Carpe Diem
Thank you for all the kind reviews, I really appreciate it. And I apologize for the huge delay, RL sucks.
----
Blue eyes sought brown as she searched for some sort of recognition. Who are you? His words echoed in her mind, and stupidly, she hoped that this was some strange joke. One that she could not grasp (as so often was the case), and Booth would simply laugh about how he'd duped her. But there was nothing.
"Booth…" she pulled back suddenly.
"Honey, are you alright-" Angela walked into the room, stopping in her tracks when she saw he was awake. "Oh my God!"
He remained passive, tired, as he glanced back and forth from one woman to the other. "I'm sorry…"
"He doesn't remember us," Brennan explained without looking at her friend, the words ringing hollow in her ears.
Angela grasped Brennan's arm. "I'll get a doctor."
As she rushed out of the room, Brennan was nailed to her spot, dumbstruck. She was suddenly aware of the sterile and sharp scent of antiseptic that unwelcomingly wafted from all corners of the room. It was suffocating.
"Do you really not know us? Or who you are?"
Booth tried to bring his hand up to his bandaged head, stopping only as the IV line tugged uncomfortably at his arm. "Seeley Booth," he said easily, though his words were still slurred from all the painkillers they had mercilessly pumped into his system. "And you still haven't answered my question."
Brennan's mind reeled, completely unaccustomed to this cold and unfamiliar doppelganger of her partner. The near-silence was deafening, so she attempted to focus her attention on the steady beeping of the heart monitor, a constant reminder that her partner was alive, but not well.
"Hey, Mr. Booth," Doctor Layton, the assisting surgeon, swept in with a clipboard in tow. "How do you feel?"
"Very slow," he replied.
"You had a procedure to remove a small benign growth from your brain. Everything went smoothly. You don't remember the operation?" Layton was all business, swiping back a page of the clipboard to begin jotting down some notes.
"No."
"But do you recognize your friends?"
Booth's eyes flickered from Brennan, to a very nervous looking Angela, and back again. "No."
"How old are you?"
"36."
"Are you aware you have a son?"
"Parker," Booth said, his eyes finally lighting up.
"Where do you work?"
"The bureau, at the Hoover building in D.C."
It continued like that for a time, the doctor firing off mundane questions, and Booth answering some easily, and some not at all. The rain outside pattered a staccato rhythm against the window, the only sound accompanying the men's voices throughout the grilling session. Finally, Dr. Layton motioned for Angela and Brennan to come out into the hallway after smiling reassuringly to Booth.
"He doesn't remember any of us at the Jeffersonian," Angela sniffed, wiping the back of her hands against her eyes.
"It seems that people or places he's been to in the last several years have become rather muddled in his mind. His son, his life before, he's cognizant of it all. His memories seem to have formed around the gaps and blank spots, like a coping mechanism," Layton explained.
Brennan's throat had become achingly dry, so she managed to croak out, "Is it permanent?"
"I won't say it's impossible, but it's certainly unlikely," he replied, putting a hand to her shoulder. "Patients usually recover from these temporary bouts of amnesia within weeks. It just takes some push, that's all."
Brennan released a breath, and steeled herself for whatever was ahead. She would bring him back.
--
"Well?" gestured Cam, trying to maintain her poise as she waited anxiously. Her feelings were clearly mirrored in her co-workers' faces, and highlighted by restless tapping of Hodgins' foot against the tiled floors.
"No, Cam," Booth said, exasperated as he dropped down into the chair.
Booth's previous encounters with Camille Saroyan were still intact, since they preceded the time period that his amnesia seemed to be affecting. So they thought it might help if she gave him a comprehensive tour of the facilities. A familiar connection between the past and present would hopefully get those synapses firing again.
"How long are they giving you off work?" Hodgins asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon the group.
Booth studied the other man skeptically, still getting used to the familiar way in which these people were addressing him. "As long as I need, is what they said. So I figure that means a couple months, and then I'm back on duty."
"Where?" Brennan inquired, the curiosity evident in her voice.
"Don't know. Suppose I'll be back in the main criminal investigation unit," he said.
"As in, not here," Angela stated.
Booth shrugged, uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny. "We'll see." He started picking at the bandages at his head. He had already started forming a new, thin layer of hair against his scalp, but it was itchy and rough against his hands.
"Don't scratch at it!" Brennan chided. For someone so unfamiliar, the idiosyncrasies were frighteningly habitual.
Booth eyes narrowed as he stood suddenly, glancing at the door. "I think I'll head home now."
"Seeley," Cam started, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The doctor said you should spend as much time as you can around these surroundings, to get back into the swing of things."
"Yeah, well," he lowered his voice so that only she could hear, "I kind of feel like I'm in a zoo right now."
He gestured to the others who were staring at him unabashedly, and Cam nodded sympathetically. "All right, let me get my car keys, I'll take you."
It hurt Brennan that Booth would not be asking her for a ride to his apartment, but she knew he had bigger problems, and being chaperoned like a child was one of them. For a man who valued his independence, his inability to get behind the wheel for the next two weeks had been a major annoyance.
As everyone reluctantly headed back to their stations, Booth and Brennan slowly went down the stairs and towards the forensic platform.
"This is a nice place," Booth observed idly, rocking back on his heels.
Brennan nodded, reflecting on the scene around her as the scientists bustled around in that ever-present frenzy to find the empirical truths of the world. "Yes. Though you would never admit it. You always thought it was too prescribed for you."
Booth arched a brow. "Prescribed?"
"Yes," Brennan said simply. "Too…purposeful and needlessly orderly. Though I never understood it. You need a degree of basic cleanliness when working forensic evidence."
To that, Booth's brows furrowed. "I really did work a lot with you, Dr. Brennan, didn't I?"
The use of her formal title and name was a blow, but she managed to shake it off. "Yes, Booth."
He nodded as he tried to soak in the sights and sounds of the lab, and she watched him with keen interest, hoping for a spark of something, anything.
"Dr. Brennan," Cam said, her heels clicking against the tiled floor as she came up behind them. "Could you take Booth back? Michelle took a bad fall during soccer practice, I need to get her from the hospital. They think she might have fractured something."
Brennan looked to Booth for approval and he nodded, but not without hesitation. Cam gave her thanks, rushing out past them in a flurry, her face wrought with a worry that only a new mother could have.
Their walk to the parking garage was uncharacteristically silent until Booth whistled appreciatively. "Nice ride."
Brennan shrugged, opening the Mercedes doors. "Thank you."
He climbed in, folding his tall frame into the coupe. "But not too practical on the inside."
"You never failed to remind me of that," she replied. She hoped that these constant reminders of their conversations, their dynamic, would be the baby steps towards his recovery, but they only seemed to make her feel more miserable.
To that, Booth sighed as he slid the seat back to give himself more room. "I've lost so much," he sighed, sounding understandably downtrodden.
"Yes," she agreed, and she hesitantly put a steady hand on his forearm. "You'll get through this, Booth. You're the strongest person I know."
He met her gaze, swallowing hard, and for the first time since his awakening, he seemed to find some truth and comfort in her words. The moment was broken as she removed her hand, realizing it had been lingering far too long.
They neared his apartment, and Booth piped up again. "Cam says you were in the hospital the whole time."
She turned to him, unsure of how to answer. "Well, that's partially true. I slept at home."
She slowed down the car as they drove down the streets which were still slick with rain from the night before.
"Surgery, coma, recovery," he stated, the intrigue in his voice mirrored by his expression. "That's almost an entire week."
The car rolled to the stop and she shifted in her seat, facing him. "Any of us would have done that for you."
"But you did," he reminded her, and she knew that Booth had come to a realization, one that usually transcended her comprehension. But she was perfectly aware that he finally understood the closeness of their relationship.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"And Booth? This whole thing…" she began hesitantly, "it's like I've lost something too."
"I hope we find it again," he whispered sincerely, before exiting the car.
Brennan gripped her steering wheel as he walked away, feeling heartbroken, a sentiment her old Booth would have known how to chase away.
--
TBC
