A/N:: If she leaves, will he still remember her? I took a few liberties so I'm sorry if everything is not entirely accurate, I tried. Sorry it's a little choppy, it's supposed to span across about a year's time. A great song to listen to is Pieces by Red; it fits pretty well with what I wrote. Remember, I don't own them.
"Goodbye." She whispers as she leans over the hospital bed to kiss him. It was a simple gesture, a kiss on the forehead, but to her it felt like her heart was being pulled from her chest.
His eyes didn't even flutter. The doctors said that sleep was good for him, but she just wanted him to wake up. She had this irrational fear that he would fall back into a coma. All she needed was for him to look at her, talk to her, and be her Booth. But he was suffering from amnesia, and according to his doctor, there was no guarantee when memory would return, if it ever would.
As she slowly walked out of the cursed hospital room, the realization sank in. Within hours of her leaving his room, he wouldn't remember her. Booth wouldn't know who she was. She barely made it to the car before she started crying.
**********
Shortly after Booth's prognosis had come in, Cam ordered Brennan to talk Sweets. Sweets told her that Booth's situation would be very difficult for her to handle, and rightly so. She'd assured him that she'd compartmentalized before and she could do it again. But later that day, when it turned out that she couldn't, she went to Angela.
"I'm not kidding when I say this may kill you. Sweetie, I can't even bear to imagine what I would do if this happened to Hodgins."
"Yes, but you and Hodgins are in love."
"I know, and at least we got the chance to share how we felt about each other…" Angela trailed off, looking up at Brennan knowingly.
"I don't, I don't know what you mean." But by the way the anthropologist had tightened her jaw, Angela knew that Brennan did.
**********
Only forty-eight hours after Booth had woken from his coma, Brennan had decided that she had to leave him. Forever. It was the only way for both of them to continue with their lives. She didn't have to see him daily, get her heart broken daily. He didn't need the pressure to remember her; he was pressured enough by Parker and Rebecca. But she had to do a few things first. She couldn't simply walk out of his life; she was a part of every single piece of it. The least she could do is remove the things that would remind him of her.
Twenty minutes later she was walking into his apartment. All the times they'd shared came running at her. She was hit full force by the memories, and started choking in the air that smelled like him. His place was silent, all the rooms were dark, and she realized that the last time Booth was here, he still had all his memories. The messes in the kitchen, the piles of clothes on the floor, were made by a man who still knew who she was.
She made her way through his rooms, finding every picture of her and Booth, and gently placing them in her purse. In the Jeffersonian, at the diner, out to dinner with everybody. Each time she pocketed another snapshot, more tears began to fall. The more photographs she found, the harder she began to cry, and before long she couldn't hold them back anymore. Walking over to his couch, she sank into the leather and allowed the sobs to once again racket her chest. After a few minutes, she left his apartment, leaving tears on the floor as the only trace she ever existed in his life.
**********
The last thing she needed to do was secure Booth a job. Immediately she decided to talk to the Deputy Director of the FBI. She marched into his office and demanded that they discuss Booth's job situation.
"I'm not sure what we can offer him here." He sat behind his large desk, hands folded in front of him
"He is one of the greatest agents you have. He helped you apprehend more people than you can count. The least you can do is keep him employed!" Her voice was rising, but she didn't care who heard her.
"Dr. Brennan I'm just not sure what job we have for a man with no memory."
"You don't need you remember your past to live in the present." She said softly, sitting back down.
That was how Brennan got Booth a job behind the desk. He participated in the investigation, used the computer searches to find connections, he organized the cases, he helped people with their interrogation techniques, and he still went to the shooting range.
**********
Seeley Booth had suffered a trauma that deemed him fit for an evaluation by the FBI's psychiatrist. Dr. Lance Sweets was a scrawny, young person who Booth considered more of a friend than a doctor. At first they were supposed to meet daily, whenever Booth came in to work, but eight months had passed since the surgery and Booth insisted that he didn't need that much help anymore, so now they were required to meet twice a week.
For the first few visits, Sweets briefed Booth on what had happened. He only mentioned the people from Booth's past once, and when no recognition crossed his face, he decided to never bring it up again. Not because Booth didn't remember them, but because his friends had made it clear that they didn't want to force Booth to remember them unless he already did. Sweets thought it was admirable, that no matter how much it hurt them, none of Booth's friends wanted to hurt him or pressure him into remembering.
So most of the time Sweets talked to Booth about simple things. His new friends, his memory, his son. Booth met with his son every other weekend. He had very few memories about Parker but the pictures he had in his apartment helped. It was understood between the two that they would only talk about light subjects, that is until one day Booth came in looking more haggard than ever.
"I don't want to force to you talk about something that makes you uncomfortable, but I do want you to realize that it's sort of in my job description." Sweets offered a smile he hoped was welcoming.
"I always have these dreams about this, this woman. They're, um, sometimes they just seem too real, you know?" He couldn't make eye contact with Sweets, he was too distracted.
"Would it help if you told me about her?" It wasn't uncommon for people with amnesia to create vivid images of a companion to help them through lonely periods.
"She's," He paused before sitting on the couch. "I don't know where to start. She's beautiful." He glanced at Sweets before hunching over. "She's got light blue eyes and this shiny brown hair, shoulder length. She's a little shorter than me, but she holds herself like, like she's taller than I am. She's strong. You know. Physically and emotionally. I don't even think she's ever spoken to me, in a dream. She just smiles. And I know she's smart. Very, very smart. I just know it. I feel like I know her, but I can't get her out of my head. I dream about her, but I think about her too, a lot. And I don't even know her name."
There was a silence, so Booth looked up from his wringing hands. Sweet's mouth was parted slightly, his eyes opened only bit wider than usual, but they were shifting. Not many people would've noticed, but Booth knew the doctor was surprised about something. After only about a millisecond, Sweet's shock dissipated and was replaced with discomfort. He moved around in his chair, staring at his clipboard, as if debating something.
"You should try focusing your mind on other things." He said finally. "But not only on work, you should think about recreational activities too. Do you read a lot?"
"No," Booth hesitated, "I'm not exactly someone who chooses to sit and read in their free time."
"Well you should try it sometime," Sweets stood up and retrieved a book off the shelf behind his desk. "This is one of my personal favorites." He handed Booth the thick hardcover book and smiled, looking very pleased with himself.
Booth looked down at the cover, noticing immediately that it was a crime novel.
"Bred in the Bone by Doctor Temperance Brennan, Forensic Anthropologist." He read "I'll give it a shot."
**********
It only took Booth two days to read the book Sweets had given him. He enjoyed the puzzling cases and the intertwining stories, but the real reason he loved the book, was the because of the characters, and their intricate relationship.
He ended up buying and reading all of Dr. Temperance Brennan's novels. Endless nights of getting caught up in her stories, so excited to finish reading one that he can't seem to stop thinking about it. He even put up a special shelf in his apartment for all her books.
In late spring, he's finished all her books, and doesn't know what to do with himself. So he starts reading them over again, only this time he plans to go slower, so he'll pick up on little details he'd missed before. He grabs the first book; the one Sweets had given him, and drops onto his couch.
The book flips open to the dedication page. He absentmindedly reads the small font, and suddenly, he can't breathe. He reads it again, and again. That's his name. 'Partner and friend, Special Agent Seeley Booth.' It's not a common name, she must know him. He grabs a hold of his hurried thoughts, and realizes she must be from his past.
He frantically flips to the back cover, trying to find a photo that will refresh his memory. He thinks that maybe if he sees a picture, he could remember her. It's obvious they must've been close, for her to dedicate a whole book to him.
He finally finds the About the Author page. And there she is; the woman of his dreams, the woman in his dreams. And he knows he has to see her.
**********
It was the picture of her that did it. Every time he looked at it, thought about her, he'd get little flashes. He wasn't sure if they were memories or dreams, some bordered on the insane, while others were fairly simple. One flash was of him throwing knives at her, while she was wearing a skimpy circus outfit and an eye patch. Next, they were sitting in chairs, a small circular table between them, and they were doing shots.
He shakes all the images out of his head, confused and nervous he keeps his eyes on the store signs. His feet keep padding over the sidewalk until he finds the shop he's looking for. One pause, a deep breath in, and he pushes open the door into the bookstore. A small bell jingles over his head and it takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. The room is large but cozy, filled with books and plush chairs. Except today, there's a mass of people huddled around a table in the back.
It's a lot of different types of people, but they're all clutching the same book. Temperance Brennan's new book, the one Booth had already purchased and read. He had brought it with him, hoping that it could be a conversation starter for them.
He stands in the back of the crowd, but the line moves quickly. He watches her, sign each book, make small talk with a stranger. She's got a broad grin on, but part of it seems a little fake, too practiced. She takes each fan's book, and methodically signs them. She seems a bit overwhelmed; one piece of hair keeps falling out of place no matter how many times she tries to put it back.
Suddenly he regrets his decision to come here. What if she hates him? Maybe that's why she didn't try to stay in touch. Maybe they fought over something, and she doesn't ever want to see him again. But no matter what happened, he knows he has to find the answer. There's something about her, the way she keeps reappearing in his thoughts when he least expects it. He thinks he might've loved this woman, but at this point he's too afraid to make any assumptions
He just wants answers. And as the line keeps moving, he realizes he's fourth in line, and he has no idea what to say. There's no one behind him in line, he's hung back until he's the last one left.
Finally he's the last person left, so he steps up to the table and slowly slides his book toward her. She readjusts the pen that's probably been in her hand for the better part of the day.
"Hello…" Her greeting fades out. Her muscles have gone stiff and she drags her eyes up to meet his.
"Hi." He doesn't smile, just gauges her reaction to his presence.
Within a few moments she regains her composure. Back to the cool professional, she cautiously signs her name on his book.
"Would you like me to write a message for someone?" Another detached smile.
"Sure, um, could you write, 'Your partner and friend, Special Agent Seeley Booth'?"
She watches him, wide-eyed and unmoving. He keeps talking.
"Look, I found the dedication. I, I just want to talk to you. Would you like to uh, well, do you have time to come out with me?"
"Like a date?" She knows he's lost and nervous, so she tries to joke around, but it falls flat as they both stare at each other.
"Yeah, how 'bout lunch and some coffee?" And there's his charm smile. He flashes the grin, but with his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes, blank and nervous, it's not the same.
"I know this great place, let me just grab my jacket." She keeps her eyes on him as she grabs her things and leads the way out the door.
He has the urge to place his hand on her lower back to guide her. He knows she's capable, but he feels surprisingly protective of her. As they walk down the street, he stares down every guy who tries to catch her eye.
She notices, and can't help but smile.
**********
"The Royal Diner." He says, nodding, looking around and appreciating the restaurant.
"Yeah," She's suspicious, curious about what he wants to talk about.
"I feel like I've been here before." He adds, halfheartedly.
She's thrown off by this, and the color in her face fades. He knows that she doesn't hate him, but he's not sure why she's acting so skittish. Either she's transparent, or he's just good at reading her. She knows him, she's obviously from his past, but she's pretending that they're nothing more than acquaintances. He doesn't understand why.
Throughout their entire two hour lunch, he can't bring himself to ask any questions about their history. He talks about his job, and she seems genuinely interested in it. She mentions her book tour and the interviews she has to do.
"You know someone once told me that when I do interviews, I should never mention that I don't want kids."
He laughs heartily, and spins his drink a bit, feeling like he was the one who said that.
They continue talking about bland, neutral subjects, and yet with her, they seem exciting and funny. She busts out laughing when he mentions his opinion of Sweets, his psychologist. There's an echo of misery in every story she tells. Every response he gets from her has got a sad undertone. He's afraid that bringing up the questions he wants to ask will bring out more sadness, and he knows just by looking at her face, that she's experienced more than her fair share of heartbreak in this lifetime.
Eventually they realize how much time has passed, and although neither really wants to leave, she's the one who insists she has to.
"Bye" Her voice is softer than her hands, as she reaches to shake his. He can tell the informality of it is killing her. Before he can ask to see her again, she turns and walks out the door with her head down.
"Bye," He says, to no one but the stale restaurant air. He stands rooted to the floor, by their table in the diner. It's in between lunch and dinner, so he's the only customer left.
"Bye," He says once more, only angrily this time. He drops money on their table, next to what Temperance had left, before he strides out the door.
**********
It was only about nine o'clock, but she was already in her pajamas. After their lunch, she'd gone to work, but had been too preoccupied to be productive, and so with some convincing from Angela, she'd gone home to try and straighten out her mind.
She sat curled up on her couch, listening to Poco, like she had every night since she left Booth. The song made her feel safe because she always thought of her father when she heard it, but now it reminded her of Booth as well.
As she lies there, staring out into the darkness of her apartment, she hears a knock on her door. She knows the knock, and it makes her heart stop. After a moment's hesitation she runs to the door and flings it open, without even looking through the eye-hole.
She sees Booth, only not the same Booth she knew. He's clearly distraught, disheveled. As she truly sizes him up for the first time in a year, she sees the differences. He's lost muscle mass and his wrinkles have grown more pronounced. His clothes are rumpled, his face drawn. He's leaning on the door frame staring right through her. He's broken, and it's all she can do not to cry for him.
"How do you know me?" His voice rasps out.
"Booth, how did you get here?" She avoids the question, tries to hold up the pretense that they no longer know each other.
"I don't, I don't know. I just drove." He looks at the floor, confused. He looks back up and meets her eyes. Channeling every emotion he's ever felt toward her, he asks once more.
"Please." It's more of a dry, expelled breath than a request. He needs her to let him in.
A few seconds pass as he watches her weigh the options. Her gaze rakes over him and she immediately reaches for his arm and gently guides him into her house.
A/N: Hellooo. Sorry for all the drama, this is the longest piece of fanfiction I've ever done, and it's un-beta'd. Reviews are loved! Please help me with some feedback, even constructive criticism! I would like to know what parts you liked and didn't like so I can work on my writing. Part Two/The Final Part will be up sometime next week depending on the kind of response there is to the story. Thanks for reading! (:
