Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

Because we all don't want our beloved show to end, and would love to see what happens next, this is a collection of one-shots of exactly that. A collection of stories revolving around our OTP.


There was ash and dust everywhere. Every breath burned. The air smelled bad. It reminded him of his past tours and other times he had gotten blown up. Then there was the incessant ringing in his ears, drowning out every thought, every sound. He coughed. Groaning, he sat up, ducking under a beam that had narrowly missed crushing him to death. His entire body ached.

His mind registered that he was in the Jeffersonian medico-legal lab. As he pulled himself to his feet he recognised that he was standing where the forensic platform used to be. Everything came back to him in rush of panic and fear. Bones! He called out for her as he looked to where he last saw her.

His eyes grew wide as he realised that where she was last seen was now a heap of twisted metal. She couldn't be buried under there! He kept calling for her, all this while the ringing in his ears not subsiding. His head felt like it was spinning in dizzying circles and he fought a wave of nausea. From past experience, these sensations weren't entirely new but this time the stakes were higher.

He thought he heard voices calling his name but they sounded so very distant. He chose to ignore the voices, focusing on not falling over. Every step he made through the debris of the lab hurt. But he pushed through the pain. Every fiber of his being screamed find Bones!

After what seemed like an eternity of fighting through the wreckage he spotted a human form, clad in the trademark blue Jeffersonian lab coat, lying face down amidst the debris of what used to be his wife's office. Fighting the fear that was rising inside him, he hurried to the motionless body. As he neared his goal, he tried to push away the fact that the body on the floor was twisted at an unnatural angle. He wasn't medically trained but even he knew that arms and legs should not bend at those odd angles.

It was her, he could recognise her anywhere. He crouched down beside the body and with trembling fingers felt for a pulse at her neck. His heart stopped when he couldn't find one. No! Against better judgement he gently rolled her over. The way her head lolled lifelessly to one side in his arms seemed to confirm his worse fears. Her face was caked in dust and dried blood.

He willed her to wake up. "Bones, stay with me. Temperance, open your eyes."

She remained motionless despite his urging. As he gently lowered her head to the ground, he scanned her body but was unable to detect any visible injuries other than the numerous cuts and bruises on her face.

"Come on Bones, you've got to fight this. Stay with me, open your eyes." He urged.

He began chest compressions but stopped when he felt the sickening crunch of her ribs under his hands.

"Temperance, come on! Wake up!" He felt the sting of tears rolling down his cheeks.

He tilted her head back, blowing air into her mouth in a desperate attempt to inflate her lungs. He tried chest compressions again but stopped knowing he was possibly injuring her more. He knew his efforts were futile, he couldn't get her heart to beat again. The realisation felt like someone had stabbed him through his heart. He couldn't breath and he let out an anguished, "No. Please!"

He collapsed in a defeated heap on the ground, feeling like all energy had been drained from his body. He gently cradled her lifeless body in his arms, holding her head close to his chest. "Bones… don't leave me."

For a second, he thought his desperate pleas would wake her, but the love of his life remained motionless in his arms. He squeezed her tightly to him, his anguished sobs echoing around the destroyed lab. This was all my fault! His wife was dead and it was because of him and his past. The guilt felt like a crushing weight on his shoulders. He wished he was the one that had died instead of her. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain the fact to his children, that their mother was dead because of him.

… …

Booth gasped, sucking in a breath. His disorientated mind struggled to get a grip on reality. His cheeks felt damp from crying. His sleep fogged brain began to register that he was not in the lab but in his bedroom, lying in his bed. He tried to control his ragged breathing. He whipped his head to the left and felt relief wash over him. She's not dead! Hastily, he wiped a stray tear that had rolled down his cheek.

His beloved Bones was alive. Apparently oblivious to the nightmare he just had, she was still sound asleep. His eyes now accustomed to the darkness of their bedroom watched the rise and fall of her chest, drawing comfort from the fact that she was alive and well. He fought the urge to take her into his arms and hold her close. He wanted to feel her and reassure himself that what he had just experienced was merely a nightmare.

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to slow his racing heart. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. He kept repeating those words like a mantra in his head. He didn't want to go back to sleep, the nightmare although not reality, hadn't been pleasant and he had no desire to experience it again.

Not wanting to wake his blissfully sleeping wife, Booth slowly got out of bed. His body still healing from the explosion at the lab, protested his actions and his recently dislocated right wrist ached. It was only yesterday that Kovac had perished in a ball of flames but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Exiting his bedroom, he checked on Hank and Christine. Satisfied that both his children were safely asleep, Booth made his way in the moonlight to the family room. Settling himself down on the couch he said a silent prayer of thanks that his nightmare hadn't become reality. Sitting alone in the quiet of the usually noisy family room, he found comfort in the little toy truck that had been wedged in the corner of the couch and the anthropology journal that sat on the coffee table. He was acutely aware of how lucky he was and how easily he could have lost everything.

"Booth?" Her concerned voice pierced the silence of the night. "Is everything okay?"

Turning his head, Booth could make out Brennan's silhouette in the moonlight. He wanted nothing more than to see her face. He flicked on the table lamp next to the couch, lighting up the darkened room. Both blinked, their eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

Booth stood, wincing as he did. He hurried towards her, enveloping her in a tight hug. After holding her for a time, he leaned back to study her face. The healing gash on her temple and the accompanying bruise over her left eye made his heart seize. He had been that close to losing her.

"I almost lost you." He choked, his carefully guarded emotions threatening to spill over.

"But you didn't." She placed a comforting hand on his cheek.

"Yeah." He turned his head slightly towards her palm, breathing in her scent. "For that, I'm grateful."

"You had a nightmare." She stated.

"It felt so real. I was holding you in my arms and you were dead. It was all my fault."

"If I had died, it wouldn't have been your fault. You did what you had to do."

Booth sighed, not entirely convinced. But she was alive and well and that was all that mattered.

"That night… when the bomb went off in the lab… I saw you lying on the floor… I thought for a second that I'd lost you. I couldn't breathe. If you had died, I would have died too."

Brennan knew her husband had to relive those horrid moments of the past two days. She knew that they both needed to process what had happened. He had been stoic. He had been strong because she needed it. He had supported her through her amnesia and now it was her turn to return the favor.

"It would be quite impossible to die of a metaphorically broken heart although I know that if anything had happened to you I'd feel the same. You didn't lose me. The bruises will heal. The bad guys didn't win and as you can see, I'm alive and well."

"I'm glad you are." Booth held her firmly to him, mindful of her injuries.

Brennan knew how she could fix this. He needed to know for sure that she was indeed alive and well.

"I love you Booth. Come back to bed with me. Show me how much you love me. Prove to yourself that I'm here and that whatever you dreamed was just that. A bad dream."

Booth quirked a smile. "You sure? We're both still hurting from the blast."

"You can be gentle in your love-making. From past experience, it won't be any less satisfying."

Booth chuckled softly. He loved how well she knew him, and in this instance, loved how she was always right. This was yet another bump to get over in their journey together. He took her hand in his and led her to their bedroom, intending to prove to her just how much he loved her and to himself that she was indeed alive and well.

My take on a post-finale fic.

I'm keeping the rating T for now, until the need arises, if it does, to change the rating.

I have another chapter for this series in the works (not to mention at least 2-3 more ideas for one-shots), so review and keep an eye out for them!