Note: Let's revisit a long-ago finale. (I think I may have done this what if already. I definitely have not done this story.) Also, note the what if – I'm killing Booth off again.

What if? Booth had died after the brain surgery?

AU? Yes

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The sandwich tasted like sawdust. Someone should tell the elderly ladies bustling around the kitchen that their efforts were inadequate. She let the sandwich fall to the plate.

Near the tray of dried out squares stood Parker, wearing a suit just a little too big. Rebecca stood beside him, pointing out one overly-sweet dessert after another, as if an nutritionally questionable clump of sugar would replace his father.

Not far away, Cam was talking with Jared and an elderly man. Jared smiled and she wanted to hit him. How could he smile?

How could any of them smile?

At the edge of the room, Angela sobbed, Hodgins's arms around her. Somehow, her tears were worse than Jared's smile. She could hardly claim she had been close to Booth.

Unless, of course, that flirtation Angela and Booth had shared years ago had gone farther than she thought it had.

The chair's metal legs scrapped on the floor as she pushed herself back from the table. She worked her way around the edge of the room and slipped out into the hallway. Luckily, it was deserted, and a moment later, she was fumbling for her keys in the bright sunshine.

She slipped the car into gear and briefly considered going in to work. Rejecting the idea, she turned toward home. She had plenty of work to do there.

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By the time she pulled into her parking spot, Brennan was exhausted. It was no surprise, really. She hadn't slept well in several days.

She trudged down the hall and unlocked her apartment, locking the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag by the door and walked into the living room.

The last thing she expected was to see her partner stretched out on her couch. He jumped to his feet as she walked into the room. "Bones!" She didn't know whether to hug him or hit him. Her anger won out, and she let her fist fly

When it went right through him, she finally was able to cry.

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By the time Angela arrived an hour later, Brennan had dried her tears and was pretending to read a journal while determinedly ignoring Booth. Booth had, in turn, stopped trying to get her to respond to him, and was lounging on the couch, occasionally throwing out comments that didn't need a reply.

When the doorbell rang, Booth nodded knowingly. "Angela."

Brennan glared at him and stalked to the door. "What?", she barked, taking out her irritation at the him on her best friend.

Angela looked stunned at the harsh response, and Hodgins held up a plastic bag bulging with cartons. "Hey, Dr. B. We brought food."

"Sweetie." Angela wrapped her arms around her friend. "I know you're going to do the whole 'I'm fine and I don't need anyone' thing, but I want to make sure you know I'm here if you need me. "

Brennan stood woodenly for a second, then raised her arms and awkwardly patted Angela on the back before stepping back into her apartment. "You'd better come in."

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Ninety minutes later, Brennan shut the door behind her friends and sighed. The company had been nice, but she was exhausted.

"They're good friends", Booth offered.

"You're a figment of my imagination", Brennan responded.

"Uh uh", Booth answered. "You know that's not true, Bones."

He stood and walked towards her and she shrank back, annoying herself with her irrational reaction.

"I'm not your imagination. I'm as real as you are."

At her raised eyebrow, he amended, "I'm real, just not in a … physical way."

"If you were real", she answered, "Angela and Hodgins would have seen you. They didn't. You're just a result of too much stress and too little sleep. You'll be gone in the morning." She walked through him towards her bedroom.

"Nope", he said, settling back in on the couch. "You really need a TV, by the way."

The click of the door closing was his only reply.

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He hovered as she got ready for work, commenting on her breakfast ("come on, Bones, you gotta eat more than that") and keeping up a constant chatter as she dried her hair and put on her makeup.

She ignored him as best she could, but still made sure she shut the bathroom door before she took a shower.

Not that a closed door would stop a gh... hallucination.

She had to admit that he was very … Booth-y, in ways she wouldn't necessarily think of on her own. It was tempting to believe that he really was a ghost, that some part of Booth was still present in her life.

Of course, there was no reason to believe that was true. Well, no reason other than the one standing behind her, giving her unsolicited fashion advice as she tried to find her other red shoe.

She wasn't sure why he didn't follow her to the Jeffersonian. Was he tied to her apartment? Did ghosts have to go to work during the day?

She'd always found solace in work, and this time was no different. The day went by relatively quickly, and soon she was on her way home. She unlocked her door and walked inside, eager to see him again.

He wasn't there.

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It was three days before he showed up again. When she finally gave in and asked where he'd been, he just grinned and said, "Miss me, Bones?"

She threw a pillow at him.

As odd as it was, they fell into a sort of routine. Some days he was there, needling her while she cooked or laughing at her stories about work. Other days, he was gone, off doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't with her.

In a way, she spent as much time with him dead as she had when he was alive.

Six weeks after his funeral, he looked at her and asked, "Are you going to do it, Bones?"

At first she didn't know what he was talking about. "What?"

"I meant it, you know. I'd like it if you used my … stuff for a kid."

Her breath caught as she remembered clutching his hand in a hospital corridor.

"I don't know."

"You'd make a good mom. And I like the idea of us having a kid, even if we couldn't do it the right way." He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she laughed.

"I'll think about it", she answered.

"I know you, Bones", he replied. "You already have."

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She cried when she found out she was pregnant.

He wasn't there – it was one of those days when he was mysteriously absent – but the thought of having his child was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. A child who was a part of him was a precious gift, but one he'd never get to hold.

By the time he returned, she thought she'd be able to discuss it rationally – until his joy spread over his face and she found herself fighting tears again

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Booth was enthralled by her pregnancy, nagging her about what she ate, reminding her to go to sleep, watching the recording of the ultrasound in awe. She was less thrilled – yes, she wanted their child, but the process of gestation, of feeling like her body was no longer her own, wasn't exactly enjoyable.

The pregnancy brought them closer, in a way. They talked about their childhoods, and Booth shared stories of Parker as a toddler. She started writing their stories down, a gift for their child.

She'd decided on a home birth. After all, childbirth was not a medical procedure. Besides, it would be comforting for her if Booth were there, even if no one else could see him. Booth was less happy with the idea, but in the end, she won. Their daughter was born early one morning, with one midwife and one ghost in attendance. Soon the midwife left, and the unconventional family was left alone together. Brennan held the baby as she slept, and Booth marveled over her tiny fingers and toes.

As dawn broke, Booth said, "I have to go, Bones."

It was the first time he'd announced his departure, and one look at his face told her he wasn't coming back.

He tried to smile, but it was tinged with sadness. "I don't want to, but I have to."

She nodded. "I know."

"She's beautiful." He took a deep breath, swallowing the tears. "You're going to be a great mom."

"I hope so", she answered softly.

"Tell her about me?"

She nodded in reply. "I will."

He leaned down, and for a second she felt the press of his lips on her forehead, then he was gone.

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Is anyone still reading these?