A/N: I really wish I could find each and everyone of you to apologize in person, because I feel terrible for how long it has taken me to update. I have an excuse that buys we about five days. I went camping with a group of friends, and we promised to leave all technology at home. I, of course, thought that iPods should not count, which actually turned out quite terribly in my favour. iPod in lake = iPod that doesn't work. Anyways, I didn't have computer access. Then, I found that while I had taken a vacation, so did my muse. I, however, returned much earlier than it. But that doesn't matter, 'cause now it's back, and that problem is solved! Season 5 spoilers, sorry.
Also, X Files fans, there's a little something in here that you might like, if you squint to find it.
Again, I'm sorry for the delay.
What am I suppose to do when the best part of me was always you
What am I suppose to say when I'm all choked up and your ok
I'm falling to pieces, I'm falling to pieces
They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
-BreakEven, The Script
She still worries. She always worried. Now it's just...magnified. Multipied. 100 fold. His well being feels much more important than it ever had before.
She understood that, yes, they worked in a high-risk enviroment. They fought to put terrible, selfish people away. Those people would probably take either of them out if they had the chance. She knew that the odds that neither of them geting hurt were astronomical. She did know that. She understood that, even.
But it's not the shoot-outs or criminals she fears the most now. No. Not anymore. She has little time to worry about others turning against him when he is turning against himself. His own body taking him a little step farther away from her.
There were scans once every three months for the first year. Then once a year for three years. Then one every two years for the rest of his life. Scans to make sure that his mind wasn't tricking him again. Scans to make sure he would still be there to fight with her, to fight for her. Scans to make sure that he wouldn't leave. Scans to keep his promise.
He was required to take almost two months off. Seven weeks, to be precise. She had stayed for three. Then, it had gotten to difficult; then, she ran.
She went to a dig in Guatemala--she went to a place where she could hide. She spend her days in the overwhelming heat, identifying the remains of an entire village. She didn't run away... completely. She still called him, asked how he was doing. He was always bored. Well, he was always bored on the days that he remembered why he was sitting at home.
Once, she got a call from him. Which was odd in itself, seeing as she told him she would always call him; she was busy and distractions obviously weren't helpful. She thought about the time difference, only two hours. It was nearly eleven at home. He should be sleeping. She shouldn't be working at nine at night.
"Hey," she said, pulling herself up to sit on the edge of a hole that she was exgavating. "What's up?" She pulls her legs over and stands.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"I asked you first," she said with a smile.
She would claim to hear the smile in his voice, if that were at all possible. "I'm just in bed, wondering what you're up to."
"Working," she said, knowing he was disapproving of the hour.
He groaned, just like she knew he would. "Oh, God, why?"
Orbital roll on her side of the phone. She scoffed. "Why? Really?"The 'E' drags out. Although now she had stopped working now, clocked out, and was walking towards her tent. She sat on her sleeping bag as she removed her shoes. When he didn't answer, she continued. "I'm not working anymore, though."
"Oh, really now? And what, may I ask, are you doing now?"
"Getting ready for bed," she stated plainly.
"Uh... no your not."
She furrowed her brow. "Yes," she said warrily. "I think I would know, if anything."
"Well, unless you're getting ready for bed out in the living room, I would know too."
Oh, no. Damn it. She should have known right away. She sighed. "Booth?" She asked it clinically, so that maybe he would remember immediatly. So that maybe she wouldn't have to remind him again. It didn't work. "I'm in Guatemala, remember?"
She heard him exhale slowly. His breath shaky. "Right. Yeah, sorry."
"It's alright," she tried to reassure him. She thought that she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.
An awkward silence fell over them. Finally, he spoke words she already knew were coming. "I made you uncomfortable, again."
"No," she says it automatically now. That's how many times this has happened. "No, Booth. You didn't."
"I should go," he conceded.
And she knows that she has to let him. She has made the wrong desicion of staying on the line. It's always worse when it doesn't happen in public, though. When he accidently introduces her as his wife, she can sut him off; save him the embarassement . But when it's just the two of them, and he gets confused, it really freaks him out. He gets a look, and she doesn't know why, but it hurts her to see it.
"Alright. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Booth. Good night."
He sighed as she lay bag, her head resting on her pillow. She closes her eyes. "Night, Bones." The last thing she hears before she goes to bed that night is his voice. Although it is a little reassurance, it helps nonetheless.
The last step before they can return into the field is therapy. Booth passed all his physicals, blood tests, and whatever else the FBI had made him do. Now, they had to meet with Sweets, and they had to talk. Brennan had onyl been back for three days. She found that although she had missed Sweets while she was away, she hadn't missed him enough to actually want to attend therapy.
So, the two sat on the couch across from the young therapist, waiting for him to speak.
Finally, he spoke. "How was your trip, Dr. Brennan?"
"It was fine. It's very warm there this time of year."
"So I've heard," he answered. He looked over at Booth, then back at Brennan. He took a deep breath and began. "I'm going to cut to the chase. There isn't much more that Cullen wants me to approve, so, I'm just going to get it over with. You must both cooperate, or else I will not clear Booth fit for duty. Understood?"
"Whatever I have to do to be able to work again," is Booth's answer. Sweets turns to Brennan, whom is just starring at the young psycologist.
"Dr. Brennan? Your word?"
Eye roll. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."
Sweets just ignores her attitude. "Great. Okay. My first question is, are there things that either of you think might have happened over the past two months, that will change your working relationship?"
They're silent for a minute or two, then Booth speaks. "Well, obviously, I had brain surgery. I'm probably going to be a little rusty."
"Why would you say that, Agent Booth? You passed every test that Cullen made you take. With flying colors, I might add."
"I- it's just... I don't know, sometimes, I just, I forget little things. Like, last week, I couldn't remember how to plumb my own kitchen sink. That's something I've done probably fifty times before. And now, I just suddenly don't know how."
"I still don't know how to plumb my kitchen sink," Brennan says.
"Booth, it is actually perfectly normal for you to feel a bit out of sorts by such things. It's alright." Booth throws the therapist a raised eyebrow. He turns to Brennan. "What about you, Dr. Bren--"
"I think that when we're out of work -when it's just us- we have a tendency to talk more. Share more. I think that for the three weeks before I left -seeing as we spent every day together up until then- that I leanred a lot more about Booth than I would know otherwise."
Booth is thankful that she doesn't bring up the fact that sometimes he wakes up and thinks that she is his wife. That he sometimes places his hand just a bit too low on her back.
"There are things," she continued, and he panics a bit, "that we have talked about that have been hard to discuss, but I think it only makes our freindship stronger." Booth exhaled a breath that he didn't know he was holding in.
"What kind of things," Sweets asked, and Booth can tell that his plames started to sweat. Suddenly, Booth realized, this feels all too familiar. It feels like a time, not too long ago, when the three of them compared metiphorical scars.
Booth decided right then that he couldn't let Bones tell Sweets; that if the kid was going to know, it would come from him. He wouldn't pick at it that way. "When, uh, when I was in the coma, I guess, I had this dream. I dreamt that Bones was my wife. Sometimes, though, I get... Bones, what do you call it?"
"Confused," she provided, turning away from Booth slightly.
"Yeah. Confused. I forget, sometimes, you know? I think what I dreamt is what really is. I forget that we are actually a crime fighting team, that we have this life. I, just, sometimes... I get confused."
Sweets is quiet for a moment. Once he processed this, he turns back to Booth. "How did you realize this was happening?"
Booth scoffed. "How do you think I knew I was doing it? She told me."
"It doesn't happen as often as it did in the beginning," Brennan was quick to defend her partner. "Most of the time, now, he catches himself before he actually says anything."
Sweets nodded slightly. "How does that make you feel, Dr. Brennan?"
"It doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. Nothing like that."
Sweets can't help the small smile that has spread across his face. "I didn't ask what it didn't make you feel; I asked what it does make you feel."
"I- uh, it makes me feel... worried. It makes me scared."
Booth turns to her, and moves closer. "Bones. I... You... You don't need to worry. I'm capable."
She swipes at her eyes quickly. "I know, I just, I still get scared. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"You don't need to do anything, Bones. You don't."
"Just because I don't need to do something, doesn't mean I won't. Just because I don't need to worry does not mean that it isn't justified." She could tell that she was getting defensive. Rude, almost. But, she couldn't stop. He needed to know. "Booth, you almost dying is become an annual event. I know that have a high risk occupation. I don't care. You worry about me, so why can't I worry about you?" She takes a deep breath, and almost whispers. "What am I going to do when you don't come back?"
She swipes at her eyes again, and Booth moves closer to her again. Sweets could tell that he needed to let this happen just between them. Booth looks over at him, and he nods.
"C'mon, Bones. Let's go."
"I'd like to go back to the lab."
Booth knew what was happening. He knew that she was distancing herself. Escaping. Running. And yet, he couldn't stop himself.
"Sure thing."
