A\N: Thank you for the reviews! This is my first venture into writing, and I very much appreciate the encouragement.

After the Brother in the Basement, hints at the last half of season 10.

Seeley Booth lay in room 393 of Washington General Hospital. He was tired, angry and sad. Tired because it was day 5 in the hospital, and he was no longer relying on painkillers to keep him in a drug induced stupor. Between the blood pressure cuff recording him every hour, the hospital noise, the lights, the uncomfortable bed and the nurses checking frequently he had only slept for two hours at a time.

Angry because once again he was in a damn hospital. He hated hospitals in general, and the memories of the last visit which had resulted in him going to prison instead of home were still too fresh, particularly when there had been a similar round of not so friendly questioning from FBI brass about why he was in the hospital. He had been reassured by Caroline and Stark that he was in the clear but, he found himself keeping his right hand as far away from the bed rail as possible which irritated his wound but validated that there was no handcuff on his wrist. He was angry that his brother had gotten him into this mess. Angry at himself for not finding a way out for both of them. Angry that his wife and friends had once again thought he was dead. Angry that his little girl had spent more nights asking when Daddy was coming home and not being given a definitive answer.

And he was sad, because despite being a major pain in the ass, Jared was his brother. Sad that Jared had never really found his way to a happy life and now it was too late. Sad that his kids would never know their uncle. Sad that he would never be an uncle. Sad that there had been no way to fix it this time. Sad that there would be no next time.

He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep and peace. He was not expecting any visitors this morning- if his body temp remained normal for 6 more hours he was going to be discharged. Bones would be by this afternoon to take him home or offer encouragement, everyone else would wait for the news, and if it was bad, determine whether they wanted to risk it.

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Arastoo Vaziri was heading to room 393 of Washington General Hospital. He was tired, angry and sad. Tired because the last 6 days had been an emotional upheaval. The first three days work had called demanding his attention. The last three sleep had been elusive as he thought about where to go from here.

He couldn't really tell where the anger ended and the sadness began. He was losing a job he loved because Dr. Brennan was coming back to work. He couldn't really blame anyone for that, he just had the bad luck of wanting to be in the same city at the same time as the best in the world. There was only room for one forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian and no matter how well qualified he was, if she wanted the job it was hers. But along with job he was losing his love, his home, and some of his family. He would be moving at some point and if he returned to DC for visits there would be the inevitable division of friends that occurred even during a mutual breakup.

One of the casualties would be the man he was going to visit. It was a little ironic, Arastoo thought to himself, that he was going to miss Booth, because, really, he had never spent much time alone with the agent. Even on the flight back from Iran, he'd been too engrossed in seeing Cam again to pay much attention to the FBI man. Arastoo had always meant to do something more, but had never figured out what. How do you say thank you for flying half way around the world to a semi hostile country to help me out? And then Booth had his own demons to deal with after the return. So their interactions were at group celebrations with the Jeffersonian gang, dinners at the B&B house with Cam & Michelle, an occasional guys night at the sports bar when Wendall was in the mood to organize and Booth wasn't too busy. During those evenings he had realized they had things in common - religious beliefs incomprehensible to the rest of the circle, dedicated sports fans, devotion to family-especially their brothers, and a love for Cam Saroyan.

He wasn't sure why he was going. He really wasn't in the best of moods to offer comfort or distraction. Booth wouldn't be expecting him, and if he noticed the lack of a visit, the agent didn't hold grudges over stuff like this, and even if he did, they would not be seeing much of each other in the future. Arastoo was also uncomfortable with the recent events. Looking over Booth's medical records had been nausea inducing. He also knew the agent was smart enough to realize how much of his privacy had been violated during the case. Arastoo wasn't planning on bringing it up, and hoped Booth felt the same way.

Further thought was put on hold. He had arrived at the hospital. He spotted a coffee stand across the street, and he knew that Booth was allowed outside food and drink. Deciding to procrastinate a bit more, he went to make a purchase.

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Booth sensed someone in the doorway. He knew it wasn't a staff member - they never hesitated. He groaned to himself. He really wasn't in a mood for cheery conversation, maybe the visitor would get the hint and leave. He heard a gentle knock on the door frame. Stop being an ass, he thought to himself and opened his eyes.

"Hey" Arastoo said, walking in around the bed to place the coffee on the agents good side. Deciding to go with blunt honesty, "You look like crap."

Booth gave a bitter laugh. "I could say the same about you."

Arastoo snorted. "Thanks for sugar coating that." He took a sip of his tea and then added "I'm really sorry about Jared."

Booth took the cup and muttered. "Thanks." He knew the condolences were sincere- he had seen first hand Arastoo's devotion to his own brother -but could not manage to say anything else. He studied the scientist and said quietly "Cam came to see me last night. I'm sorry. You guys were good together. You made her very happy."

Arastoo offered a small smile, he knew the condolences were sincere. "Thanks. She's a wonderful woman. I wish things were different, but.." He shrugged, unable to continue.

They spent the next half hour in companionable silence, interrupted with occasional questions about each other's future. They discussed where Arastoo might be heading, and Booth's return to the FBI, but kept small talk to a minimum. Both knew the other was in a state where the only cure was time. Neither had the energy to offer empty platitudes or to fake cheeriness.

When Arastoo rose to leave they exchanged goodbyes not knowing when or if they would meet again. Both were still tired, a little less angry and a little more sad, but both were glad for the visit.