Brennan shifted through her bag for her keys and opened the lock to her apartment with numb fingers. She slid through the doorway, dropped her bag on the floor and headed straight for the kitchen, not even bothering to flick on the lights. On top of the fridge was a half-empty bottle of whiskey that Booth had brought over one night after a case.

"Who are you?" Brennan flinched when the words ran unbidden through her mind as she quickly poured a glass of whiskey and slugged it down. As she understood it, alcohol was a time-honored way of relieving stress. Leaning forward on the counter, she screwed her eyes shut, feeling them burn from lack of sleep.

***

"Who are you?" Her heart stopped. She had never understood that phrase before; being unpleasantly surprised would not result in heart failure, unless the unpleasant surprise was a large jolt of electricity or something along those lines. But it was really and truly how it felt, as if her heart had fallen to the pit of her stomach.

"Booth… Booth it's me. It's Bones." Her throat swelled uncomfortably as she choked on her words and his name for her. She remembered the day when they had confronted the monstrous Vince McVicar and Booth had acted as her anchor, reminding her of who she was. That he knew who she was. Her hands shook as they grasped his own larger hands.

"Bren, what…? What do you mean, 'bones'?" He squinted at her face then around the room, trying to understand his surroundings. "Where am I?" His gaze fell on their clasped hands, where he was subconsciously rubbing his thumb along her left ring finger. "Where… where's your ring?"

Brennan quickly snatched her hands from him, unable to help herself. Her head was swimming, a sensation she was unaccustomed to. Just like heart failure. She yelled for a nurse then, staring at Booth from a few feet away with wide, shell-shocked eyes. He looked even more lost when he wasn't touching her. She felt a pang of guilt, but quickly pushed it away under reasoning and intellect.

Obviously some mental confusion is to be expected from a patient recovering from brain surgery and a four day long coma, she thought quickly, unaware that her breath came in sharp, shallow gulps. But why did he call you "Bren?" another more contrary voice whispered. It was doubt. She sincerely disliked doubt. Why was he looking for your wedding ring?

She couldn't help but be reminded of the silly novella she had written while passing the hours next to Booth's bed. She had read parts aloud to him because some studies had shown that coma patients respond to auditory stimulations, even while unconscious. Her thoughts were interrupted by the doctor on call as he swept into the room, smiling warmly at Brennan and Booth.

"Good to have you back with us," he said, glancing at the monitors surrounding Booth's bed. "Your vitals appear to be stable, always a good sign. So, do you understand what's happening right now?"

"She said…" he glanced at Brennan, who stood still as a statue by the door, "she said I had brain surgery, that I slipped into a coma." The doctor smiled and nodded reassuringly.

"Do you know the date?" he asked.

Fear flashed behind Booth's eyes. "Uh, I don't… No, I don't know."

"Do you know who I am?" Brennan said, voice barely above a whisper. Booth met her gaze and a smile slowly began to curve his lips.

"Of course I know you. You're my wife."

***

She grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck again and poured herself another glass. If alcohol was really a cure-all as some people boasted, she was going to be needing a couple more glasses.

AN: Next time on FBI AGENT IN A COMA, Booth's point of view! What will happen next?? Review to find out!