I ended up with 2 stories from the finale--this is the 1st one and certainly closer to what what I think could (should?) happen…

I started this before HH started pontificating about the finale and dropping hints about S5. If you don't know what I'm talking about, that's fine; you aren't missing too much. If you do, you may note I didn't include some of the highly reasonable theories proposed on the ABY, though I certainly agree with some of them. (looking at you, Robert! Love yours in particular!)


"The surgery was a success," Brennan said, rushing the words in her relief. "But you had a negative reaction to the anesthesia. You've been in a coma for four days. It took you so long to wake up." She controlled her voice with difficulty, trying to hide the worry that had been mounting through those four very difficult days.

"…Felt so real," he croaked.

"It wasn't," she reassured him gently, hardly knowing what she was reassuring him about.

"Who are you?"

She froze. He looked at her dazedly, confusion plain on his face, and her heart, just barely open, locked up.

"You just wait," she managed to get out. "I'll--I'll get your doctor."

She backed out of the room, afraid to even look at him for very long. And as soon as she cleared the door, she bolted for the nurses' stand. "Agent Booth is awake, though he seems a bit…disoriented," she announced. The nurse on duty flicked a glance at the board. "I see, and he's calling, too. I'll notify Dr. Jursik. Thank you, Dr. Brennan."

"You're welcome," she half-whispered, and as soon as the nurse disappeared into his room, Brennan bolted again, pelting down the stairs, tears blinding her.

No one seemed to look at her twice when she hit the door at the bottom and practically fell out; well, it was a hospital, she decided briefly. They must see people who can't cope all the time. But the noise level of the main floor was too much after the near silence on his floor, and she desperately sought for a quiet place.

Somehow she found herself in the chapel; the irony didn't escape her. But it was quiet and she was alone, which was all she was asking for.

Why her? Why him? It was so unfair.

And she immediately chided herself for the thought; she knew better than to bemoan that. Life was inherently unfair, and she should keep that in mind. And decide what she was going to do about an amnesiac Booth.

This is why I should never lead with my heart, she thought, burying her face in her hands. It only hurts.

********************************************

Booth groaned as Brennan disappeared from the room. The nurse shook her head at him when she entered and caught him trying to push the sheets back. "Your friend has been here the entire time. She just needs a few moments to herself. Dr. Jursik will be here momentarily." She ran through the orientation process, nodding approvingly at his answers.

"You should be good to go soon," she told him, bringing some ice chips for his throat.

"Thanks," he muttered, scooping one up.

The doctor came in then, interrupting his train of thought. When the man left, Booth still wore bandages wrapped rakishly around his head, but thankfully with fewer things attached to him. The nurse fluttered around for a few more minutes, making sure he had what he needed--the table, the painkiller, decent light, water…

"Could you do me one more favor?" he asked her before she could leave. His charm smile was still intact at least, since she gave him a wide smile in return.

"Within reason, Mr. Booth."

"Hand me that laptop, please?"

She placed it on the table with a cautionary note. "Don't strain yourself, now."

"Yes, ma'am." He knew Bones would have been working on something; she couldn't sit idle for long. If he couldn't have her with him, then he would have something of hers to keep him company.

Yes, the undo button was highlighted on an otherwise empty word processing document. Curious, he clicked it and the screen was filled. He squinted a bit and the words swam into focus. He did have a brief pang of guilt, but assuaged it by noting it wasn't a Kathy & Andy story. Those were the ones she was rabid about protecting.

People say you only live once. But people are as wrong about that as they are about everything.

In the darkest moments before dawn a woman returns to her bed. What life is she leading? Is it the same life the woman was living half an hour ago? a day ago? a year ago? Who is this man? Do they lead separate lives, or is it a single life shared?

He wished his head didn't hurt so badly--he'd be able to appreciate it so much better if he wasn't in pain and muddled from painkillers. It was a long document, but much shorter than her books--there was a term for it, but he couldn't pull it to mind. Novella? Sounded right, anyway.

You're not a cold fish. You're Iceland. Cool to the touch and all volcano underneath.

He couldn't help but be reminded all over again what a good writer she was as he skimmed it, though. The scene she set, turning everyone on their collective sides, the lab becoming a nightclub--it was both new and familiar, outlandish yet so believable. And how on earth did she know who the Crüe were?

Should I be upset that everyone thinks that we're murderers or just happy that everyone's trying to help us get away with it?

She might have been Bren and he Mr. B, but it was still them, and it was mostly his dream--she must have been reading out loud as she typed. His eyes blurred when he hit the pregnancy announcement and how overjoyed his character was. And then when she wrapped it up, he had to blink back tears. It was her, so her, and yet the most open he had ever seen her.

You see two people and you think they belong together, but nothing happens. The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable. You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering, and that's the sad truth. Maybe they'll break your heart, maybe you'll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. That's the burden. Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens that allow us to fly.

He hit the call button; Bones had been gone long enough. He had to see her. Maybe she could be paged?

********************************************

Brennan stayed in the chapel, huddled in on herself, mind blank by choice. She had given up trying to decide what to do for the moment. She knew nothing about amnesia, almost nothing about the physical workings of the brain, and she wasn't ready to learn just yet.

Someone else entered the chapel and she pressed herself further into the corner, hoping not to be noticed. The open door let in a burst of noise. "Paging Dr. …-nan, please…"

She watched the stranger, ignoring how the page almost sounded like they were calling her. No reason, really, for anyone to be calling her. Booth didn't know who she was and none of their friends were there. The other person sank onto a kneeler and crossed himself, just as she had seen Booth do, then linked his fingers together and leaned his head on them.

She wondered, as she always did, if calling on an invisible and highly illogical being was truly comforting. Booth seemed to think so, and so did this man. But she still couldn't make that connection. Not even for Booth's sake. She had an easier time accepting the non-chemical side of love.

After a while, the man left. She sighed, relieved to be alone again. She prowled about the small room, starting to feel trapped, but still unwilling to go back and face the situation. There was a long bench along the back wall; she sat down. Thoughts of what to do now turned into thoughts of Booth, which gradually lulled her to sleep.

********************************************

Booth looked up hopefully as the door opened, and had to work hard to hide his disappointment when it wasn't Brennan.

"Booth! You're awake!" Angela thankfully kept her squeal low as she carefully hugged him. "How are you feeling? What did the doctor say? Where's Bren?"

"Yep. Killer headache, but that's normal. Everything should be fine. And I don't know," he answered, long practice enabling him to keep up with her questions.

"Don't know--what does that mean?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"When I woke up, she bolted. Ange, I don't know. I think I said something about not knowing her. I had this really vivid dream and I think I confused it with this--" he waved at the room. "And she spit out all this stuff right away…" He gently rubbed at his forehead, just under the bandaging.

"Typical Bren," she agreed. "Have you had her paged?"

"Yeah."

"Then she's ignoring it or she can't hear it. And if she's in the hospital I can find her."

"She could have gone home," he offered, wincing as his head twinged.

"Nah. Her stuff's still here." She rummaged through Brennan's bag and showed him her bulky key ring. "Not to mention her wallet's still here. She can't go anywhere without these."

"Call her?" he asked, feeling a little stupid for not having noticed that on his own.

"Phone's on silent, hun, I'd bet any amount you like on it. I'll find her, though--I promise."

"I'm not Parker," he grumbled, finding her tone just a little patronizing, and she laughed.

"No, he's cuter. On the other hand, you're hotter. Must come with age." She winked and he began to relax. At least something was normal.

"Wait--" he called, remembering something.

"Yes?"

"Two things, actually--the nurse said something about Bones being here the entire time?"

"She was." Angela looked as though she wanted to say more, but refrained. "And the other?"

He nudged the laptop; the battery had to be absolute top of the line, since it was still working. "She must have been working on this while I was out. She deleted it."

"And you want a copy. What is it, her declaration of undying love?" Angela teased, digging about in her own bag. She pulled out a flash drive and plugged it in.

"Prepared much?" he wanted to know, declining to rise to her bait.

She grinned. "Bren keeps gloves and evidence bags with her all the time; I have a flash drive, sketch pad, and pencils." She tapped a few keys, smiled, and shut everything down. "We'll let it charge for her. I'll make you a hard copy as well as email it. That OK?"

"That's fine." He closed his eyes.

She patted his hand gently. "You rest, Booth. I'll run down Bren and bring her back."

********************************************

Brennan jerked awake at the light touch on her back, hands starting to fall into defensive positions, ready to defend herself.

"Bren! Stop! It's just me!"

"Ange," she sighed, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. "Sorry. When--"

"Not too long ago." Angela slid an arm about Brennan's shoulders comfortingly. "I'd've never expected you to be here, sweetie."

"It was quiet."

The artist nodded understandingly. "Well, come on, Bren, let's get a cup of coffee or something. You need to go back upstairs."

"No! Not yet. He-he doesn't--I can't--"

"Sweetie. You're jumping to conclusions. Come on." She hauled Brennan out of the chapel and into a ladies room to straighten her appearance. Then into the cafeteria for the promised coffee. "What are you afraid of, Bren?"

"Booth--Booth doesn't know who I am. I suppose it's a side effect from the surgery and the complication from the anesthesia." She sat with her hands folded on the table, staring at the cup, forcing herself to some semblance of calm.

"Or maybe it was the natural and temporary confusion following surgery and a coma?"

"He asked me who I was!" She couldn't hide the heart-broken note in her voice. "God, Ange, I've worked with him for more than four years, we've become such good friends as well as partners, and--and…" she pulled a tissue from her pocket, "and he doesn't know me!"

"Temperance Brennan!" Angela said in shock. "I never thought I'd see you give up. You haven't gathered all the evidence yet, you know. You've barely started. And as long as you hide like this, you won't be able to get what you need." She sighed. "I know you won't believe me yet, but he's fine. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold, sweetie. And you are going back up there if I have to drag you--or better yet, have a burly security guard haul you up there over his shoulder."

Abashed, Brennan swiped at the tears and drank the coffee. Angela got her a refill.

"Here, while it's still hot. And once you've seen Booth and been reassured, I swear you are going home. Catnaps in that medieval torture instrument they think is a chair do not add up to enough sleep, nor are coffee and stale sandwiches enough to live on. He'll rest better for knowing you're taking care of yourself." Then she threw in her last and best weapon. "He's going to need help when he is discharged; how will you be able to do that if you're dead on your feet?"

"Is he really all right?" Brennan asked in a small voice.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Brennan. I suppose he could have some memory gaps, but he asked for you, for Bones. What further proof do you need?"

She drained her cup and found a clean tissue to wipe her face again. "All right," she declared. "Let's go."

Angela chuckled. "First, we're going to have to make another stop and clean you up."

********************************************

Eyes still closed, Booth fumbled for the painkiller button. He didn't think his head was getting worse, but it sure wasn't improving, either. And it hurt less to simply lie there, eyes closed.

It was quiet enough that he heard the faint click of the door opening and closing and someone walking lightly across the room. No, two someones. A quick whiff of perfume cutting across the hospital disinfectant told him Angela had returned. Had she found Bones?

More light footsteps, coming to the bed now. He knew that rhythm, just as he knew the scent that briefly filled his nose, and he allowed himself a deep breath. Bones.

"'Bout time you came back, Bones," he said, not moving.

There was an indignant huff.

"Seeley Booth," she started and he cracked an eyelid.

"You sound like my mother. Tell me I never told you my middle name? That would just be wrong."

"Michael," she replied.

"Damn." He opened both eyes and regarded her. She was thinner, and he could see the echo of sleepless nights on her face. "You shouldn't've booked quite like that, Bones."

She flushed and sank into the chair at his bedside. "What did the doctor say?"

"You'll have to ask him for the details. All I heard was that I should be fine now that I'm awake. Take it easy, don't fight the urge to sleep, medicate as necessary--" he held up the button for the painkiller. "Found something I shouldn't react to too badly. Tests tomorrow to make sure all is well on the inside."

She nodded soberly. "Did they say when tomorrow?"

"Early. Eight, maybe."

She nodded again. They stared at each other in mutual speechlessness.

"Bones--" He held out a hand and she slowly took it. Her grip tightened almost to the point of pain, but he said nothing.

"Bren, Booth," Angela said softly from behind her. "I'm just going to let everyone know you're all right. Don't know if you want any more visitors today, though."

"No," he said, keeping his eyes on his partner. "They can come tomorrow after my tests."

"Parker?"

He cleared his throat. "Maybe I should call Rebecca."

"I can get him if she can't bring him," Brennan offered softly.

"Thanks, Bones." He tried to tighten his own grip and was dismayed at how weak it was. But she didn't seem distressed. "Yeah, Ange, call Cam and Hodgins. I'll talk to Rebecca."

Angela came around, dropped a light kiss on his forehead and hugged Brennan. "So glad you're back with us, G-Man," she said sincerely before stepping out of the room.

"Here," Brennan said, pulling out her own phone. "Why don't you talk to her now?"

"Wouldn't want to give her any more reason to yell at me," he agreed. She gave him a wan smile, still not entirely recovered from her earlier shock, and dialed.

"Rebecca--yes, it's Dr. Brennan. There's someone here who wants to speak with you." She handed it over to Booth.

"Becs?" He winced as she shrieked. "Not so loud," he begged. "For the sake of my headache, if nothing else. No, today. Not too long ago, actually." He smiled broadly. "Tomorrow, after school? That would be great. Should be done with the tests they want then. No, Bones has volunteered to help if you can't stay…Don't know, depends on what they say after tomorrow. All right, see you then--thanks."

He handed the phone back, visibly fading.

"Go back to sleep, Booth," she urged gently.

"C'mere," he mumbled, patting the sheets. "Guy hug."

That startled a laugh out of her, but she perched on the edge of the bed and slid arms about him carefully, resting her head against his free shoulder. "Scared?" she whispered.

"Relieved," he replied just before his eyes closed.

********************************************

When Angela came back in, she found them both asleep in that position. With a smile, she covered Brennan with the blanket she had been using the entire time, then settled in to wait. It seemed all was right with the world--or would be, soon enough.