(The Beginning in the End)

Thank you for reviewing my story. I appreciate it. A little angst in this chapter, but it will end happily.

I don't own Bones.

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They had been back from vacation for three days when it seemed that the universe suddenly wanted to separate Brennan and Booth. First, a letter arrived at the Lab from Professor Dean Fonte of the Maluku project. Brennan had been flattered that he had asked her to come aboard the project as the camp coordinator, but taking the job would mean that she would be away from Booth and the Lab for a year if not longer.

The thought of being part of a ground-breaking dig had been quite a temptation and Brennan was tempted to take the job. As was her custom when asked to make life changing decisions, she had made a Pro and Con list about the dig to see if the pros would outweigh the cons. In the end, she decided that she couldn't be away from home for a year and declined the offer.

While Brennan was debating about whether or not to go to Maluku, Booth had his own dilemma to work out. He and Sweets had taken a break and gone to the Mall to get a cup of coffee from Booth's favorite coffee stand. He drank the coffee in the breakroom when he had to, but he considered it swill and tried to have at least one decent cup of coffee a day.

Sweets enjoyed it when Booth took him on a coffee run. He considered the older man to be a friend and having coffee with that friend was one of the best parts of his work day. As he sipped his coffee, Booth talked about his recent vacation and how Parker was improving his swimming skills when an Army colonel approached them.

"Master Sargent Booth, I've been looking for you and was told I'd find you here." The man stood ramrod straight and with it gave the impression that he was unyielding. At least that was the way Sweets interpreted the body language of the man.

"FBI Special Agent in Charge Booth, Major Crimes." Annoyed, Booth took his sip of coffee and waited for the colonel to make the next move. It didn't take long.

"Master Sargent, our people need you. Young men are dying as we speak and you can do something about that." Colonel Pelant wasn't about to let Booth off the hook. He had been the man's commanding officer in the past and he knew how Booth ticked. "Your skills would save a lot of lives if you would just do your duty. Your services are vital to our country and you need to realize that sitting safely back here at home is allowing our people to die needlessly in Afghanistan and Iraq."

Stunned at the blatant disrespect and attempted manipulation, Sweets place his cup on the ground and stood up. "Sir, you can't talk to Agent Booth like that. He's a hero. A war hero who . . ."

Booth grabbed the younger man's arm and pulled him down, forcing him to sit back on the bench. "Sweets . . . don't." Once the younger man was out of the conversation, Booth sipped more of his coffee and stared at a shabbily dressed man shuffling down the path towards the coffee cart. "You don't have my number any more, Colonel." Booth turned his gaze back upon Pelant. "If you say jump I have no intention of asking how high . . . in fact, I'm more inclined to tell you to fuck off."

A little shocked at the disrespect, Pelant shook his head at the unexpected rudeness. "I am a colonel in the United States Army, Master Sargent. You will show me respect."

Booth knew that the colonel was trying to control him and he wasn't going to allow that to happen. "I deserve respect too, Colonel. I reminded you that I am no longer in the service and in fact I have another title and yet you continue to ignore it . . . I served my country. I did things that my government asked me to do that went well above and beyond the call of duty . . . You are not going to shame me into doing anything. I love my country and I will protect it the best way I can, but it will be done here in this country working for the FBI and there is nothing that you can to do to change that."

He was furious that Booth was not listening to him, but the Colonel had an ace up his sleeve. No Army Ranger could ignore it. Removing a letter from his jacket pocket he handed it to Booth. "This comes from some one more important than myself. You are needed Master Sargent; your country is asking for your help and that help will not go unrewarded. You will come back in as a Sargent Major. It's only for one year. Surely you can give up your cushy job for one year to help your country when it's in need?"

Reluctantly, Booth took the envelope and opened it. Inside he found a letter from the Secretary of the Army asking him to serve in Afghanistan for a minimum of one year. The letter praised him for his past duty to his country, mentioned how important he was to the Army and how his services were desperately needed. Shaking his head, Booth held the letter in his hand. "I'm forty years old. I have a bad back, bad feet and I had a brain tumor last year that had to be removed from my head . . . It may have . . . I am not fit to return to service as a Ranger and I decline." Booth placed the letter back in the envelope, stared at it for a moment, tore it in half and dropped it in the trash barrel next to him along with his cup of coffee. "Don't contact me again." He wanted to serve his country, but he wasn't sure he wouldn't be a risk to any unit he was assigned to. There was also the fact that his family needed him at home. He was in a relationship with Brennan and he was seeing his son more than he had in the past. The boy needed a father and Brennan needed him at home, not in a foreign war. He wouldn't risk everything he had. He couldn't.

Colonel Pelant glared at Booth and wondered what had happened to Booth to make him change so much. He had always considered Booth a super patriot and he had tried his best to talk Booth out of leaving the army and joining the FBI. He had been sure that the letter from the Secretary of the Army would have been all that was needed to get the man to comply. "You used to be someone our country could count on. Clearly you have grown weak working for the FBI."

Standing, Booth moved closer to the Colonel until his chest was almost touching the officer's chest. He loved the FBI and there was no way he was going to allow the colonel to denigrate such a great organization. "You've gone too far, Colonel Pelant. I can't be manipulated into doing something that I think would be wrong for me and wrong for the Army. I realize you don't care about me personally. You just need someone to do something for you and if that gets me killed, well I guess there are others you can try to bully back into service. I served my country and I served it proudly and with honor. You can't take that away from me. No one can."

He had tried and now he would have to return to the Pentagon and tell his bosses that they would have to find someone else. Booth wasn't interested and if the letter hadn't impressed him then nothing would. "You served your country when they needed it. They still need your service, but if you refuse to help us when we are in need then of course, stay in the FBI . . . you have disappointed me, Master Sargent." He refused to acknowledge the man's rank in the FBI.

"Too bad because I don't care." Booth had had enough. Turning, he stalked down the path away from the colonel and the coffee cart.

Sweets raced after Booth and once he caught up with him, he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "He was trying to manipulate you. He knows you are very patriotic and you love this country very much."

He hadn't wanted that scene to be played out in from of his young friend, but it had and he couldn't change it. "My yearly check-up was yesterday . . . I have to go back tomorrow afternoon. Something may be wrong. The last thing I need is to join the army and find out that my brain tumor is back. If it's back, then I'd be a danger to any unit I was assigned to. You remember the crazy shit I thought I saw the last time . . . Plus, I need to be home with my family, just in case . . . just in case." He wasn't sure why he was talking to Sweets about it, but he hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet. He needed to talk to Brennan as soon as possible to prepare her just in case the tumor was back. "Don't mention this to anyone. I don't know why I told you. This isn't anyone's business, but mine."

"You can count on me." Sweets knew that he was being tested by the Agent and he would not fail. "I won't tell anyone . . . you need to talk to Dr. Brennan before tomorrow." He knew that Brennan would not forgive Booth if he hid this from her. "She deserves to know."

As they left the Mall, Booth glanced back to see if the Colonel was following him. He wasn't. "I'm meeting her for lunch. I'll tell her then."

"Good." Sweets still couldn't believe that Booth had talked so disrespectfully to the Colonel, but the man had also been disrespectful to Booth. The whole thing had been very strange since Booth was normally very respectful towards authority figures. He was also afraid for his friend. He wasn't religious, but he prayed that the tumor wasn't back.

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After they ate lunch, Booth talked Brennan into going for a walk with him before they returned to work. As they walked side by side, Booth knew that he had put off his news long enough. "You remember I had a checkup yesterday? About my brain?"

"Of course." Brennan had noticed that Booth had been very quiet for the last two days and it was starting to worry her. "What did your surgeon say?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, well, he said that there's a shadow on my brain." Booth noticed Brennan turn pale. "Hey, don't get upset. I have to go back tomorrow. He wants to check my records before he does anything else. He said he might have me do another MRI too. He thinks it's weird that I don't have any symptoms like a headache or nausea or seeing cartoon characters, so he didn't want me to worry about it yet and you shouldn't either."

As calm as she could be under the circumstance, Brennan gripped Booth's hand and tried to be supportive. "It's possible that the dark spot is a leftover stain from an old injury. You were a prisoner of war and you were abused as a child. It might be harmless . . . your medical records should be able to tell us if it's anything to worry about."

"Didn't you look at my MRI before I was operated on?" He knew that Brennan had an eidetic memory and he was hoping she remembered seeing a spot on his brain at that time.

"I did, but I concentrated on your tumor." Now she wished she had looked at everything on the MRI. She didn't know why she didn't do it at the time, but she would never let that happen again. "Since you don't have any symptoms, I think that you have nothing to worry about." She hoped that was true.

Since Brennan didn't seem to think it was a big deal, he wished he'd talked to her the previous evening. "I should have mentioned it last night, but I was still trying to take it in and I didn't know if it was serious or not . . . I mean I know the tumor can come back, but my surgeon said I'm symptom free . . . I knew I had to tell you. I just didn't want to upset you."

She wasn't happy that he had waited this long to tell her, but she knew it was in his nature to try to protect her. Even if she didn't want or need the protection. "Next time, you must tell me right away . . . I mean it Booth. Right away. We are partners and we can't keep secrets from each other."

"Yeah, I will. I promise." Maybe it wasn't anything to worry about. He hoped and prayed that was true.

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Relieved, Booth gripped Brennan's hand while Dr. Myers smiled at the couple." Like I said Mr. Booth, I had a consultation with Dr. Stewart and we compared the MRI you took a few days ago with the MRI we received from Walter Reed and the dark spot I saw on your MRI is an old injury. Dr. Stewart thinks it might have happened in your youth. Do you remember having a head injury as a young boy or a teenager?"

Embarrassed, Booth felt the skin on his cheeks flush. "Uh, yeah . . . my father . . . my father was abusive. He uh . . . he hit me a few times." He didn't want to continue. It was humiliating to admit that he had been the victim of abuse.

Dr. Myers had seen it before and it made him angry every time for the patient. How someone could abuse a child was beyond him and it made him sick to think about it. A few years prior to this, he had been called in to operate on a toddler. The father had punched the little boy in the head. The child had died and he had never forgiven the man for doing something so terrible to a baby. "I see, Mr. Booth. Well, I've made a note in my records, so I'll have that information in the future . . . The rest of the MRI didn't show anything else that it shouldn't. I'd say you're doing quite well and your recovery is remarkable. You will need to come in once a year to let me check on you, but for right now, congratulations."

"Thanks, Doc." It had been mortifying to admit his father had hurt him when he was a child, but his doctor needed to be told the truth. Besides, he knew that Brennan would have told him if he hadn't. She wanted the best for him and she knew that Dr. Myers needed all of the information he could get. "I'll see you next year." Booth stood up pulling on Brennan's hand. Once she was up on her feet, he placed his hand on her lower back and practically propelled her from the room.

Once they were in the hallway, Booth pulled her into his arms. "Looks like you're stuck with me after all." He kissed her and laughed. "Damn I'm so happy."

Ecstatic, Brennan wanted to take Booth home and celebrate. "So am I Booth. I think we should play hooky for the rest of the day, don't you?" Though she wouldn't admit it to Booth, she had been afraid that the situation was serious and that it was possible she could lose him. As far as she was concerned, the decision she had made not to go to Maluku turned out to be the correct one. How could she leave her man behind knowing that it was possible that his tumor could return at any time? She had faith in his surgeon and Dr. Myers seemed to think it was a low possibility, but that still meant it could happen. She would not deprive herself of Booth's companionship for one year.

He was so excited, he found it hard to remain still. "I'm with you Bones. We're going to spend the day together and if anyone calls us, we'll just say we're sick . . . Let's go home." As they made their way to his truck, Booth was thankful that he had told Pelant that he wasn't going back in to the service. If there was a possibility in the future that his brain tumor could return, then he didn't want to be away from Brennan for a year. That year would be too precious to waste. He loved his Bones so much and he wanted to be with her for as long as he could be.

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.

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