He heard his name from a million miles away. Whoever the voice belonged to was clearly annoyed with him; the tone came through loud and clear despite the perceived distance.

Perhaps Hannah had called someone after abandoning him at the cemetery. Well, Booth didn't want their help. He wasn't leaving. And why did the person have to keep yelling?

Angrily, he waved his hand in the direction of the voice, but refused to open his eyes. Couldn't she see he was trying to die here? Perhaps, hypothermia would set in and he'd just fall asleep against this headstone and never wake up.

Another moment and the voice became clearer. Now, it sounded like Bones. Maybe he'd already died and she found him in heaven? Which would be a shock to her, since she didn't believe in that sort of thing. He, of course, would gloat for a few minutes before enjoying the knowledge they'd get to spend eternity together.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to stare at a familiar ceiling. He was no longer outside and the ceiling looked like it belonged to the house he and Bones currently shared, as opposed to the apartment he'd found himself in with Hannah.

"Oh, thank God," he heard her mutter and Booth was convinced he was still trapped in the nightmare. Because there was no way Bones would thank a God she didn't believe in. Except he believed. Maybe the comment was meant for him somehow? But that didn't make any sense either.

"Booth!" she yelled a little louder and he turned his eyes toward her. He tried to turn his head, but the movement brought an involuntary groan to his lips. What had he done to himself?

"Can you hear me?" she asked. Shaking fingers brushed stray hair from his forehead.

"Yeah," he muttered, trying again to turn his head. This time he was slightly more successful, and was able to turn enough to see her clearly out of both eyes.

Her countenance was calm, but Booth could see past the mask she wore to the tension she was clearly hiding from him. Whatever had happened had been terrifying for both of them.

Swallowing thickly, he licked his dry lips. "What happened?"

Sighing with relief, she sat next to him on the bed. "I've been trying to wake you for twenty-eight minutes. I was getting ready to contact emergency services when you finally opened your eyes."

Booth struggled and attempted to sit up, but Brennan put her hand on his shoulder. "You threw your back out last night trying to move some of the Christmas decorations. Just move slowly."

She looked down at her hand, then toward the night stand next to his bed. "You took pain medication before you fell asleep."

Rising from the bed, she grabbed the bottle, shook it once or twice in her hand, then threw it across the bedroom.

With a little effort, Booth managed to at least rise to a sitting position. He was thankful she'd had enough presence of mind to tell him to move slowly. Anything faster would have sent him into a nightmare of a whole different sort. Raising his eyebrows at her unusual expression of emotion, he tried to find his away around his confusion to ask a coherent question.

So, it had really all been a dream. Or more accurately, a nightmare. Even if he could still smell that breakfast Hannah had been cooking and taste the sorrow that lingered from learning exactly where Bones had disappeared to.

That was one hell of a dream. One he hoped didn't repeat anytime soon.

In fact, never sounded like a better plan.

But she wasn't paying attention to him. She continued to stare at the bottle where it came to rest in the corner of the bedroom. "As long as I live in this house, you won't take that medication again."

Most dreams faded after waking, but this one wasn't following a similar pattern. He clearly remembered Hannah asking if he'd taken pain medication because he reacted weirdly to it. Had his subconscious known what was going on the whole time?

Clues had been there. Questions about medication. The lack of a Christmas tree. Little things, that painted one larger picture.

Brennan turned back toward him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Where did you go?"

Booth widened his eyes. If it was a nightmare, he shouldn't have left the bedroom. "Did I disappear?"
She shook her head. "You never left physically, but it was clear from what you were muttering, that you were no longer here."

Running his hand through his hair, Booth considered how much to tell her, not wanting to hurt her by mentioning Hannah. But to hold anything back seemed dishonest.

"I went back to the old apartment. Hannah was there. We were married." He paused, trying to find the words to convey how he felt about the whole situation. "It sucked."

"You said her name. Several times."

"Not because I was dreaming anything good, trust me," he grumbled. He turned away from her, as well as he comfortably could, no longer wanting to see the tears. He had his own he wanted to shed.

"I dreamed you were dead," he said softly. "Hannah said yes to the marriage proposal and Broadsky shot you instead. When I closed my eyes, right before I came back, right before you brought me back," he corrected, "I was leaning against your headstone."

His eyes were also bright with tears, but unlike her, his actually slid down his cheeks. He wanted to close his eyes, but the wall behind his back felt a bit too similar to what he'd just left. What would happen if he closed them, only for a moment? Would he open them again and see a cemetery in front of him?

"It sucked," he said again, unable to come up with better words to convey exactly what that nightmare had been like for him.

Knowing the distress her husband was feeling was worse than hers, Brennan came forward and sat gently on the bed. His comfort would always come before her own. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I know how you hate the nightmares that follow that theme."

"When I had that damn coma dream, it was like another world. This had a similar feeling. There were little clues there that things were off, but I couldn't seem to get out. Even though I wanted to."

Memories of the previous evening were clear now. Booth had tried to move some Christmas decorations in the garage, when he'd turned wrong and injured his back. Hodgins and Angela had already left for the evening, leaving Bones to help him to the bedroom.

The last time he'd taken the pain meds, they'd made him a little loopy, but nothing he couldn't handle for a few hours. Besides, it was late in the evening and he figured he'd just sleep through the worst of it. Apparently, this time, sleep had caused the worst of it.

Looking at the orange bottle in the corner, Booth agreed with Bones. It was the last time he'd ever take it again.

Reaching up, Bones turned his face back toward hers. "I wasn't worried that you were enjoying your time with her. It was clear from the tone of your voice that you weren't." She paused, remembering the fear that gripped her when she'd tried to wake him and couldn't.

Brushing at his cheeks to chase away tears, she did the same to her eyes. "You said her name twice, then Broadsky, then you started to shake. You were shivering but your skin was hot. It was then I tried to wake you and could not."

Booth wondered what part of the dream he was in when that reaction had begun. Had it been the moment he learned Bones had died? Or when he rested his head against the stone and prayed death would find him as well?

"Do you remember that movie you made me watch once?" she asked. "The one where a man sees the world as if he was never born?"

Booth snorted. "I remember. You told me it was ridiculous."

"It was. But I think that's what your mind fabricated. A vision of the world if you, or I, or Hannah had made different choices. If Sweets were still alive, he would probably tell you it was something you feared, even if you don't consciously admit it."

Booth considered her answer and thought she was probably right. One different choice, a path not taken, and what he currently had wouldn't exist. Of course, that insight was coming from Bones…

"I thought you didn't believe in psychology?"

"I don't, anymore than I believe in your God. But you believe and I'm willing to use the knowledge if it helps you."

He looked past her, through the glass wall, and into the living room to see the tree standing there. It brought a smile to his lips and helped chase away some of the feelings the dream had brought. But it would be a long time before he rested easily again.

"Where are Hank and Christine?" he asked.

"I called my father when I couldn't wake you. He took the kids to his house, in case I needed to call for emergency assistance. I didn't want them traumatized by it. I'll call him quickly and let him know everything is okay now."

Brown eyes met blue, and in hers he saw nothing but strength and love. Her world was okay again, now that he was awake, and he would work hard to push away the memories of last night. She was still here, they were together, Hank and Christine were real and they all loved each other. He wouldn't let a nightmare impact the sense of fulfillment that knowledge brought him.

With warm hands he pulled her to his side and tucked her tightly against him. "Do you have some time to sit with me awhile?" he asked.

"I'll stay right here, if that's what you need," she promised. "I'll stay here forever."

Thanks for reading. Sorry it was so depressing. But it ended well, right?