(After the Beginning in the End)

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I don't own Bones.

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Lifting weights, Booth moved slowly and methodically. His breathing easier lately, he was trying to be careful not to injure himself. Satisfied that he'd reached his self-imposed limit, he placed the weights back on it's rest and sat up. Grabbing the towel dangling from this thigh, Booth wiped his face, then his arms and tried to regain an even breath. Finally breathing normally, he stood up and walked over to the treadmills and stared at them. Making up his mind, he stepped up onto one of the machines and stood with his hand hovering over the control panel. Nervous, he set it so that he could run at a slow pace and started the machine. Doing a slow jog, he paced himself, trying to breathe normally. After five minutes had passed, Booth felt his breathing start to become strained and stopped the machine. Disgusted, he stood with hands gripping the rails on the machine and tried to capture his breath.

Paul Unger, concerned that his client had over done it again, shook his head and confronted the agent. "Booth, I thought we agreed that you'd work on weights and not try running yet!"

A headache starting behind his eyes, Booth finally felt his breath return to normal. Once he released his grip from the rails, he stepped off of the machine and confronted his trainer. "How long is this going to go on? It's been 14 weeks for God's sake. I need to be well in two weeks. My wife's contract is up then and we have to make a decision and . . ."

His hand on Booth's shoulder, Paul gripped it hard. "Booth, calm down. The injury you're recovering from is tricky. You have a damaged lung and it takes a while for something like that to heal. You're doing really well. You can lift weights and you can walk for two miles before you have to stop and rest. That's great. The running thing . . . well, that may not ever happen again. I'm sorry, only time is going to tell us if you'll ever be well enough for that. Still, you're doing great, really great."

Irritated, Booth stepped away from Paul's grasp. "You don't understand. They may tie me to a desk if I can't pass my psychical or they may force me to retire. I'm too young to retire. I'm only 40."

Shrugging his shoulders, Paul shook his head slowly. "You aren't Superman, Booth. You've sustained a lot of physical damage during your lifetime and your body has tried to compensate. It may not be able to do it anymore."

Frustrated that Paul didn't understand, Booth grabbed his towel from the rail of the treadmill and twisted it in his hands. "You don't get it. If I can't go out into the field, my wife won't renew her FBI contract. I don't know what the Jeffersonian will do if she refuses to sign. There are a lot of jobs at stake, not just hers and mine."

Crossing his arms against his chest, Paul tried to reason with his client. "The future has to take care of itself, Booth. You may never completely recover. You have to accept that and work around it. If the FBI will let you stay, but not let you in the field, well it's still the FBI and you'll still be doing what you love for the most part, accept it and move on."

Furious, Booth turned on his heel and stalked over to the dressing room. Once he was standing in front of his locker, he savagely removed his clothes and threw them in his sports bag. A towel clasped around his hips, Booth stalked over to the showers, threw his towel on a bench and slapped the water on. Placing his hands on the wall in front of him, he tried to calm down. Feeling the hot water run over his body, he felt his muscles loosening as well as his anger. Standing straight, Booth grabbed his soap and lathered up his body, methodically washing as he thought about what he needed to do.

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He was waiting in the living room when he heard the front door open. Staying where he was, Booth waited for Brennan to enter the apartment and place her bags on the coffee table.

Surprised the lights were off, Brennan turned the overhead light on. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth sipped some of his scotch. "I didn't feel like turning the lights on."

His answer short and sad, Brennan sat down on the couch next to her husband. "What's going on Booth?"

Leaning over and placing his glass down on the coffee table, he turned and kissed Brennan. As he released her, he leaned back on the couch and cleared his throat. "Your contract is up in two weeks. What are you going to do?"

Enlightened, Brennan clasped her hands on her lap. "What do you want me to do?"

Slowly shaking his head, Booth placed his hand on her arm. "Don't do that Bones. It's your contract and your job we're talking about. You tell me what you want to do."

"When is your recertification due?" Watching Booth closely, she knew that he was worried about his recovery.

"It should have happened weeks ago, but they're holding off while I recover . . . If I recover." He felt bitter and he couldn't help it. He retrieved his glass, dained the Scotch from the glass and placed the glass back on the table. "I haven't been told when they want the test done, but I don't think it matters. I don't think I can pass the physical. They'll either force me to retire or they'll keep me behind a desk permanently. Either way, that means I won't be your work partner anymore . . . I want to know what you want to do about it."

Her gaze on her hands, Brennan gave him her options. "If I were to sign the contract I could continue to work for the FBI as you continue to recover. I would insist upon working with Agent Harris until you could return to your position. Another option, I could have my contract modified. I could have Clark Edison become the Forensics Anthropologist for the Jeffersonian and I would be a paid consultant. I would only work in the Lab and Clark would be the one to go out in to the field."

Turning her gaze back to Booth, she continued, "Another option would be for me to sever all ties with the FBI and work in Bones Storage, identifying remains from cold cases. That would allow me to go on digs for the Jeffersonian. That's the job I originally had before I became your partner with the FBI."

He knew she was trying to spare him, but that wasn't what he wanted. Reaching out and placing his hand over hers, Booth asked her quietly. "Which do you want to do, Bones?"

His hand resting on her clasped hands, Brennan noticed that he had a bruise on the top of his hand. "The best option for the Jeffersonian and the FBI would be for me to sign the contract. The best option for you would be to work as a consultant and let Clark work in the field. The best option for me would be for me to work strictly in Bones Storage and resume going to digs."

Squeezing her hands, Booth corrected her. "That wouldn't be the best option for me, Bones. The best option for me is whatever makes you happy . . . I'm being honest here, Bones. As much as it hurts for me to not work with you, I want you to be happy. I want you to pick the option that makes you happy, not everyone else. I think I'm done as a field agent . . . I'm broken and I don't think I'm going to be fixed. That means we have to think about your career not mine . . . You tell me what you want to do. I'm fine with whatever makes you happy."

Unsure of how to proceed Brennan continued to stare at their clasped hands.

Aware that Brennan was afraid, Booth moved his hand and gently placed it under her chin. Gently moving her chin up, he witnessed her eyes move upward and capture his eyes. "Bones, I love you and what you do about your career has nothing to do with our personal life. I'm not going anywhere. We're married and I'm here to stay. You're stuck with me until I die so don't worry about that. We're only talking about work and nothing else, alright?"

A tentative smile gracing her lips, Brennan swallowed nervously. "I'm not certain. I think it will either simmer down to Clark becoming the field Forensic Anthropologist and I work in Bones storage and as a part time consultant or me completely severing my ties with the FBI."

Leaning over and Booth kissed her. "What ever you decide to do Bones, I have your back. By the way it's boil down to not simmer down to." Kissing her again, he advised her. "I think you should talk to your lawyer if you decide to become a part time consultant just to make sure all the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Caroline is pretty damn good lawyer and if you leave any loop holes in your contract, she'll find them."

"What about you?" A little fearful for her husband, Brennan wanted to know what his plans were. "What about your career with the FBI?"

He hated the not knowing, but he was stuck with it for now. "I don't know. It's all up in the air right now. They're going to want me to recertify sooner or later and that's when the shit's going to hit the fan. I have no idea what they're going to do with me, but I'm prepared for the worse . . . might as well be." Rubbing his forehead, he frowned. "I've only ever had three good things happen to me in my life, Bones. Pops rescuing me from my father, Parker being born and me meeting you. The rest of my life has been a cock up. I'm used to it, Bones. I really don't have a lot of expectations about this turning out right. I'm okay with that. Right now, I just want to make sure that you get what you want and deserve. That's the most important thing to me right now."

Brennan stood up, leaned down and pulled Booth's hand towards her. After he was standing, she placed her arms around him. "Booth, I love you and I want you to be happy with me. Let me think about all of this and let me see if there isn't something I can do that would make us both happy."

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