(After 'The Critic in the Cabernet')

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It was so frustrating and he didn't know what to do about it. He was trying to change the spark plugs on his mustang, but he wasn't having any success. He'd done it so many times before and he'd never had any problems, but now, now he was struggling. Furious, he threw the wrench on the cement floor of the rental he used to store his mustang and kicked the side of his car. "Damn it! This is so stupid!"

Brennan had warned him that his mind might be affected after the surgery, but he was starting to realize that it was going to be the little things that were going to drive him crazy not anything big. He had first found out just what his future was going to be like, when he tried to replace a washer in the leaking faucet in the kitchen sink and couldn't remember how to do it. He had let it ride and decided that it was something he could relearn, but the hits kept coming. He soon found out that he couldn't remember how to make Cioppino and that had been shocking. His grandfather had taught him how to make his wife's favorite dish and now his grandmother's recipe was gone from his head. He'd found a cookbook at the library and struggled with it, but finally made the dinner he wanted even if it didn't taste like his grandmother's version. He would have to ask Pops how to make it and this time he would have to write it down. Maybe he should ask his grandfather to write down all of Grams' recipes before he passed on. God knew what else he had forgotten.

Now he was working on his car and he couldn't replace the spark plugs. What next? What else had he forgotten? Leaning against the car, he stared at the wrench lying on the floor and wondered if the brain tumor had damaged more important things. He had yet to go back to work, but he was already dreading the moment he did. What if he didn't know how to be a cop anymore? What would Brennan do if he couldn't work with her anymore? What would he do?

Resigned to the fact that his car wasn't going anywhere that day, he picked up the wrench and threw it in the tool chest near the wall. Careful not to drop the sparkplugs, he placed them on the bench near the tool box and turned to face his mustang. He loved to restore old cars and if that was taken away from him, he wasn't sure if he was up to relearning how to do it. Wiping his hand on a clean rag, he decided he'd had enough for one day.

Since he was still not cleared to drive, he called Brennan and asked her to pick him up when she had the free time. After he moved a lawn chair in the open doorway of the rental unit he sat down and tried to wait patiently for his ride to appear. Hell, what if I don't know how to drive? Shit!

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She had noticed some of the little changes in her boyfriend before Booth did. In some cases, he didn't recognize the changes and she didn't mention them. He was already afraid that the operation had changed him and his unsuccessful attempt at changing the washer in the kitchen faucet had shown her that he was not going to accept the changes with grace. Booth was an alpha male and he thought he should be able to continue to do the things that he had done before. When he had failed to remember how to make his grandmother's fish stew she saw the look of fear on his face and she knew that the next few months were going to be a struggle for Booth as he recovered from his surgery. She had tried to prepare him, but she knew that nothing can prepare you when your life is changing and you're not ready for it.

She had found him sitting on the lawn chair in front of his storage rental unit and he looked so sad. Instinctively, she had known not to ask him about his car. The sheer look of frustration as he moved the lawn chair inside the building and the way he slammed the door down was all the information she needed to know that he had had another failure and he wasn't taking it gracefully.

As they drove home, Booth glared at the passing traffic while Brennan gave him some needed space and time.

"We should go to the mall tonight after the stores are closed and let me see if I know how to drive anymore."

"What?" His suggestion both startled and worried her. "What makes you think you don't know how to drive?"

Booth shrugged his shoulders and tried not to take his frustration out on his partner. "I don't know . . . I can't replace the sparkplugs on my car . . . I can't change a washer in the faucet, so why not driving too?" He was afraid that he was so damaged he was going to be useless to everyone including himself. "Bones . . . Bones, I'm trying, I really am, but what if I can't do my job anymore?"

She had thought about that and she had already come to the only conclusion that made sense if that possibility came true. "Then you will retire from the FBI and you will find something else to do."

Surprised that Brennan actually had an answer to his question, he turned to look at her. "And what about us?"

"What about us?" Brennan had thought about that too. "You are still the man I love, Booth. Don't you still love me?" That was the question she needed an answer to. He was acting so oddly lately and she wasn't sure what he was feeling.

"Of course I do." Booth was shocked that she would even ask him that. "I love you more than I ever did. That hasn't changed . . . You wouldn't care if I couldn't work with you anymore?"

He sounded so uncertain that she began to wonder what kind of burdens he had been putting upon himself. "Of course I would care, but I can adapt . . . Can you adapt?"

Booth wasn't sure. "I don't know. I'm not sure."

"Well, I'm sure." Brennan placed her hand on his thigh. "You are very adaptable, Booth when you need to be. If you cannot do your job at the FBI then we will find something else for you to do, but I think you are placing your wagon before your ass."

His eyes wide, Booth stared at his girlfriend in surprise. Struggling to understand what colloquialism she had butchered it finally came to him. "Um . . . horse before your cart . . . I think."

Amused, Brennan laughed. "I made you think about it, didn't I?"

Rolling his eyes, Booth leaned over and kissed her. "Yes, you did . . . very funny." And it was. "Thanks Bones. I needed a laugh . . . it wasn't much of a laugh, but it was a little funny."

Her eyes flashing, Brennan glanced at Booth and shook her head before facing the traffic again. "I can be very amusing. You've just forgotten."

"A brain tumor joke? Really?" Booth chuckled. "Okay, I surrender. I'll adapt . . . what choice do I have? I guess I should just stop worrying about if for now. I'll either do my job or I won't. We can cross that bridge when we have to."

Pleased that he seemed to be out of his funk, at least for now, Brennan smiled. "Good. We will go to the mall tonight and you will see that you haven't forgotten how to drive and then we will go home and we'll celebrate with wine and good sex."

"Now that's a plan I can get behind." Booth wondered how he'd got so lucky to have someone like Brennan in his life. He knew that if he was on his own in this disaster, he would probably be more of a mess than he was now. She was on his side and that felt so damn good.

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