Chapter 11 – Never Give Up


A/N: This chapter will be broken up between both POV's with Booth and Bones.

This will be the biggest chapter yet! I hope you all enjoy.

P.S. Thank you for taking the time to review this story and give me your thoughts and feedback.


Booth


Present Day …

I watched as Bones fell into a peaceful sleep, before relaxing into my own chair.

Since the moment she had woken up, her blue eyes looking into mine with confusion and concern as she asked who I was...my stomached had been turned into knots.

I had been so relieved, glad, and happy to see her open her eyes. To know that she was going to be ok. Know that I was going to have my partner back…to realize that I truly hadn't lost her.

Who are you?

I wanted to shout. I'm your partner. I'm your friend. I'm…I'm the man that you said you loved just before you thought your life was going to end.

Did Bones not want to remember this? Did she instinctively know she was going to make it, and too embarrassed to face the fact that she bared her heart and soul—yes, her soul—even if she didn't believe in something like that, I did enough for the both of us. Did she regret the fact that she told me these things?

Even though she didn't know who I was—I could see that—I could sense that she wasn't afraid of me either. She was Bones. Even if she didn't remember, a part of her subconsciously could understand that she wasn't in any danger when it came to me.

As I watched her more closely, I could see her frustration and anger bubbling to the surface that she couldn't remember basic things about herself or who she was. That she didn't know any of the people in the room that would do—had done—anything to save her.

I could see how hard it was for Angela to sit next to her bed and take things slow. She wanted her best friend back just as much as we all wanted Bones back. Even Bones wanted that. Even if it was things about her life that might disappoint her, she wanted to know.

As I pulled her team of doctors into the hall to find out what the hell was going on and what their plan was to fix the problem, her eyes always remained with me. Part of me was hoping that she was feeling something. Remembering something.

There were a few times in the span of us telling her basic things about who she was, her life, and what caused her to be in the hospital…that she would get this far off look in her eyes. As if she was a blank vessel in her body, but she wasn't really there. We called out to her, tried to get her attention, but nothing seemed to work.

I turned to Dr. Strapp. "What's happening? Why isn't she responding?"

Dr. Strapp lowered his voice. "Calm down, Agent Booth. This is normal. Sometimes trauma victims may have moments where they seek internal comfort—a safety mechanism if you will—once they start to learn vital information about who they are. It's nothing to worry about."

My hand swiped down my face. "That doesn't look normal to me. Is there a risk she won't snap out of it?"

"She will be fine," he replied, is tone taking an agitated note to it. "You're a master of your profession as an agent, and I am a master of my profession as a neurologist. I'm sure even Dr. Sweets here would agree with me."

I looked over at Sweets, who looked from Bones to me. "He's right, Booth. Dr. Brennan is in no danger. This is good. Episodes like this can even mean that she might be recalling memories of her life."

I gritted my teeth. "The fact that you are calling it an episode, doesn't make me feel any better."

"Agent Booth, I assure you…everyone in this room cares about Dr. Brennan and only want the best for her health and well-being," said Dr. Strapp.

It happened a total of two times in the span of the time that we sat there providing Bones answers to all of her questions. I forced myself to relax as the time went on…with each answer. Each time Bones emerged from one of these tonic states, her eyes would flicker towards me…and I could swear, I could swear she might have remembered something. Maybe Dr. Strapp and Sweets might have been right.

When she begged me to stay after Dr. Strapp ordered everyone out, hope filled my chest. Hope and concern. She looked as if she was scared of something. Scared of someone. I wanted to take all those fears away. The fact that she felt some sort of trust with me, was giving me that hope that she might fully get her memories back.

Once everyone left the room, I sat back down in the recliner that had been my bed for the last two months. I stared at her for a long moment, wondering if Sweets had been right that her episodes—as they called it—meant that she was recalling certain memories. It made her look down at her lap, her fingers toying with blanket of her bed.

She cleared her throat. "Why do you call me Bones?"

"You're supposed to be resting. We can talk later," I scolded, trying to hide my smile knowing this was Bones. Always wanting to do the opposite of what she is told.

"Please," she pleaded. I hate when she pleaded. It was hard to ever tell her no, when she looked at me and her voice dipped like that. "Just…answer me this, and then I won't ask another question until later."

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

She looked up and smiled a slow smile. "I like it. Bones," she repeated, her face lighting up for the first time since she woke up as if she was trying it out for the first time.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that for almost the first year that I gave her the nickname, that she hated it. Always wanted me to stop calling her that until she finally got on board with the name. Embraced it.

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

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

I nodded carefully, making sure my emotions were carefully guarded. "I will. I don't have any other place to be."

It had been an hour into her sleep now. It would be wise if I tried to get some sleep too, but I couldn't shut my mind off. I wasn't a patient kind of man, and I wanted to do whatever I could, come up with whatever plan I could to help Bones get her memories back faster.

"Booth…"

My head snapped up in Bones direction—the direction of my name being called—but her eyes were still closed, her head lying flat against the pillow. Her face was relaxed, her lips even curving upwards into a smile.

She was dreaming.

She was dreaming about me.

I leaned forward in the recliner, my elbows on my knees as I watched her more intently.

"Booth…"

The way she said my name wasn't in a distressed way. Her features were relaxed, and she still seemed peaceful. Whatever she was dreaming about, it appeared as if she was happy. I wanted to know now what it was that she was dreaming about.

I got my wish.

She stirred; her hand coming up to her face, wiping at her eyes, before her sleepy voice called out, "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones, I'm here," I said.

She turned back into her pillow, so she could face me, her lashes blinking before her blue eyes stared back at me. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours." She was staring at me as if she was trying to piece something together. I couldn't stop myself before I asked, "Everything ok?"

Her eyes went a little wide. "Uh, yeah, yeah, why?"

Lucky I was good at masking my expressions and emotions. "You, um, sort of talk in your sleep."

Her cheeks flushed red. "I did?"

I nodded. "You seemed peaceful, so I didn't wake you."

She bit her bottom lip. "What…what did I say?"

I felt that pull in me, every time our eyes met. I was feeling that again right now as I answered her question. "You said my name."

"Oh!" Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, this time her eyes casted down at the hospital bed instead of at me. "It wasn't what you think," she said softly.

"I didn't say anything."

She looked up, her left eyebrow arching upwards. It was very Bones to do that with me when I said or did something that annoyed her or made her think I wasn't as intelligent as I was.

"You have that look," she said.

It was my turn to arch a brow. "I have a look?"

She let out a sigh. "Yes. That look that you get that tells me you already know something even though you are holding back all your cards so you can let me catch up with you. I hate when you do that sometimes," she replied.

When I didn't say anything, she looked over at me, her brows pinching together as she looked at whatever expression crossed my face.

"What?"

I smiled a wry smile. "You just remembered something that you wouldn't know with your amnesia."

Her eyes widen. "I did…didn't I?"

I scooted to the edge of the chair. "Was it your dream? Do you want to talk about it?"

She bit her lip. She was debating whether to tell me about it. I could see it in her eyes, the way her mind was going over the details. I feared I pushed her too far, but then she opened her mouth and told me.


Bones


My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I know it was physically impossible that real Booth could have been there in my dream, but the way he was looking at me…was as if he was there and already knowing what I hadn't yet shared.

I didn't know if it was a dream or an actual memory. It felt so real. Based on the two flashes of memories I had earlier in the day, I could see this being a real memory, but I wasn't sure.

I had said his name. I was calling out to him, even when I was asleep. I could no longer ignore the fact that there had to be something here between Booth and myself—even if I didn't remember.

There were subtle glances I noticed from everyone, Hodgins, Sweets, and especially Angela whenever I mentioned Booth's name and asked questions about our partnership. There were jokes about us being like Mulder and Scully—some television show I never heard of—and I was sure that was not part of my amnesia. I was really starting to wonder if there was something more, but no one wanted to tell me.

I was also starting to realize that if I wanted any answers, that those answers were going to have to come directly from Booth himself.

"I have what I believe are memories of my life, but I can't be certain," I said.

His look was thoughtful. Just as everyone had been since I woke up. Wondering how I must feel since waking up and not knowing who I am or anything about myself. Wondering how difficult this must be for me. In some cases, even pity for the woman that didn't know who she was. The only one that didn't look at me like that…was Booth.

He smirked. "If Sweets was here, he would say that maybe if you talked about them…it would help clear it up. Distinguish between what is real and what is not."

I grinned. "You don't strike me as a shrinky guy."

His mouth twitched. "I hate psychology. But Sweets…he's ok. He's actually helpful on most cases."

I smoothed out the wrinkles in my blanket knowing I was stalling. Making small talk so I didn't have to actually get to the bottom of the things I was starting to remember.

"So…."

"So…" he countered.

He wasn't going to make it easy, which I appreciated, but he wasn't going to let me off the hook either. He knew I wanted answers, and he was going to let me work through it on my terms.

"Earlier," I began, "when everyone was in the room…I sort of had these moments of flashes of what I believe were memories."

"About you? Your job?" he guessed.

I shook my head. "About you…and me."

I risked a peek to see his reaction to me disclosing the information, but his face was a blank slate, giving nothing away.

He cleared his throat. "Okay…what about you and me?"

My answer came out in a rush. "It was mostly just flashes. Moments of when you protected me. In some cases, saved me from dangerous situations. I think something in my mind triggered those responses of you being protective because that is how I have seen you since I woke up," I explained.

A smile played around the corners of his mouth. "That's because you have this annoying habit of finding yourself in trouble and constantly in need of saving," he answered.

My bottom jaw fell open. "How many times are we talking here?"

"How many flashes did you recall?" he countered.

"Two."

"Way more than two. A lot," he said, his hands coming up with wide space to in fact indicate that it was something that happened all the time.

Jeez, how clumsy or a pain in the ass, was—am—I?

After a moment of silence that lingered, he asked, "What did you remember?"

"I remember just small flashes of times you, sort of, threw yourself on me if there was an explosion or a bang that sounded like an explosion."

He nodded. "Hodgins," he muttered.

I grinned. "Does he really call himself the King of the lab?"

He snickered. "He really does. Sometimes he gets it right." He paused. "Is that what you were just dreaming about?"

I shook my head. "No. No, it wasn't."

His lips turned downwards into a frown, the corners of his eyes pinching together. "Listen, Bones, you don't have to talk about it if you don't—"

"I was buried alive," I blurted out quickly.

As I gazed over at Booth, I could instantly see that he knew exactly what I was referencing. His reaction was swift in being able to see the molten anger rolling off him, even though he was doing his best to keep his anger in check.

I nodded. "I was buried alive, wasn't I?"

He avoided my gaze for a moment, before he looked up, and said, "Yes."

"With Hodgins?"

"Yes." I paused. "This was for a case. The same case that put me here now…isn't it?"

"The Grave Digger," he replied.

Rapid quick flashes suddenly filled me head. It wasn't like last time; the room wasn't fading out into existence. My hands reached out to either side of the guardrail of the bed. I could hear Booth's voice, clear and near me as he called out my name.

I wanted to shy away from the images at first. It felt like I was suffocating just by viewing them. Me in a coffin. Me in in a room where the walls were shaking. Finally, me standing out in the sun, just before I could feel heat—heat that felt so real on my skin—before I was swallowed up in colors of orange and yellow.

I felt Booth's hand in my own, his voice close to my ear.

"Bones, it's ok. It's ok, Bones. I'm here," he coaxed, his hand squeezing mine with each word.

I could feel my breaths coming in quick pants before the quick flashes stopped, and I was just left looking straight ahead in my hospital room.

"Bones? Bones, can you hear me?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

I turn my head slowly, looking into his wide concerned eyes. "I remember the barge," I say slowly, my voice hitching at the word barge.

Booth lowered the rail next to my bed, instantly climbing in next to me. I moved over to allow him room, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and bringing me closer to his body.

"It's okay, Bones. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. No one will ever hurt you again," he promised.

I placed my hand on his forearm, the one that was holding me tightly as I squeeze it back. I wasn't worried in that regard, because I believed Booth. I believe he would make sure that no one would ever dream about hurting me again.

We sat there in the comfort of silence for a few moments, until my breathing returned to normal, and I wasn't clutching to Booth as if I needed him for my very next breath.

Booth pushed a few strands of hair from my face, his voice directly above my hear, causing goosebumps on my temple. "You, ok?"

I nodded, attempting to find my voice. "Yeah. Sorry," I reply sheepishly. "It all just hit so quickly, it took me off guard."

"You don't have to be sorry, Bones. I can only imagine what you must be going through."

I pulled back slightly to look at him. "Booth…can I ask you a question?"

Booth dropped his arm, so it was laying more towards my hip, as he looked back at me. "Always, Bones."

"What happened with Heather Taffet? Tell me she is sitting in a jail?"

I watched as he swallowed slowly, his saliva working its way down his throat. "She's dead Bones. When she lost her appeal, she hung herself in her cell."

I nodded. I forced myself not to tremble, but I couldn't stop the first tear that fell. "Good," I said numbly, before the damn of tears broke and I cried.

It was Booth's arms around me that I remembered as he held me and just let me work through my emotions.


Booth


2 days later….

Bones had been progressing every minute of every day since she had woken up. She hadn't had anymore larger episodes like she had the first night when she had remembered not only the first time that Heather had kidnapped her, but the most recent time that led her to being in the hospital.

We didn't need to speak the rest of the night. I was content on just holding her and letting her work through her emotions, and she was happy to not have to do it on her own. Every once in a while, she would ask me a question—which I answered honestly and without holding back—and we would work through however, those emotions played out.

Bones was getting stronger in the last two days, and between Dr. Strapp and Sweets working with her and assessing her progress, they were both in agreement that she could be released from the hospital and go home.

Outside of a couple of flashes in which Bones disclosed that she remembered me saving her a few times, along with being buried alive and working through the Grave Digger's mind games, Bones hadn't remembered anything else.

I could see the frustration building behind her eyes on still not remembering all about herself including her past and present. Having some of the information but not all, was almost making it worse in that she was trying to force the information out—against Sweets and Dr. Strapp's wishes.

I had gone to grab the SUV to pull around the front now that Bones was being discharged. I wanted her to come and stay with me, but I had been overruled by both Sweets and Dr. Strapp. Everyone had been overruled to letting Bones stay with them. They all felt that it was best that Bones go back to her apartment in hopes that it might trigger more memories, since she was already starting to get glimpses of both past and present.

Dr. Strapp seemed overly confident that with her getting both past and present memories that Bones would likely regain all of her memories at some point. It would just take time, healing, and openness from Bones to be able to accept the memories as they come. The good and the bad.

As Dr. Strapp signed her release forms and left the room, it was Bones that shared that she felt she was able to be open the most recent memories because I had been there. It all the more made me want to ensure that I stayed with her in the event she had another episode like the one two days ago.

It was hard not to want to stay with her, but Sweets letting me know that by not taking their advice could cause setbacks to Bones recovery, was the only reason I was going to play by the rules.

Still, I was filled with relief when Bones asked if I would be the one to take her back to her apartment. To stay with her for a bit until she had a chance to get back into her apartment and feel like she would be ok and safe before I left.

I turned the corner on the hospital wing that had been Bones home for the last two plus months and stopped in her doorway. She was standing at the side of her bed, repacking her overnight bag that Angela had brought her. Angela had gone back to her apartment and packed her a few of her own personal belongings so that she could leave the hospital feeling more like herself.

She just folded another shirt, when I used the back of my knuckles to rasp on the door and alert her, I was there.

"You ready?"

She turned from placing the shirt in the bag, followed by a few other toiletries and zipped the bag up.

She beamed. "More than ready."

I walked over; holding out my hand so I could take the bag. "Hand it over," I said seeing the argument on her face.

Bones tilted her head to the side, her eyes dipping down with a scolding look. "I can hold my bag, Booth. I'm more than capable."

Bones may not remember everything, but it was moments like these, little things where she would just do or say something that was so her—things that she didn't even know she was doing—that gave me even more hope that I was fully going to get my Bones back.

"I know your capable, Bones. It's a gesture. A nice thing a man does for a lady."

She chuckled. "Last night, I remembered a few times that when we worked cases, I could hold my own," she said proudly.

"You more than could hold your own," I agreed.

She relented and gave me the bag as we started walking towards the door of her room. The room we had both lived in for the last few months.

"So, why don't you want me to have a gun?"

"What…how…who…"

Bones smiled; taping her head to let me know she must've remembered something.

I sighed. "Because you don't need a gun. I'm the gun. I catch and shoot the bad guys, and you do the Bones. That is how this partnership works."

She squinted at me, but then started walking, leaving me to catch up. "I know you are keeping something from me. The real reason you won't let me have a gun. It's ok, I will get my memories back, and when I do…we will revisit this conversation.

I smiled to myself. Boy, will we ever. I look forward to the day.


One hour later…

We stood outside of Bones apartment, the keys in her hand as she stood with the key outstretched, but not quite putting it in the lock just yet.

"You, ok?" I asked, feeling like a broken record.

Her eyes remained fixed on the key. "Sweets told me that the Grave Digger kidnapped me here this last time."

I was going to kill Sweets. "Bones…"

"I'm fine," she said confidently. "I…I just need a minute."

I licked my lips. "I promise, Bones. Your apartment is just the way you left it. You might be missing a lamp or some figurine from some tribe you happened to study or unearth, but you don't have to be afraid. I'll be right here."

She looked up at me and smiled, just as she finally put the key in the lock. "I know."

Our eyes stayed locked; as she turned the key towards the side, the deadbolt coming unlocked as she pulled the key from the lock and held them in her hands. I was content to just stand there and wait for her to be ready, and when she looked at me it was a simple nod of encouragement that I gave her.

She opened the door; and took one and then two steps inside. I waited a few moments, standing just outside the door, allowing her to get her bearings as she stepped further into the room and looked around the place.

She stood in the center of her family room, her eyes looking towards the couch and bookshelves, then towards the left of her where her desk with her computer set up remained. She turned in the opposite direction to look into her kitchen, her eyes roaming over her stacks of CD's that she kept right near her coat closet.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, I stepped into the room, placing her overnight back near the door, before shutting the front door behind me.

She was quiet for a long time. I wanted so badly to say something, but I didn't want to interrupt in the event being here might have triggered memories for her.

After a few minutes, she finally turned towards me, her eyes dilated and big. Her face was flushed. She looked the same way she had before when she remembered something. I was sure of it. I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to pry. Hell, I wanted to pry. I really wanted to pry. But…I didn't. I had to let Bones tell me when she was ready.

I cleared my throat. "Just the way you left it," I said instead.

"I'm sure."

Whatever memory she did have, it hadn't been about this place. I had no problem being able to mask my disappointment. I had gotten good with that over the years in working with Bones.

"Listen, Bones—"

"You want to leave, don't you?" she asked, cutting me off.

My forehead furrowed. "What, no!"

She let out a breath. "Oh. Ok, good. You had that look."

"What look?"

"That look you get when you are going to give bad news. I have seen you do it countless times when you have to tell family members that their loved one is dead. You're really good at it," she observed.

My steps faltered. "You remember that?" I stammered.

Her face lit up like she too just realized that. "I…I guess I did. I mean…I didn't actually see memories, but it's just something I fell. I know." She looked up at me. "Is that weird?"

I shook my head. "No. It's not weird."

She took a step closer to me. "If you didn't want to leave, then what is it you wanted to say that could be so serious. I know it's serious because…"

"My look I know," I finished for her.

We stare at each other, all other words just escaping us at the moment. Now isn't the time for me to say what I have had built up for the last two and half months, especially when she still doesn't remember who she truly is, but it's moments like this where she looks at me or even does Bones—her-mannerisms that I forget she has amnesia.

Instead, I reach into my pocket, and pull out a small, folded piece of paper. Her eyes follow my every movement, as I bring it up towards us.

I watch as her eyes take in the piece of paper, and I can see the flash of recognition. She had told me a couple of days before—the night she regained her most recent run in with the Grave Digger—that she had recalled the memory from a year ago when she had been buried alive. Pulling out the piece of paper was not only a confirmation for me that she remembers, but possibly an opportunity to trigger more.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

I look up to meet her gaze. "When you were kidnapped, CSI did a full sweep of your apartment. One of the techs found this sitting on top of your dresser—"

"In my bedroom," she finished for me, looking up in my eyes. She swallowed. "Did…did you read it?"

I looked back down at the note. I stared at this note for hours while sitting in Bones room while she laid unconscious. Sometimes talking myself into reading the note, and sometimes talking myself out of reading the note. It got harder after Hodgins had seen the note in my possession and encouraged me to read it.

"No," I admitted, looking back into her eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted too. There's a note addressed to me, and not reading it…it's like putting me in a room with a red single button and telling me not to push it," I explained.

She smiled. "So, why didn't you?"

I extended my hand out to give her the note. "Because it was your note to me. You didn't give me the note. If you wanted me to have it, to read it, then you would have given it to me yourself. So, until that happens…this belongs with you."

Bones hesitates for a moment, before her hand comes up to take the note from my own. As soon as her fingers wrap around the paper, it takes everything in me to not want to hold on the paper. As soon as she starts to pull the sheet towards her, I let go, letting my hand fall back to my side.

Her eyes remain on the paper a few seconds, before she turns and walks over to her sofa, slowly lowering herself until she sits on the cushion. The piece of paper remains cradled in her hands on top of her lap. I walk over, but I don't yet sit. I want to allow her the time to work through whatever emotions it is she is feeling.

"I wrote this right before we used the airbags to explode to push us to the top. Hodgins didn't know if we were going to make it, so he encouraged that I write a note…in case…"

"He told me," I say, so she didn't have to say it.

She looks up at me again, and I can see the water starting to collect at the back of her eyes. "You really didn't read it?"

I shook my head. "No. I promise."

Our gazes connected, and I see the moment that she truly believes me, that I hadn't read the note for the reasons I laid out. I had finally concluded myself, that whatever was written on that piece of paper—and how bad I wanted to know what it was—would mean a heck of a lot more, if I got to read it knowing that Bones wanted me to read it.

Her head dipped back down to her chest. "I remember writing every word. I remember that as I wrote each word, I let the science play through my head on the chances that it would work out the way Dr. Hodgins and I wanted it too."

"Your science didn't fail you," I said, stepping closer until I sat down next to her.

She looked up; her face scrunching up as if she was trying to smile and keep the water from the back of her eyes from falling.

"I used to think the reason that we were such good partners, was because we both wanted the truth even if that truth might hurt us in the end."

"The truth is important," I agreed.

Her hand reached out, placing it over mine. My fingers wrapped around hers and offered a gentle squeeze.

The corner of her lips turned upwards into a smile. "It is important, but it isn't the only thing." She paused for a moment, before her lips parted and she continued, "I always thought keeping my emotions in control meant that I was a strong person. I am a scientist, that's what I do, Booth. I look at the facts and I separate emotion." she sniffled. "But that all changed…the day…" her voice caught, as she sucked in a large gulp of air.

My hand squeezed her hand reassuringly. "The day, what?"

She squeezed my hand back, looking up into my eyes. "The day I met you. The day I no longer knew how to control what I do, with how I feel when I'm with you."

Our eyes stayed connected, so many emotions that I have been trying to keep at bay, so many emotions since the day she jumped off the barge with the explosion—knowing her last words to me had been that she was in love with me—but me never having a chance to get to say anything in return.

I was once again fighting the internal struggle of telling her what I really wanted her to know, and still giving her the space to come back to who she truly is. She has remembered a lot in the few days that she has regained coconsciousness, but she still didn't know herself—what made up Temperance Brennan. She deserved to be able to know herself before I added to it.

I pulled back slightly, to make sure I didn't do anything I would regret. I nodded at her, the simplest way I could to make her understand the reason for my pulling back wasn't because I wasn't at all understanding or even feeling some of what she was communicating with me.

"Bones—"

She thrusted the letter back at me, pulling back her hand I had been holding to wipe a single tear that had fallen down her cheek.

"I want you to read it," she said interrupting what I was going to say.

I looked down at her hand, the letter right in front of me. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, offering me a reassuring smile. "It's time. Don't you think?"

I took the letter from her hand. She had just given me one of the best presents out there. I opened the piece of paper and started to read.

Dear Booth,

Hodgins says I should write a letter to someone I love in the event we don't make it out of here. I thought about everyone in my life, and the only person that came to mind, that I loved and felt I needed them to know…was you.

I hated you when I first met you. No, that's a lie. I hated everything you are because I can't seem to find a way to be like that. Your protective, opinionated, sweet, and you carry this unshakeable faith in you that even when I don't understand, why I question on, or even diminish your beliefs, you don't waiver. I've seen you do this countless times with me, when you could have easily given up.

I've had to wrestle with the fact that I get happy when we get a case, mostly because that means I get to see you. I treasure our times outside of our cases, and I have come to treasure not only our partnership, but you. Just you. The happiness and joy I have started to feel just by being with you. If I don't make it…it will be my biggest regret that I didn't have the guts to tell you this.

Seeley, I just wanted you to know…being with you…it just feels right. It always feels right.

Temperance


Bones


I was grateful for Booth coming with me back to my place. A place I don't remember or currently had no connection too. Booth was worried that I would walk into the apartment and be afraid because it had been where I was kidnapped. Afraid that maybe I would be upset that it wouldn't look like how I left it.

I'm sure that maybe, subconsciously, those things might be true, but I was more afraid of stepping into a place that is technically mine, but not knowing anything about the place. Why I picked that lamp. Why that artifact that might be sitting there might mean some importance to me. I couldn't live in fear of the unknown, and if possibly stepping into another area of my life could help me get all my memories, that is what I would do.

I nodded in encouragement to Booth, letting him know I was ready. I turned the key in the lock, the deadbolt clicking free, as I turned the knob and slowly entered into the apartment.

The first step was the hardest, but they got easier as I got further into the room. I was aware that Booth was standing guard just outside of the apartment, giving me the time and space to look around and see if anything came to me.

My eyes traveled around the room, my desk, my television, my kitchen, and then it landed on my shelves that held both books and CDs. Something was pulling me to look in this direction.

It happened just like before. The room started to go out of focus as what I knew to be another memory was going to flash into my mind.

Booth was here in my apartment. My life was in danger—again. He had just asked if I had a television and I had told him that it had broken, and I hadn't replaced it. He looked at me like I was crazy, because Booth loved television. He loved watching sports games.

He suggested music instead. Which he made fun of me for, because I had a wide variety of taste. He moved to my other side of CDs intrigued when he saw that I liked Jazz. I don't know why. It was interesting to know they had to live within the music they created. I found it rather interesting.

Booth took a CD out of my stack and placed it into the player. He kept it from me so that I couldn't see what he put in, but the moment he hit play, the rock beats started to fill the room.

"How did that get in there?"

Booth started bouncing his head up and down, his hands making motions like an air guitar as he replied, "It's Foreigner. Who doesn't like Foreigner?"

He started moving about my apartment as he continued to air guitar to the song, Hot Blooded. "I mean…Hot Blooded. Talk about a guilty pleasure. Come on!"

It was hard not to match his enthusiasm or beat to the music, and soon I found myself starting to tap towards the beat, getting into swaying my hips as we sang along to the lyrics. At some point, I even kicked my leg up high, singing to the lyrics as if I was the lead singer of Foreigner.

I don't remember having this much fun as I recall this memory. Suddenly, I am just filled with sadness that all I can remember was a life that was filled with work and then coming home to an empty apartment. I could see why of all the memories that I could be shown this would be one.

I watch as the phone rings, interrupting our flow of dancing and singing. The call doesn't seem important, but it certainly ruins the mood and fun times we were just having together.

Booth being the normal of the two of us, knows how to break an awkward moment—seeing the phone call had been from a man named David who wanted to date me—to ask for a soda. We laugh, and suddenly, all the awkwardness is gone again.

I offered to get him the soda, but he was insistent that he wasn't a guest and could get the soda himself. I declined politely when he asked if I wanted anything, watching him walk towards my kitchen to grab himself a drink.

Just as Booth placed his hand on the fridge to open the door, a loud explosion shook the walls of the apartment. I watched as Booth flew across the kitchen floor onto his back, the door sprawled on his lap, with flames burning on his torso.

I grabbed the blanket off the back of my couch, running to him as quickly as possible, as I patted the flames out. I lift the door off his legs, making sure every last flame is put out.

He unconscious; but breathing. My heart skidded in my chest at seeing him this way, worried that he might not open his eyes again to look at me. I call out his name repeatedly but to no avail, he doesn't open his eyes.

"Come on, Booth. Come on!"

The memory begins to fade away, as my apartment furnishings come back into view. I can tell that Booth is still standing behind me, but I am aware that each step he takes is bringing him closer and closer into the apartment.

I feel a tingle at the back of my head, this time pulling me towards looking at the table in my apartment, before more flashes of rapid-fire shoot behind my eyes. The time that I made Booth dinner, with mac and cheese. He had been so touched that I had taken the time to go out of my way and make him dinner. What he didn't know was that it wasn't any trouble at all.

All the emotion that comes with these memories are hitting me all at once. The irony isn't lost on me that it seems all the memories I have had since I woke up are memories that involve Booth. How important he is to me in my life, and how much I had come to depend on him.

Why was I so afraid?

Booth cleared his throat. "Just the way you left it," he said.

I could see he was worried about the fact that I had just been standing there, not saying a word. The fact that I was overcome with even more emotion was causing him to look at me with even more concern.

"I'm sure," I replied.

In my own haze of trying to work through my emotions I pointed out something to Booth about how I noticed he looked when he had to deliver bad news. I didn't think it was anything noteworthy, but to Booth it was everything. It was an observation that someone like me—someone with amnesia—wouldn't remember unless I was starting to gain more and more of my memories.

Booth stares at me, like he has so much he wants to tell me. So much that is on his mind, but he keeps holding back, because I am the girl without her memories. Most of my memories that is. I am starting to realize the important ones, especially the one that was coming to mean the most of them all.

I try to tell him with my eyes that it is ok for him to tell me whatever it is he wants to tell me, but I know he won't. Even after a handful of memories and a few days with Booth, I can tell he wouldn't do anything that would jeopardize my recovery or getting my memories back.

I had overhead Sweets and Dr. Strapp telling all my friends that in no way should they drop any really heavy or traumatic events from my life, as it could do the opposite and cause me to block out further memories. Like Sweets giving the example that I was abandoned by my mother and father at the age of fifteen, bouncing from foster care…only to now have my dad reappear in my life. Everyone thought they were quiet when in fact they were the opposite.

The news had been shocking at first, but it had only done the opposite. It actually caused memories of that period to also come back to me in flashes and in longer memories. I couldn't—didn't want to tell anyone about them in case they realized I had overheard them and started acting differently around them.

For me, it seemed to help being shown places of importance to me. Every time I visited a place of importance, or was told of something significant in my life, it seemed to trigger more and more memories. I was a sponge. The more information I got, the more I wanted without having to wait for them to be shone to me.

Booth's movement caught my eye when he reached his pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. My eyes followed his every movement, as he brought it up towards us into my view.

I recognize the piece of paper instantly. It was one of the longer memories I had been shown when I had woken up. I remember the stickiness of the heat of the car after having been in there for almost thirteen hours. I remember the musky smell from the dirt and rocks. I remember how tired I was getting from our oxygen being depleted each second. Finally, I remember every word I wrote in that letter to Booth when I thought it was very real that we wouldn't make it out in time. That Booth and our friends might not find us in time. What I wanted to make sure he knew.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

He looked up to meet my gaze. "When you were kidnapped, CSI did a full sweep of your apartment. One of the techs found this sitting on top of your dresser—"

"In my bedroom," I finished for him, turning towards my bedroom entrance before I looked back up into his eyes. I swallowed. "Did…did you read it?"

Booth looked back down at the note. He had this note in his possession since I had been kidnapped, and suddenly the thought that he had been left to read this without being able to talk about it left me sad. If it had been reversed, I don't know how I could handle knowing you might never know their reaction.

"No," he admitted, looking back into my eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted too. There's a note addressed to me, and not reading it…it's like putting me in a room with a red single button and telling me not to push it," he explained.

I smiled, because I would feel the exact same way. "So, why didn't you?" I asked curiously.

He extended his hand out to give me back the note. "Because it was your note to me. You didn't give me the note. If you wanted me to have it, to read it, then you would have given it to me yourself. So, until that happens…this belongs with you."

I hesitated for a moment, because he was right. I had this letter sitting on my dresser for over a year. Each morning I would stare at the note, talking myself into saying that today would be the day I would do what I needed to do. What I wanted to do. Each night, I would stare at the note, when I would chicken out, and pep talk myself, that tomorrow would be another day. Except…there almost wasn't another day. If this experience has taught me…today was a gift and tomorrow was never promised.

I found my hand coming up to take the note from his hand. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the paper—our fingers grazing in the process, a jolt of electricity shooting up my arm—I can feel the slight tug on Booth's end that he almost doesn't want to let it go, just as much as I don't want to have to take it back.

So…stop chickening out.

Booth's hand releases the paper, his hand falling back to his side. My eyes remain on the paper for a few seconds, before I turn and walk over to the sofa, slowly lowering myself until I sits on the cushion. I just sit there feeling numb as the piece of paper remains cradled in my hands on top of my lap.

Booth walks over but remains standing in front of me. I can see by his expression; he is waiting for permission to be able to sit and place himself so we would be in close proximity.

"I wrote this right before we used the airbags to explode to push us to the top. Hodgins didn't know if we were going to make it, so he encouraged that I write a note…in case…"

"He told me," he said, knowing it was hard for me to even get that out.

I look up at him again; water starting to collect at the back of my eyes. "You really didn't read it?"

He shook his head. "No. I promise."

Our gazes connect, and I know he can see the moment that I truly believe him that he hadn't read the note. It meant the world to me that he held onto hope that I would wake up. That when I woke up and he was hit with another obstacle in that I might not regain my memories…that he still waited, longed for the day that I would come back and I would willingly give him the note to read.

My head dipped back down to my chest, as I was transported back to those moments in the car with Hodgins. The moment I wrote the letter. "I remember writing every word. I remember that as I wrote each word, I let the science play through my head on the chances that it would work out the way Dr. Hodgins and I wanted it too."

"Your science didn't fail you," he said, stepping closer until he sat down next to me.

I looked up, trying to smile and keep the water from the back of my eyes from falling. "I used to think the reason that we were such good partners, was because we both wanted the truth even if that truth might hurt us in the end."

His expression never wavered. "The truth is important," he agreed.

My hand instantly reached out to his, placing it over his strong and warm one. His fingers wrapped around mine and offered a gentle squeeze.

The corner of my lips turned upwards into a smile. "It is important, but it isn't the only thing." I paused for a moment, before my lips parted and I continued, "I always thought keeping my emotions in control meant that I was a strong person. I am a scientist, that's what I do, Booth. I look at the facts and I separate emotion." I sniffled, as I turned to him slightly. "But that all changed…the day…" my voice caught, as I sucked in a large gulp of air.

Booth squeezed my hand reassuringly. "The day, what?"

I squeezed his back, looking up into his eyes earnestly. "The day I met you. The day I no longer knew how to control what I do, with how I feel when I'm with you."

Our eyes stayed connected, so many emotions that I could see that he was trying to keep at bay, starting to crack. I felt terrible that I was a cause of any of his pain. That I had left him in that position I had. It wasn't right or fair. To either of us.

I tried to hide my disappointment when Booth pulled back slightly. I knew it was to make sure that he hadn't crossed a line. To hell with that line that Sweets or Dr. Strapp thought was there. They didn't know me. They didn't know Booth. Only we knew what was best for each other.

"Bones—"

I could tell he was going to start to retreat and turn away, and I couldn't have that. I thrusted the letter back at him. His lips turned downward into a frown, his hand releasing mine as he wiped a single tear that had fallen down my cheek.

"I want you to read it," I said interrupting him before he could say what I knew was some reason to leave.

He looked down at my hand, the letter starring him right in his face. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. I was so certain this was the right thing to do. The right time. All those days before when I tried to talk myself and it didn't feel right…it was because they weren't. This…now…was the right time.

"It's time. Don't you think?"

Booth took the letter from my hand. He opened the piece of paper, his eyes darting left to right as he read each word, each line I had wrote.

I closed my eyes, remembering each word as if I was reading it right along with him. I smiled as I remembered how I thought I hated him when we first met. It hadn't been the case. I didn't hate Booth, I hated what he was bringing into my life. Chaos, feelings, and questions about everything I thought I wanted in my life. The things I realized I was missing out on.

Next to science, I had never wanted anything else. Nothing ever excited me to want to want anything else. I was happy waking up each day and devoting all my time to science and coming home to emptiness and solitude. How empty I really realized all that had been. How sad my life had been?

The more time I spent with Booth, the more I found myself craving to want to be like him. To want to believe in the things that he so passionately believed in. To have the blind faith where he didn't care if science could produce an answer to discredit his beliefs, he still believed anyway.

Like he always did with me and about me.

I closed my eyes guessing he was at the last part of my letter. My lips opening as I mouthed the final line of the letter, Seeley, I just wanted you to know…being with you…it just feels right. It always feels right.

His eyes left the letter the same time I opened my own as we looked at each other. I think I hear him groan, making my stomach swoop, the need inside of me increasing for his touch. A touch that I had truly believed I would never feel again.

I stand; making the move to stop just in front of him. I know that Booth will be too worried about my recovery to want to do what we both know we want to do.

"Bones…"

My hand reaches out, so that it touches his cheek, his stubble rough like sandpaper against my fingers. A groan catches in his throat, his eyes turning heavy lidded. I can see his wrestling with himself, not able to push me away like he was able to before. After another second, I see the conviction in his eyes rooting him in place.

His hand comes up, so his thumb rubs a small circle on my own cheek, and it does all kinds of wonderful things to my insides. How many times has Booth touched me over the years and I had blocked out how wonderful and comforting his touch is to me? How many times I had dreamed and imagined his hands on me? Just the thought makes heat rise to my cheeks.

I can feel my own eyes widen, heart racing when I look back up into his gaze and can see what he so clearly wants to do. What I so badly want him to do.

His voice comes out as a whisper, cracked, and a bit unsure as he asks, "Do you remember what you said to me just before you plunged off the barge?"

A wetness pricks at my eyes, remembering every word I had uttered too him. "I do."

He sucks in a breath, causing me to bite my own lip.

His voice was a low rasp as he asked, "Did you mean every word?"

I looked up at him trying to say everything I was feeling—those same feelings I knew now were mirrored inside of him— with the simplest of words. "I do."

His eyes turned molten as he dips his head the same time, he pulls me closer to him. My lips part automatically, and for the first time in a long time—the first time a kiss that means something much more than a drunken inhibition or undercover assignment—takes flight.

His kiss starts as a gentle caress. So soft and sweet, it makes my heart expand and expand. It only takes another second before his kisses turn hungry, possessive, as he reclaims my mouth. I wanted him even closer, though I knew it wasn't possible. In this moment, I realize I would never get enough of Booth.

It's not just the kiss that is warm and wonderful, but the fact that I am relaxed and care about nothing but what is happening other than Booth and myself. It triggers more flashes and memories.

Booth's kiss compared to Sully or others I had dated or slept with were night and day. Sully's being the closest I could compare too, had been pleasant, but lacked passion, intensity, and longing. Booth's kiss held every one of these emotions and then some. Booth kissed me the with same fierceness in which he battled the evil we faced. I had always thought Booth was a badass, but as he wrapped me in his arms, and molded his lips to mine, the description of badass really hasn't done him justice. I clung to him as he deepened the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his muscular chest, as if he was my only source of oxygen.

When the apparent need for air had forced us to separate, Booth refused to allow space between us. Each of our foreheads touched as we managed to get our breathing back under control.

I pull back slightly, just enough that I can open my eyes and smile into his. I am met with a warm smile looking back at me. I whisper, "I remember everything."


A/N: Hope you enjoyed this much longer chapter. We are now down to our final chapter.