Booth knows he should listen to what Dr. Bryar is telling him, but he finds it hard to concentrate because he still can't reconcile his memories of the cheerful, flirty woman he used to date with the businesslike, no-nonsense neurologist in front of him. He hopes Bones is paying attention to the medical facts Dr. Bryar is spouting so she can translate them for him later; he, however, has trouble focusing on anything the woman is saying until a word grabs his attention.

"Home? I can go home?"

"I see no reason to keep you here, Mr. Booth. You're able to manage everyday tasks without assistance by now, and while it's absolutely necessary that you continue with your therapeutic regimen, you can do so as an outpatient. Patients at your stage of recovery tend to improve faster in familiar surroundings, and your latest test results were very encouraging, so we'll be sending you home in a couple of days."

He's going home. Booth is still trying to wrap his mind around that sudden turn of events when Dr. Bryar adds with a glance at her ever-present clipboard, "It says here that you live alone?"

The heady, excited feeling that was building in his chest collapses and ties itself into the familiar knot of resigned misery. Of course he won't be going home – because there's no way back to the home he remembers, to the house filled with love and laughter and hope for the future. The word had him fooled for a moment, but now that the merciless reality catches up with him, he can't muster any enthusiasm for the idea of returning to an empty apartment that holds no meaning for him any more.

He turns his head to the side, where Bones is sitting in her usual spot, and her smile is so hopeful that he forces himself to smile back for her sake.

"Yeah, I do, but –"

"It won't be a problem." Bones sounds calm and collected, but Booth knows her well enough to hear the underlying mix of eagerness and anxiety. "I'll be happy to help in any way I can, and I can check on you daily and run all those errands for you that you can't manage yourself yet."

Booth has no idea what to say to that; touched as he is by her willingness to help, it's also a cruel reminder of how much help he still needs, and probably will keep needing for God knows how long.

Dr. Bryar seems satisfied with the answer, though. "That should be sufficient. We'll draw up a therapy schedule for you; Miss Shaw can work out the details with your other therapists and make the necessary appointments. I assume she'll keep working with you?"

Booth has no idea why she's asking him that question, but Bones answers it for him. "Miss Shaw has already agreed to continue with their daily therapy sessions after Booth's release from the hospital."

"I need to come back here every day? Then why are you releasing me in the first place?" Booth figures they probably think that he'll prefer sleeping in his own bed, but he honestly doesn't care where he spends his nights – if he doesn't get to go to bed and wake up with her, it doesn't make any difference to him.

"Of course not, Miss Shaw will be coming to your apartment." It's once again Bones who answers, and Booth remembers belatedly how Genny told him that she doesn't actually work for the hospital. He has been preoccupied with too many other things until now to consider these matters, but he suddenly finds himself wondering if his health insurance will cover the services of a freelancing therapist.

The thought triggers a deeply disquieting chain reaction of unwelcome realizations. He has been worrying about Bones and Parker, but when it comes to himself, he has been entirely focused on the life he lost. He has never wasted a thought on the life he left behind in this reality – a life that went on without him during the months he spent at the hospital. Now he'll be forced to go back; no matter how much he wishes he could leave it all behind and return to where he belongs, he knows he has to accept that it's the only kind of life he's going to get, and that he'll have to start living it again, which means he'll have to deal with a ton of practical problems he didn't even consider until now.

Bones seems to notice that there's something on his mind, but of course she has no way of knowing what he's thinking. "Don't worry about your apartment, Booth; I went there at least once a week to make sure everything is in order."

"I must be way behind on the rent by now." He can't even tell how long it's been since he has last set foot into the place – it feels like it's been forever since he and Bones packed up his stuff to move it to the 'Mighty Hut', but she was already hugely pregnant then, so it can't have been…

Stop. Booth forcibly reins in his thoughts before they can stray any further down that path. However, he's still not certain about the amount of time that has passed; he knows how long his coma lasted, but much of the weeks – months? – afterwards is a blur of disjointed images with no real chronology to them. He's been to the hospital garden and knows it's fall outside, and Bones will tell him today's date if he asks her, but that doesn't change the fact that the passing of time seems to stretch and contract like a rubber band around him.

"Don't worry about it." Something in her tone brings him back to the present; she sounds so casual that he can only conclude she's trying to slip something by him, and it's not hard to guess what that might be.

"You paid my bills?" He doesn't know why he feels so mortified by the idea after everything she has witnessed during the last few months, but he can still feel an angry blush rising in his cheeks.

"Would you have preferred to be evicted from your apartment for not paying them?" She doesn't even sound defensive – just presenting him with the hard, cold facts, and even though it makes him feel like an ungrateful ass, it doesn't ease the sting of humiliation.

"I'll pay you back."

"I told you not to worry about it." A stern edge has slipped into her tone. "I'm your partner, Booth, and you were the one who taught me that partners are supposed to look out for each other. There are more important things for you to focus on than your bills."

She's right, of course, but now that they've opened this can of worms, Booth finds himself unable to let it go – because now that he thinks about it, he's forced to realize that paying her back might not even be an option for him in the foreseeable future.

Booth tries to remember the amount of sick days he has accumulated over the years, but even if he factors in his unused leave, the number he ends up with is way too low. He has never been faced with this problem before because all his earlier long-time hospital stays were the result of work-related injuries, and it's only now that he realizes the situation is very different this time. Damn, damn, damn…

"Doctor – can you give me an estimate when I'll be able to go back to work?"

Dr. Bryar hesitates for a moment, which already tells him what she thinks of the question. "It's too early to tell. Your progress during the last few weeks, combined with your test results, makes me optimistic about your chances of a full recovery, but it's going to take at least a few more months until you're fit to work again, and it will probably have to be a desk job for a while." She exchanges a quick glance with Bones that isn't lost on Booth. "I'm aware of the kind of job you and Dr. Brennan used to do, but I'm afraid that field work is out of the question for you for at least another year."

Booth takes a deep breath and squeezes Bones' fingers that have closed around his. He knows this isn't really bad news – on the contrary, it's the first time the doctor is speaking of his return to field work as an actual possibility, but still, a year…

Once more, Booth does his best to stop a line of thought before it goes too far. As much as he hates the idea of being stuck behind a desk for months, he knows that getting well enough to go back to work at all will have to take priority right now. "A few more months as in – three? Four?"

"I work with MRIs and PET scans, not with crystal balls, Mr. Booth." Dr. Bryar is beginning to sound impatient, but then she relents. "Is this a financial issue? Don't you feds have short time disability coverage?"

Booth shakes his head. "Only if I'm injured in the line of duty. There's permanent disability retirement, but…" He can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"You will go back to being an FBI agent, Booth." Bones sounds absolutely certain, and Booth wishes he could share her optimism because right now, things are looking pretty bleak from where he stands. "I've called Assistant Director Hacker several times to keep him informed about your condition, and he assured me that he'll give you your job back as soon as your health allows it. That's what you need to focus on now; we'll be able to work out a solution for everything else."

Hacker. Booth closes his eyes and swallows the bile that's rising in his throat. The last thing he needs is his health issues getting Bones in contact with Hacker again. It's not that he doesn't trust her, and he doubts Hacker would have the bad taste to hit on her again while Booth is stuck at the hospital –

Except –

Booth clenches his teeth when he remembers that there's no reason why Hacker should hesitate to hit on her, considering that the guy in the hospital is nothing but her partner. God, when will he finally stop walking in these traps that always leave him feeling as if he'd had the ground pulled out from under his feet? He knows who he and Bones are, and everything they are not, and yet those familiar details keep sneaking up on him and worming themselves into the bleak reality of his days like butterflies trying to slip through the colorless threads of a spider web.

The image seems eerily fitting, considering that the end result is the same for both.

It's one of those moments when the prospect of the same kind of struggle every day for the rest of his life seems so daunting that he can't bring himself to face it, that the temptation to just give up, to refuse any part in a life he doesn't want, becomes almost overwhelming. Yet she is still here, her hand in his, her faith in his willingness to keep fighting as obvious as her determination to be with him every step of the way, and he knows he can't betray her trust in him, no matter what it's costing him.

He isn't sure whether he loves or resents her for it.

.

If she uses the word home one more time he's going to scream.

Booth sits on the sofa in his living room, which is just as lumpy and uncomfortable as he remembers it, and watches Bones putter around in his apartment with an almost frantic kind of energy. She drove him here from the hospital, carried his bag and refused to let him help her unpack his stuff, and as much as Booth hates being banished to the couch, there's no denying that the trip took a lot out of him because he feels ready to collapse where he's sitting.

This is wrong, everything is wrong –

Bones keeps up a constant level of cheerful, meaningless chatter that seems strangely out of character for her while she flits from one room to the other, never standing still long enough for him to start an actual conversation with her – not that he has any idea what they're supposed to talk about.

She disappears into the kitchen when she has finished unpacking; after a while, the aroma of mac and cheese starts drifting through the apartment.

"Do you want to eat here or in the kitchen?" Bones reappears carrying two plates; she looks so pleased with herself that he can't bring himself to admit that the mere thought of food makes his stomach clench.

"Here's fine."

It isn't lost on him how much distance she keeps between them when she sits down beside him. Bones seems to have run out of topics of conversation, and the sudden silence makes Booth's skin crawl.

He picks at his food and hopes she won't notice that he isn't actually eating, but at least it gives him something to talk about. "There's no way you made that right now."

"No, I made it in the morning and brought it over when I came to stock up your fridge. It's not as good when it's re-heated, but –"

"It tastes great." Booth forces himself to take a bite and smiles at her. "Thanks, Bones, that – that was really nice of you."

"I assumed that you would like something you consider 'real' food after the hospital diet. It's not what you should be eating on a regular basis during your recovery, but I thought that there should be an exception for your first meal back home."

Booth flinches, and tries to cover it up by taking another bite. It seems to grow bigger in his mouth the longer he tries to chew it, and he can barely force it down.

"Bones, listen – I really appreciate your help today, and that you cooked for me and everything, but I'm kinda beat."

"Of course." She's out of her seat so quickly that he has to wonder whether she has only been waiting for her cue. "Let me just clean away the dishes… and you'll call me if you need anything, yes? Miss Shaw will be here at nine o'clock tomorrow, and I'll be back around noon, but you can call me anytime, whether I'm at the lab or at home. Your meds are on your nightstand, and I put the –"

"Bones, I'll be fine." He doesn't want her to think that he isn't grateful for what she's trying to do here, but right now he can't take her fussing any more; he just wants to be alone. "I promise I'll call if there's anything, okay?"

"Okay." She reaches out like she's going to hug him good-bye, but reconsiders at the last moment and gives him an awkward pat on the arm instead. "Good night, Booth, and – I'm glad you're home again."

Booth breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the door fall shut behind her, but the ensuing silence soon feels oppressive instead of comforting. He takes a look around, finally forcing himself to pay attention to his surroundings. It's the apartment he remembers, and yet the details feel wrong – some things are out of place, some are different than he remembers them, some are missing altogether. After a while, he struggles to his feet – the dull pain in his muscles that had begun to ease during the last weeks is back with a vengeance after the unusual exertion of the trip from the hospital – and slowly makes his way to the kitchen to get some water for his meds.

He walks into the kitchen without switching on the lights and promptly hits his shin on a piece of furniture that shouldn't be there. Booth mutters a curse and reaches for the light switch – and then freezes at the sight of the stove that he had to replace ages ago because Pops set it on fire.

The sensation of utter wrongness becomes overwhelming, and Booth hastily grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and gets out of the kitchen. He just needs this day to be over – tomorrow, there'll be time to readjust and to learn to deal with the fact that he feels like he traveled back in time, but for today he has reached the limit of what he can take.

He doesn't bother to undress or to brush his teeth; he just swallows his pills, struggles out of his pants and crawls under the blankets.

.

An hour later, he's still staring at the ceiling. He's so exhausted that he's shaking all over, but sleep won't come; he can feel the nightmares closing in on him every time he's about to drift off, and the suffocating sensation of loss and loneliness that always accompanies them is enough to keep him awake. He tries to find refuge in the safety of his memories of a happier life, but ever since Parker's first visit to the hospital he has had trouble losing himself in the easy, uncomplicated joy that those memories used to bring. The images are still there, but they seem to slip through his fingers when he tries to hold on to one of them, and more than once Booth has found that he has trouble remembering a specific moment that he's sure was perfectly clear in his mind just a short while before.

The fear that he might actually forget that other life, that he might no longer find his way back to the place he considers his real home, has become his constant companion. Booth squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on the last moments he remembers of that life, of him and Bones getting their home ready for the birth of their child, and he's struck by the realization that he completely forgot that time used to pass in that other place as well, that he's been trying to relive the same moments over and over when he should have been going on with his life. With a sudden rush of hope, Booth allows his thoughts to reach out further, past the events he remembers, into what the immediate future had in store for them. Bones was days away from giving birth, so they had to get the nursery ready, and he still had to dissuade her of her crazy ideas about 'natural' childbirth and find a hospital they could both agree on…

It's with the mental image of a hugely pregnant Bones waddling through the corridors of a hospital with a black light wand and a disdainful sneer on her face that he finally slips into sleep.