Chapter 10 – Starting Again


Bones


Present Day (Later that day) …

It had been a couple of hours since I had woken up, and I felt even more in the dark then when I had first woken up. Woken up to a room filled of people that seemed to really care about me, but I remembered nothing about.

The man—the good-looking man—that had been holding my hand so tightly, looking at me with such earnest and relief—the man they called, Booth, seemed visibly upset at me not being able to recognize him. Was he just my colleague? Boyfriend? Husband?

What was more frustrating…was that no one wanted to seem to tell me what was going on, or any information about myself. As soon as they realized that I really didn't seem to know any of them, Booth, rushed to grab doctors.

Booth hadn't returned back into my room since then, consistently staying just outside the door to my room. He attempted to keep his voice low, but I could still hear his hushed whispers to what appeared to be my doctors. Asking questions. Wondering why I couldn't remember and when I would remember.

Whoever Booth was to me, it was starting to feel a lot more personal than just colleagues. Everyone else had vacated the room to not feel they were crowding me all at one time—something I actually was thankful for—since I truly did not remember them.

Seeing the disappointed looks on their faces—even if they were trying their damn hardest to not show that disappointment—was uncomfortable and making me feel even more uneasy that I couldn't remember them. They all seemed like genuinely good people that cared about me, and I couldn't understand why or remember why.

There were two from the group—outside of Booth who was still arguing with a doctor outside my room—that remained inside with me. A young and beautiful brunette named Angela, and a younger looking man that seemed like he was still in college, named Sweets.

They both sat in opposite chairs from my bed in silence. I could sense it was taking everything in them to not want to pressure me into talking and asking questions, but I couldn't stand the silence anymore. I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to start to get some answers.

I cleared my throat. "Angela, right?"

Angela looked up from the same magazine she had already read at least two times by now, and offered a smile. Her eyes lit up, and I hated to cause her anymore disappointment. She was looking at me as if by just simply saying her name I might have remembered who she was, but that wasn't the case.

She closed the magazine and dropped it in her lap. "Yes. Yes. Angela Montenegro."

I nodded. I noticed that Sweets—who had been sitting there quietly in his own thoughts—also perked up at my voice and scooted closer to the edge of the chair. Angela looked to him, and even though it was subtle…he nodded to her in what appeared as a form of encouragement.

I swallowed, playing with the edges of my blanket on my bed. "Ever since I woke up, everyone seems to be shying away from me. Not wanting to talk or give me any answers."

Angela frowned; her eyes genuinely looking sad for me. Why wouldn't she? I am girl laying in a hospital bed and can't remember who I am or why I am here in the hospital.

"I'm sorry, honey. No one means to make you feel left out," she replied sadly.

I found a pull in the blanket, my fingers wrapping around the thread and rolling it between my forefinger and middle finger again and again. "Would…would you help answer a few questions for me?"

Angela looked up to Sweets again, the both of them starring at each other determining if they should honor my request.

"Can you guys stop doing that," I said, my voice laced with irritation. "I may not remember who I am, but I know how to read social queues and understand passing looks."

It was Sweets who cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry…we just want to make sure that…"

"You protect me, I know. I sense that from all of you."

Angela chuckled. "You sure you don't remember?"

She said it half-heartedly, which instantly put me more at ease. Sweets eyes went wide, making Angela realize what she had just said to me. It was the first thing to possibly resemble anything about who I am or was, and I didn't want her to close up now.

"Remember what?"

Angela sighed. "Just…that it's so your personality. You never liked to be coddled. Facts and science were really the only thing that made sense to you."

Facts and science? As I listened to what Angela said, I rolled those pieces of information in my mind. I would think those would be two important things that anyone would value when it came to your friends and family.

"Well, doesn't everybody?"

Sweets laughed, but immediately covered it with a cough. I turned to look over at him.

"What is it you do again?" I looked out of my room at Booth who was still talking to the doctors in harsh whispers. "You work with Booth, right?"

Sweets nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes. Technically, we all do. I; however, do work directly with the F.B.I. as a Psychologist and most of the time offer my service with profiling suspects."

"Suspects?"

Sweets and Angela looked at each other, and I gathered based on their looks we were getting into deeper territory of what everyone around me did and how I played a role in this group. A role that everyone seemed to want to keep me in the dark—for now.

He waved his hand at me dismissively. "Yeah, but that's not important right now."

I squinted my eyes at him. "Why do I get the feeling that I am not really a fan of psychology?"

Angela snorted. "I think her memories are already coming back."

Sweets shot her a glare, even if it was more of a playful glare. I suddenly started to feel two very real emotions. Sadness and jealousy. Sadness that these two people in the room with me seemed like really good people that loved Dr. Temperance Brennan—me—but I couldn't remember them. That lead me to feeling jealous that I don't have the ability to remember all of these little nuggets I am getting from them. Like I am on the outside of one really big inside joke. I hated it.

"Okay, so I think I kind of have an idea of how Mr. Sweets…"

"Agent Sweets," he interrupted. I look over at him raising an eyebrow, his shoulder shrugging sheepishly. "I, uh, mean…technically I am Agent Sweets of the F.B.I."

I gave him a long, slow, nod, before turning back to Angela and continuing my original thought. "An idea that Agent Sweets and I might work together through Booth, but it seems like we might be more than that just because of work."

Angela gave me a genuine smile. "That's because your hypothesis is correct. We're friends. Best friends."

"Best friends," I confirmed the statement out loud, letting that information percolate in my mind.

I was hoping if I said it…maybe it might trigger some magic memory that would just pop into my mind and open all the flood gates to my life that I didn't know. Nothing came to mind. Not one single memory.

I frowned.

Angela instantly reached out to my hand laying on my bed, grabbing a hold of my fingers and squeezing tightly. "It's okay, honey…it will come back."

"Angela, we shouldn't…" Sweets interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, while trying to offer me an encouraging smile.

He didn't need to finish the words that he left hanging in the air. They shouldn't make any promises to me that they couldn't keep. Because amnesia patients—that is what I was—might or might not get their memories back.

Luckily, both the men Booth and what I guessed was my doctor, walked back into the room interrupting the awkwardness that just descended within the room.

My eyes flickered towards Booth, who glanced at me for a brief second. Something about his look was familiar. A look of determination was on his upturned face, offering me an encouraging smile.

The doctor on the other hand—the one standing next to him—seemed rather uncomfortable, which was odd considering he was the only medical professional in the room.

"Dr. Brennan, I am Dr. Strapp. I am the resident neurologist here at the hospital. I work with patients that experience memory loss," he said.

"Right. Because I have no memory of who I am, what I do, or where I was prior to waking up."

Dr. Strapp nodded. "I believe what you are suffering from is what we call Dissociative Amnesia. This type of amnesia is often caused by either extreme stress or trauma. Considering the circumstances of what led to your injuries, your case appears to be due to a traumatic event."

Everyone in the room looked instantly at Booth. Confirming what I already suspected that he was the leader of the group of friends. I directed my next question to him.

"Traumatic event. Would you care to explain?"

"The event really isn't important to discuss right now," replied Booth.

Doctor Strapp made a noise as if he disagreed. "It's in the patient's best interest if we begin to answer her questions honestly if she asks.

Sweets stepped forward. "I would have to agree with the doctor," he opined. "Dr. Brennan is displaying characteristics and controlled emotions to solidify that she is ready to begin to hear the details of the accident."

Booth turned to Sweets with glare. "Really? You too?"

Sweets turned timid. "I'm just trying to help."

"Help by standing over there." Booth demanded.

Sweets sighed in defeat, walking over to stand next to Angela.

I turned my gaze on Booth, and when his gaze didn't falter, something inside me—call it a gut reaction—told me I would make little progress with him if his mind was made up in doing the opposite.

I blinked; and suddenly everyone and everything in the room went out of focus.

Booth and I were standing in an office inside of what appeared to be a really large lab just outside.

Booth's left hand was on his hip, his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bones, I already told you, that is not going to work. What are you trying to do now?"

I looked up at him, cocking my head to the side and jutting out my chin. "Simple. I am going to blackmail you."

His eyes opened wide as he scoffed. "You. Blackmail me? A federal agent?"

I looked at him matter-of-factly. "Yes."

He let out an exasperated sigh, at the determination in my own expression. "Yeah, no. I don't like it."

It was my turn to smirk. "Yeah…I'm fairly certain you're not supposed too."

He gave me a long look. I could tell he was assessing whether I was bluffing or not in my threat to blackmail him.

His hands fell to his side. "Fine. You're in."

I blinked again, and everything came back into focus.

"Dr. Brennan?" Dr. Strapp said again.

A memory. I just had a memory of a time with Booth that I had not remembered before. Why did I have a memory now, but earlier with Angela—my supposed best friend—nothing had happened?

Booth was looking at me with squinted eyes and a frown. I stared at him with the same ferocity I remembered giving him in whatever memory I just had. After only a moment's hesitation, I turned to Dr. Strapp, and said, "I would like to know everything. Everything," I repeated firmly so everyone in the room understood.

Booth included.

"We can take it moment by moment," Dr. Strapp said encouragingly.

I didn't want a moment…I wanted it all. If something as small as trying to keep information from me triggered that memory, more memories or information about who I am or what I did, or what happened to me might come back quicker.

My mind was made up. I wanted to know all the information. Even if it was bad. I had to learn who I was. The real me.

Against Booth's displeasure, every question I asked, the room started to answer. I learned everyone's full names, what I did for a living and how that connected with the entire group. It came full circle when I started to ask questions that led up to the traumatic event that put me here in the hospital.

No one wanted to talk about what the Grave Digger—as they called her—had done, so it ended up being Sweets who gave me all the answers. Even though it was Sweets who told me, my eyes stayed on Booth who would only give me quick glances every few seconds.

"Booth jumped into the water, pulled you out, the Coast Guard…"

"You pulled me out?" I asked Booth, forcing him to look at me?

His eyes were full of earnest. He was radiating with protectiveness. "Of course, I did."

I licked my lips and swallowed. I didn't just see, but I swear I could feel something there. Something in the back of my mind that just kept poking at me that I wasn't getting the full story.

"Because…we're partners?"

Booth's jaw tightened; eyes darkened as he looked me right in the eye and replied, "Always."

That feeling was happening again…when everything started to go out of focus in the room, before I blinked and was hit with another memory.

Booth and I were walking in the hall of what I now knew was the Jeffersonian lab. I had just come from visiting Hodgins and one of my interns Vincent, who were once again performing some experiment that didn't really make any sense.

Booth had just caught up with me to ask me details about the case. Details that were always science related that he needed in order to help put his case together.

We started walking side-by-side with each other, his expression seeming insulted that I didn't actually have more information other than confirming the piece of evidence that we already had.

"Fire in the hole!"

We both turned our heads over our shoulders at the shout behind us, before we heard the loud bang that shook the walls of the building.

Booth's hands wrapped around my upper arms as he pushed me backwards until my back slammed against the wall of the lab. My hair flew in my face, as we tried to make sense of what the heck just happened.

As we turned our heads to face each other, our space was practically non-existent. All I had to do was barely lean in, and we could be full-on kissing. This was the first time I truly realized that whatever feelings I had crammed deep inside weren't just because we were friends or because we were partners.

Our eyes met; each of us starring into each other as if nothing else—including whatever explosion just happened—existed. Sometimes when he would look at me, my breath would literally catch, completely unnerved by his steadfast gaze. While Booth could be confident with things like his gut, religion, and feelings…the only thing I could reconcile with was science.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, breaking my internal concentration.

Hodgins and Vincent came walking out of their lab with smoke billowing out behind them.

"We're ok," Hodgins coughed, waving away the smoke.

I managed to catch my breath, bringing my hands up to run against his chest and shoulders. "We, um, should probably get out of here before they lock us down."

Booth's eyes sparkled with mirth, as he reached down to grab my hand as we made a run for the door.

I couldn't help but smile at the memory. I expected like the last time everything would start to come into focus as the memory would fade away, but instead the memory faded only to produce another memory in its place.

My heart started to race, and even though I knew I was safe in a hospital bed, I could feel the fear and panic from my very real memory.

My hands were tied with rope as they were hung in place on a steel hook. My captor had a white piece of cloth tied around my mouth to prevent me from being able to scream and let anyone know I was there.

Tears were streaming down my face. The realization that I was about to be sliced and diced before being fed to dogs was making the tears fall from my eyes even faster.

Where was Booth? He had to save me. He always protected me. Then it hit me that Booth was in no position to save me. He had already saved me once, by taking a considerable blast from an explosion in my apartment…a bomb that was placed in my fridge and left for me. Had it not been for Booth going to grab us a drink…I would have been dead. He was lucky as it was that he managed to survive.

Special Agent Jamie Kenton—a man who was supposed to be protecting me—made a big spectacle of opening his red army switch knife as he went on to apologize that he had to do what he was about to do to me. He wanted to assure me that he would make it quick, that I would hardly feel it, and that I wouldn't feel a thing that would come after it.

The dogs barked and growled; pulling at the chains that were keeping them in place. Jamie slammed a rock against the knife to make it sharper, causing me to gasp as I pulled at the ropes on my wrists.

Jamie turned back to me, a visible plea in his eye to ask me for forgiveness as he was getting ready to kill me. "I'm not like him you know. I don't want to have to do these things to you," he said. He shook his head as he pulled his gun from his belt. "I never expected anyone to find out." He approached me with the gun, the barrel down, the handle towards the top. He was going to hit me over the head.

I gasped again, watching out of the corner of my eye as he continued to get closer and closer to me. I can't believe this was how I was going to die. How I was going to take my very last breath on this earth. With so many things still unsaid. So many things left unaccomplished.

He raised his gun to strike at me, but the hit never came. Relief flooded through me as I saw Booth standing in the doorway, his own gun extended as he aimed and fired. He missed Jaime—probably by choice— but he hit the handle of the gun, the force causing him to stumble backwards.

The agents surrounding Booth went to subdued Jamie, while Booth lowered his gun and hobbled towards me. I couldn't stop the tears from free flowing from my eyes, my sobs not even quieting for a second.

He tried to lift my hands from the hook, but injury to his ribs and side from the blast, caused him agony if he tried to raise his arm or use any pressure to assist.

"It's alright," he grated through his own pain.

Realizing he couldn't lift my own hands without his full strength, he bowed his head, so my forearms were rest on his neck. He grunted as he used whatever remaining strength, he had to lift me up, so my hands came free from the hook.

We both fell to our knees on the floor, my arms tightening around his neck, refusing to let him go. Booth saved me. He saved me.

"Ah, it's okay," he winced at me squeezing him again. I know I should be gentle with him and his own injuries, but I couldn't. I just couldn't let go of Booth. "I'm here. It's all over."

He rubbed soothing circles on my back as he continued to offer me words of comfort. Until I could finally feel that I could breathe. That I was safe, and nothing was going to hurt me any longer. Nothing would ever hurt me as long as I was in Booth's arms.

I pulled back, allowing enough space to finally look at his own injuries. "How…how did you get out of the hospital?"

He groaned, his breaths coming out in short pants. "Hodgins gave me a ride. Maybe…maybe—" –he winced— "—you can give me a ride back though."

I laughed but hugged him again so tightly.

The memory faded, the hospital room coming back into focus.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Everyone's expectant eyes were looking at me again. I didn't know how long I had been in that comatose sate while recalling those memories, but the worried looks on their faces told me it had been enough.

"I think it's time we all exit the room and give Dr. Brennan some quiet time. Time to rest and regroup from what she has already learned," Dr. Strapp suggested.

"Of course," said Angela.

"We'll see you later," Sweets said.

"You don't need to go. I don't need to rest," I argued.

"Bones…it's what's best," Booth said, taking a step forward.

I looked at him for the first time since those memories faded. It was hard to decipher the emotions I was feeling from those two quick memories, but it was enough to know that Booth was protective of me. No matter what.

I was feeling as if I could slip into a moment of chaos at learning so much so fast, and the only thing that I could reason with that would make me feel better was if I knew he would stay.

I turned my beseeching glance his way. "Please don't go," I whispered.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue but closed it without saying a word…a simple nod being his response.

"Special Agent Booth, I strongly encourage—"

"If Bones wants me to stay…I'm staying."

Dr. Strapp let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I ask that you give her time to process what she has already learned."

He held up his hand. "I got it."

Angela squeezed my arm, before walking with Sweets and Dr. Strapp out of the room, leaving both Booth and me to myself.

Booth stared at me for a long moment, making me feel a little self-conscious before he walked back over to the recliner to take a seat. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding knowing that he was fully going to stay.

I cleared my throat. "Why do you call me Bones?"

"You're supposed to be resting. We can talk later," he scolded.

"Please," I pleaded. "Just…answer me this, and then I won't ask another question until later."

I figured from the memory from earlier, that Booth wasn't one that liked to say no to me unless it was absolutely necessary. He was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he was going to answer my question, but then the vibration of his voice caressed my skin cussing goosebumps in its wake.

"It's a nickname," he said. "You're a forensic anthropologist. You work with bones. It seemed fitting."

I smiled a slow smile. "I like it. Bones," I repeated, liking the way it fell off my tongue.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Get some rest, Bones."

There's an ache of longing in his look that was so strong I felt like I could have knelt over if I wasn't already laying down. I could see from his expression that there wouldn't be any further negotiating with Booth.

"Okay. You'll be there when I wake up?"

He nodded carefully. "I will. I don't have any other place to be."

The words were comforting as I slowly drifted off to a peaceful sleep.


A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter.