"I'd like to put my dear little pistol against her head and just press the trigger." -Agatha Christie

It had been another worthless empty day. Spending it all at home alone in bed or watching tv, then meeting with Sweets for an hour and then going back home to do nothing again. Sweets insisted that booth not go back to the lab until he could with total confidence say Booth was fit for normal duty. At that time he wasn't, Booth was still experiencing memory loss, different perspectives and of course, the dreams. Booth kept saying he wanted to get passed it and get rid of the dreams, but Sweets knew better. He knew that underneath he enjoyed them and missed being the reality. He needed to accept the fact that what happened wasn't actually real and that Brennan didn't love him. Booth already knew that though, he had a pretty good grip on reality it was the continuous dreams that followed each other that confused him. Dreams were supposed to be random with hidden meaning, not meanings that flat out screamed what he was wanting.

He liked to think there was a chance that everything he saw would come true but he wasn't a betting man. Brennan was jagged and rough with a hard exterior and he could t say he'd ever seen the interior of tough scientific Bones. She was an opposite of him in many senses, but differences kept romances alive. The Bones he saw was different from the real one and he would never asked her to be like that. Brennan in his dream smiled a lot more and understood jokes and didn't need science to explain herself. It was the Bones he wanted her to be and she would never be like that in reality.

At the end of every day now he would look forward to what he was going to dream up next. Perhaps he could write his own book. That would puss off bones he knew it, even if he didn't show it. He laughed at the idea as he climbed Into bed. He doubted he could sleep. He had had the world's most pointless day. He had been laying on his back for hours what made this any different? He was one of those men who always had to be doing something. If not they would nearly go mad with boredom. Whenever he had down time he would usually spend it with Bones. But she had left for business. That was what she called it anyway, in the back of his mind he knew she had probably left out of concern and confusion. She was taken back when he woke up thinking she was his wife. He didn't blame her, he was just barely figuring himself out so it would be near impossible for her to as well. But he wanted her to figure him out, figure out he lived her and realize she loved him back. That was the only thing on his mind day after day; through the confusion of wondering whether he liked chocolate or peach ice cream, if he shot with his left or right hand, which hand he ate soup with. Bones would know those things she always had no matter what reality he was in; she knew him whether she would admit it or not. He needed her to tell him these things so he could become him again.

Booth put his head on his pillow with one on either side because it made him feel less alone. He took a sip of water and his second sleeping pill of the night and closed his eyes. It took a while for a sleeping pill to work. He folded his arms just waiting and thinking, wondering if yet again he would dream of a life that was seemingly better than his own. He wasn't sad, just distressed that his brain was causing him so much difficulty.

The club seemed different. Business was not only slower but more shady. The people who came in would only step in for an hour at most and then leave. A rival gang of C-cent's brother called the Chaserz were threatening the business of the lab. They had a lot of power in the community obviously and they intended to use it. Brennan was worried that they would hold true to their threats, but booth thought that if they fired C-cent tan they would have two gangs looking to burn down their club. Booth was hoping that everything would resolve itself in a matter of time, and if not he'd punch the founder of the gang right in his tiny head. He knew the man, a scronny looking man with an army of giant guys behind him. He could take the little bastard and become the new founder if he wanted to. They may have guns, but he had a pistol and years of army combat training.

The slowness of the club didn't stop either of them from having a good time at home. In their bedroom with a mess of clothes covering the floor they lay on their bed, Booth supporting Brennans head with his arm both covering themselves with a signal sheet. Booth stared up at the ceiling with his wife in his arms staring up at the ceiling perfectly content. He didn't need to be doing anything else. No words needed to be spoken in his mind because being there at that exact moment was perfect. He looked at Brennan who had a less content expression on her face as if she had too much on her mind.

"You should go see your brother. He did save me after all." She said Turing to him and then kissing his lips trying not to upset him too much.

"Yeah I know. I do appreciate what he did but he murdered another human Temp. Murdered."

"Yeah, you both killed before. How does that not bother you must as much?"

"It does. But we killed for the good and protection of others. He killed for a personal reason with no law to break his fall." The moment was gone. He removed the covers and started putting on his clothes. "I'll get to it. And I am grateful." By that time he was starting to put on a button down blue shirt.

"Fine. Are we going to the club than?" She asked putting on her robe turning her back. "What are we going to do about this gang issue. Dc isn't rebound for gang violence like Detroit or new York is. We don't know what they are capable of."

Booth knew she was right. Tv nor news ever focused on harsh gang violence in D.C. or anywhere else in the area. You never heated about dc unless it was political or presidential in the matter. However, according to his brother murder was at an all time high in the dmv region.

He walked around the bed to bones and crouched down to her sitting level. He could tell she was more frustrated than angry and neither were directed towards him. He took her hands and made them food in her lap and kissed her again. "We are going to be fine. I'm gonna fix all of this." He looked to her stomach which was just barely beginning to show any sign of her pregnancy and smiled. "We are all going to be fine. You love me right?"

She smiled greatly."of course." She kissed him back.

They drove up to their night club at 4:30 pm. The club would open at nine but they were usually there by 3. As always they parked in the alley and as always Zach was just inside by the door. Booth had hired the poor kid out of potty but he had proven to be a gifted sweet guy that everyone loved. He had an innocent stamina that always made him more positive. He opened the door and came running to the car before it had completely stopped. His face looked panicked and distrought. Booth and Brennan hastily got out of the car lifting up their sunglasses to look Zach straight in the eye in the midst of his panicked. They waited for him to speak but didn't want to scare him away.

"It happened again!" He finally said. They waited again for him to elaborate. Booth stepped forward to Zach and grabbed his shoulders firmly. "There is another dead man in the bathroom."Brennan suddenly grabbed her husband's arm from behind. Was it possible something like this could happen again? Two different killers it had to be so, Jarred was in prison, it had to be someone else. But in the same bathroom exactly one month later. It was obvious to booth that it was a warning but of what was another question.

Zach led the two into the club hastily and cautuoisly. The rest of the staff had shown up at least quickly half an hour earlier and had all seen the body. Brennan walked arm in arm with booth who led them both behind Zach. He wondered why there were no cops or forensics specialists at the club yet but kept walking and then entered the men's bathroom. He could see the feet of the man just outside the last stall of the bathroom, the rest of the staff followed them in keeping a large distance. Zach grabbed a paper towel and carefully swung open the silver green door. Brennan squeezed his muscles on his arm tighter at the sight. Immediately they both knew who it was and were extremely concerned. He was wearing a tight purple and black suit with black buttons and a hat by insect hand; he had a new haircut and off centered Sun glasses. It was the worst possible person in these unpredictable and dangerous times to be dead. It was Eddison, popularly recalled as C-Cent. A man whose brother had threatened Booth to get him in to sing and the brother of a man whose rival gang was threatening the club. Fragile peace orbited around his employment at the club and with his him dead there was nothing that his brother would do to avenge him.

Brennan held Booths arm as he examined the body, she looking over his shoulder. "Did you tell anyone a out this?" He asked turning to everyone.

"No, we were waiting to see what you wanted to do." Said Wendell who was leaning against the back wall of the bathroom. He was always a shady person, a man of few words, very mean to those he didn't know.

"Why, you still think I'm partially responsible for the murder of that assassin?" Booth said stepping forward.

"Are you?" He asked with a small smile crossing his arm. Booth made his face flat and serious, he walked over to Wendell like an angry gorilla slapping the tile wall an inch from Wendell's face. He made him break a sweat.

Booth spoke in a lo e pitch neat growling. "I had nothing to do with that murder. You have any doubt two about that yo can talk about it outside. I am not a murderer, but I can break your fingers without even trying, so why don't you-"

"Booth!" Brennan yelled. He turned looking at his concerned wife. She hadn't seen him act like that since a gun had been put to her head two years before. He looked to Wendell again who was still in a defense position, he walked away.

He moved back to to the body and Brennan. She kneeled down and started staring at the body with sudden interest. "It looks like he broke his femur and several broken ribs prior to the murder."

"And you know that how?" Booth asked

"I took some forensics specialty in high school. I used to be very into this kind of stuff. We should definitely call the fbi now."

Beep-

Beep beep beep, the alarm by his bed read 8:15 but it felt like he was only asleep for a few minutes. He started looking around the room disoriented from his dream. They were getting worse, harder to separate fact from fiction when he woke up every morning. He needed to not have to remember what world he was in each morning or try to figure out which hand he used to brush his teeth. It was like being in a whole new life every day. He needed to get this under control or the effects of the tumor would never be conquered. If he couldn't remember how he lived his life day after day, how he did the little things, what he liked and didn't like things; than there was only one other person who could. That was bones, she knew him as well as he did, and in this situation she knew him better. He had to call bones. He couldn't take not knowing himself any longer. Even if it was only a few things he needed to relearn.

He didn't know what time it was on her little island but it couldn't wait. He needed help, and he really, really missed her. If it wasn't for his delusions of when he first woke up she would probably still be with him helping him mentally recover. She understood as well as anyone how annoying Sweets could get.

He reached for his phone and for some reason,started thinking very hard about an old rotary phone, a red one with a circular dial and a hand full of wires. But it wasn't one of those phones, it was a cell phone. He shrugged it off and dialed her number. It only rant for a few second then she picked up.

"Bones!" She said excitedly.

"Booth. Hi. Have you recovered from your mental emotional collapse of memory, or are you still recovering?" She didn't waist any time cutting straight to the chase. She was always so blunt.

"Umm yeah, I'm still recovering. Sweets says I'm doing well but isn't ready to give me my badge just yet. How are you bones? I've missed you."

"My forensic analysis of these bones have been proving to be very educational to the native population."

Booth was sad that she was being so serious about everything. It was the one quality he wished she could trade from his dream. "That's nice bones."

"It's very late here I need to get going. Good luck on your recovery."

"Wait! I need your help! Bones I think you're the only one who can tell me about the little things I used to do. I find myself doing things differently than I used to and I need you to remind me. You know me the best out of anyone." He tried to make her stay on the line a little while longer.

"I'll be back soon. When I get back then I can help you. I do have to go." Which she did. She had been up for days seemingly.

"One more thing please... Why do I keep thinking of rotary phones?" He blurted. Bones was intrigued.

"You love them booth. You used to play with them at your grandfather's house. Remember."

Booth suddenly did and slapped the desk. "I do! Thank you bones!"

"Bye booth." She hung up the phone as hastily as possible. Booth made her nervous. The last time she saw him he thought he was in love and told her. The doctors said he was delusional and he forgot he did, but he did. She didn't know what to make of it. It was fascinating. But strange.