AN: Special thanks to EmmyMayyy! You are totally calming a serious case of the jitters!

The Moments in the Memories

Chapter Seven

"Greetings from the Hoover." Lance Sweets entered the room with a forced spring in his step. "All the guys send their best wishes. As usual."

The FBI was almost as eager as her friends to have Dr. Brennan regain consciousness. The percentage of unsolved murder cases had increased ten-fold since the good doctor had been shot and her crack agent husband had taken an indefinite leave of absence.

"Hey, Sweets. I thought Angela was coming this morning," Booth replied. He had woken up thirty minutes ago and was eager to get home in time to feed breakfast to his sweet baby girl.

"She asked to swap shifts. Something about a doctor's appointment?"

"Mmmm," Booth murmured his understanding.

Sweets sensed there was more to the story, but refrained from asking. He pointed to the bed. "Anything special going on, anything I need to know?" he asked.

Booth draped his jacket over his arm. "She's holding her own. Just make sure to call me if-"

" –anything happens. I know." Lance turned his back to give the couple some privacy as Booth said goodbye to his wife. His ears still managed to pick up the tender words of love and devotion that Booth recited, without fail, every time he left the room.

"So…Dr. Brennan…" Sweets always felt a little uncomfortable in the hospital. Traumatic visits to the emergency room as a boy had left him with a lingering sense of vulnerability. Not even Angela's recent spate of decorating helped the psychologist deal with the emotions evoked by the medicinal atmosphere. These feelings were usually acknowledged and set aside when, in the course of his work, he was obligated to treat a hospitalized patient. But here, when he was just visiting, there was no one to distract him and alleviate his discomfort.

But despite his particular difficulties, Lance Sweets visited Dr. Brennan as regularly as her co-workers did. That's what people who cared about other people did. Besides, it gave him a chance to explain his analyses of her and Booth's behaviors without her constantly interrupting him. Given her otherwise regrettable condition, she wasn't able to insult his profession as pseudo-science even a single time!

Sweets peeled off his jacket and settled into one of the standard blue chairs. "I know you're going to wake up, Dr. Brennan," he declared confidently.

Unsurprisingly, the comatose woman did not respond.

"How? Because I know you. I know how that brilliant mind of yours operates."

Silence.

"What's that? I can't possibly understand the brain of someone with an IQ so much higher than my own?" Lance paused to consider the challenge. "Well how do you know my IQ is lower?"

The heart monitor beeped.

"Maybe my IQ is just as high as yours. What do you think about that?"

The blood pressure cuff inflated.

"Okay. It's not as high as yours," he conceded. "But it's pretty high!" Sweets was so involved in the discussion; surely he could be forgiven for not noticing the dancing movement under her eyelids.

"High enough to know that you would never leave your family. High enough to know you would fight to the ends of the earth to keep them feeling happy and safe and loved," he argued.

Lance Sweets loved spring. It was a time when everything around him was waking up. He just loved the feeling of new beginnings. Rising from the chair, he moved to look out at the budding leaves that covered the trees outside the window. A sliver of green-blue tracked his movements, but by the time he turned around to resume his argument, it had retreated beneath its cover.

"Where was I? Oh yeah- the ends of the earth." He sniffed. "Metaphorically, I mean. I know you can't really go to the ends of the earth because the Earth is round. Well, a sphere. Okay, an oblate spheroid!"

Sweets leaned forward and peered into Brennan's unmoving face. "The point is- you would do anything for your family. Anything for the people you love. I know you would," he said definitively. "How do I know? Because you've done something much more significant than waking up from a little coma. Something that, for you, was much harder than all of this." He waved his arms around to indicate this as the whole hospital room then pointed directly at her.

"You've sacrificed your most sacred principle for them."

He retook his seat and leaned back to present his case. "You think I don't remember?" he asked. "Well, I do. Let us think back, shall we?"


"Perhaps we should get started." The FBI psychologist consulted his clock.

"Not yet." Booth stubbornly kept his arms crossed over his chest.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan will get here when she gets here. In the meantime, I suggest we waste no more of our session."

"Stuff it, Sweets," he growled.

If Dr. Lance Sweets took offense every time Dr. Brennan or her partner insulted him, he'd never get anything accomplished. "Perhaps I should remind you, Agent Booth, that the FBI has mandated continued therapy as a stipulation of allowing you and Dr. Brennan to continue as professional partners while pursuing a romantic relationship."

Booth sat back against the couch grumpily, reluctantly conceding the point. He didn't, however, volunteer to start the discussion.

"Agent Booth?" Sweets prompted.

"What do you want to know, Sweets?"

"Something is obviously bothering you. Last week you and Dr. Brennan were smiling and happy. This week- you're here, she's late, and your mood has significantly altered," Sweets said calmly.

"It's not affecting my work, so I don't see why I have to talk to you about it, okay?" Booth huffed in reply. He really didn't see the point. What happened between him and Bones was private.

"I disagree. I think something has happened between you and Dr. Brennan and, if nothing else, it has severely affected your focus."

"Sweets-" Booth started in protest.

The doctor sat forward and met Booth's angry stare with a determined one of his own. "Would you prefer I suspend your partnership?"

Booth narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed with the threat. "I'd like to see you try," he muttered.

The psychologist refused to yield.

"Fine! You know what? Why shouldn't I talk to you?" Booth snapped. "It's not like she's here to protest."

"So something has happened?" Sweets began to scratch on a notepad.

Booth took a deep breath and shook his head. "Not exactly…"

"Then what, exactly?"

Booth finally uncrossed his arms and shifted in his seat, signaling his surrender. "Do you know how many times Bones has told me that she doesn't want to get married?"

"Several, from the sound of it." Sweets wasn't surprised.

"At least once a day," Booth bit out. "I've told her that I know. I've reassured her that I won't push. But she keeps telling me. Every. Damn. Day."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"God, Sweets! How the hell do you think it makes me feel?" Booth brought his hands up to massage his temples. "She floats all these crap reasons-'marriage is an obsolete institution,'" he imitated in a high-pitched whine. Taking a breathe, he continued in a normal voice, "Which would be fine, except that it has nothing to do with what she actually feels."

"And what do you think she actually feels?" Sweets asked, pen flying across the paper.

"She's scared out of her mind. When we got together, I thought all this bull was behind us. I thought she finally trusted me!"

"And you think her rejection of marriage is an indication that she doesn't trust you?"

"Yes. No!" Booth paused to gather his thoughts. "No," he stated definitively. "That in and of itself is not an issue. I knew when I signed on for a relationship with Bones that we were probably never going to get married. I accepted that."

"Then what is the issue?"

"I haven't even brought up marriage. Not once," Booth said defensively. "It's that she's bringing it up preemptively. Making sure that I know she doesn't believe we're going to last. That's what gets under my skin, you know?"

"What, precisely?" Sweets was trying to keep his words to a minimum. Agent Booth was on a roll.

Booth jumped up from the couch and began to pace. "You know what Bones values more than anything? What her defining characteristic is?"

Sweets had no doubt that with his excellent people-reading skills Agent Booth knew exactly what it was.

"Evidence," Booth bit out. "Collect the evidence. Then make conclusions. Bones won't take a leap of faith."

"And you need her to take one?"

Booth flopped back on to the couch. "Yeah, Sweets, I do." He looked to the psychologist for support. "I can't present evidence that we're going to succeed as a couple. There is no evidence; there can't be until it actually happens!" Booth leaned forward, desperate for understanding. "I need Bones to believe in me. To believe in us. On faith."

"That's going to be extraordinarily difficult for her, Agent Booth."

"I know." Booth's shoulders slumped as the fight drained out of him. "Hey, a guy can always hope, right?" he asked pathetically.

"Yes," Sweets replied supportively. "You can always hope. But might I suggest you talk to her about it. See what she says."

Booth shook his head in defeat. "I tried. Last night…we got into a huge fight." He barked out a bittersweet laugh. "And now she won't even show up for therapy."

"Agent Booth, I'm going to counsel patience. On your part and on hers." Sweets hoped the agent was listening, as he knew this was solid advice. "In any relationship, it's totally natural to face obstacles, especially when two people are as different as you and Dr. Brennan. This is just your first really big obstacle."

Booth looked at him disdainfully. "Thanks, kid. I really needed a twelve year old to tell me that."

Okay, that one needed to be addressed. He was a doctor, not a kid. "Special Agent Booth, I feel that when you refer to me as-"

Brennan burst into the office without knocking, interrupting whatever Sweets had been about to say. The doctor invited her to sit down, but she refused. On closer inspection, she was perspiring quite heavily and her limbs were trembling.

"Dr. Brennan, are you all right?" Sweets asked gently.

She nervously avoided Booth's gaze. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had another appointment."

Booth reached out a hand to her arm, and she gasped at his touch. "Bones, honey, are you all right? You're shaking." Any possibility of being annoyed with her tardiness was wiped out by concern.

"I'm okay," she lied, her voice as tremulous as her knees.

"Dr. Brennan, please sit down." Sweets stood up and attempted to guide her on to the couch, but she deftly avoided him. Without another word, she took a set of keys out of her purse and plunked them down on the small glass table.

"Dr. Brennan?" Sweets questioned.

"Bones, honey?"

"I bought a house," she blurted.

"Whoa!" Sweets fell back into his chair.

"A house?" Booth asked, blinking in confusion.

She finally met Booth's eyes. "Yes." Her voice still shook. "For us."

Booth's demeanor immediately softened. "For us?" he asked incredulously as Sweets faded into the background.

Brennan managed a deep breath and finally sat down. "You said that I didn't have faith in us. That I wouldn't do anything without evidence first."

"Bones- I didn't mean that you had to go buy a house," Booth said in a strangled voice.

"You were right," she admitted simply. "I do want evidence. Evidence first and then conclusions. That's who I am."

"But you bought us a house?" Booth was still struggling to wrap his mind around it.

"I want to be certain about things, Booth. I want the facts." She was clearly holding back tears, but she couldn't control the nervous bounce of her knee. "However, there is one thing that I want more."

"What's that?" he questioned softly.

"I want you."

Booth pulled her body flush against his and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He understood how very difficult it had been for her to say that. She was so courageous.

"I want you more than I want anything," she sobbed. "Even more than I want evidence."

"Dr. Brennan, this constitutes a significant break-through for you! I think we should talk about-"

"Get out, Sweets," Booth ordered.

"Agent Booth-"

"Out!"

Sweets grumbled to himself all the way to the door where he stopped and took one last look behind him. They were still cinched together in an embrace, Booth's head buried in her hair. Sweets nodded with a satisfied smile. They were going to be just fine.


"Hey, I'm back." Booth walked through the door and promptly crossed to his wife. He greeted her with a tender kiss to her forehead before turning back to the young psychologist. "Thanks for the break."

"Yeah; no problem. Happy to help, like always." Sweets poked his arms into his lime-green jacket and headed for the door. Just as he crossed the threshold, he turned on his heel and reentered the room.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, digging into his pants pocket. "Daisy wanted you to have this." He held out a dark blue jeweler's box. "She bought it one summer on an anthropological trip to Rome. She doesn't use it of course, but she thought it was pretty."

Booth looked at Sweets quizzically as he tried to anticipate what kind of jewelry the eccentric Ms. Wick had decided to gift him. He took the box and slowly opened the lid. A rosary was nestled in the velvet interior, its elaborate crucifix shot through with gold. He lifted the prayer beads from the box with gentle reverence and looked at Sweets, genuinely touched.

"According to the placard, it was blessed with holy water by Cardinal Aloysius Donahue on Easter Sunday, in the year 1999." Sweets moved next to Booth and directed his attention to the interior of the lid. It held a small card detailing the rosary's history.

Booth kept the rosary in hand, but shifted to place the box on the window's ledge. The bright sunlight glinted off a delicate chain that held what looked to be authentic pearl beads. He returned to Sweet's side and softly clasped his shoulder with an open palm. "It's beautiful. I really don't know what else to say." He removed his hand from the younger man's slight frame and held it out. "Please thank Daisy for me. This means… a lot," he said warmly.

Sweets smiled at the man who was his role model and shook the proffered hand. "I'll tell Daisy you liked it." He hooked a thumb in the direction of the door. "I'm supposed to meet her for lunch, so I'd better..."

"Go. Go-" Booth propelled the young man toward the door. "Don't be late."

Sweets stumbled under the bigger man's push and let out a self-deprecating laugh. He stopped briefly. "Agent Booth?"

"Yeah, Sweets?"

"Don't give up on her, okay?" He gestured to the small form in the bed. "She'll come through. Just keep the faith."

Booth blinked hard and nodded. "Yeah. I will." He pointed to the door. "Now get out of here," he ordered with a smile.

Booth softly closed the door before returning to his wife's bedside. Lowering himself into the chair, he settled one of her hands in his left. He clasped the rosary in his right hand and raised the crucifix to his forehead, his chest, his left shoulder and then his right. He proceeded to recite the prayers that had been drummed into him from the earliest days of his childhood. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth…


Booth spotted it out of the corner of his eye during one of the final prayers. A tiny flicker.

He held his breath. Another flicker, stronger than the first.

His heart stopped. Then began to race at superhuman speed.

There it was again! Just the slightest movement of her eyelid. Booth jumped to his feet, sending his chair clattering back across the floor. Without taking his eyes off his wife, he managed to gently set the rosary down on the side table. He tightened his grip on her fragile hand and leaned forward to caress her face.

"Bones…Honey, can you hear me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her lashes fluttered in response.

"Hey! Hey, somebody get in here!" he shouted as he reached for the call button. "I need somebody in here!"

The nurse on duty burst through the door. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Booth gestured wildly at the bed. "She's waking up! I swear her eyes are opening!"

The nurse hustled to the patient to confirm it with her own eyes.

"There it is! Did you see it?" he demanded.

"Mr. Booth! Please! You need to keep your voice down!" The nurse pulled out her hospital-sanctioned mobile device and used it to page the doctor.

Booth clamped his mouth shut and returned his attention to Brennan's eyes. With excruciating slowness, first one lid then the other cracked open. Other than his children, those two pools of green-blue were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire life.

"Bones? Honey, I'm here. I'm right here!" he reassured her frantically as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I love you! I'm right here with you!"

Within minutes, the room was filled to capacity by nurses and doctors of all disciplines. Booth was forced against a wall, wrestled away from the bed by a nurse of impressive size. "We need you to stay out of our way," he intoned in a deep voice. "The best thing you can do for your wife right now is to let us do our jobs."

The patient's husband nodded at the hulking young man and leaned back in uncharacteristic submission. Booth would chain himself to the damn wall if that's what was best. He would do whatever was necessary to help his partner, his lover, his wife… Of course, there was little he could do to calm the jump and twitch of his muscles; the adrenaline was pumping through his veins faster than a Zdeno Chára slap shot hurtled toward the net.

Booth quietly watched the doctors perform a variety of tests he knew were designed to evaluate the patient's response to stimuli. Brennan's heart rate increased markedly when a doctor jabbed a sharp instrument against her big toe. The doctor repeated the test, and her heart rate jumped again. Booth winced in sympathy, but internally rejoiced. He hadn't imagined it. If she was registering and responding to pain, then she really was awake!

Booth clasped his folded hands in front of his mouth. Taking huge gulping gasps of air, he rocked himself to and fro, the wall a steady support at his back. He clenched his eyes shut and once again began to pray, his heart overflowing with joyful thanks.


AN: Thanks for reading! Please review! Just one more chapter and an epilogue to go…