A/N: First, let me apologise for Chapter 1. I know it wasn't happy, but the story was in my head and writing it down was the only way to make it shut up, like the proverbial Stewie it was. I'm afraid the chapter 2 that follows isn't much happier, but I hope you like it from the storytelling point of view :)

As ever, I don't own them, but my twisted brain isn't ready to put them down just yet. They are owned by people far cleverer than I, and they have a darn sight more money than I do!

Fallout

Seeley Booth's head was swimming, but this time it had nothing to do with the medication or Stewies trying to interview his suspects. His oncologist, Dr Sanstrom, was bombarding him with long words and a lot of statistics. He smiled inside at the memory of his lost friend. She had used long words and statistics, and he had found it infuriating. Right now though, he would give anything to hear a long convoluted lecture on the ossification rates of brittle bone disease sufferers.

"…so rare to find such a tumour in someone of your age Mr Booth. Pilocytic cerebellar astrocytoma is usually a childhood affliction, and statistics on survival rates aren't that well published. I believe that 90% of patients survive beyond the five year mark."

"Five years? That's all you can promise me?"

"Not even that I'm afraid, if you are one of the 10%. Given the state of your tumour though, and the success of your surgery, I doubt that's likely."

"So what can I expect out of five years? Am I going to be ok until I start to see Wile E. Coyote or am I going to be a dribbling mess inside of a year?"

"In all likelihood, you will be as fine as you were before your hallucinations started this time. I would advise you to be vigilant regarding them this time however, it is likely that the hallucinations will present the same way."

Booth ran his hand around the edge of his bandage where it met his temple and pondered this information.

"How am I going to know what's a hallucination and what's not? One of the people I imagined," his voice cracked a little, "She was as real to me as you are. How am I going to tell the difference?"

"That will be a problem. I have seen you have a close network of friends however, I suggest you check their reactions if you're feeling unsure. But it may be that the symptoms will be the same, you may see the same things."

His heart couldn't help but leap at this idea.

"But will it definitely come back?"

"We can't be sure, but it is likely. Unfortunately if it is persistent, we will be left with palliative care only."

"Palliative, what does that mean?"

The doctor cleared his throat and fiddled with his pen. Booth could tell he wasn't going to like palliative.

"Palliative is taking care of your quality of life. Medical science hasn't found any curative therapies for your kind of tumour, all we can only resect it as best we can every time it presents."

"So what's the best prognosis?"

"Twenty five years, probably with several more surgeries."

Twenty five years. On the downside, he might not get to see Parker grow up, get married, start a family. On the upside, twenty five years was a long time, more than some men his age could expect, and they didn't necessarily know they were running short of time. Yes, he could aim for twenty five years. He would aim for twenty five years, and he'd get the most of it too. He and Bones would…. His brain stopped its train of thought dead. For months, he'd been hoping to spend at least some of the years he had left in the arms of a certain beautiful scientist. He'd been about to father her child. And yet none of it had been real. None of it. The gentle flirting that they'd been building up, the love that he had found with her as they had discussed parenthood, all of it imagined. He was lost without her, had been abandoned to the rest of his life without her, and now could only grieve for something he had never had.

Months had passed, and it was Seeley Booth's first day back at work. He'd been signed off as fit and able to carry out his duties as an officer of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and had been reassigned his former role as liaison to the Jeffersonian. It was not an assignment he relished. He had dressed that morning, grabbing his jacket from the couch and remembering that she had sat there asking if she'd ever find love, ever understand it. He had cursed at the recollection and vowed to find a new apartment. And a new couch.

Now, standing in front of the security card-swipe device at the base of the lab's main platform, he was hesitant. He didn't want to swipe his card. He didn't want to just walk up onto the platform and look over some dead guy and banter with the squints. He didn't want to pick over somebody's finances to discover who was stealing from them or blackmailing them or whatever. He definitely didn't want to see Hodgins caress Angela's hair, or put his hand on her shoulder, or hear her make some comment about what they were getting up to that night. He just didn't want to be on that platform if she wasn't going to be there. He couldn't remember her not being a part of this team, couldn't wrap his head around the fact that it had all been fabrication. He was still bitter, angry – he hadn't spoken to Cam since she'd broken the news. Rationally he knew none of this was her fault, but she had ruined his life, and he hadn't been ready to forgive her. Now he would have to, he had no choice as he had to work with her. He took a deep breath and swiped his ID.

"Agent Booth, good to have you back on board."

He merely nodded at Hodgins and glanced across at the fleshy corpse lying on the gurney.

"What have we got?"

"Male, approximately 45 to 60 years old, found in the trunk of a car that had been brought in for servicing. PD are holding the guy that dropped it off. Given the temperatures at the moment, assuming he's been in the trunk since death occurred, I'd say he's been dead only a couple of days. No obvious cause of death yet, and no hit on dentals either."

Cam was keeping this professional, which suited him fine. He shifted his stance on the railing and waited for her to continue. He could do this, he would move on. He would accept what had happened and get on with his work, he would forget her.

"What the hell's this?" Cullen was brusque as ever.

"My letter of resignation sir."

"And why the hell do I want it, you finally shoot one of the squints? Because I think I can let you have justifiable homicide for that."

"No, sir, I just wish to move on from the Bureau. All the medical stuff that's been going on… It's affecting my work and I don't feel I'm a credit to the badge any more. I need to take some time."

"So take some time. Take a sabbatical. Anything, why quit?"

"Please, sir. I've given this a lot of thought and I'd appreciate it if you'd accept my decision. I would like to complete my work on the current case and leave once it's wrapped up. I will of course make myself available for any court time you need me for."

Cullen frowned at him, giving him the hard stare-down he used to intimidate younger, greener agents. Seeing that Booth was beyond falling for threats and coercion, he sighed and nodded.

"We'll miss you Booth. You want to change your mind any time between now and the tying up of the case, I'll be happy with that. Do you mind if I ask…. The current case, your victim is a scientist, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"A young female scientist."

"Yes sir."

"Has this influenced your decision?"

Booth should have known that this wouldn't have escaped his boss' notice. He nodded.

"It just brought a few things too close to home and made me realise I'm not up to my game as I was. I need to move away from all this, make a clean break."

It was true. Booth felt he was losing his touch with people, he was no longer as good at reading suspects as he had been. And this case had been hard work. A young, beautiful, gifted forensic archaeologist had been murdered by her course professor when she had tried to end their affair. She was a tall, slim brunette in the habit of wearing smoky eye shadow and chunky necklaces. At one point he had walked in to see the Angelator displaying her face, slowing rotating in the falling yellow starlight. He had caught it at a certain angle, and it had been the image of Temperance. He knew no-one could have done that on purpose, after all he was the only one who had ever known what she looked like. That had been one of the hardest things about moving on: how do you grieve for someone when no-one else knew them and no-one can support you? When he had lost comrades in arms, he had been able to grieve by laughing with the other guys in the unit, by talking about what the fallen soldier had been like. Reminiscences helped to ease the pain. There was a saying – 'you're alive as long as you are remembered.' But she wasn't alive, and he was the only one who remembered. He could reminisce with no-one.

Two years had passed since Booth had had the tumour removed from his brain. He had severed all ties to his old life, save that with Rebecca and Parker. He no longer frequented Sid's place or the diner. When Jared had asked him to meet him at the diner, he had hesitated, unsure if he could go near the place. But he was so determined to have a life again that he had steeled himself and stepped through the door for the first time in a year and a half. He was glad to see Jared already there.

"Little bro, how are you?"

"Seel, I'm good. Round the world travelling agrees with me."

"So I see. I don't think you were this tanned when you came back from your tour of the Middle East."

Jared grinned, and Booth relaxed. He could deal with his brother.

"I hear you quit your life."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you've dropped everything and everyone except your son. That's not healthy Seel."

"It needed to be done Jared. I'm happy now."

"I wondered if I could help."

"Seriously, you wanna help me? How?"

"I'm going on another trip, I want you to come with me."

"And how does that help?"

"Look, you seem to want to break away from everything and everyone you've ever known. I thought I'd help by taking you far away from all of it."

"Temporary fix."

"Look, temporary or not, it'll be a fix. Come with me."

"Where?"

"Europe. As much or as little of it as you want to see. We can start in Iceland and work our way east or we can start in Russia and work our way west. Or south to north or north to south or only places that sell good seafood or wherever the hell you want to go."

Booth considered this. It would be good for him to get away from DC. Far away. It might help get him back into focus. It was unlike him to make a decision such as this without further thought, but this time…

"Sounds like the best idea I've heard in months."

"Great! Go home and pack, I'll meet you at the airport at eight tomorrow morning."

"Wait, what, tomorrow?! That's a bit soon!"

"If you're gonna go, go. Don't give yourself time to change your mind or talk yourself out of it."

"You know what, when you're right you're right. I'll see you tomorrow."

The brothers shook hands and shared a manly hug, patting each other on the back. They stepped outside and Booth watched his little brother climb onto his motorbike and ride off. He smiled. This was him changing his life and getting things back on track.

He was in his room in the apartment he had come to hate. He was slinging t-shirts into a bag, determined to travel light. Passport, he'd need that… In the end table by the couch. He went into the living room, not really paying attention to anything. He was happier than he'd been in two years. All that came crashing down around his ears when he saw the figure sitting on his couch.

"Where are you going Booth?"

He had never been so happy to see someone in his life, and yet at the same time so terrified.

"You can't be here."

"What do you mean?"

"You… you're not real, the tumour must be back."

Temperance Brennan looked confused. "I don't know what that means."

God, he had missed that. It had been so annoying, had grated before, but he had wanted to hear nothing else for two years.

"You're a hallucination. God, listen to me, I know that this time and I'm still talking to you."

"Then let me prove it to you."

She stood and walked over to him and ran her hands up his chest. He fought to remember that he was in trouble, that he needed to get back to the hospital, needed to find Dr Sanstrom's number, needed to call Jared, anything. Yet she was here, and he was elated. He could feel the warmth of her through his shirt, could feel her pressed up against him and now… oh god, he could feel her lips on his. This must be a hallucination, the Bones he remembered had never done this. Yet for a moment he allowed it. He allowed himself to be kissed and held and loved by the woman he had fallen in love with. Tears welled in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks as he pulled away from the imaginary kiss, knowing as he held the hands of this non-existent woman that he was about to sign her death warrant.

"I can't, Temperance. You're nothing more than a symptom. You're a scientist, you must understand that I have to make you go."

He walked away from her and dialled Jared, crying all the while he was trying to explain what was happening and trying to ignore her vain entreaties.

She came back to him every two or three years. He plodded on with his life, never able to move on knowing that she could be back any time. The third time she returned, he resigned himself to be happy. The repeated surgeries exhausted him, and he was tired of fighting.

He was getting a beer from his fridge this time. As he shut the door, she was there, leaning against his counter top.

"I was starting to wonder when you'd turn up."

"What do you mean, you told me to meet you here?"

He sighed and shook his head. This was always the hardest part, when she returned. He felt a fool, standing there explaining yet again that she wasn't real, that he couldn't have told her to meet him anywhere. It was also unfair he noted that the tumour never made her age. He was nearing fifty and she still hadn't so much as a grey hair. This time though, he was ready for her. He had decided after the last surgery that he had had enough. He got her a beer and they went to talk on his couch. They talked long into the night about nothing and everything, about the trip to Europe, how Jared was, how Parker was turning out…

He knew her being back meant he had weeks, maybe months. But he didn't care, he was worn out and was throwing in the towel. Whatever time he had was going to be happy. He wasn't going to spoil it by telling anyone she was back.

A/N: I apologise for treating my beloved Booth (and Brennan for that matter) so cruelly, but I hope you will forgive me and let me know what you think :)