So I wrote this a few months ago after watching Mayhem on a Cross, and after re-watching The Bones on the Blue Line I decided to come back to it (since most of my stories go unfinished, this was a pretty big deal for me, haha). I really like Sweets as a character and always wondered how Daisy dealt with the news that he'd been beaten as a child. I may be in the minority here, but I also really like Daisy, and had a lot of fun writing from her perspective. Hopefully I did both of the characters justice.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

…

For Daisy Wick, it was the first time she'd ever dated someone in secret. At first she'd been a little nervous – she did, after all, have a history of saying things without thinking, so of course there was the possibility of blurting it out accidentally to Dr. Brennan or Dr. Saroyan. And when Lance had first approached her and asked her to keep their relationship a secret, she'd been a tiny bit worried that perhaps he was embarrassed of her. But when she really thought about it, the prospect of dating a smart, intelligent, handsome young man in secret was an incredibly romantic way to start a relationship. And so she went with it, and she enjoyed it.

Of course, the very nature of a secret relationship was difficult for her. Hyperemotional and talkative, Daisy wasn't one to keep her excitement bottled inside her. This new relationship was one of those times, and although she hadn't said anything outright, she could tell that the rest of the Jeffersonian team raised their eyebrows every now and then at her overt cheerfulness. Angela, she conceded, might have been able to figure out that something was up, but fortunately for her, the rest of the team just assumed that she was always like that – bubbly and teeming with excitement to work with such successful people. Which, actually, she was. But still. You never knew.

"Lance." She stood at the door of his office, smiling. Dr. Brennan lingered in the background, talking to someone else, so she fixed a friendly smile on her face. "Did you finish that profile?"

"Right here," he said politely, handing her a piece of paper. Daisy had to suppress a giggle at his somber, emotionless face, but she couldn't resist smiling as she pushed a post-it note into his hand. Secret notes were romantic, she thought, and how else was she supposed to let him know to wait for her after work? He read the note once, nodded, and smiled, and Daisy turned around to leave.

Later on, Daisy made her way down the hallway to Lance's office. The others had left, but she'd managed to time her trip to the bathroom expertly, so that they wouldn't be suspicious when she went off in a different direction than normal. She looked around to make sure no one was watching her, smiled, and pushed open the door to Lance Sweets's office.

….

It was the first time Lance Sweets had ever dated anyone in secret as well, but more importantly, it was the first time he had ever dated anyone as hyper-emotional as Daisy. Yes, April had been very open and expressive, but her enthusiasm had nothing on Daisy's. Which was what Sweets liked about her, actually. Daisy never held anything back; there was no trying to guess whether or not she genuinely felt the way she acted. She never lied, because she was terrible at it, and though she did tend to put her foot in her mouth from time to time Sweets appreciated dating someone who was so honest and easy to read. He felt bad knowing that he hadn't been entirely honest with her.

Although they had been secretly dating for almost a month, Lance still hadn't told her about the scars on his back. He knew she'd noticed them – during their more personal moments, she'd actually run her hands over them – but though he knew it had to be killing her, she hadn't asked about them since the first time she'd felt them. Then, she'd gasped slightly, and started to say "Oh, Lance," but he'd stopped her. Although restraint wasn't her specialty, she'd understood that it wasn't something he wanted to talk about, and refrained from saying anything else. Aalthough her hands still paused every time she felt his back, Sweets was grateful that she had respected his unspoken request, and hadn't asked about them since.

It had been different with April; he was young enough when they had started dating that she hadn't seen him naked for a good month, and he'd had time to stall and think about how he would explain it to her. But with Daisy, everything moved more quickly. She was so energetic, talking, walking, doing everything at high speed and high volume. It was only natural that their relationship had progressed more quickly than any of his previous relationships. Sweets liked that about her. He just wasn't sure that he could keep up emotionally.

Soon, I'll tell her, he told himself after he received the pink post-it note that Daisy had surreptitiously pushed into his hand. Sometime soon.

…

It had been a long night, but a good one, Daisy decided. Following dinner (and what had turned out to be slightly too much wine), she and Sweets had taken a cab back to his apartment, barely able to keep their hands off each other as they climbed the stairs to his place. Giggling, they'd made their way into the living, but hadn't quite made it into the bedroom, settling instead for the living room sofa. Daisy didn't care – she was just happy to be in the moment, with her Lancelot, forgetting (for once) that their relationship was supposed to be a secret.

Truthfully, she was a bit uncomfortable now. Lance's couch was surprisingly big, but it was still cramped, and between the lack of space and the slight headache that had set in as the wine left her system, Daisy couldn't sleep. Lance, however, was slumbering easily beside her, so she settled for watching him sleep in order to to pass the time. Some people might have thought it was a little bit weird – although, truth be told, some people probably thought she was a little weird – but Daisy liked how calm and peaceful he looked.

He shifted, murmuring something as he rolled onto his side. His back was to her now, and Daisy could once again see the scar tissue that crossed his back. The marks were deep and numerous, and her mouth dropped slightly. She winced, imagining how painful they must have been. It had taken all of Daisy's willpower not to gasp aloud the first time she'd felt them, but she had never actually seen them up close until now. She had convinced herself, before, that Lance had been in some kind of accident, that he just hadn't wanted to talk about it. Now, she could see that they were rhythmically patterned, and obviously deliberate.

Daisy wasn't good at bottling up her curiosity, but she had forced herself not to ask about the scars, telling herself instead that Sweets would wait until he was ready to tell her. She had minored in psychology, but Daisy didn't need her psychology skills to understand that Lance didn't like talking about his past. But it wasn't easy for her to keep quiet. Looking at his back, she felt fury rising up inside her, fury against whoever had done this, whoever had hurt her Sweet Lancelot so badly. She ran her cool fingers along the twisted lines, tracing her hands down his back and wondering how anyone could hurt such a good person so badly.

…

Sweets awoke with a start to the feeling of hands moving down his back.

His body tensed and panic coursed through his veins until he realized where he was – on the couch, wrapped in blankets, with Daisy lying beside him. "Sorry," she stammered, "I just – it looked so—I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," he said, cutting her off. He turned to face her, sighing slightly. He had known this would be coming; he wouldn't be able to keep his past hidden from her forever. He just didn't want cheerful, expressive, vivacious Daisy to treat him differently once she knew.

"Who—who did this to you?" she whispered after a moment.

"They're whip scars." He stated the fact simply, almost harshly, and her eyes widened. "From my—parents. My birth parents."

She gasped audibly. Lance knew she wasn't stupid; she had felt them, and had to have suspected something. Still, her shock and horror was apparent as she sat up straight. For once, Daisy Wick seemed unable to think of what to say.

There was a long silence as Daisy processed the information, and then they both spoke at once. "I'm sorry I didn't—" he started, just as she said "Oh, Lance—"

They both paused for a minute before Sweets continued. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I just…I didn't know what to say."

"It's okay," she managed, although she still looked shocked. Yet Sweets noticed that there was little pity in her eyes. There was horror, yes, and anger, but no pity or revulsion.

"I know how strong you are, Lance," she whispered finally. "It just makes me so angry that those people – your parents – could do something like this to you, because you're so brilliant and sweet and wonderful…"

Her voice trailed off. "They aren't my real parents," he answered finally. "My real parents taught me that good people can save people who are broken."

She squeezed his arm. "Thank you for telling me this," she whispered.

"I wanted to tell you earlier," he said. "I really did. I just – everything was so happy. You're so bright and cheerful – that's why I love about spending time with you. I didn't want to ruin it by talking about things that…aren't." He faltered; the words sounded weak, even to him.

"Lance." She sat up straighter. "We help solve murders. It's not like we don't talk about things that are unpleasant." She smiled slightly, and then her face turned serious again. "You don't have to be afraid to talk to me," she whispered softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

And somehow, Lance knew that she understood why he'd been so hesitant to share what had happened to him, and why she'd waited for him to tell her, even though it must have killed her not to ask. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered again, and he smiled, knowing that it was the truth. "I'm here now, and I'm not leaving you."

"Oh, Daisy," he murmured, hugging her to him.