I don't think this chapter is as good as the first one, but here's what I think happened.
(P.S.- 3 DAYS!!)
"Am I dead?" Brennan knew that she must have been waning in and out of consciousness for a long time, because even though it was the first time she had awakened, her partner answered her question unenthusiastically.
"No, Bones," he sighed, "You're not dead."
Her head throbbed a little as she attempted to lift it. The white of the walls, the sheets, and the coats blurring past seemed to mirror her own pallid skin. She saw bare legs, a nauseatingly green gown, and hands shaking without her control. One hand was covered with a bandage. There was only one word to describe her state of being: confused. If she was dead, she wouldn't have been in a hospital, right? But if she were to believe Booth when he said she was alive, shouldn't she be bandaged so much that she'd be paralyzed?
"Put your head back down or else you'll get dizzy and pass out again," he commanded. She glanced at him with a mouth in the shape of a perfect o and eyebrows raised like little umbrellas. Obeying his order, she gave her neck a break and leaned back against the thin pillow.
"How can I be alive?" she wondered aloud. Clearly, this was farther than the conversation had gone before, because those brown eyes looked up from their newspaper with surprise. Considering her for a moment, they became beady with investigation.
"I have a better question, Bones," he said. He sounded a bit ticked off, the voice pausing a bit after the word better. Her eyes looked at the ceiling with apprehension, not wanting to turn for fear of losing consciousness. "Do you want to be alive?"
That was certainly not a question she considered as she stood in the dark air of nighttime, thirty feet above the sidewalk, aware that a particularly strong gust of wind could send her tumbling to her death. She remembered not minding the thought of death, but she also remembered that she didn't necessarily want to die. She remembered wanting to see Booth again, but knowing that he was dead. She should be alive, for Angela and for the lab and for Russ and her father. Her eyes rolled to look at him. He was supposed to be dead and she was supposed to be alive. Or dead. She didn't know.
"I don't know. I think so."
"Well then why were you standing out on the railing of your balcony?" he asked condescendingly. Brennan felt like she didn't have a full picture. What was going on? Was she dead or alive?
"You're supposed to be dead," she stated, half avoiding the question and half trying to remedy her brain's disorder. The confusion was making her head throb even harder. With every pulse of blood, she imagined her brain becoming too large for her skull. She could sense the shaking in her hands becoming worse and the ringing in her ears becoming louder. Where were the doctors in this house of blinding white light? Couldn't they make her think straight?
"Yeah, except now my cover's blown because you just had to go and get yourself admitted to a hospital."
"Cover? You were dead. You died. I was there."
"Damn. The concussion must have messed up your memory. I'll have to tell the doctor," Booth said and began to stand.
"No," she said, whipping her head up quickly to look at him. She had a moment where the room swam and spun, spots blurring her vision, but as the air cleared, she continued her protest, "They told me you were dead. That's why I was on my balcony. But then you called. That's why I fell."
"No one ever told you that I was undercover?"
"No," she said firmly. Where were those damn doctors? Her partner's face became a blur and her mouth went dry.
"I'm not dead, Bones. And neither are you."
A white coat walked into the room. Inside it was a woman with blonde hair and a mouth that pouted as if she had just eaten something very sour. Her eyes widened to find Temperance Brennan awake. And talking to Seeley Booth, at that. As she began to write in her patient's chart, she addressed the flushed and wide-eyed woman, "Good to see that you're up, Dr. Brennan. Don't worry; your partner here has made it his goal of the day to pester me about taking care of you. I'm Dr. O'Mara."
"Hold your cattle."
"Horses," Booth felt compelled to correct her faux pas, "hold your horses."
"So you," she pointed to her partner, "never died," he simply nodded in response, "and I fell thirty feet, but the worst injury I got was a concussion?" Brennan was trying as hard as she could to understand. The past week, she had thought that her partner was dead, but now he was staring right at her. The room was spinning and the lights felt as hot as if she were out on a roof in the afternoon sun. Everything was wrong.
"That's ridiculous," Dr. O'Mara butted in, "you'd never survive a thirty-foot fall."
"Bones, you only fell four feet."
"What?" the room stood completely still as she stared at him, every one of her senses heightened.
"Your neighbor heard you scream," Brennan's eyebrows furrowed, not remembering ever screaming, "They called nine-one-one and the EMTs found you unconscious out on your balcony. Concussion and a broken finger."
Then she remembered it. Hearing Booth's humming voice and being drawn towards it. Her eyes clamping shut, imagining herself falling past the apartments beneath her, sleeping figures oblivious to her plight. She remembered her throat emitting a scream that pierced even her own ears. And she remembered how her fall happened so immediately that it didn't even occur to her that she would be falling the other way. That she wasn't going to die. She was so preoccupied hoping that Booth was right. That she'd see him again after life ended. She fell four feet. The fear that radiated through her knocked her out before her head even hit the ground.
"I thought I was about to die."
"Falling four feet off the railing of your balcony and passing out because you thought you were dying. Admit it, Bones; you are a bit overdramatic sometimes," he teased.
Relief and understanding flooded over her as a tiny smile pulled at the corners of her lips. Her head no longer throbbed, the room no longer spun, and the lights no longer seemed too bright. Her eyes met his, Temperance Brennan's with a look of pleased wonder and Seeley Booth's with a look of confusion. "We're alive," she said, believing it now.
He too smiled now and slipped his fingers into her unbandaged palm, "Yeah, Bones, we're alive."
Fin.
With every review, the sun smiles down upon you. Please, I hate the rain.
