Another inspiration hit me and I had to do this story. What if the result of Booth's brain surgery wasn't amnesia but something else? Post-End in the Beginning. A different spin to the awesome season finale.

I know there are lots of these fics around but like I said the idea gripped me and wouldn't let go. This story seems to write itself.


Four days. It's been four days since my world had been turned upside down and inside out. Four days since I walked my partner into the OR and watched as they shaved one side of his head, locked eyes with him as the anesthesia pulled him under. Watched as they split his scalp, thn the familiar buzz of the same type of bone saw no longer used on remains of victims we work on but on him, opening his skull.

I'm not squeamish, and I've worked on so many gruesome remains, but seeing them take that bone saw to Booth's head… the urge to vomit as they removed part of his skull, that was unexpected. I had to fight the rising bile in my throat. When I agreed to accompany Booth through his surgery, I didn't think it would be that hard, but watching someone you really care about get their heads cracked open is harder than one would imagine.

I watched as they picked at his brain, watched the blood flow and the surgeons try to minimize blood loss. And then it was over. The surgeon turned to me and informed me that the surgery was a success and they had removed the tumor. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. He returned to replace the skull flap, and stitch his scalp back in place.

It was then when all hell broke loose. The various monitors he was hooked up to went crazy, every alarm that could beep went off. I'm no medical doctor but I watched his vitals plummet, watched his EKG go flat. I thought my own heart had stopped as well.

I hardly registered the fact that a nurse was pushing me out of the OR, explaining that I couldn't be inside anymore. I stood outside the OR peering in through the glass, screaming silently inside for Booth not to leave me. I watched as they placed the paddles of the defibrilltor on his chest, watched as his body arched off the operating table when the electricity coursed through his body, willing his heart to beat in synchronized rhythm again.

I felt my own heart beat again when the surgeon told me they had managed to bring him back. He had an adverse reaction to the anesthesia. I should have known, his reaction to the anti-fungals and the Vicodin in the past a forewarning of this.

So here I sit, four days after. Booth's slipped into a coma. Good news is they've weaned him off the respirator yesterday and he only needs nasal prongs now to keep his oxygen saturation up. But he hasn't stirred, hasn't woken from his coma.

I've talked to him, pleaded with him, asked him to wake up. I've been here four days, leaving only for an hour a day to go home for a shower and a fresh change of clothes. It's like my life's come to a standstill. I only realize now that my reason for living, my one constant is no longer here and so my life has come to a grinding halt.

I worked on a short story, creating an alternate universe for Booth and myself. Anyone who reads it will never know that Booth and I are the protagonists, but I know and that's enough. A life we could have had before all this. I read it out to Booth as I type, it doesn't matter if he knows what I'm writing.

And so I sit, here in Booth's hospital room, day four of my vigil, typing on my laptop, working on my story so that my mind doesn't think of all the bad things that could happen. A moment of clarity, an epiphany, I've searched all my whole life for this, waited for this, and now I realize, I m in love with my partner.

A mumble, a sound, my heart leaps. I look up at Booth propped up in bed, his head swathed in a bandage. He's waking! I hastily chuck my laptop aside, hurrying to his side.


His eyes open, and I can breathe again. He stares straight ahead, a look of confusion on his face. He mumbles something about a dream he's had while I explain what happened and his adverse reaction to the anesthesia.

"It was so real."

"It was only a dream Booth."

There's silence and I wonder if he's heard anything I've said. He's likely to still be drowsy.


My name from his lips brings tears to my eyes. I've missed hearing him call my name.

"I'm here Booth." I slip a hand into his, like I've done so often when he was in a coma.

"What time is it?"

He continues to stare straight ahead, and although finding the question odd I answer him after glancing at my watch.

"It's four in the afternoon."

"Why is it so dark in here?"

His question puzzles me.

"Turn on the lights Bones, its pitch black in here. I can't even see your face." He turns his head slightly in my direction.

"The lights are on."

I'm fairly certain we both have the same realization a few seconds later. He's the one brave enough to say it.

"I can't see."

Ok review and let me know what you think of this story. I'm already working on chapter 2, and it will be a longer chapter, promise. Like I said, it writes itself.