Brennan scoffed as Booth flicked off the TV. "So what did ya think?" he asked.
"The movie was drawn out. The entire premise of the movie only lasted twenty-five minutes. The first hour and a half were pointless."
"It was build up, Bones. So you would understand the guy. And you've never wondered what the world would be like if you were never born?"
"I know what the world would be like if I wasn't born: there would be many more unsolved homicides. The same would happen if you were never born."
"Thanks."
She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Well, I have to get to the lab early tomorrow. Goodnight, Booth."
He flipped off the lamp. "Night, Bones."
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
"I'm your guardian angel," a little old man, Clarence, told Brennan.
"You're from the movie I recently watched, so obviously I'm dreaming."
"Oh this isn't a dream," Clarence informed. "You can even pinch yourself. You won't wake up."
"Well, what do you want?" she asked, crossing her arms. "The longer I stay in REM, the more tired I will be when I wake up."
"So you want me to hurry?"
"Yes."
Clarence sighed. "I suppose everyone is different. I'm here to show you what the world would be like if you were never born."
"Well, unlike the movie, I never made that wish. In fact, I already know what it would be like without me."
He tsked her. "Temperance, you don't understand the full extent of your absence in the world. You're looking at the big picture. Of course, there will be more unsolved murder cases. Fans will never read your well crafted, best-selling novels. Discoveries you have made will take longer to find, if they're found at all. But what about on a smaller scale? What about your friends?"
"Frankly, I don't understand the point of this. I'm not going to disappear from their lives and I'm not planning on taking my own life, so you don't need to show me anything."
"Anxious to get out of REM?"
"I have a busy day at the Jeffersonian tomorrow."
Clarence adjusted his hat. "Well, I'll try to make this as short as possible then." He stuck his hand out. "Take my hand and away we'll go!"
Reluctantly, Brennan put her hand in his. Clarence snapped his fingers and they were standing on the platform in the lab. Brennan dropped his hand to rub her temples. "Traveling through the time-space continuum doesn't agree with some people," Clarence explained. "But don't worry, your headache will disappear in a few hours." He gestured toward the lab. "Go ahead and take a look around. Feel free to explore."
Brennan descended from the platform, first heading toward her own office. Stepping in the doorway, her jaw dropped. No part of the dream office resembled her actual office. The wall color, the furniture, the general decor were all wrong. And sitting at a large mahogany desk, matching bookshelf behind her, was Cam. "No, I'm saying I didn't receive the new shipment." She played with the telephone cord as she listened. "Well, tell them it's not here."
Her gaze flickered up from her desk. "I'll have to call you back." Hanging up the phone, she stood up. "Excuse me, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This part of the Jeffersonian is only for employees," she told Brennan.
"But-"
"She's a new employee," Clarence replied. "I'm showing her around."
Brennan glanced at the man, who now wore a lab coat. "I don't remember hiring anyone," Cam said.
"You're overworked. It's fine, I can handle this."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. Thank you..." Leaning in, she read his name tag. "Clarence."
"No problem."
Grabbing Brennan's arm, he escorted her out of Cam's office. "Where would you like to visit next?"
"Angela's office."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible."
But she had already left and was halfway there. Opening the door, stacks of boxes loomed over her. As far as she could see, boxes took up the entire room. "Where's Angela's office?" she asked Clarence when he caught up.
"She never came to the Jeffersonian. You never asked her to do a facial reconstruction, so she never even considered being a forensic artist."
"And the Angelatron was never invented?"
"Nope. Instead, she lives in Paris, painting, like she always dreamed she would."
"And what is Dr. Hodgins doing in Paris? I can't believe he'd ever leave the Jeffersonian," she scoffed. "This is very unrealistic, I must say."
Clarence took a deep breath, exhaling out his nose slowly. "Let's visit his office, shall we? But don't walk in, we can watch through the glass walls."
Peering inside, Brennan frowned. "Why is Dr. Hodgins here? He should be in Paris with Angela."
"Since Angela never came to the Jeffersonian, they never crossed paths. Angela is still a free spirit, not planning on settling down anytime soon. And Hodgins here has tried dating but his attempts were unsuccessful. No one seems to find his passion for science as endearing as Angela does."
"Who replaced me here as the resident forensic anthropologist?"
"Dr. Wells. He was the most qualified since he already had a doctorate. Unfortunately, he doesn't allow interns, so none of yours will receive proper lab and field experience."
The word 'field' triggered a thought. "Booth. What is he doing without me?"
Clarence held out his hand. "Let's find out."
In a flash, they stood directly outside of Booth's office. "Is there any way a different agent can be assigned to this case, sir?" he asked, phone pressed against his ear. "Someone else would work better with Dr. Wells. We slow each other down more than aiding the investigation."
A few seconds later, he hung up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need some coffee," he muttered.
He exited his office, making a beeline for the break room. Quietly, Brennan and Clarence followed him. Sweets and Aubrey stood, talking in the break room. They stopped talking when Booth stepped in. "Sweets is alive," Brennan gasped, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Yes, it seems he is. But his life isn't as purposeful in this timeline. He never meets Daisy, and he never befriends Booth, one of the people who means the most to him. He lived a richer, fuller life by knowing you and Booth, even if it got him killed."
"And I take it Booth isn't friends with Aubrey either?"
"He has no reason to be. Booth is one of the only partnerless agents in the FBI. He works well enough on his own and can't seem to find a partner he trusts."
"So he can't replace me," Brennan said smugly.
"No, but-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Brennan surged forward, throwing her arms around Sweets as he exited the break room. His coffee spilled all over, ruining both of their clothes, as well as leaving an angry red splotch of burnt skin on her neck. She didn't even notice; she pressed her face against his shoulder, softly sobbing. Sweets, being the empathetic person he was, returned the hug. "There's no need to cry," he said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Sometimes, you don't appreciate the people you have in your life enough," she replied, squeezing him tighter.
"Do I know you?"
"No, not in this timeline."
As he opened his mouth to reply, Clarence yanked her away. "It's time to visit our last stop."
Snapping his fingers, they stood outside a small dusty blue house with a white picket fence. "This is where Booth lives," Clarence filled her in.
"Why doesn't he live at his apartment? How can he afford-" her voice stuck in her throat.
A woman she didn't recognize walked by the window, carrying a thick lasagna. "How was work, baby?" the woman asked Booth.
"Fine. I'm glad I'm home though."
When they kissed, an emptiness overwhelmed Brennan. Her husband had no idea she existed. Instead, he had married this woman. "Kids! Dinner time," the woman called.
Three children, two girls and a boy, ran to the table. They all had the same dark hair as their mother. When Booth grinned, obviously happy with his life, it felt like an arrow had struck Brennan in the heart. "I've seen enough," she told Clarence through tears. "Take me back home."
"Have you learned anything from this experience?"
Wiping the tears from her cheek, she answered. "That I touch people's lives on a much smaller scale. And that ultimately, it is more important than the bigger picture."
"Your friends weren't even friends without you here. You were the glue bringing them together. They need you, even more than the world needs you."
She nodded in agreement. "Can we leave now?"
"Of course."
With a snap of his fingers, the world went dark and he disappeared.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
"Hey, hey," Booth said, gently shaking Brennan.
She woke with a start, blinking rapidly when her eyes met the bright light of the lamp. "What? What's wrong?"
"You were moving in your sleep. You squeezed my arm really hard and flailed your arms and legs. That must've been some dream."
She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She pressed a kiss to his lips and buried her face in his chest, inhaling deeply. She had never been more glad to see her husband until now. Not counting the times she believed he would die. She laughed. "It sure was."
He squinted at her, examining her neck. "When did you get that?" he asked, gesturing toward the burn.
Carefully, she placed a finger on it, wincing when it stung. "I'm going to grab the first aid kit," Booth informed her, climbing out of bed. "I'll be right back."
Holding up her phone, she studied her neck in the dark screen. Sure enough, she had a burn on her neck. She ran through a list of what she had done earlier that day. Nothing corresponded with the burn and its position on the front of her neck. Of course, she had gotten burnt by Sweets' coffee in her dream. But it was impossible for her to obtain the exact injury since dreams were not real. There had to be some other explanation.
As Booth swabbed aloe cream on her neck, he asked, "What did you dream about?"
"I dreamt I was never born," she answered.
"And?"
She sighed. "The range of people affected by nonexistence is strong. Perhaps stronger than in a broader, global sense."
"So I was right?"
"You were right."
"I told you everyone wondered what it was like if they weren't born."
"We just watched the movie, so the idea was already ingrained in my memories for the day."
He gently pressed a bandaid to her throat. "Sure."
"It's true! Your brain collects memories from your day and replays them when you're in REM."
Booth set the first aid kit on the nightstand and crawled back into bed. "If that helps you process it, sure." He pressed a kiss to her lips. "Get some sleep, Bones. You have work in the morning."
"Goodnight, Booth," she replied, running her fingers across the bandaid. "I love you."
"I love you too. Sleep tight."
Closing her eyes, her brain kept circling to her dream. Eventually, after an hour of trying to fall asleep, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.