Note: And here we go with part 3.

What if: Booth had to keep Brennan's survival a secret?

AU? Yes

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By the time he reached the office, he was furious. His partner had died, didn't that entitle him to one measly day off? But no, his boss showed up at his door, told him he had to go to work, and then refused to answer any questions at all.

It probably was good that Cam hadn't actually returned his weapon.

To add insult to injury, as soon as they'd reached the office, Cullen and Hacker had deposited Booth in an interrogation room and left, promising to be back shortly. Booth paced, trying to work out some of the fury that would probably get him fired.

Not that he was sure he even wanted to stay with the FBI without Bones, but it probably would be best to leave without being charged with attacking the assistant director..

Nine minutes after he was left alone, his cell phone rang. "What?", he snapped.

"Oh, Seeley", Rebecca answered. "I'm so sorry about Dr. Brennan."

He pulled out a chair, sat down. "What?"

"It was on the news", Rebecca explained. "It must have been horrible."

"Yeah", he answered, trying not to remember the expression on her face as she slumped to the floor. "It was."

"Is there anything I can do?", she asked, tears in her voice.

"No", he answered baldly. "There's nothing anyone can do."

"Seeley …" There was silence for a moment, then she continued. "We're going to have to tell Parker. Do you want me to do it, or would you prefer …." She trailed off, and he mentally ran through both scenarios before he answered.

"I'll tell him."

"Do you want me to bring him by tonight?"

"No", Booth answered, "I'll tell him this weekend. I need a little time."

"OK", Rebecca answered. "Call if you need anything, or if you want to see him sooner."

"I will", he replied. "Thanks, Rebecca."

He ended the call and resumed his pacing, wondering how he'd ever find the words to tell his son that Bones was dead.

By the time Cullen slipped through the door, Booth's grief was again masked by anger. He took a couple of steps towards his boss, who held up his hand in the universal "stop" gesture, sat down at the table, then pulled the phone towards him and dialed a long string of numbers.

Uneasily, Booth sat in a chair opposite Cullen, waiting impatiently as the phone rang – once, twice, three times. There was a click as the person on the other end picked up the phone, and then Booth heard a voice he'd never expected to hear again say, "Hello?"

He didn't even notice when Cullen slipped out of the room.

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He understood national security. He knew how important it was, what the consequences were of letting anyone find out that Bones was alive.

The only thing he didn't understand was how he was supposed to get through the next couple of weeks. He'd have to spend time with their friends, watching them grieve, pretending he was as devastated as they were, while inside he was so happy he wanted to sing.

Cullen had a car take him home, and he spent the day cleaning – anything to use up some energy. By the time he fell into bed, his apartment was spotless and the burst of manic energy that was running through him had subsided, just a little.

His first challenge came the next day, when he returned to work. He stoically accepted the condolences of his fellow agents, and let Mary from HR fuss over him until he couldn't take any more, then he barricaded himself in his office, where he didn't have to notice the curious looks and the conversational lulls that happened every time he walked by. The only person brave enough to invade his sanctuary was Sweets, and if Booth's gruff, "I don't want to talk about it" didn't get him to leave, the follow-up "Don't think I won't shoot you, Sweets. Leave me alone" did.

Cam called a few times, but phone calls were easy to ignore, and somehow he made it through the day.

And the next day.

On day three, he walked by Cullen's office and heard Sweets, asking Cullen to make him go into therapy, heard Cullen say no, not yet. That was good - the last thing he wanted to do was therapy – Sweets was taking Bones's death hard, and he was still having trouble pretending to be as grief-stricken as he should be.

He spent the weekend with Parker, told him Bones had been badly hurt, accepted Parker's consoling hug.

The days marched on, and he continued to keep his distance, telling everyone he wasn't up to company.

And then on day seven, Angela knocked on his office door and promptly burst into tears. He awkwardly held her as she cried on his shoulder, feeling guilty that she didn't know Bones was alive, grateful that he did. When she pulled herself together, they went for lunch and he listened to her talk through her grief and pain. They talked for hours, but when she covered his hand with hers and said, "You know, I always thought you and Bren would end up together.", he couldn't take any more. He grunted, "Yeah", threw a couple of bills on the table, and rushed off, muttering about work.

On day 10, he came home to find Max napping on his couch.

It was just like Max to barge in, not letting a minor detail like a locked door stop him, but he was too anxious for news of Bones to be angry. "How is she?"

Max sat up. "Getting better. Sick of the hospital, making a pain of herself telling the nurses what to do, about what you'd expect."

Booth sank onto the couch in relief. "Good."

As always, Max's blue eyes saw more than they should. "She was worried about you."

Booth looked at him, and he continued. "When she first woke up. She thought you'd been hurt, that that was why you weren't there."

Booth nodded. "Yeah, she told me."

"Did she tell you that she blackmailed the FBI into letting her talk to you?"

Booth's eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "No, but it sounds like her."

Max laughed. "You know Tempe, she goes after what she wants." He stopped laughing and his expression turned serious. "The funeral is in two days."

"OK", Booth answered. "I'll be there."

They sat quietly for a moment, then Booth asked, "Did you tell the squints? They'll want to be there."

Max nodded. "Yeah."

"OK", Booth repeated.

Max stood, straightened his clothes. "She's lucky to be alive."

Booth stood as well, nodded. "I know."

Max's eyes met his one last time. "It kind of makes you want to stop wasting time, doesn't it?"

A moment later, the door clicked shut behind him.

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The morning of the funeral was bright and sunny. Booth dressed in his best suit, strapped on his shoulder holster, and prepared for the ordeal ahead.

By the time he reached the cemetery, the squints were already there. As Cam beckoned him over, he noticed three FBI agents among the assembled mourners.

Max arrived last, his tired eyes and his ill-fitting suit making him look older than his years. He took the place of honor by the casket and the minister began the brief service. When it ended, Max placed a rose on the casket, and the rest of the mourners fell in line to do the same. As Booth placed his rose with the others, there was a scuffle behind him. He spun, pulling his weapon, and saw as the nearest FBI agent grappling with the man they were trying to catch. Booth moved around them, hoping for an opening, and watched in horror as the two men slammed into the casket, knocking it over and spilling the dummy inside onto the freshly cut lawn.

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A few hours later – after the suspect was in custody, the squints were placated, and the reports were finished – Booth walked down the hospital corridor, looking for room 718. He knocked lightly on the door, then peered around the frame at the woman in the bed.

Brennan's face lit up. "Booth!"

He smiled back, walking in and handing her the bouquet of flowers he carried. "Hi Bones", he said. "I've missed you."

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And that's the end. Or the beginning, depending on your perspective.