(Season 11)
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Brennan remembered a television show she had watched with Booth titled, 'Silent Witness'. The show had followed some forensic pathologists doing their job trying to help with murder investigations, but Booth had decided that he had enough of that in his life without using it as entertainment. Brennan had agreed and they never watched it again.
Now she was standing before an examination table, charred bones lying on the table waiting for her to examine them and for some reason the words silent witness popped into her mind. It seemed appropriate. She was a silent witness for the victim lying before her. She needed to prove who this was. Everyone kept telling her that it was Booth, but she knew that it couldn't be her husband. She knew it and she would prove it.
Alone in the examination room, the door closed and locked, she carefully studied the bones and noted each bit of damage as she found them. The victim had remodeled fractures of his calcanei. Booth had the same remodeled fractures, but so did anyone else that had jumped from planes using a parachute. The scapulae and ribs five through eight showed fractures that had been remodeled. They were old enough that anyone could see that they had been sustained in the victim's youth. These were clear signs of child abuse written on the bones for her to see. She checked the victim's cranium, the skull was badly degraded from the fire, so she couldn't check for signs of brain surgery. Her fingers lingered on the skull and noted the spacing between the eyes then placed it back on the table.
Silently, she placed her gloved hands on the table and stared at the charred bones, wondering if this man was really Booth after all. If fate was real, then it was being cruel. Booth was no longer a field agent and yet it was possible that this pile of bones was all that was left of her husband.
Stubbornly, she continued her examination. Booth had been in a firefight with assassins in the Mighty Hut almost 18 months prior to that moment and this body was riddled with bullet wounds. The fire had fractured the bones making it almost too difficult to tell what was a bullet wound and what wasn't, but she was the best in her field. She had a lot of experience identifying the victims of war and that helped her now.
As her fingers moved silently over the bones, she focused her attention on the left scapula. During the firefight, a small portion of his left scapula had been hit by a bullet and as the bullet had left Booth's body that bit of scapula had left with it. This body had an intact left scapula. She had proved that this was not Booth. Since the body had many of the same markers that Booth did, she now knew that the victim was Jared Booth not Seeley Booth.
Filled with relief, Brennan sank to the floor and let herself cry. She had been so afraid that the victim was indeed Booth, but she had to make sure for herself. Every indication pointed towards it being her husband, but she had faith that Booth was not dead. Many times, he had been hurt, many times he had been hurt so badly that he should have perished, but he hadn't and she knew he hadn't this time either.
Letting her tears fall unchecked, she allowed herself a few minutes to relieve the tension that had been building up inside her. She knew that she needed to let everyone know that Booth was alive and that they needed to search for him, but she needed to recover from the awful fear that had been washing through her since Arastoo had announced that the victim was Booth.
Dashing her hands across her face, Brennan stood up, leaned over the bones of her brother-in-law and spoke quietly. "I don't know what you did to get yourself killed Jared, but Booth is out there hurt possibly dying and this is no doubt your fault. Why couldn't you leave him alone? Why did you have to keep using him? Why couldn't you seek help and set your life right?"
She felt foolish asking bones questions that couldn't be answered, but they were questions she had had to ask. The bones would not give her the answers, but it didn't really matter. She had to find Booth and she had to find him quickly. "I'm sorry you're dead, Jared, but I am glad it is you and not Booth."
Removing her gloves from her hand, she tossed them in a bio-hazard bin, unlocked the door and raced down the hallway. Booth was alive. He was alive and they needed to find him. That was all she had on her mind. She would worry about Jared later.
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He lay in the hospital bed, unconscious. The surgery had been a long and torturous process. The silver nitrate Booth had used to stop the bleeding had to be removed from his body. The bullet in his abdomen had to be located and removed and he had required numerous transfusions. The surgery had been successful and for that Brennan was thankful.
As she waited for her husband to awake, she studied his face and wondered how a man who had been through so much pain in his life could continue to thrive, but thrive he did. He was a family man and he loved his wife and children very much. He lived for their happiness and Brennan found that amazing. Booth had grown up in a house filled with hate, his bones proof of the abuse he had sustained from his father.
What amazed her the most was the fact that there were two sons in that household and they had walked away from that house with different life lessons. Booth had grown up to be a protector. He saw himself as a Paladin. Deputy Director Cullen had called him that during one of their early cases together. A protector of the weak and a warrior whose aim was to bring justice to the unjust and to vanquish evil. She had found the title rather ludicrous when she had first heard it, but over the years Booth had proved to be that Paladin, her paladin.
Jared had grown up to be a user. He was shameless in how he used people and when it came to his brother, he assumed he had to but ask for a favor and his brother would grant it. Jared was an alcoholic who never learned to control that illness. It left him weak and floundering through his life and in the end that weakness had killed him. It had almost killed Booth too.
Booth had weaknesses too, but he worked hard to keep them under control. He had failed for a short while the previous year, but he had overcome his gambling addiction enough to return to his family. Her husband had not given up like her brother-in-law. He fought every day to have the life he had. If only Jared had tried as well.
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Her silent vigil lasted until she heard a soft moan come from her husband. She witnessed him move his hand to his mouth and then lower his hand. "Bones." His eyes were closed, but he was awake.
"I'm here, Booth." She was so glad to see him awake. Her biggest fear had been that he would never wake again and she would have to live her life without him.
His voice was hoarse, like a rusty hinge that protested when a door opened. "Thirsty."
She helped him by giving him some ice chips. While he rolled those around in his mouth, she moved her hand through his hair staring at his still closed eyes. "Can you open your eyes, Booth?" She wasn't sure why that was important, but it was to her.
With a lot of effort, he opened them and stared at his wife. "Bones." He wanted to smile, but he couldn't muster the strength, maybe later.
His dark eyes staring at her, Brennan smiled, leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Booth." She had never loved anyone like she loved her husband.
He had so much to say, but he was so tired. "Love." He hoped it was enough. His eyes closed and he was soon asleep.
The silence of the room was interrupted periodically by the pressure cuff on Booth's arm activating and the faint beeps from the machine monitoring his vital signs. She held his hand and watched him breathe. Perhaps, it might seem an odd thing to do to anyone that happened to witness it, but not to her. His quiet breathing was proof that she had not lost him and that was all the assurance she needed that he would be alright. Booth was a fighter and he would fight to be with her. He always did.
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