"So, what would you say is Booth's biggest obstacle?"

Brennan was unable to answer the question posed to her right away. She had Christine sitting upright in her lap. The baby's tiny hands were pressed into the palms of her own. Before Dr. Ronald had knocked upon their door requesting their presence Booth had fallen into a deep sleep. After all he'd been through Brennan had absolutely no intention of waking him up. She'd made a split second decision to bring her daughter with her. Nothing was to disturb him. She'd take all the precautions possible to see to it.

The question rolled around her mind as she carefully thought out her answer. "Himself," she finally said simply. "He's easily frustrated by his new limitations. Tasks that were once simple for him are now a complex thought out process. There's much that he still can't do, and I'm afraid he never will be able to do them again. I believe he has similar fears, and at times he allows that emotion to hold him back." She sighed. "To be fair, he's come a long way from where he once was immediately following the accident. I am somewhat satisfied with his progress, but I believe more can and should be done. I know he feels the same way. He wants to try to hold the mental capacity he used to have."

Dr. Ronald was jotting things down in a file as she spoke. "I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, or discourage either one of you in any way. But all of his medical files were sent to me. His TBI was severe. It's a possibility that he'll never be able to function normally. He'll never totally be the person that he was before the accident."

"I understand that." Brennan said respectfully. "But I also am well aware of what he is capable of. If he believes he can do it, then so do I. Booth is resilient in the face of adversity. Given the proper tools he'll find his way. That's exactly why I brought him here."

The doctor nodded. Brennan had already noticed during their brief interaction that Dr. Ronald was a rather quiet man. Words were not wasted on him, and he chose them as though they were a handful of cards in a poker game. She wasn't entirely sure what to think of his quiet intensity. Perhaps that strength would transfer over onto Booth. She could only hope for so much.

"In reading over his files I noticed there's been a great amount of concern over the amount of pain he's been in, as well as a failure of his bones to mend properly."

"Yes. His wrist had been declared healed and free of a cast when he fell out of bed and broke it all over again. His ribs have never healed. He favors them constantly. He used to be very forward in life. Now I have noticed that his pain causes him to question every activity before he engages."

More writing. Dr. Ronald's pen couldn't move fast enough. "What would you say his pain level is? Ten being the greatest, of course."

She didn't hesitate. "A nine. There's only so much that can be done due to his previous addiction to narcotic pain killers. Aspirin and ibuprofen aren't able to do much other than take the edge off."

His bushy eyebrows rose above his brow with shock. "That's something we'll address immediately. How are his sleeping habits?"

"He sleeps a lot. I've been told that that is an indication of depression, and I have definitely witnessed other signs. His sadness… his addiction was partially derived from it." She exhaled sadly. "He's been slightly more upbeat lately. The knowledge that he was coming here gave him some hope. But otherwise his depression is severe. He admitted to me that for a while he was considering suicide. He suffers nightmares almost nightly. His eating habits have improved, but for some time getting him to eat was difficult."

Dr. Ronald nodded. "Those are all the questions I have for his evaluation. I will pull him into a meeting tomorrow and compare your answers. In the meantime is there anything else you think I should know? Any expectations you want to address?"

"I am a doctor in forensic anthropology. I know kinesiology. I am more than well versed in how the body functions. I have never heard of such a condition, but it is possible that the non unionizing of his bones is in any way related to his head injury which seems to also be healing at a slow rate?"

"I'm not familiar with anything of the sort, but there's always a first for everything. I'll confer with my colleagues and do some research, as well."

Brennan stood to leave. "Whatever is done… please, just help him," she pleaded. "I have no other options for him beyond this institute. I'm afraid without intervention I will lose him. I can't allow that to happen. I love him too much to let him go. He's been through hell." She stared poignantly at the doctor. Every word was pronounced distinctively. "It's time he got some relief."

"I more than agree with you. I'll work up a care plan for him tonight, and we'll get it started tomorrow. I'll do everything in my power to help the two of you. But I'll warn you, it's not going to be an easy road."

"I'm prepared." Brennan looked to Christine. The baby's eyes sparkled back at her. "We're prepared."

Brennan was understandably panicked when she entered her empty room not more than five minutes later. The sheets on the side of the bed where Booth had been resting were rumpled at the bottom of the mattress, as though he'd thrown them away from his body in a fit. Her heart pounded a tempo in her ears as she laid Christine down in her carrier to sleep. When she straightened she noticed for the first time the door to the balcony had been left ajar. Booth. Across the floor she traced his steps, until she was standing on the wooden floorboards outside.

Sure enough, that was where Booth had positioned himself. He'd chosen to sit down in the far left hand corner, where he could sit with a clear view of the ocean. His eyes were closed. Brennan thought him at first to be in some sort of meditative state. "Booth?"

He wasn't responsive. His eyes opened to linger out over the waves as they rose up onto the shore. Brennan dropped down onto one knee besides him. "Booth?" She tried again, a tremor of worry clearly evident in her voice.

After a moment he emerged from whatever fog had settled over him. He turned to her, blinking a few times before giving her a lazy, exhausted smile. "Where… were… you?"

Where were you? She wanted to retort. "Your doctor stopped by to gather some information about you. Since you were sleeping I chose not to wake you. Are you feeling better? You slept for quite a while." She watched closely as his face voided of an expression for a second time. Her words were lost in the tangled, tattered web of his mind. Judging by the way his eyes transformed, he was shutting down on her. She tried to remain calm. "Booth." Gently she shook his shoulder.

For a second time there was a delay before he returned her exchange. She frowned. "You're acting oddly. Did you take something?"

"No." His voice was as innocent as a child's. "Tired."

"Return to bed. You can rest. I just laid Christine down for the night. It's likely-"

"Different tired." He tried to explain. "I worry… all… the time. Tired of it." He shook his head.

She twisted her body so as she was able to sit down next to him. "What is it that you're worried about?" She knew, of course. But she had a feeling he needed to talk his issues out in the best manner that he was able.

"Me. Christine. You."

"Why do you worry about us?"

He quieted. She slipped her hand into his. "Booth? Please tell me. What are you thinking?"

Several tense moments passed before he was able to confide in her. "Worry… if I'm gone… what… happen to you?"

"Why would you be gone?" She tried not to think the worst, but it consumed her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to keep it out. "Has your depression worsened again? Booth, this isn't your last hope. If this doesn't work then we'll keep searching until we find something that does. I won't give up on you. So long as you keep fighting, so will I. Giving up just isn't the answer for us. I will not allow it to be in your newfound vocabulary."

Booth was no longer listening, as far as she could tell. She stood up and offered him a hand to do the same. "Lets just lay down for a while. I can't imagine that compact position is all that comfortable for your ribs."

For a third time he obeyed her request after a pause. He allowed her to assist him onto his feet. Together the two strayed back into the room. Brennan left the screen latched across the entry, and the door open so as the room could fill with the fresh, sea air. Then she lapsed down on top of the covers besides Booth. Tentatively she placed an arm possessively around his chest. While he drifted off fairly easily she remained unable to relax. The change in his behavior bothered her immensely. What was taking place within that complicated mind of his? Was there such a thing as backsliding?

She had a feeling they'd arrived in California in the nick of time.

In the early morning hours, just as the sun was beginning to rise up to greet an overcast sky, Brennan woke in the pale light to discover she was alone in their bed. With the exception of Christine she was alone in their room, for that matter. She bolted upright in bed. A thousand equally frightening thoughts sped through her mind at a breakneck pace. She reflected back upon the conversation they'd had before bed. What if he gave up? What if he's done something to himself? The blankets were thrown back as she scurried out of bed. Time was valuable. She couldn't afford to lose any more.

Since the halls of the institute were mostly vacant she permitted herself to run as fast as she desired. Her heart beat raced faster than her feet could move. How could I let this happen? I thought I could trust him. I thought this would be beneficial for us. Where would he go? We don't know the area. Why would he do this? Simultaneously she felt like screaming and beating her fists against a brick wall until they were raw and bloody.

No one was around to stop her from escaping out of the institute's front doors. It was there on the front drive that she came to a dead stop. In amongst the quiet noises of the ocean and birds making their overhead rounds, she could hear a being splashing about the waves. Tentatively she took a few steps towards the shoreline. What awaited her soothed her nerves, and actually produced a genuine smile on her face.

Booth had stripped down to his boxer shorts and wadded into the ocean. He was just far enough away from the beach that should he run into trouble he was still close enough to swim in. He was floating on his back, letting his battered body bob with the waves that washed over him. Sporadically he'd give a kick to keep himself moving. At his sides his arms were stretched out as far as they would go.

This display alone pleased her. But it was seeing his radiant grin across the distance in which they were separated that really warmed her heart, and swelled her chest with hope.

Booth had finally discovered a way to relieve some of his physical pain.