"BOOTH!"
He wakes with a start and claps his hands over his ears. "Jeez, Bones, you got it in for my eardrums? What's with the yelling?"
"I'm sorry," she replies a little sheepishly, "but you proved rather difficult to rouse. Did you have a rough day?"
He opens his mouth to launch into a tirade about his boss and his subordinates getting on his nerves all day long, but something is holding him back. Bones cocks her head to the side and gives him an expectant look; she's sitting in her usual spot on the armrest of his recliner and absent-mindedly rubs her huge baby belly with the hand that isn't currently wrapped around his neck. Everything seems perfectly normal, but…
Seventy-three days.
The memories come back in a rush, and Booth freezes as he begins to grasp the implications. Something is terribly wrong here – he woke up in a hospital bed just a few minutes ago, so why is he back in a moment that's three months in the past? Is he dreaming, or – the thought sends a sudden, desperate surge of hope through him – was he dreaming before, was that nightmarish scene at the hospital just that: another nightmare?
"Booth?" She seems puzzled by his prolonged silence, and for a second, Booth is tempted to just go with the flow, to tell her about his shitty day and pretend that everything else is okay. Then he thinks of her haunted expression and of the shadows under her eyes, and he knows that he can't take the easy way out if there's a chance she's really sitting by his bedside right now and waiting for him to come back to her.
Ignoring her question, he closes his eyes and concentrates. Forget what you're seeing, what's going on around you; focus on nothing but yourself, and when you open your eyes again the dream will be over.
"Booth?" Her voice sounds different now, soft and careful – and utterly exhausted. It's that tone that makes him certain what he's going to see before he even opens his eyes. His eyelids obey him without too much resistance this time, and sure enough, there she is, perched uncomfortably on the edge of his hospital bed, his hand still clutched in hers.
Not a nightmare, then.
Booth finds that he can't muster any real disappointment; deep down he already knew things were going to turn out that way. He feels a little more awake than the first time he woke up here; his head still feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool, and his tongue like a dry piece of leather in his mouth, but he can hear the beeping and whirring of instruments in the background, the hum of the air conditioning and the low chatter of the TV on the wall.
Bones leans in further, filling his entire field of vision. "Can you hear me?"
He squeezes her hand and even manages a tiny nod, and the smile that spreads over her face lights up her tired, careworn features like the sun breaking through the clouds. Booth allows himself to bask in her smile for a moment; as longs as Bones is smiling at him that way, he can believe that everything will eventually be okay again.
Then he remembers the question he asked her earlier.
Bones frowns when she sees him trying to wet his lips with his tongue, which doesn't really work because his whole mouth feels parched. A moment later she's holding something that looks like an oversized Q-tip against his lips, and Booth feels a few soothing drops of water trickle into his mouth. "I'm sorry I can't give you any ice chips," she says, "the doctors aren't sure of your ability to swallow yet, and we can't risk you choking on anything. Is this better?"
Booth nods again and opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn't give him the chance. "Your neurologist asked me to call her as soon as you were fully lucid; we need to assess how much –"
"Bones." Speaking still hurts like hell, and she falls silent immediately when she sees how much effort it costs him to make himself heard. "What about… the baby?"
She turns even paler than before, and he notices with sudden dread that her eyes are filling with tears. She leans in until her forehead is pressed against his, and her voice is brittle and rough when she whispers, "I couldn't – I'm sorry, Booth, I'm so sorry."
Booth's mind goes strangely blank; he stares at her with utter incomprehension, waiting for her to clarify, to explain what she could possibly mean by that. She remains silent, though, and before he can ask a question, Bones sits up straight and turns away from him at the sound of the door opening.
"Dr. Brennan, any changes?"
"Yes; he just regained consciousness." She sounds completely different; this is her at her most detached and clinical, and Booth finds it both disturbing and strangely comforting in its familiarity.
Then a dark-haired woman in a white lab coat steps into the room, and he doesn't know what to think any more.
"Mr. Booth, it's good to see that you're awake." She smiles at him, but Booth just keeps staring; it's too much, everything is too much, and he suddenly wonders if –
"My name is Dr. Catherine Bryar; I'm your neurologist, and I'd like to ask you a couple of questions. Do you feel up to that?"
Booth nods automatically, his mind still reeling; he has no idea what's going on here, and if it weren't for the warmth of Bones' hand in his, he would probably start believing that this is another nightmare after all.
The doctor checks her clipboard, then briskly turns back to him. "If you find it too difficult to speak, you can answer non-verbally. Do you know your name?"
Booth nods and, feeling Bones' eyes on him, manages to get out a hoarse, "Booth, Seeley Joseph." He stops himself just in time before adding his rank, then asks himself what on earth got into him. He isn't in the Army any more, after all – it feels like forever since he came back from Afghanistan.
"Your date of birth?"
"November 12, 1971." Bones is back with the wet Q-tip, and it helps a little, but Booth begins to wish they'd just let him have a sip of water.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Hospital." He's tempted to add a duh, but it doesn't seem worth the effort.
"What is your occupation?"
"FBI agent."
He keeps his eyes on Bones, and it's obvious that she's relaxing a little more with every correct answer. Then the doctor asks, "Are you married?", and Booth can't resist squeezing Bones' hand and giving her what he hopes is recognizable as a smile while he shakes his head. He remembers her affronted expression when he told her that one day she was going to propose to him, and he hopes the little nudge will make her think of it too – but she just tenses again, leaving Booth even more bewildered than before.
The doctor (he can't bring himself to call her Dr. Bryar in his head – there's just no way this is really Catherine) makes a note on her clipboard, then asks, "What is your son's name?"
"Parker". Oh God, Parker – it didn't even occur to him until now what his boy must have gone through during the past weeks, but Bones understands him before he has to say anything.
"I called Rebecca right after you first woke up, Booth. Parker knows you're getting better, and if you'd like to see him, I'm sure it won't be a problem."
"Not at all," the doctor confirms, and Booth notices the look of understanding that passes between her and Bones even though he doesn't know how to interpret it. "How old is your son, Mr. Booth?"
The question sounds more conversational than clinical, and Booth hesitates for a moment as he tries in vain to work out today's date. He didn't miss Parker's birthday while he was out, did he? But if he didn't, that means… "Ten."
Bones and the doctor share another look, and Bones squeezes his hand more tightly when she says, "Don't you think that's enough for now, Dr. Bryar?"
"Yes, it probably is." She lowers her clipboard and turns to face Booth again. "Mr. Booth, I'd like to remove your feeding tube now; I assume it's rather uncomfortable for you."
"Isn't it too soon for that?" Bones sounds worried. "You don't know yet whether he'll be able to eat…"
"The patient is conscious and responsive, Dr. Brennan, and there should be no physiological reasons for him not to be able to swallow. He'll receive additional parenteral nutrition in the beginning, but the sooner he starts eating on his own, the better, and the nasal tube will get in the way once he becomes more mobile."
It begins to dawn on Booth that she's talking about whatever is sticking to the right side of his face; he didn't really pay attention to it until now, but it is rather irritating. It's hardly important right now, though; he just wants the doctor to finally leave them alone so he can ask Bones what she meant about their baby –
Then the door opens again, and Booth draws in a sharp breath that stings all the way down to his lungs at the sight of the blonde woman who enters the room. Bones notices his reaction and places a soothing hand on his arm, but Booth barely notices it.
"It's okay, Booth, the nurse is just going to help Dr. Bryar remove –"
"No!" He barely feels the pain in his throat at the exclamation; his eyes remain fixed on Hannah Burley, who has stopped in her tracks and seems uncertain what to make of his reaction. The faint beeping of the monitor behind his bed is picking up speed, and Bones' fingers are digging into his flesh as she tries to calm him down, but he doesn't hear what she's saying. He's been doing his best to play along so far, but this is impossible, this is utterly, ridiculously wrong, and whatever strange hallucination he's caught in, he needs it to be over before he goes crazy.
Booth squeezes his eyes shut and wills his mind far away, back to the place where he belongs, where things make sense and everyone is who they really are. He can feel the darkness creeping in once more, and this time he welcomes it because he knows it's going to take him back home to his own life.
The next thing he's aware of is someone poking him, none too gently, in the shoulder, and he has never opened his eyes to a more beautiful sight than the heavily pregnant anthropologist who's glaring daggers at him.
"I know that most aspects of my work aren't interesting to you, but you usually don't fall asleep while I'm trying to tell you about my day." She sounds hurt, but Booth isn't really paying attention; he gingerly places a hand on her belly, and he can finally breathe freely again when he feels his daughter kicking against his palm.
"I'm sorry, I – I guess I didn't sleep too well last night."
"Did you have another nightmare?" She sounds more curious than concerned, and Booth is determined to keep it that way if he can.
"Just a couple of strange dreams, nothing to worry about." She clearly has more questions, but he doesn't need the third degree right now. "Bones, is everything okay with the baby?"
"Of course it is." She gives him that look he has come to know and fear – the one that tells him she's onto something. "I would inform you if I suspected that anything might be wrong with her."
"I know, Bones, I just – I guess it has just been a weird day. Can we please leave it at that?" He realizes that he sounds a little too desperate, but thankfully she doesn't pick up on it and decides to let him off the hook.
"We should probably go to bed early; you're clearly exhausted, and I'm quite tired myself. Have you eaten?"
Booth can't for the life of him remember if he's had anything for dinner, but since he isn't hungry, he just nods. "You?"
"Angela made me eat a lunch that contained enough calories for the next two days." Bones makes a face. "Sometimes I wonder whether you bribed her to stuff me with food when you're not around to do it."
Booth smiles faintly. "I guess she's just reliving her own pregnancy with you – do you remember how she put away a family-sized pizza for an afternoon snack?"
"I remember her complaining about heartburn for days afterwards." She gets up with some difficulty and holds out her hand towards him. "Can we go to bed now?"
As much as he'd love to accept the invitation, the idea of falling asleep fills him with a vague sense of dread.
"Aw, come on, Bones, it's way too early, and we've barely used our shiny new TV so far – I'll even watch one of your documentaries with you!"
Unfortunately, Bones has built up a tolerance to his puppy-eyed charm smile by now. "I don't want us to fall asleep on the couch, Booth – it's bad for your back, and sleeping in a half-upright position is very uncomfortable both for me and for the baby."
"Fine, you win." With a sigh, Booth gives in, and even though he dawdles in the bathroom and insists on reading for a while once they're in bed, he finally can't put off the moment when Bones switches off the light and declares that she really wants to sleep now. He pulls her close until her back is flush against his chest and drapes an arm around her belly; he can only hope that the reassuring feeling of their daughter lazily moving under his hand will be enough to keep the nightmares at bay.
.
A/N: Since there's no canon information on Booth's date of birth, I went with the air date of "Con Man in the Meth Lab", the episode that ends with Booth celebrating his birthday.
