A/N: Ay Dios mio. The final season four chapter. I can't believe it.

Sweets was supposed to be visiting for an update on Booth's condition, but he hadn't been still yet. Then, in a moment of wide-eyed realization, he stopped his pacing momentarily to beckon Lily to him. "You want to talk?"

"No," she said evenly.

"Come on. That's your dad in there."

"I know that, Sweets."

"Lily, I'm your therapist. You must be scared and confused. You need to get your feelings out into the open."

She sighed, shifting from one foot to another. "Sweets, do you want to talk about this?"

He paused for a second, and then nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Lily pointed to some chairs across the room from Angela. "All right, Sweets. How do you feel?"

"Scared. And confused. But mostly scared. Why is this happening?"

She nodded. "So you're very upset about this."

"Of course I am! Agent Booth is my friend!"

Lily's eyes widened. "Friend, huh?"

"Yes. I mean, sure, he isn't very cooperative in therapy, and he makes fun of me a lot, but... Agent Booth is my friend."

She thought about this statement for a moment. "Do you think that maybe this is because you look up to him?"

"I... hadn't considered that." His expression turned from thoughtful to confused. "Wait a minute. When did you become the psychologist?"

She shrugged. "When you became the emotionally unstable one."

He pondered that for a minute. "But... how are you so calm... with your dad in a coma?"

She scoffed. "Sweets, I am so totally not calm on the inside."

"All the more reason for a psychologist. Lily, talk to me."

She threw up her hands in an exasperated surrender. "What do you want me to say, Sweets? Yeah, I'm freaking scared because my dad is in a coma after having brain surgery. And I'm wondering why God is doing this right after we found each other. I feel ridiculously guilty for hating him. And this all feels like a damn BAD DREAM!"

Sweets listened intently, and put a comforting hand on Lily's shoulder as a tear dripped down her cheek. "Does it feel good to get that out?"

The girl nodded. "Sometimes it... it feels better sitting with him, seeing him... but then I know it's real."

"It is real. And I think it's good for you to see him."

I'm sitting at the side of my dad's hospital bed, pencil poised above paper without making contact. The blank page stares up at me coldly, mocking me, reminding me of where I am and why. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoes off of the sterile, white walls with the clicking of Brennan's typing.

I watch her hit 'Delete' and realize we are now both staring at blank pages, now facing the unknown in life and on paper.

With that realization comes another—my Dad's eyes are opening, and he is making noises. Brennan is at his side in an instant, but I am frozen in place. I hear their voices before I am on my feet, wide-eyed, with the world moving at a seemingly snail-slow pace.

"It felt so real," Dad whispers.

Brennan is crying as she reassures him. "It was just a dream."

I want to scream that this felt like a dream, that this couldn't possibly be real, when Dad speaks again.

"Who are you?"

Oh. My. God.

Dear Journal/Sweets,

Help.

LCB