this little scenario has been kicking around my head since "The Doctor in the Photo." What will it take for Booth to become Booth again?

Chapter 1
What If...

Booth is driving in his SUV and he is pissed. It's 10 am and he's called Bones three times this morning - no answer. He's even tried Camille. Nothing. Well, fine. He can get his team to go look at this body. He doesn't need Bones and her squint squad. He doesn't even know why he still bothers with this partnership anymore. He has a great girlfriend, a happy son, and he is Special Agent Seeley Booth. He thinks about the hot quickie he'd had with Hannah before she left for the NATO summit in France. Yeah, he definitely does not need Bones. With that, he takes the turn-off to the crime scene. When she starts complaining about compromised remains, he will enjoy reminding her that if she'd picked up her phone it wouldn't have happened.

It's now 1pm. His guys have bagged and tagged everything. Taken pictures, etc. He's having the entire mess sent to the Jeffersonian. He's trying not to wonder about the small skeleton: It had been found in a closest of this foreclosed mansion - locked up in an old traveler's chest. It had to be a child, a toddler... The gravedigger is in jail, and besides, she'd never dealt with children so young... babies. He thinks about her threat about someone worse than her, but shakes it off. God knows there are enough psycho-killers out there. They don't all have to be connected. He glances down at his phone. Nothing. No messages, no texts. What the hell? He decides to drive over there. She's probably buried in limbo, oblivious to the time. However, that doesn't explain Camille. She'd call him back. Yeah, they haven't spoken much in a while, but still...

"What if something's happened?" That tiny prick of conscious whispers to him. Booth quickly brushes it off. "Come on, Booth, nothing's happened." Bones has been avoiding him since that night in the rain. That night when - well, it doesn't matter. It's not even something he needs to think about. She is not like that doctor, and he isn't that guy. Anyway, she's been her normal, annoying self since then - aside from the avoidance stuff, and frankly, until today, he hasn't minded it. Not at all. He hasn't mentioned the situation to Hannah, or anyone else for that matter. "Too little, too late, little Miss Mortisha," he chuckles to himself, "I've got my golden Barbie now." What the hell had he been thinking back then? This little stunt of not picking up the phone was just more avoidance crap. Hell, for all he knew, she may have run off to Zimbabwe or some other mixed up, war-torn country. Whatever.

The first thing he notices when he enters the lab is how quiet it is. The only person on the platform is Wendall. He appears to piecing together some very clean bones. He slides his card through the reader and heads up.

"Hey, Wendall! I see they've got you doing all the work around here today. Where the heck is everyone?"

Wendall, turns slowly to look at him. His eyes are red, and he quickly brushes away a tear. "Shit." thinks Booth, "Something is wrong." A cold chill runs down his spine.

"Wendall, what's going on? I tried calling Dr. Brennan this morning..."

At the words "Dr. Brennan" Wendall's eyes well up with tears again and he turns away from Booth. That chill spreads through the rest of Booth's body. He steps closer to the man. "Wendall, what. is. going. on?"

"There was an accident this morning...Dr. Saroyan got this call from the hospital."

"What hospital?"

"George Washington."

"When?"

"Around 10. She shut down the lab for the day..."

This is bad. Camille shut down the lab? This morning?

"...the guy was drunk, hit her dead on..."

Booth clicks back into the conversation, "Dr. Brennan was hit by a drunk driver this morning?"

"Yes."

Wendall's tears, the lab shut down..."Did she survive the crash?"

Wendall is silent a moment.

"WENDALL! DID SHE - "

"She was still alive when the hospital called...they weren't sure..."

Booth turns on his heel and runs down the stairs, out of the lab. Bones . Car crash. Barely alive. This morning. Rain, tears, "I missed my chance."

"No, Bones. No, you didn't."

He's unaware of saying the words aloud, nor of the tears streaming down his face as he climbs into his vehicle. Soon he is speeding down the street, siren blaring, heading towards G.W. Hospital.