse now.
You sigh and relax further against the tub, letting the music coming out of your record player wash over you. You can't quite remember who it is that's playing, or why you even liked them, but this was the record that was in the turntable when you set this whole situation up. The record labeled itself as 'Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell' by Social Distortion, and at a quick viewing of the other records in your room you noticed a few other records by this group, so you suppose that you do like them.
You look over to the stack of comic books, well graphic novels (the distinction rings a bell in the back of your mind, a long forgotten indignation), that are on a chair next to you. You had flipped through a few of them so far, but you can't really seem to find any real pleasure in reading them.
And that's just it; you can't remember who you are anymore. Yes, there are flashes here and there where muscle memory takes over and you do things that you can't quantify the reasoning behind, but it's almost like your slate had been whipped clean. Sorting out who you are from that dream you had in the coma has proven to be rather difficult, and there are times where you wish that you didn't have to. Your life made much more sense in the coma than it does in the waking world.
Sweets, you remember Sweets (or do you? You're not totally sure), mentioned that because of how similar – yet different – your dream was to reality that it would take some time figuring out the distortions, and the disconnects, and allowing your brain to re-pattern itself to reality. He had mentioned that this was perfectly normal with someone who had lead a traumatic life like you had, especially coming out of brain surgery and a coma.
"A traumatic life" Sweets had told you. A life that you didn't quite remember, stories that felt like just that – stories. Sure, the evidence was all around you and you had reactions that you felt slightly ashamed about (you didn't like people anywhere near your feet; apparently you had been tortured – tortured! – once and it involved your feet), but you didn't know why! The person that you were in the dream was just enough of a difference to the one you are now that some of the differences just do not make any sense in your mind.
Sweets had told you today how you liked to relax when you got stressed out, which is what you were currently doing. Apparently Bren – no, not Bren, Bones – had walked in on you doing this once (why would she if she wasn't your wife?) and it had caused quite a bit of laughter to be sent your way. Naturally, apparently, Sweets had made a few jokes about it to you, and you had replied that it was a method you had picked up in the Rangers (you were still getting your head wrapped around that, for it was almost too hard to believe) to relax by surrounding yourself in your escapes from childhood.
It wasn't working tonight, and you weren't entirely sure that it would ever work. You're just too different of a person now…and that scares you. There are so many things about the life that you have seemingly left behind that seem good, things that you should be proud of, that you can't bring yourself to accept. This scares you, oh how it scares you.
You have a kid that apparently means the world to you (and why wouldn't he, he's your kid) that you haven't had the courage to call since you got out of the coma because you're worried that you won't feel anything anymore for him. What kind of a monster are you? What kind of monster is worried that he won't feel anything for his own child? Apparently your own father had trouble with some of the same issues (or so Sweet had made mention in one of the many sessions that you two have had), which only serves to fuel your fear.
Then there was Bren – no, Bones – running off to South America. That hurt in ways that you still didn't want to deal with. The look on her face when you asked who she was one that was easy to recognize the heartbreak in because you saw it when you looked in the mirror every day. You weren't married to her, but her face, and the memories that they stirred made it clear to you that you were in love with her, and from what you had gleaned from talking with Sweets you two were best friends. Best friends and nothing more. That stung just a little bit more than you were willing to admit.
You sigh and stand up and get out of the tub. You click the turntable off – you're not going to lie, you did enjoy the music, and it did trigger a reaction in the back of your mind that you still liked it – take your helmet off, and grab a towel and walk into your bedroom. When you had first come home the order and the discipline of an Army Ranger (a sniper at that, you couldn't forget for a lot of the muscle memory apparently fed back to your training), and FBI Agent littered the place. It was the personal touches that triggered chords of memory in the back of your mind, playing an almost familiar song that let you know that you weren't quite as lost as you felt at time.
It was almost enough to give you hope for your situation, but then you remembered that all that you felt around you were long forgotten memories, and that some of these things were enough to drag up 'memories' from your dream that scorched your skin and left you even more confused as to what reality actually was, and what it wasn't.
You sigh as you walk over to your dresser and pull out a pair of shorts to wear to bed. Sweets wants to see you early tomorrow for breakfast, and you find yourself looking forward to it slightly. Memories shared of time spent with Sweets pops in the back of your mind, but nothing that 'turns the key' so to speak in unlocking just who you are.
There is one thing that can, but you're not sure if you truly want to look at it. In the two weeks that you had been out of your coma, and showing almost no improvement Sweets had mentioned that perhaps looking at your file – a record of your life, basically – could start to spark your memories so that you could start learning how to be, well, you again. The file that was currently sitting on your dresser.
You crawl on top of your bed, and you stare at the ceiling, willing your breath to slow down your heartbeat so that you can sleep again, the only place that seems to make any sense lately. You don't tell this to Sweets, but your dreams are almost like flashbacks to the one that you had while you were in the coma. Yes, they cause your heart to wither every morning when you wake up and remember once again that they aren't real…but you'll take that pain because it makes more sense to you then the real world.
You look over at your dresser that has your file on it. You know that reading it will forever change you; hopefully back into who you were Sweets mentioned. At least give your brain the right direction to take so that these tiny spark of memories, and familiar chords of remembrance
You push the thought out of your mind, for as much confusion and pain that you live in now, you're not totally sure that you want to completely surrender the memories of your dream to the reality that is Seeley Booth.
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Author's Note: After repeated viewings of the season four finale, the first episode of season five, and the other episodes from season five (so far) I've come to the conclusion that Bone's coma and the ramifications from it just didn't sit that well with me. Sure, they were briefly touched on (ie why wasn't Booth wearing his Cocky belt buckle with the gaudy ties and socks? Why didn't the clown affect him at all?) but then almost as quickly forgotten. This is my try at reconciling what is on the show with what I feel should have been expanded upon more. Review and let me know what you think so far!