I do not own Bones or the Characters represented within. All rights belong to the creators and Fox. No copyright infringement intended—I'm just an admirer!

Thanks to all the wonderful people who read & reviewed this story! It brings me smiles!

IMPORTANT: This chapter contains spoilers for 3.13, "The verdict in the story"

--

"How can I help you, Agent Booth? You know, I'm a free man now, so if you're here to arrest me, I suggest you try again another day."

Max Keenan leaned against the door frame to the small apartment he began renting once released after his trial. He looked at Booth, waiting for him to speak.

"She's awake. She's been awake since Tuesday."

"Let me get this straight, Booth—my daughter has been awake for three days, and you're just telling me now? "

"Come on, Max, you didn't see the woman for fifteen years. Three days won't kill you," Booth said, pushing past the older man and entering the apartment. "The doctors advised us introduce her life in sections, starting with the people she sees the most." Booth looked pointedly at her father as he finished, waiting for the man's response. When none came, he continued with a sigh. "She has amnesia, Max. She has no idea who she is or what she does."

--

"I'm telling you Russ, this is my big chance!"

Max pressed the receiver into his shoulder as he dumped a pile of newspapers into the garbage, listening to his son's agitated response.

"No, Dad. I am not going to let you do this. You can not go in there and pretend you've been around her whole life—what's going to happen when she remembers, huh?"

"Russ, she has amnesia. That's just it, she won't remember anything. Only what we tell her."

--

Brennan cracked open her front door. Through the slit, she could see Booth smiling at her. She had spent the better part of the morning trying to adjust to the pieces of her forgotten self strewn around the apartment, and wasn't quite sure she could take much more "remembering."

"Hi, Booth," she said, stepping back to allow him room to enter the apartment.

"Hey, Bones…how are things going?"

She stepped back and looked at him for a moment. She knew it was okay to tell him these things, and felt strangely comfortable around him, yet it bothered her that she could remember none of their previous dealings.

"Okay, I guess. I've been working all day at trying to remember things. But no matter how hard I try I can't. I can't remember everything." She slumped down into her chair, smacking her hand against the armrest in frustration. "Look at this! Look at all these things! All of these pieces of my life, all these things I should know, but I don't….it's all gone for me, Booth, it's all gone."

--

Brennan woke up the next day, staring at her ceiling. After her breakdown yesterday, Booth had calmed her down, then told asked her about meeting her father. She requested to do it today, once she had time to recuperate from yesterday's stress. Puttering into the kitchen she pulled the day's paper out of its sleeve, sitting down with her copy.

She was saddened to see the headline that shouted forth from the page, blaring the news that a missing seven-year-old girl had been found, dead, during the night. She looked at the picture of the little girl, a file photo that showed her sitting on her stoop, holding a little plastic pig in one hand.

A small smile flitted across Brennan's face even as she looked at the little girl's photo, namely the pig clutched in her hand.

Looks like Jasper, she thought. I wonder where she got that little pig…

Brennan plunked her coffee cup down with a thud. Where did that thought come from? What was a Jasper?

Laying the paper down, she walked out into the living room and stared at her bookshelf. There, on the third shelf from the top, was a small plastic pig nearly identical to the one in the photo. She turned it over in her hand, looking for something to clue her in as to how pigs had anything to do with a "Jasper", whatever that was. At a loss, she placed the figurine back on the shelf and went to get dressed.

--

It was decided that the next part of the "remembering" process would take place in the hospital as well, lest Brennan become overwhelmed by too many different "new" places.

She waited alone in the room, staring once again at the beige door across from her. When it finally opened, she briefly saw Booth flash a smile at her before an older man entered, followed by a younger one closer to her own age who shut the door behind them.

"Hi, there, honey," the older man said, smiling as he sat down. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course she doesn't, Dad," the younger man said. "Don't make it harder for her."

The older man smiled at her again. "I'm your father," he said, not waiting for a response. "My name is Max. This fellow here," he gestured to the younger man who was looking at him warily, "is Russ. He's your brother."

"Oh," Brennan choked out, too busy processing the information to say any more. Then she paused her thinking, looking at the two people in front of her.

"Don't I have a mother?" she asked. "Or is she dead?"

"I'm sorry, honey," Max said. "Your mother died when you were 15. I raised you and your brother by myself after that. I never remarried."

Brennan noticed the man who was, apparently, her brother, shift uncomfortably in his chair. She wished she was better at reading people—where was Booth when she needed him, he'd know…

Wait a minute. How do I know what he's better at than me? I don't remember anything about our partnership…

Brennan shook the self-doubts off for the second time that day and refocused her attention on the men in front of her.

--

Brennan sat on her couch, twirling the plastic pig in her hands as she ran over information in her head.

My name is Temperance Brennan.

I am a doctor.

I am a bone doctor.

I work with Agent Booth.

I have a father named max and a brother named Russ

I…I….

Craning her neck, she reached for the phone on the table beside her. She punched in a number written on a notepad on the coffetable.

"Booth? It's Brennan." She paused before speaking again.

"What does "Jasper" mean?

--

Brennan had been surprised, to say the least, when she discovered that she had somehow known that the little pig's name was Jasper. It appeared she had source amnesia, which meant she could remember certain things—but not know how or why. While the news made her happy, it also served to be a continual source of frustration. She was still unable to summon memories at will—little, generally useless, bits of information would float by at random, only to be reabsorbed into her continual daze of confusion.

A full week had passed since she woke up, and she was beginning to feel antsy in her apartment. It still didn't feel like home to her. In a quest to find something that made her feel peaceful with her identity again, she had begged Booth to take her to the Jeffersonian during the day when there were other people working. It was finally Wednesday—only 24 hours until the time he promised to take her back.

Maybe, just maybe, something would click.