Disclaimer: As always, this story was written for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement was intended.

Spoilers: "The Critic in the Cabernet" and "The End in the Beginning"

A/N: This is a different from my usual style, so I hope it's still enjoyable. Feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thanks Liz (lizook) for the read through.

Looking Back on Tomorrow

Oh, he remembers her, alright. Someone who could evoke such strong emotions in him could never be completely erased from his mind. He knows she is someone he loves, someone more important to him than most. But who she is, and the nature of their relationship, eludes him.

Who are you?

These are not the three little words she had hoped to hear upon his awakening. If she'd ever doubted the power of words before, the gut-wrenching pain she experiences in that moment makes everything crystal clear. As is her way, she pushes aside her own emotions and focuses on the task at hand: Taking care of Booth.

Bren, Temperance, Dr. Brennan, Tempe… Names swirl around his head, but her true identity remains just out of reach. He tries out each, eager to test how they fit. She has little reaction until he hesitantly calls her the last and, in his mind, the least likely-


The tear that slips silently down her cheek lets him know he's found the right one.

Keep moving. Never stop.

As long as she keeps herself busy, reality won't have a chance to seep in.

Who are you?

Talk to the doctors, keep family and friends updated, make arrangements at work…

Who are you?

Drive Booth home, see to his medications, make sure he's comfortable…

Who are you?

Prepare his meals, tidy his apartment, help him dress…

Who are you?

Don't stop moving. Never stop moving.

She tells him that they are "just partners," but he knows they're more than that. A simple colleague wouldn't have stuck with him through all of this. When he questions her on it, she prattles on about anthropology or biology or some other –ology, and it makes his head spin and he vows to never ask again. But he's an investigator at heart, so he keeps on investigating, just not in a way she'll recognize.

She knows he watches her and it unnerves her, so she stuffs that—along with everything else—into the nice, neat compartment in her mind labeled "Booth's Illness." The upside to his amnesia is that he seems to have lost his ability to read her mind. The old Booth would have poked and prodded until her emotions were forced to the surface. That thought both relieves and saddens her, so into the box it goes, never to see the light of day.

She's driving him absolutely berserk and he has a feeling this isn't the first time. She treats him like some sort of invalid or mental patient, but he thinks she might just be the crazy one. She never stops moving, never stops talking, flitting around like some kind of nervous butterfly. Beautiful, striking, but just a little bit… off.

She focuses all of her energy on getting him healthy and helping him through this, because regardless of whether he remembers her, she remembers him. He's always been there for her, unasked and often unwanted. He has never abandoned her and she refuses to abandon him.

She tries to do everything for him. Everything. Tie his shoes, prepare his meals, wait on him hand and foot. Some—worthless—men might like a woman to be at their beck and call, but he isn't that kind of guy. Making her understand that he's not helpless is apparently futile though. She isn't hearing it.

He firmly draws the line when she offers to help him in the bathtub. He's learning—again?—how to pick his battles with her, when to put his foot down and when to just let her be.

She's never been the type to cater to a man. Every women's lib manifesto she's ever read has been ingrained into her and, ordinarily, her inner feminist would be screaming at her in outrage. But this is Booth

Booth is unlike any man she's ever known. She'd realized a long time ago that he'd do anything for her. What's more, she's startled to find that she's willing to do the same for him.


It doesn't take him long to realize that this person, this crazy person, talking a mile a minute and rushing from one task to another is not his partner. He's not sure how he knows, but deep inside his subconscious, he understands it's all a façade. He wants to help her, needs to, but he's not sure how.

Eventually, he can't take it anymore. Before he knows what he's saying, the words come spilling out of his mouth.

"Bones, Temperance. Stop." Her pale blue eyes finally meet his, truly meet his, for the first time since he left the hospital.

"Just stop."

She blinks at him in confusion as if she's just awoken from her own coma. He pats the sofa next to him and she immediately sits because she doesn't know what else to do.

They study each other for a long moment. His arms reach for her of their own volition and he pulls her into his chest. He feels the way she initially resists, her body tense as he crushes her to him, but he waits. He's working entirely on instinct and praying like hell it's not the wrong move.

Before she knows what's happening, her body is wracked with sobs and she's clutching his shirt tightly in her fists. She cries for all the people who've left her or hurt her or broken her heart. He strokes her back and whispers quietly, soothingly, and kisses the top of her head until she's all cried out.

When her tears finally subside, she tries to pull away but he won't let her. He gently cups her face and dries her eyes and offers her an affectionate smile, which she shakily returns. Maybe it's the sadness in her gaze or the way she obviously trusts him, but he presses his lips to hers, hesitantly at first and then with growing certainty.

He remembers the feel of her lips on his own.

She's surprised when he leans in to kiss her. In all the hours they've spent together, all the missed opportunities and close calls, Booth has never tried to kiss her. She's always assumed it's because he isn't interested in her romantically. Now she's not sure what to think.

Thinking becomes irrelevant as she gets lost in the feel of his lips gently tugging on hers.

Memories surge to the forefront of his subconscious. More than anything, it's the way he feels about her that strikes the deepest cord. The love, the longing comes crashing down on him. His voice breaks a little when he finally speaks.

"Much better without some puckish lawyer watching us, huh?" He chuckles as realization slowly dawns on her face.

Sometimes fear holds us back from living life to the fullest. In trying to safeguard our hearts, we often deny ourselves the joy of getting lost in another. There cannot be a bigger mistake, a greater handicap, than to let this fear stop us from loving. We must overcome this obstacle and risk heartache, before it is too late and we are lost forever.

For it is only through a lover's eyes that we are able to see who we truly are.