The Honesty in the Session
Rating: K+
Summary: Oneshot, set during the Pain in the Heart. "So, let me get this straight. You're telling me that Bones and I will no longer be partners if we don't discuss the issues that you caused?" Booth took an intimidating step towards the psychiatrist. "Yes, that is precisely what I am telling you." Sweets said, holding his ground.
Characters: B&B, Sweets.
Warnings: Major spoilers for the end of Wannabe in the Weeds and the Pain in the Heart.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or Def Leppard's "Torn to Shreds", which was my inspiration for this fic.
A/N: This is slightly AU. Sweets may come off as mean, uncaring, and harsh in this fic, but let it be said: I have nothing against him nor is this a Sweets bashing fic. There is a reason for his behavior here, so I hope that it doesn't put anyone off. Hopefully, you'll see why he acts the way he does by the end of the fic. Also, I didn't touch on any of the Zack related issues of this episode. I'll leave that up to you to decide whether he's guilty or innocent (you're allowed to think the latter, this is AU).

"I don't want to fall in love, but it's been taken out of my hands.
And right now I realize that I don't want to say goodbye.
I miss you more than words can say.
They never turn out right, but here it goes anyway:
Every day I miss your touch - never thought it'd mean so much.
All the words I could have said have got me reeling, torn to shreds."

The pair sat together on the couch - perhaps slightly closer than usual – as a united front against a common enemy. The friction that had been between the two of them upon Booth's return had completely vanished, making it easier for them both to breath. Their anger hadn't been quelled, but instead redirected at a new target.

Initially, she had been furious with Booth for leaving her, for stepping in front of that damned bullet; at Angela, who had forced her to that god-awful funeral; and with herself for allowing her walls down and letting him get so close. After much thought, her anger had been directed at Sweets, who had withheld information from her that could have saved her a lot of heartache and pain.

Sweets was talking from a casual position in a chair across from them, a clipboard in his lap and a pen poised to write in his hand. He glanced back and forth quickly between the partners as he attempted to explain himself and the motives behind his actions.

Booth, however, wasn't having any of it. He had been quiet for the majority of the session, seething silently in his seat, but his deadly calm had cracked. "You used us as an experiment, Sweets!"

Brennan tore her icy gaze from the psychiatrist, but her eyes notably softened when they landed on her partner. It seemed like every muscle in his body was tense as his leg bounced in an angered rhythm. His jaw was painfully clenched, and his knuckles were blanched white as he seemingly struggled to keep his hold on a metaphorical slipping thread of self-control. For a split second, she feared that he'd launch himself over the small coffee table that was positioned between them and the psychiatrist and make a grab for the object of their shared irritation.

She reached out, placing a calming hand on his leg. He briefly glanced at her before stilling the movement of his leg and inhaling as deeply as he could without causing pain. Though he hadn't complained verbally, Brennan knew his wound bothered him. Anyone else might not have noticed the way he carefully carried himself now, but to Brennan it was quite obvious.

Sweets wore an odd expression that she was unable to read. "I want you to know that I did it with the best intentions." He replied, shrinking back ever so slightly in his seat, not totally unaffected by Booth's raising of his voice. Had this been any other time, Brennan might have held some sympathy for him; Booth could be highly intimidating, though she had never been on the receiving end of such anger. She knew he would never physically hurt her, but Sweets on the other hand…

Well, she thought silently, he's fortunate that Booth was still recovering from a gunshot wound. That very well could have been his saving grace.

Brennan reluctantly removed her hand, and Booth's leg immediately started bouncing again. He released the breath he had been holding and ran a hand roughly down his face, but he remained silent.

My turn, she thought. "Your intentions were solely for your benefit. Had our partnership or friendship been any weaker, you could have critically damaged it."

Sweets extended a hand towards them and leaned forward again. He sounded desperate as he quickly spoke, "But your partnership was strong enough. You guys overcame that obstacle and are stronger now because of it."

"But at what expense? What gives you the right to test us like that? Sure, I'll put up with a trust exercise – begrudgingly – here and there, but when you're lying to us and interfering in things you shouldn't… You crossed a line, Sweets." Booth's voice had lowered back to normal volume, but his words were tinged with bitterness. Brennan could still see the dangerous darkness in his eyes despite the frightening calm of his voice. Sweets, too, must have witnessed the undercurrent of anger that was being heavily repressed. He retreated even farther into his chair, and his hand dropped to his side, defeated.

"I never would have agreed to letting you study us if I had even considered it a possibility that you would lieto me about the death of my partner." She spoke the last four words in clipped syllables, talking louder as if Sweets was hard of hearing. Booth visibly flinched, but she was unsure whether it was from her raised voice or the words themselves. He adverted his eyes in something akin to shame, and she knew then that it was the latter.

Sweets watched her with interest. "Perhaps we should talk about what you felt during Booth's absence, Dr. Brennan?" Sweets looked hopeful, while Booth looked miserable.

She froze in her seat, unable to move or speak. No one knew the full extent of what she had gone through during those two weeks, and she wasn't about to spill everything in front of Sweets, of all people.

"How did it make you feel, Agent Booth, when you heard that Angela had to literally drag her to your funeral?" Sweets pressed, seeing he wasn't getting anything out of her yet.

Even Brennan recognized the question immediately for what it was – a low blow. She bristled at seeing the flash of pain in her partner's eyes, momentarily forgetting her own discomfort. "Sweets-"

He cut her off without hesitation. "No, let him answer the question, Dr. Brennan. Remember," Sweets prompted with newfound determination, "this is a zone of truth."

There was a heavy moment of silence before Booth finally spoke. "I understand why - Bones compartmentalizes. Whenever something happens, she buries herself in work."

Brennan wasn't about to admit that the morning she had been informed of his death, she'd called in and spent the next two days in bed rather than the lab. On the third day, however, she had returned to work and done exactly as Booth had said – work non-stop on limbo cases.

"That doesn't answer my question, Agent Booth. You deflected." The psychologist pointed out.

Booth's eyes narrowed, and he stood. "What do you want me to say, Sweets? You're toying with us again." He was already moving towards the door, and Brennan had to scramble in order to keep up.

Sweets never rose from his seat. "I just want a straight, truthful answer."

Like the truthfulness you've showed us? Brennan wanted to inquire, but she was unable to form the words.

"If you both answer the questions I've asked, you can leave."

"And if I don't?" The challenge in Booth's voice was clear as his hand moved to rest on the doorknob.

"There are matters here that must be addressed now. I can suspend your partnership until this is all settled, if need be."

Brennan's eyes widened. "What? No, that would be inadvisable. Booth and I are the best at what we do."

"Yeah, if need be," Booth mocked, "you can check our solve rates."

"You can always be partnered with others." Sweets said casually, though unbeknownst to the partners, the threat was empty.

Uncharacteristically, Brennan was talking before she even realized what she was saying. "I won't work with anyone else. Either I remain Booth's partner, or I will never work with the FBI again." Her tone held clear finality.

"The situation is rather easy to avoid if you'll both just talk about what happened." Sweets looked to the empty couch pointedly.

"So, let me get this straight." Booth released the doorknob to face the psychologist fully. "You're telling me that Bones and I will no longer be partners if we don't discuss the issues that you caused?" He took an intimidating step towards the psychiatrist. If it didn't hurt him so much to move his arm, he very well might have punched the kid.

"Yes, that is precisely what I am telling you." Sweets said, holding his ground.

He took another step closer, and his voice level dropped again. "You're walking a fine line, Sweets. I suggest you tread carefully."

"And so is your partnership if you don't settle these matters now. I won't allow myself to be responsible for problems that are sure to come up later down the road and drive the two of you apart. I'm going to fix this - what I've messed up - whether you like it or not. It's going to take some poking and prodding at some new and perhaps older wounds, but your partnership will be better off in the end."

Brennan stared at Sweets coldly in an attempt to hide the underlying panic rushing through her. No, I can't lose him again, she thought frantically. Her usual, logical composure was cracking – again. She moved back to the couch, catching Booth by his good arm as she went. "Come on, let's just get this over with." She said quietly before taking a seat. Begrudgingly, he sat back down beside her.

"Now, Agent Booth, how did you feel when Dr. Brennan didn't want to come to your-"

"I remember what the question was." He stated bluntly, staring angrily at the wall behind Sweets' head. His leg started bouncing again, and this time Brennan made no move to stop the irritated movement. Finally, he leveled his eyes to Sweets. "It hurt, okay? I mean, doesn't everyone like to think that their friends would care enough to come to their funeral? But as I said earlier, I understand her reasons for not wanting to come. In the end, she showed up to my fake funeral."

Though she wouldn't have said anything if Sweets had been the one prompting her, she looked at Booth timidly and said solely for his benefit, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know." He gave her a half smile that was a little too forced for her liking, but his eyes held no accusations.

"Dr. Brennan, need I repeat your question?" Sweets asked.

Oh, no. She definitely remembered. What to do? Say nothing and allow their partnership to be severed; or admit to her tears and risk embarrassment, awkwardness, or a number of other uncomfortable situations? Neither option was preferable. She really did need to speak to Booth about those two weeks and tell him just how much he meant to her. That had been one of her biggest regrets – she worried that he hadn't known just how much he meant to her, how much she appreciated what he had done for her over the last three years, how much she cherished the friendship they had built… She'd spent too much time wishing for a second chance to let him slip away without knowing again, but she couldn't tell him here. Not in front of Sweets.

"Am I going to be asked the same?" Booth asked suddenly, drawing Sweet's intense, expectant stare away from her.

Blinking, he said, "Yes, I was going to get to that."

Booth shot her a look. To anyone else, it may have appeared to be a glance. Sweets knew better. These two, he noted, could communicate without speaking. It was eerie how they could read each other's thoughts. Whatever point Booth had been trying to make, it visibly relaxed Brennan. She understood and was immensely thankful that he was taking the focus off of her.

"The safe house was boring. It was just and two other agents and myself, most of the time. Parker called almost every night, and Cullen checked in frequently with updates on the case. Jared called once and laughed at my misfortune, the bastard." He shook his head.

"How did you feel when Dr. Brennan never contacted you?"

His eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn't pinpoint. "I just assumed that she was caught up in work. I never suspected that she didn't know, especially after I spoke to you specifically to confirm that she had received the correct number." He turned to look at her, "That is the reason why I never tried to contact you. If had ever suspected that you didn't know… You know I would have found someway to let you know, right? But I didn't suspect anything. Why should I have even considered it a possibility that both Sweets and Cullen were lying to me?"

Brennan would be the first to admit that she wasn't good at reading people, but she could sure read him. His eyes held nothing but pure honesty, and any anger that she might have still felt towards him melted completely away.

"I did what I felt was best, and Director Cullen agreed. He feared that if more people knew, there was a bigger chance of the truth getting leaked and word getting back to the man we were trying to catch."

"What's one more person? Rebecca and Parker knew, and so did Jared. Obviously the agents with me at the safe house knew. Why not my partner? Why not my best friend? She's more like family to me than my own brother."

Brennan felt her heart soar – metaphorically, of course - at his words.

Sweets appraised him with raised brows and asked as if he didn't already know, "You consider Dr. Brennan as a best friend and would go so far as to consider her family?"

At Sweet's mock-surprise, Booth's anger faded. He suddenly felt exposed, and he shot a nervous glance in her direction. His answer, however, was sound. "Yes."

"And do you feel the same way?" Sweets pressed, looking to Brennan.

Without pause, she nodded. "Yes, I trust Booth implicitly, and I find that he is very easy to talk to, oftentimes more so than Angela. He has taught me that there is more than one kind of family."

Sweets was silent for a long moment, watching as they exchanged smiles with each other. He knew they deserved an answer – a reason – for his actions. "I regret that I withheld the information, but both Cullen and I feared that Dr. Brennan wouldn't be able to sell it if she knew the truth. We assumed she'd grieve, thus greasing the wheels on the operation. If I could do it over, I assure you that I would." He wore an expression akin to shame and guilt. "This is why I'm pushing and prodding; I'm trying to solve all of the problems that I've caused."

Neither partner spoke, nor did they make eye contact with him. They were mulling over his words as they stared with apparently great interest at the carpet.

"Dr. Brennan, the last question is yours. I think you need to talk about what you felt during those two weeks."

She faltered visibly as she scrambled for something to say. Booth intervened for her again, "Is it really necessary to make her revisit this when she obviously doesn't want to?"

Sweet's ignored Booth, but he misunderstood her hesitation. "Would this be easier if Agent Booth stepped out of the room? Perhaps you don't want to say this in front of him."

That wasn't the case at all. She didn't want Sweets to be there when she told him – which she had every intention of doing. It seemed like too intimate of a talk to have a third person analyzing every word said. Her thoughts were flying, and it wasn't until she felt Booth moving to stand that she realized how lost in thought she had been.

Her hand flew out to catch his arm. "No, it's okay. Stay." He looked uneasy but reluctantly sat back down.

"I suppose that there is no way to convince you to allow us to speak of this on our own terms?" She tried.

"I'd like to hear it so that I can help you sort through all of the emotions."

She closed her eyes tightly, wishing for any way to opt out of this situation. She could run, just like she often did when things got too emotional, but that option didn't seem feasible now.

Her attention was drawn back to Sweets when he stood and moved over to his desk. He lay the unused clipboard and pen down and turned back to face them. "If I let you two leave, you'll talk about it? I'm serious. There are some things that need to be worked through as soon as possible."

Brennan felt an immense relief roll over her, but a knot of worry remained in the pit of her stomach. Still, how was she going to tell Booth? She wasn't good at putting words on her emotions, let alone making them coherent enough for others to understand.

"We will," she said, accepting his offer before he could change his mind. Quickly, she was on her feet and looking pointedly at Booth.

Geez, Bones, get out while you still can, he wanted tease her, but the expression she wore told him that his joke would be lost on her. Instead, he obediently stood and followed her towards the door, reaching ahead to open it for her. "Later, Sweets," He tossed over his shoulder. Sarcastically, he mentally tacked on, It's been a real pleasure.

The psychiatrist was left leaning lightly up against the desk with his arms folded across his chest. He hoped more than anything that they would talk, and judging by Dr. Brennan's expression, he was fairly certain that they would. Perhaps he would know if they had by next session.

Breathing a tremendous sigh of relief that he hadn't been pummeled, killed, and dumped somewhere; he glanced at the clock and began gathering his things to go home. It was way past time to leave, anyway.

Since Brennan had been picked up by Booth and had rode to the Hoover Building with him earlier in the day, he had to drive her back home. The car ride was mostly silent; he was left to replay the session over and over again in his head, while she was trying to sort out her emotions enough to be able to tell him in an articulate form.

Once the SUV was parked, he accepted the unspoken invitation to go up to her apartment. Though he wanted nothing more than to go home and get out of his suit and tie, his gut was telling him that this night was far from over.

After unlocking the door and letting them in, she left him out by the couch as she disappeared into her bedroom to change into something more comfortable. He shrugged off his suit jacket and took off his tie before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Might as well get comfortable, he thought, knowing that it was likely he'd be there a while. Not that he had a problem with it… He sat down on the couch, and she rejoined him a few minutes later, sporting a pair of loose cotton track pants, a solid tee, and a messy ponytail. She sat down on the edge of the love-seat so that she could face him.

"You don't have to tell me. You know that right?" He hated that Sweets had pressure her into this, that she was going to have to relive this. He was so sure that he wanted to know all the details.

"No, I do. I had been planning on talking to you about it anyway, before we ever met with Sweets. There are some things that I want to say." She met his eyes, and he saw an obstinate gleam there. He remained quiet, allowing her to begin whenever she was ready.

She was torn, unsure where to start. Might as well start from the beginning. If it were anything else, I wouldn't hesitate about being forward. She inhaled deeply, and with as much dignity as she could muster, said, "The first two days I stayed in my apartment." She felt her chest ache as a swirl of memories threatened to sweep her away. Her voice dropped as she admitted, "Grieving."

She felt the burn of tears, but somehow she managed to blink them back. "I thought I had lost you. I felt guilty – you took a bullet that was meant for me. I was the one who was suppose to die, not you, Booth. I felt anger – you left me when you said that you never would. You've been a solid constant in my life for the past three years, and suddenly you were gone."

A feeling of both dread and helplessness settled over him. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to sit through this. "Bones-"

Despite the despair in his voice, she couldn't let him interrupt. She feared if she was stopped now, then the words would never find their way out. She merely shook her head and plowed right on to the next emotion that she had faced. "I felt loneliness. I have been independent since I was extremely young – I've had to - and I've never needed someone's company. I can easily busy myself with work, but not this time. I missed the tiniest things that I never thought would have stood out. I missed late night paperwork over Tai food. I missed sitting and having lunch with you at the diner. I missed working out in the field, but it wasn't the work itself that I missed – it was being with you."

He wordlessly offered her his hand, understanding that she needed to get all of this off her chest. She quickly accepted it and intertwined their fingers as if it was the most natural, regularly occurring action in the world.

Taking strength from his touch, she continued. "The FBI offered to send over another agent that we could work with during the second week, but I couldn't do it. I wouldn't even consider it. It felt so wrong." If the situation hadn't have been so serious, she might have tried her hand at a joke. I couldn't imagine having to break in another agent. She'd said it before, in the past, but it no longer seemed all that funny after having had to face such a possibility. No, she corrected herself. That wouldn't have ever been a possibility. Without Booth, she wouldn't work with the FBI. Only he truly appreciates what the squints do.

"I had no one to long-sufferingly explain pop culture references to me." She offered him half of a weak smile, to which he supplied the other half.

He was finding it increasingly difficult to breath as she continued spilling her guts to him, but at the mention of this, he had to ask, "What is it that you didn't understand?"

"I was working late on a case from limbo, and before Angela left, she told me to 'stick a fork in it'." Her brow furrowed in confusion, glad to be off of the more serious topics – even if it was for just a moment.

"She was telling you to be done with it, to go home." He replied.

Comprehension graced her face, and she nodded. It took her a moment to pick back up from where she'd left off; and when she did, she blushed. She could leave out such a detail, but so far she'd been honest in everything else. She took a shuddering breath and admitted, "I missed your touch. I never realized how much you touched me until it wasn't there anymore. Your hand at the small of my back, bumping your shoulder into mine in reassurance…" He flushed in embarrassment and suddenly found the carpet extremely fascinating.

The tears returned full force and blinded her. She tried to blink them back, but there were too many of them. They spilled over, dripping down her burning cheeks. "But what bothered me the most was that I never told you how much you mean to me." In that moment, she hated herself for showing such weakness. She felt foolish, and she had no desire to know what he thought of her acting this way. She felt an overwhelming urge to run, but to where? She couldn't make herself look at him, and she too glued her eyes to the floor - metaphorically, of course.

"You've changed me, Booth. You're my best friend, the one person who hasn't walked out of my life willingly. When you were taken away..."

Booth was startled, and he felt his chest clenched painfully at her words. He never released her hand as he moved to sit next to her. "Come here," He murmured and pulled her into an embrace, and she gratefully buried her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his familiar scent – a scent she had missed tremendously every day for those two weeks. He felt warm and very much alive against her, and she felt herself relaxing into him.

In the next moment, she reacted. She didn't think it through, didn't plan on it, but it just happened. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his He froze, startled into stillness for a split second, before he returned the kiss. It was gentle but in no way lacked passion. It was filled with hopeful promise, a bitter tinge of angst, and three years worth of attraction. She moved closer to deepen the kiss, but instead he broke it. He pulled back enough to see her eyes and cautiously searched them for any sign of uncertainty. Instead, all he found there was absolute sureness.

As if she read his mind, she shook her head and shyly touched the side of his face. "I had so many regrets when I thought you were dead... I'm not going to make the same mistakes twice. I'm sure."

He felt a flood of relief, and with a almost-giddy smile, Booth lowered his lips back to hers.

-fin-

A/N: Whew, I thought I'd never finish this. It's been revamped and revamped, but I think that I'm finally happy with it. I had originally intended for this to be friendship only, but as you can see, the ending wrote itself. ;)

Some things I'd like to address: In this Brennan wasn't nearly as cold to Booth upon his return as she was in the actual episode. I hated how she faulted him instead of Sweets. Also, I know she broke down in my fic, but at some point, I think Brennan's going to reach a breaking point. In other words, some people probably will find this extremely OOC. For this, I am not sorry. :P What I am sorry for is the grammatical/spelling errors. This is the longest fic I've written (to date), and though I've gone over it multiple times, I'm afraid that something has slipped through the cracks. I have no beta to help with this matter, either. So I apologize in advance for any mistakes. They hopefully won't take away from the fic itself.

Reviews will be much appreciated. :)