Deleted Scene from The Pain in the Heart

Damn. His mum would have said this is what comes of having a smart mouth. He stared at the black empty maw of the interrogation window, and saw his own surly expression reflected back to him. He wasn't sure if there was anyone in observation, but they must have posted a guy on the door. Sweets supposed that being locked in Interrogation was better than being thrown in one of the actual prison cells, but he would put a $50 bet on the burlier agents nicknaming him "Gormogon" by the end of the week. So much for his professional reputation at the FBI.

He glanced at the angry young man in the glass. If he were talking to a client right now he'd point out that anger was just masking deeper emotions. A sense of betrayal, that the two people he worked so closely with could think he was an audacious, cannibalistic killer. He frowned, the bow of his lip quivering as he broke eye contact with himself. Worse than betrayal was the disappointment. He thought he'd found somewhere he actually fit in, but in one sharp moment they'd shown him exactly how quick the transition was from team "us" to team "them".

And what if they decided he was Gormogon's assistant? It wouldn't take much digging for Brennan and Booth to find out that he sort've fit the profile. Troubled kid from foster care and all that other stuff that he didn't want them to know. Sweets didn't actually know who his birth father was, so he wasn't sure if he was a widow's son.

Sweets blinked furiously. He could not cry in here. He counted the tiles in the paneling to distract himself. The timeless effect of all that uniformity was supposed to put the subject on edge, unbalance them. As far as he was concerned, it was working.

The door handle jolted, and Sweets prepared himself. He looked up, ready to be snarky and uncooperative, but Booth had that blank, hurt puppy dog expression on.

Oh crap.

"You can't be serious; you still think it was me? C'mon!" Sweets began.
"No, Sweets, we know who it was."
Booth leaned into the room but kept the door between them.

"Yeah, well, I can see the identity of this person upsets you, and normally I'd offer to talk about it, but I'm still inclined to be kinda pissed." Sweets folded his arms.

Booth swallowed. "It's Zack."

Sweets gave a low whistle. "Oh man. How did Dr Brennan take it?"

"Not well."

In the ensuing silence, Sweets swore he could hear himself whining that Dr B seemed to take the idea that her lovable kid psychologist was a serial killer very well by contrast. He in fact hadn't said anything aloud, but Booth seemed to read his thoughts.

'So, we both owe you an apology, but Bones is not in a good place to give you one, so..."

Sweets shook his head. "You see, no. That's not good enough. What you broke when you slapped those handcuffs on doesn't fix so easily. I mean, what did your famous gut say about me, hey Booth? Did it tell you I was a killer?"

Booth sighed and shut the door behind him. "What it told me is that you're the new guy to the group. That you're smart and manipulative. That you've attached yourself to Bones and me and the Gormagon case and that you've probably got daddy issues."

"Now you're shrinking the shrink with pop psychology. Elegant." Sweets snorted.
"You asked." Booth yelled.

"And yeah, now I know you only falsely arrested me because you think I'm a lonely neurotic, I feel so much better about it!" Sweets shot back.

Booth blanched. "It's not like that, Sweets."

"Of course it's like that. If the profile fit Brennan, would you have just locked her up til you found a better suspect? Or what about Cam - would you have cuffed her?"

"No, but I..."

"I thought we all had some regard for each other outside of the professional setting, but clearly, that's on- sided, and since you and doctor Brennan have no regard for me inside the professional setting, I guess there's not much more to say."

Booth took a long look at the kid. This whole thing had been really tough on him.

"I know I have no right to ask you this, but I'm headed over to the hospital now. Everyone's shaken. They could use the help of a professional."

Sweets stood, and stared at him for a long time before straightening his jacket. "I'll go. But this isn't over."

Booth gently clapped him on the back as he ushered Sweets out of the room. He hoped the touch conveyed the apology he couldn't bring himself to say.