Thanks for the reviews and follows. I appreciate them very much.

I don't own Bones.

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Entering her partner's apartment, Brennan noticed that Booth kept glancing back at her as they walked down the short hallway to the living room. Walking over to where the TV was, Booth stopped and turned to face Brennan.

Not sure why she was there, Booth folded his arms across his chest and asked her, "What can I do for you Dr. Brennan?"

A little sad that Booth still didn't seem to remember their partnership, Brennan reminded him, "You normally call me Bones."

Shaking his head, Booth was sure that was wrong. "As I recall the only time I tried to call you Bones, you told me not to."

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan responded, "Yes, but once we started working together again after our first case you ignored my wishes and called me Bones anyway. I have grown to like the nickname. You are the only one I've ever known who actually made up a nickname for me . . . well besides my father. He called me Tempe."

Booth tried to continue to be polite, but it confused him that she was in his apartment talking to him. Glancing over at his grandfather who was standing in the kitchen doorway, Booth realized that his grandfather had no intention of leaving Booth alone with Brennan. Resigned to having an audience to his confusion, he looked back at Brennan and asked her, "What can I do for you?"

Cautiously, Brennan pointed at the couch. "May I sit down?"

His manners forced him to continue to be polite. "If you want to."

Sitting down, Brennan pointed to the recliner next to the couch. "I'd like to talk to you if I may."

Booth walked over to the recliner and sat down, hoping it would be a short conversation. Staring at the coffee table, Booth waited for her to say something.

Seeing that Booth wasn't going to make it easy for her, Brennan cleared her throat. "First, I wish to apologize for leaving you alone when you first woke up in the hospital. I was . . . I was disconcerted when you appeared not to remember that I'm your partner and your friend."

Booth realized that his silence was not helping the situation. "Yeah, sure. I probably would have done the same thing if it had been me hearing that someone I knew didn't really know me."

Relieved that he seemed to understand the situation she was in Brennan smiled. "Thank you . . . I came here because I want you to know who I am."

Puzzled, Booth turned his gaze towards Brennan. "I know who you are."

Shaking her head, Brennan replied, "You know I am Dr. Temperance Brennan. You don't seem to remember we have a relationship. I want you to understand that you are my best friend and my partner."

Slowly shaking his head, Booth tried to comprehend what she was saying. "How is that possible? After the Gemma Arrington case you told me that you hated me. You said you never wanted to work with me again. How did I turn into your best friend? I don't understand."

A little nervous, Brennan placed her purse on the coffee table. "Maybe if I tell you a little of our history together it may help you understand our relationship."

Rubbing the end of his nose, Booth leaned forward, eager to hear an explanation. "Okay, go ahead."

Happy that Booth was willing to listen to her, Brennan began, "You arranged to rescue me from Homeland Security several months after our first case together. You arranged to have me arrested at the airport when I flew back into the country and then you came in and rescued me from that arrest. I knew what you did and why, but I decided that the case you were working on was very interesting so I agreed to work with you . . . I should tell you that, when I agreed to worked with you I blackmailed you to force you take me into the field with you. You wanted me as a partner and I wanted to be able to observe and help you in the field. You agreed to let me do that because it was the only way I would work with you. We solved our second case fairly quickly."

A little shocked that he would have allowed her to black mail him, Booth protested, "Didn't I object to you blackmailing me? I mean blackmailing a Federal Agent is a crime you know."

Amused with his reaction, Brennan laughed. "Of course you did, but you really didn't have a choice, so you accepted it. You mentioned something about Mulder and Scully. I didn't know who they were so I looked them up . . . they are characters from . . ."

Holding up his right hand, Booth smiled. "Yeah, I know who Mulder and Scully are, thanks."

His smile the first one she'd seen since his operation, Brennan smiled in return. "Our first few cases were very interesting. We stopped a terrorist from killing a lot of very important people. We discovered that a boy that had apparently hung himself was really murdered. We arrested a cannibal in Washington State after he killed two people. . ."

Scrunching his nose in disgust, Booth exclaimed, "A cannibal?"

Now that was the Booth she was used to. "Yes, you don't like cannibals."

Snorting, Booth replied rather sarcastically, "No shit."

Amused, Brennan continued, "Our next case was very interesting. Angela and I discovered a mummy in a wall in a nightclub and it turned out that the man had been murdered by the nightclub owner."

"You're kidding me. A real mummy?"

Excited at the memory, Brennan assured him, "Yes, it was my first modern mummy. It only took us a few days to discover the murderer. You are very good at your job. I am also at the top of my field and we are very successful partners."

Booth tapped his fingers on his right hand against his leg and sighed. "Cam brought me some of the cases we worked on while I was in the hospital, but I really didn't read them or listen to her. I was a little out of it at the time. I don't remember these cases you're talking about."

Brennan understood that he had no memories of their adventured and continued. "Our next case involved, Howard Epps, he was . . ."

Putting up his right hand Booth interrupted her, "Wait I know who Howard Epps is. I arrested him for murder and he was put on death row. I Googled him yesterday and I found out that he was tied to some other murders and then later he escaped and I was involved in his death, but the article was kind of vague about how Epps died. I thought maybe I killed him."

Slowly shaking her head, Brennan explained that case. "It wasn't as simple as you make it seem. Howard Epps manipulated us and the system in such a way that we found out there were more murder victims tied to him, so his death sentence was delayed until we could prove whether or not he really killed the victims we found later near a marsh. When he had the opportunity, he escaped from prison by murdering a fireman and walked out of the prison pretending to be that fireman. He then murdered his wife . . ."

Now he really was confused. "Wait, wife? . . . Howard Epps wasn't married."

Brennan tapped her hands against her knees and tried to be patient. "Epps married someone while he was in prison. When he escaped, he killed her and he also tried to kill Cam. . ."

Horrifed at that news, Booth leaned forward, afraid for his longtime friend. "Wait, Cam? He tried to kill Cam? . . . But she's okay, she visited me in the hospital. He . . . he didn't hurt her did he?"

Brennan knew that Booth and Cam had a past and understood his horror. "He did hurt her, but she's fine now . . . then he tried to kill me. He broke into my apartment, but I was waiting for him with a gun because I had realized that he had manipulated events to get to me. You came to the same realization and arrived at my apartment shortly after I confronted him. He didn't want to go back to prison, so he jumped off of the balcony of my apartment. You tried to save him by grabbing his arm, but Epps refused to help you save him and he dropped to his death."

Staring at Brennan, Booth shook his head, afraid to ask her the next question. "I . . . I dropped him? Did I do that on purpose? Did I kill him?"

Surprised that he would ask her a question like that, Breannan shook her head. "No of course not. You couldn't hold on to him forever, Booth. You were holding onto him with one hand and eventually his weight pulled him from your grip and he fell. It wasn't your fault."

Rubbing the back of his head, Booth licked his lips. "Uh, look, I appreciate you coming to see me and I really would like to talk to you again, but could we call it a day. I think I'm getting a headache."

Concerned for him, Brennan reached out and placed her hand on Booth's knee. "Booth, Epps' death was not your fault. He committed suicide. You tried to save him, but you couldn't."

Booth hoped that was what had happened, but he needed to think about it. He stood up. "Maybe you could come back tomorrow. Thanks."

Standing, Brennan picked up her purse from the coffee table. "Of course. I'll come by tomorrow around 1 p.m. . . . if that's all right."

Not looking at Brennan, Booth agreed, "Yeah, sure."

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Booth had difficulty sleeping that night. Howard Epps' death kept running through his mind. Finally, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he succumbed to sleep.

They were sitting in a ball park. He'd finally talked Brennan into going to a baseball game with him. After explaining the positions in the field and the function of each player, Booth turned his attention to his team as they took to the field.

Eager to learn this game, Brennan stated what she knew so far. "So the purpose of this game is for one team to keep the opposing team from scoring while scoring as many points as they can."

His eyes on the pitcher as he warmed up, Booth corrected her, "They're called runs, but yeah, you got it. The pitcher also wants to keep the hitter from reaching first base. If he can get through nine innings and not allow a man to get to first base and his team scores at least one run, then the pitcher will have a perfect game. It's also called a no-hitter."

Staring at the pitcher, Brennan judged the man to be very lean, but well developed. "What happens if both pitchers are very good and have no-hitters?"

His gaze moving around the field, Booth shrugged his shoulders. "They keep playing until a hitter scores at least one run. It they have to go past nine innings then they will. It's called a pitcher's duel."

Sighing, Brennan replied, "I hope they do not have a pitcher's duel today. I wanted to go back to the Jeffersonian this evening. The mummy from the Xinjiang province in China is supposed to arrive later this afternoon. The mummy is purported to be about 4,000 years old . . . "

Zoning out, Booth stared at his partner with amusement as he watched her talking animatedly about the mummy. "God she really loves that stuff."

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Waking up, Booth reached for the notebook beside his bed and started writing down everything he could remember about his dream. So far, he'd had a few dreams that seemed very real to him. If these were real memories then he needed someone to tell him what they meant. He planned to talk to Brennan about them. He hoped that she could work up a time line for him. His dreams were telling him that his memories weren't gone. He just needed a way to make them come back. He hoped it wasn't going to be one dream at a time.

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So what do you think. As you can see not all of his dreams were things we saw on the show. I hope they feel like something that would have happened on the show if they had more time to do so.