Author's Note: I planned on having this up before Thanksgiving, but college work as well as holiday things kind of interfered. Anyway, I hope that it lives up to your expectations and that you enjoy. This chapter focuses a bit more on the Booth side of things I know, but the next one will be more of Brennan, so I hope that you don't mind.
Reviews are appreciated obviously, so if you have the time I'd be very happy. Thank you!
Her legs felt shaky as she swung them over the side of the bed. She saw Booth instinctively moving to her side and she held an arm out to stop him. "I have to do this."
The jovial feeling he had just moments before was slowly dissipating and Booth felt like he had somehow missed something in the few minutes since stepping into the room. "Where are you going?"
Brennan tried her best to keep a brave face. Her hands were braced against the mattress and she slowly slid herself off of the hospital bed. The tile floor was cold against her feet. She started moving, but felt discouraged the second she felt her steps begin to falter. "Could you just-" Brennan sighed, wishing she could do it on her own. "Could you help me walk to the window?"
"Of course." Booth replied, setting the bag with their bagels on the bed. He reached for her arm and helped guide her to the window, using a free arm to drag a chair over in the event that she'd want to sit. He watched as she braced her arms against the sill, apparently wanting to do as much as possible on her own. "What's going on, Bones?"
Brennan stared out the window, her eyes scanning the cars parked several floors below. "I'm not sure."
Booth frowned. "Okay," He said as his hand still rested against her arm. While he was sure she was capable of leaning against the sill by herself he wanted to be there. "You wanna talk about it?"
Brennan turned her head to face him. The pieces that were forming together made sense to her, but was it really her own memory or was it just derived from her increasingly obsessive want to remember? "The daffodils."
Nodding, Booth threw a glance over his shoulder to look at them sitting in the vase. "What about them?" He asked. His eyes fixed on something; her nervouse gaze held something almost too good to be true. "Bones, did you...do you remember something?"
Brennan shook her head and sighed. "I'm not sure. Daffodil, daisy-" Her eyes flicked back in a quick motion that nearly startled him. "We were...somewhere. We were drinking out of tiny cups, talking about a case. I asked you if you would ever betray me and you said no." Brennan spoke. A wave of excitement waiting to propel itself to the surface was dwelling within her. She was sure now it had to be a memory, but wanted to see Booth's reaction first. "Am I making any sense at all?"
His memory was fogged momentarily, but as she spoke, the picture started to become clear. It was during the Gormogon case several years before; after a trying case had been solved and they were doing their best to relax for a few hours. "Yeah, you are. You-" Booth wasn't sure he'd be able to explain it later, but he was compelled to hug her. "You remembered, Bones."
"It's just one thing, Booth." Brennan replied, her head nestled against his shoulder. Something about it felt so completely comfortable to her, and for a moment she allowed herself to relish in his embrace. Until the reality that, yes, she did remember something came back. "It's just a detail, one thing, but..." Brennan trailed off as she pulled herself from his arms. "It's a place to start."
The smile that lit up her eyes was enough to warm his heart. "You have no idea how great it is to hear you say that." Booth replied, his palm against her cheek. It was pushing it, but he wasn't about to let a perfect opportunity pass by. "We should probably tell your doctor, Bones. I'm sure he'd love to know."
"Wait," Brennan insisted, holding him firmly in place. That turned out to be a bit of a mishap, as when she moved to stop him, her leg shifted, causing her stance to falter.
"Hey, hey." Booth's hands shot out, afraid that she might fall. "You okay?"
Brennan nodded, slowly catching her breath. "Doctor Weston said I need to practice walking some, building back the strength in my legs. I'm unable to put my full weight on my right leg yet, but I'm trying my best here."
"That's all anyone's ever asked for." Booth assured her. He knew the toll it was taking on her staying at the hospital so long. But the reality that she remembered something-regardless of how minuscule it might seem in the grand scheme of things-and it was cause for celebration for him. "You know what, Bones? I managed to get bagels, but I didn't get any coffee. Now, I know the stuff around here isn't exactly the greatest, but I know this machine on the fourth floor that makes a mean cup. I could go grab us some if you wanted."
Brennan settled herself into the chair Booth brought over to the window and stared curiously at him. "You spent a lot of time here after the accident, didn't you?"
Her question took him by surprise, he expected her to ask him about his request to get Doctor Weston or to ask for a certain amount of sugar in her cup. Still, he wasn't about to deny her the truth. "Yeah, I did."
Brennan nodded slowly, her left hand reaching over to itch a spot on her other wrist. "And your wife was okay with that? She understood?"
"Well..." Booth sighed, running a hand through his hair. She wasn't going to make this easy, was she? It was his chance, he knew. He could have excused himself for a second, called the lab and told them he wouldn't be showing up that day, came back and told her everything. Every single detail. He almost did, but the second he opened his mouth a nurse came walking in.
"Doctor Brennan, it's good to see you up." She smiled. "I'm here to take you to your appointment."
"Which one is that?" Brennan asked. Her mind had been so focused on being happy due to the fact that she had remembered something to remember any appointments she might have had.
Booth watched them, hands in his pockets, in silence. He was definitely going to have to have a talk with Doctor Weston. The longer he waited, the more he knew would come back to her. But Booth knew Brennan well enough to know how she processed things, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he would simply tell her.
Doctor Weston sighed and laced his fingers together, hoping that what he said would get through to the man sitting across from him. "Agent Booth, I understand how difficult this must be for you. But I've got to tell you, with the progress your wife has made in the past few days, I don't see why she couldn't be looking at a release within the next few weeks."
Booth nodded. He should have been grateful, he knew how much being in the hospital was beginning to get to her. "What happens then?"
"She'll still need to keep up with her appointments. Physical therapy as well as medication. I'd like her to come see me on a regular basis until she's completely cleared."
"But what about the memory?" Booth asked. He saw the look the doctor tried to hide, the one that told him if he asked again he'd be testing the man's patients. "Look, you gotta understand where I'm coming from, Doc. You think I want to cause her damage? You think I want some sort of breakdown? I don't. She's my wife, and as much as I don't want to cause her harm..." Booth paused, massaging his temple as he sighed. "You should have seen her face. She remembered something, and she was just so..."
"I understand, Agent Booth. Temperance is still recovering, but her memory is coming back. It would be dangerous to risk anything by giving her more to deal with." Doctor Weston replied. He saw the man across from him, knew that he wasn't giving him anything he particularly enjoyed. "I would like to tell you she could recall everything as soon as possible, but the brain is an awkward and interesting thing. The way it stores different things, how it conjures images from events past. It's frustrating, but give her time. With the progress she's making-"
"Right," Booth nodded, feeling like he had heard enough. "I've gotta get going. I have a meeting." He was actually headed to the Hoover building for a while before grabbing a bite, so it was technically not a lie. "Thank you, Doctor Weston."
The rest of the afternoon was going pretty well for Booth. The meeting with some of the staff went better than expected, it amazed him how productive people could be if they actually got things moving. Parking his truck next to the curb, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and crossed the street to the diner. The familiar smells of pie, fries, and other diner foods wafted in his direction the second he opened the door. On days that things were slow with a case or if they were lucky enough to not have one, he'd often come by the diner to at least get a small feeling of normalcy.
Before the accident, they didn't go as often as they had in the time they had been just partners, choosing instead to eat at home or someplace else, but it had become a tradition to go every Saturday night with Parker. They sat there in the booth, talking and laughing and making memories Booth never knew would be the one thing he'd have to depend on just months later.
As could be expected, the after lunch lull meant there were only a few people around. This didn't bother Booth much, because aside from ordering his burger and pie, he didn't feel up to any conversation.
Just seconds after sitting down into what had always been their booth, a waitress walked up to him. "Hi. What can I get you?"
Booth didn't have to look at any menu, and if he'd taken half a chance to look at the woman taking his order he'd know she was knew and therefore wouldn't know what he was coming in for. "Burger, fries..." he continued giving her his order when something over her shoulder caught his eye. Just as the waitress walked away to fill his order someone occupied the other side of the booth. "Shouldn't you have left already?"
"Does my being here bother you, Agent Booth?" Sweets asked, finding it both interesting and also the slightest bit amusing.
"No, I just figured you'd be back on your book tour or whatever by now." Booth answered, feeling more than ever like he wasn't up for talking. He fixed his gaze out the window, not really ignoring Sweets but hoping he would get the point.
"Actually, the D.C. date was the last one. I'm scheduled to be on a talk show in New York next Thursday, but until then I'm here." Sweets replied, taking a bite from his salad. He swallowed his bite before continuing. "I don't just mean here in the city, Agent Booth."
Booth sighed and shook his head. "It isn't that simple, Sweets. This isn't your office at the F.B.I building four years ago, and even if it was, a lot of things have changed since then. I'm fine."
Sweets offered a tight smile as the waitress brought over Booth's order. "You do realize that I didn't actually offer your my expertise this time, correct?"
"You didn't-" Booth paused, ketchup bottle hanging midair over his burger. He set it down before staring directly at the man across from him. Once upon a time, he might have gotten up and walked away. But what he said was true; things had indeed changed, and so had he. "What exactly do you want, Sweets?"
"To put in simply, a moment of your time." Sweets replied. He was a bit surprised by the sudden streak of patience Booth had, but he wasn't going to ask him about the topic. Instead, he chose to hone in on the real reason that brought him over to the table. "I realize you don't want to talk about what's happened. Different people react to different situations in a myriad of ways. While you choose to remain silent and to yourself about it, the next person might choose to speak freely with anyone the see. It doesn't mean you or that person are uniquely opposite, it simply means you're taking a different course of action."
"Is there a point anywhere in there?" Booth asked. He was starting to feel a bit rude, which did make him feel guilty, but if what Sweets was going for was to get him to open up about how he supposedly felt about Brennan's recovery, he would have to rethink the whole getting up from the table thing.
The patience from just minutes before was wearing thin and Sweets knew better than to try easing into the subject for much longer. Instead, he would have to try a more direct approach. "You're a smart man, Agent Booth. You like knowing what will happen before you enter a situation, or at least as much as possible. Despite that, you have no control over this situation...the one with Doctor Brennan. The idea that her memory may never return in its full form scares you, no matter how much you might like to deny it." He shook his head and set his fork down against the bowl. Folding his hands, he tried carefully to phrase what he wanted to say next. "I would like to help you."
He must have thought Sweets was joking, because Booth kept chewing until the brown eyes staring back at him began to grow annoyed. "You want to help me?"
Sweets nodded, feeling pleased that Booth hadn't exactly started yelling at him yet. "More specifically, I'd like to help your wife. Doctor Brennan, I mean. Wow, I don't think I'm used to say it like that..."
"She already has a team of people helping her." Booth replied, at first waving off the idea. The last thing he needed was Sweets asking either of them questions about feelings or situations. Until the idea dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.
"I am aware of that." Sweets replied. He felt even more surprised due to the fact that his offer hadn't been shot down entirely. Booth was being evasive, wanting to see what the plan was prior to agreeing or disagreeing. "I feel as if I should let you know I've already been to see her, and was planning on visiting her again while I was in town anyway, but felt it would be best if I went in with your knowledge."
"You were-" Booth paused, reaching for his drink to wash his bite down with. "You were going to start...therapying her without anyone's knowledge?"
"First of all, Agent Booth, 'therapying' as you call it, isn't a word." Sweets replied, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "And secondly, no. I wasn't going to do what you're suggesting. What I aimed to do was merely what I had gone to the lab the other day to do. Visit her."
Booth nodded, a tinge of doubt still remaining. "Right, and I'm just supposed to believe that you wouldn't conveniently let a few details out, correct? Maybe mention the whole 'unbreakable connection' we have as partners?"
"I'm above that type of tactics. What I planned to do was say a quick hello. If she wanted to speak with me further, which I seriously doubt given her dislike of your therapy sessions when I was here before, I would have happily obliged." Sweets replied, feeling as if he'd gotten his point across, perhaps even more than he'd hoped. "Look, whatever you decide, consult her doctor if you must. I know you though, Agent Booth. And I know her. At least I did." He paused again and reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. "Here's my card. I'll be here in D.C. for a few more days before going to New York, and I'm coming back for a few weeks afterward. I'm actually going to be teaching a course at the university in the spring, so I'll need to get things ready." He slid the card across the table. "Whatever you decide."
Booth eyed the card, reading what it said before looking back at him. Would it even make a difference, getting her to talk to Sweets? More importantly, would she even agree to such a thing? The last thing he ever wanted to do was force anything on Brennan if she wasn't ready, but he also knew the desire she had to gain her life back, or the part of it that was missing. He picked up the card and offered Sweets a nod. The least they could do was try, right? "Thanks, Sweets."
"Anytime, Booth." Sweets replied, gesturing to his salad before heading back to his own table.
