You might ask yourself how I could be doing this, writing ANOTHER tag for the season finale. But how could I not do it? Seriously, Hart Hanson? That was probably the worst Bones episode ever. And yet, here I am. Just like every other fanfiction writer on this planet.
This one is really really really short... I tend to be doing that, don't I? All the drabbles I have been writing have affected my ability to actually make an extended plotline. Anyway, ready?
Title: The Cat Out of the Bag
Author: singsongyylove
Rating: K
Pairing: B/B, as if it would be anything else
Summary: Trying to regain his memory of Brennan, clueless Booth reveals the secret that his former self had been hiding.
Disclaimer: Let it suffice to say that things would be a lot different around here if I owned Bones.
Brennan sat by the hospital bed, her head in her hands. The doctors said he would regain some memory within a few days, but every moment that clicked past seemed like hours and every day seemed like years. Each exhale as he slept was a lifted up prayer, but each time he woke up to look at her in curiosity and confusion broke her a little bit more.
She lifted her head upon hearing the rustle of his sheets. As his eyes dragged open once again, she wished for some flicker of recognition, some sort of sign that their former life was still in there somewhere. He squinted at her with contemplation. A disobeying tear rolled halfway down her cheek before her palm clapped to her face and wiped it away.
"You've been right here this whole time," he stated sadly.
She nodded.
"I wish I could remember you."
Another renegade tear slipped at this admission but it was accompanied by a half-hearted laugh. She managed to whisper, "I wish that too."
"I think you were important," he said as though his missing memories were a riddle he was sorting through, trying to solve the question of who he was, who she was, what they were.
The doctors told her that it could start from the tiniest of things; that an emotion, an object, or a word could trigger a memory. She leaned forward to look from one deep brown eye to the other. She didn't want to pressure him, but she just had to pry. This tiny memory of a feeling- surely it meant something.
"Important how?" she inquired. He looked away with a sad and frustrated sigh.
"I think," he paused, afraid to be wrong, "I think I was in love with you."