Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, but I am obsessed!

Author's Note: It was about a year ago that I started reading Bones fanfiction. I had just discovered the show and devoured the entire series and I needed a way to spend my summer. It wasn't too much longer until I started writing my own. The nice thing about this series is that I can go back and write all of the little pieces that I might have written if I had watched the show from the first time that it aired. So here is a little stroll down memory lane. Because, let's face it, when else would Booth have ever not known who Temperance Brennan was?

Chapter Twelve: Tartle

Tartle: Scottish – The act of hesitating while introducing someone because you've forgotten their name.

Booth sat in a hospital bed as various medical personnel bustled about him. He sat there quietly, but he was filled with turmoil. In just a few minutes he was supposed to go under the knife. He'd had plenty of surgeries before, but never before on his brain. He was nervous. He'd seen too many friends and fellow soldiers suffer brain damage. Men with permanent short-term memory loss, men who would suffer from seizures for the rest of their lives. Men with vision or balance problems, attempting to regain a past life. Would he end up like one of them? Would solving the murder of a wine critic be his last case? Would he ever be the man that he was before he developed the tumor? What would happen to his partner and her latest request?

As if his thoughts could be made physical, his partner was there beside him. The fear instantly went away when he saw her face. She could make everything better, just by being by his side. She did her best to reassure him, but he didn't care who the surgeon was, or how highly he was rated. As long as she kept holding his hand, he would be fine. He asked her to accompany him through the operation. She was hesitant at first, but the firm pressure of his hand on hers made her agree. She slipped out of the room to speak to his doctor and she was soon led away to change into scrubs.

Just a few moments later, Booth was being wheeled to the OR. He made the orderlies stop and told his partner that if something happened to him, she should have his baby. He wanted her to be happy. If she was going to lose him, at least she could have this small piece of him. Minutes later, he was being injected with drugs and counting backwards from 99. He was at 92 when he felt his partner's hand once again squeeze his own and drifted off into oblivion.

Brennan flinched when she first heard the buzz of the drill. She could picture what an X-ray of his skull would like like six hours from now, six weeks from now, and six years from now. She felt nauseated, but she closed her eyes, took a calming breath and continued to hold his hand as the surgeons and staff performed their duties.

When he didn't wake up after being weaned off of his medications, she began to worry. The doctors didn't seem overly concerned. "This sometimes happens," they said. "We just have to hope for the best." She wasn't very good with hope. One friendly nurse suggested that she talk to him, that maybe he could hear her. Brennan had responded that she wouldn't know what to say. The nurse shrugged, tucked the blanket more firmly around her patient, and just told Brennan to tell the man a story.

Too bright lights, a cotton-dry mouth and a fuzzy mind greeted Booth when he finally returned to consciousness. Nothing made sense and he squinted against the harsh light and spoke. Instantly, she was at his side. The woman that was his wife. She spoke to him, but she didn't sound right. She didn't look right either, her expression was too filled with concern. There was also the fact that Booth saw two of her.

She continued to talk to him, but he couldn't decipher the words. She didn't sound like his wife, she sounded almost like a pieces from a past life, where she was only a friend and a partner. He was confused, and when he had to ask her who she was, he saw her blue eyes cloud with moisture. She gripped his hand and squeezed it once before rushing out and paging his physician.

Booth was poked and prodded by several people before she returned. She smiled an apology and said that she had been on the phone. He lifted up his hand and in a few strides she was at his side and clinging tightly. They stayed linked together but silent, neither was sure what else to say. His head still pounded, his mind was still fuzzy, and his vision blurry. The only thing that he could focus on was the warmth in his hand and the blue eyes of the woman at his side.

A short, balding man in a white lab coat knocked on the door, a face buried in a file as he flipped through pages. "Mr. Booth. Glad to see you amongst the living again."

Booth looked out at the gray sky, the fading flowers on the bedside table and the still cloudy eyes of his partner. He barely nodded his head. "Yeah, it's good to be back."

"I'm Dr. Jonas Walker, I was the anesthesiologist with you during surgery. I just wanted to talk to you about your adverse reaction to the anesthesia, answer any questions that you might have before I sign off on your case." The doctor looked up from his chart. "Oh, I see your lovely friend is still here." The man smiled at Brennan.

"Yes, this is my..." Booth paused. He was about to say my Bren, but it didn't sound right in his head. What should he introduce her as? My partner? My wife? My Bones? He couldn't remember what he was supposed to call her. They all sounded right in his head and they all sounded wrong.

Booth's brow furrowed further in confusion, and Brennan stared at his face willing him to remember who she was and to say her name. It was Dr. Walker who spoke first. "Yes, Dr. Temperance Brennan, of course. I didn't recognize you without the mask. You were in the OR with us. Against protocol of course, but you were very well behaved." He chuckled at his own joke, but turned serious when it fell flat. Dr. Walker answered questions, signed a few forms, and was out of the room before Booth could decide on what name to call the woman at his side.

Brennan continued to stay with Booth as various doctors and nurses visited. She continued to hold his hand when she could, always careful to introduce herself quickly to any new personnel. Otherwise, she stayed silent, barely even asking medically relevant questions. Eventually, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in days. Seeing that Booth was sleeping, she let go of his hand and made her way to the cafeteria.

He was awake when she returned and a smile instantly lit his face. "Hey, Baby. I'm glad that you're back. I missed you." Brennan froze in the doorway, and Booth seemed to realize his mistake. He wasn't allowed to call her Baby, something about the name was wrong. He swallowed and said nothing. She remained frozen for another moment before walking to the bed.

"Hi, Booth. I brought you pudding. Your doctor said it would be fine for you to eat it."

"Thanks. I love that stuff."

Her voice was quiet as she responded with an, "I know."

Brennan excused herself to use the restroom when a physical therapist entered the room, ready to get Booth moving and test any residual effects from his surgery. The two men focused on work for several minutes before taking a short break and chatting.

"Your wife is lovely."

Booth nodded, "She's the best. We're going to have a baby."

"Congratulations, man! We'll have you running out for pickles and ice cream in no time." Neither man heard Brennan's heels clicking hurriedly away from Booth's room as they went back to work. It wasn't until the physical therapist finished his duties, that Booth realized that she had not returned and that she was not actually his wife, and they were not having a child. He closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

The next time that Booth awoke it was Cam who was in the room with him, looking worried. Booth had a moment of confusion, but he could sort out who she was. She had been his friend for much longer than she had been a detective in his dream.

"Hey, Cam! Where's... where's?" He stumbled on the name again.

She let out a sad smile, "Dr. Brennan is packing. She got called to Guatemala. It sounded like an emergency. She sounded fairly upset when I spoke to her on the phone. She said that the doctors said that you'd be fine in a few days and then she sent me to keep you company. Angela will be by later. We are under strict orders to not leave you alone until you are released. I bribed Hodgins to take Sweets' shift. I didn't think you were ready to face him yet."

Booth nodded numbly and looked down at his hand. It felt cold without her here to hold it. It didn't matter who she was, he was lost without her.

"Booth, are you alright? You're sweating." Brennan sat up in bed and gently stroked his hair.

Booth pushed her hand away from his face and then pulled her body close to his. "No, I'm OK. It was just a dream."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Booth breathed in the scent of her hair, calming himself further before speaking. "I was remembering my tumor surgery, how I couldn't remember who you were. How I couldn't remember what we were. I hate going back there."

She placed a hand over the arm that was wrapped around her in the dark. "I dream of that sometimes too. It is unpleasant."

"It's easier now, though."

"It is?"

"Well, now I know for sure who you are."

"And who am I?"

Booth's arm drifted down over Brennan's firm belly and he could have sworn that the baby responded to the touch. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck as she sighed and burrowed deeper into his arms. His hand found hers and he laced their fingers together tightly. "You're mine."