Booth isn't dead. I refuse to believe Booth is dead. He can't be!

This is Booth's POV for the last scene of 'The Wannabe in the Weeds'.

They wouldn't kill off Booth, that'd just be stupid. They aren't total bakkas, are they?

So yeah, please R&R. Especially if you're as annoyed by the cliff hanger as me.

She was singing.

Dr. Temperance Brennan, PhD, blah, blah, blah…was singing 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun'. And what's more, she was enjoying herself. Her smile was just as wide as mine. Around me everyone was watching, laughing, cheering. Bones really wasn't a bad singer.

Seeing her jump around the stage was like getting a glimpse of the fifteen year old kid she had once been. She looked so free and light, I'd have to make her do this again. She was beautiful, completely uninhibited.

Someone behind me was calling my name. Reluctantly, I pulled my eyes from the stage…and saw Pam.

What was she doing here? I opened my mouth to ask but then I saw the gun in her hand. She was aiming it at the stage behind me. At Bones. No, anyone but her.

I through myself in front of her, the only thought in my head being, Not my Bones.

Then suddenly pain erupted in my chest. Pain like I'd never felt before. I'd been shot before but not like this.

Another shot rang out. I started to panic, had that bitch Pam hurt Bones?

But then her face appeared above me. Her hair framed her face making her look angelic. She was saying something but I couldn't make sense of the words. That was probably because she was she was speaking in her super intelligent squint langue that they all used in the lab. Sometimes I think they do it just to annoy me. Other times I think they don't even know they're doing it.

But Bones looked sad. Her beautiful eyes were full of tears, so maybe she was saying something more important. I wish I could understand what she was saying. Hearing her voice was nice though.

I was pretty sure I was dieing. I didn't want to die but there didn't seem to be much I, or anyone else, could do about it. Maybe that was why Bones was crying.

I thought about my son. He was safe; his mother would take care of him. I didn't need to worry about him.

Angela would take care of Bones, they all would.

Both of them were safe, nothing else mattered.

My brain seemed to be working very slowly. It was hard to think. Bones seemed frantic now. I wanted to say something to her, to make her feel better.

Then everything went black.


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