I don't own Bones--they belong to the folks at Fox--nor do I pretend to. This is just a little bit of flattery & an attempt at trumping a bad bout of writer's block!
--
I don't know them…but I know them…so they say…
Her fingers curled, tightening around the arms of her chair, as the door swung open to reveal one of the hospital's doctors.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Bre—"
"Doctor. Doctor Brennan" she snapped, recalling what the nurse had told her. Louise had said she was a doctor. What kind, she wasn't sure, but the title was something to hold onto.
"Very well then, Dr. Brennan. It's time for your meeting!" he stepped back, allowing Boot space to tentatively enter the room. He smiled, raising his arm up in a little wave as Brennan responded with a tiny one of her own.
"Hi," he said, all too aware of the various possibilities that could come as a result of this conversation. "Um….I'm Booth, Seeley Booth…I work with you…"
"What do we do?" she interjected, impatient to find out all the things she still didn't know.
He faltered, remembering that the doctor had told him not to reveal too much at once.
"You…you do some amazing things," he said. "At work, you…you piece together clues, like a puzzle, and you help give people answers."
"Do you give people answers?" she asked, loosening her grip on the armrests.
"Well, yes, I do. With you."
"Will you give me my answers?"
--
Booth returned to the hall, motioning for Angela to go inside.
"Hey, man, how'd it go?" Hodgins asked, sitting down next to him, Zach watching from a few seats away.
"As good as I could expect I suppose…I look at her, and I just want to tell her how much she's done…but she doesn't remember any of it yet…"
"Relax, man. Maybe Angela can work some magic on her."
"Maybe."
--
"Hey, sweetie!"
Brennan looked up at the chipper brunette rushing in through the door. Before Brennan could even register her presence, Angela had thrown herself down in the chair next to her.
"Hi. I'm Angela. I work for you…basically, you're my boss, so I do what you say, then I try to drag you out and get you to live it up a little bit!"
"Live it up?"
"Just a phrase, sweetie."
"Are we friends, Angela?"
"Best." She replied with a dazzling grin.
"Can I ask you a question, then, Angela?" before the other woman could even respond, Brennan plowed on. "That man, Agent Booth…how close am I to him, exactly?"
--
"You told her what? Angela!"
"Look, Booth, I'm sorry, but I was just trying to make her life a little better, and she asked how close you two were—I just jumped at the chance, all right? What, do you really object?"
"Not to the idea, but the way you did it—hell, Angela! Are you trying to mess her up even more?"
--
Four hours later, Brennan slid down the plastic sides of the chair, her head slumping onto her shoulder. She liked all of her supposed friends, she figured, but her brain swam at the prospect of trying to place all the pieces of her life back together. Snippets of the day's conversations came flooding back into her mind.
Your name is Dr. Temperance Brennan…amnesia…eventually remember….confused…Agent Booth…puzzles…relationship…job…reintegration…therapy…
Brennan shook her head, attempting to clear the thoughts.
I work with these people, they are my friends…Angela said that Agent Booth was more than that…I can't remember…please, please, please…
--
"Here you go!" Booth swung the door open, stepping back so Brennan could get a look inside of what, to her, was her "new" apartment.
"I live here?"
"Yes you do, Bones, yes you do…I mean, Dr. Brennan. You live here, Dr. Brennan."
"Why do you call me that?"
"It's just a nickname," he said, dropping her bags on the floor by the wall. "Never mind. How about I get you something to eat?"
Brennan nodded distractedly, running her fingers along the smooth wood of her bookshelves. She let her gaze drift out the window, thinking again about her unknown life, only pausing when she felt her fingers hit something cool and smooth.
Booth heard her shout while his head was stuck inside the refrigerator.
He emerged from the kitchen to find Brennan staring at the floor, where the once-reconstructed skull lay shattered on the floor. Slowly, she bent down and picked up two of the pieces, attempting to realign their grooves.
"Is this what you meant by puzzles?" she asked, looking up at Booth.
"I think it's time to take you over to the lab," he said quietly.
--
"I do what?" she whispered again, staring at the table.
"You examine…bones."
"That's the kind of doctor I am? A bone doctor?"
"Well, yeah. But a dead-person bone doctor."
Brennan was aware that, according to society—at least the parts she was aware of so far—she should have been disturbed by the wall of bones in front of her. Instead, she felt strangely peaceful in front of the bone-filled drawers stretching from the floor upwards. Slowly, she pulled on a pair of gloves from a nearby table, running her hands over the bones in one of the drawers.
Booth stood to the side, leaning against the railing, watching the woman once considered to be the most brilliant forensic anthropologist in North America attempt to discover that fact for herself.