Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, any of its characters, or other related themes. That right belongs to FOX and an assortment of other people—none whom are me; I do however own this plot and an obsession with Dr. Lance Sweets.

A/N: I started writing this because Dr. Sweets is my favorite character on Bones (weird, I know) and I wanted to explore more of his character than the (painful) little of him we get to see on the show. I don't expect many reviews, but they would be awesome! I have quite a bit of this written, and if people seem to like it I'll post more. Gracias.

-A.

the big fight .

he doesn't want her but he just won't let her go

she started breaking but she still won't let it show

1

Lance Sweets has always prided himself on being the most calculating and sane person in any given situation. Even when he was a sixteen-year-old freshman in college who looked every bit of twelve, he found reassurance in the fact that he was probably more prepared for this experience than all of the older students. He knew that he would not choose drinking himself into oblivion over an important test, and that he wouldn't get so caught up in sex and lust that he let his academics slip—that is, if any girls looked at him as anything other than a reminder of their kid brother. No, Lance Sweets has never found any situation that he could not figure out, a person who he couldn't read just by noticing the slightest wrinkle in their brow or change in demeanor.

That is why as he turns to face the girl next to him he doesn't know how it is he ended up in this bed with her. How he came to be in this bed in a standard dorm room in New York City, where she is sleeping peacefully as a smile hints at the corners of her mouth. She is naked save for the sheet loosely covering her, her breasts pushing up beneath it. The sun forms shadows on her shoulders and collarbones, he traces the freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks, softly, lightly—like a whisper. She moves a bit under the covers and the sun illuminates her cinnamon skin and she blinks her eyes open, slowly. He thinks that maybe she will want him gone, forgetting their night of pizza and wine and crossing all kinds of lines—lines he is usually so aware of. But instead she smiles that smile of hers and her nose wrinkles slightly.

"This is the first day of my life," she whispers, kissing the side of his mouth gently.

And it is simple sentences like that one that got him in this situation in the first place.

Washington, D.C. – Two Months Earlier

When Dr. Lance Sweets arrived back from a late lunch with his girlfriend, Daisy Wick, he was shocked to see the two people he'd least expect standing outside his office. But there they were—Dr. Temperance Brennan and Agent Seeley Booth, standing outside his door as if it was something that came as naturally to them as breathing.

OK, that's not exactly the truth. They were standing there awkwardly with their arms folded whispering heatedly about, "who would talk to him." Sweets chuckled—and everyone teased him about being young.

"Hello, Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth—didn't expect to see the two of you here without being forced. What brought you to my office, are you ready to actually take me seriously?"

"Don't flatter yourself, kid" said Booth, "where the heck were you? We've been here for the last forty-five minutes, you know, because you were supposed to be back then."

"You and Dr. Brennan are not the only ones who break a few rules here and there" winked Sweets, "now, if you're not here for a session what are you here for?"

It was then that Dr. Brennan launched into a longwinded and somewhat awkward description of a witness she and Booth were having no luck with. What always amazed Sweets about Dr. Brennan was how she could go on and on about a subject, but because of her need to be accurate on all points—and her penchant for talking slightly fast when feeling something was dire—he never quite got what she was saying.

"So" he said when she'd finished and had looked to Booth for support, "what you're saying is that you have a witness who won't talk to the two of you about what it is they witnessed. How is this new? I thought that's what interrogation was for."

"It's not that she just won't talk to us about what she saw, do you really think we need your help to interrogate someone? Anyway, it's that she won't speak—at all. We need you to shrink her," said Booth.

"So you need me to get her to talk, and thus help with your interrogation." Before Booth could say anything Sweets had agreed, asking which interrogation room he could find the witness in.

There was silence from both Brennan and Booth, which was definitely not normal. When Sweets turned around cautiously, thinking maybe they were planning to ambush him, he saw that neither was looking at him. In fact, Booth was staring up at the ceiling and Dr. Brennan was looking from side to side.

"Dr. Brennan?" Asked Sweets, knowing how hard it was for her to lie about anything, "which interrogation room is your witness in?"

Sweets half expected Booth to chastise him about choosing the easy target first, but Sweets saw from a quick glance that Booth looked relieved; this must be really bad.

"Well, she isn't—I mean, in an interrogation room. She was until yesterday, when her mother—, who's a lawyer, said it was pointless to keep her daughter there when she simply wouldn't speak. And we couldn't disagree because it was—"

"She's in New York, Sweets."

Sweets was about to tell them to call one of the many bureau psychologists in the state of New York when Booth pleaded with him to do them this favor. "I know I may tease you a lot, and that Bones and I don't particularly…behave in your sessions, but you're great at what you do. And whether or not you have a real degree or one out of your fruit loops box" Dr. Brennan cleared her throat at this and Booth mumbled an apology, "you're the only one we trust with this kid. Please."

"Are you saying you respect me as a colleague, Agent Booth?" Asked Sweets enjoying this begging from one half of his most stubborn clients.

"Sure, whatever" Booth took his wallet out of his back pocket and removed a plastic card, handing it to Dr. Sweets. "This card has funds on it from the last time Bones and me were on an undercover assignment. It has $5,000 on it which should set you up for at least a couple of days in the city, hoping you don't need more than a day, though. If you need more money, just contact me and I'll contact the bureau."

Sweets looked at the card in his hand, "isn't this for use by FBI personal only?"

Booth gave that charming smile of his, "you are FBI personal. If you meant agents only—technically, yes; but this is technically off the books."

"Alright, I'll leave tomorrow morning" said Sweets, now eager for a cup of coffee although he wasn't even much of a coffee drinker.

Booth stiffly thanked Sweets while Dr. Brennan hugged him awkwardly. When they were almost to the elevator Booth turned around and called out to him, "Sweets—why were you forty-five minutes late from lunch?"

"Goodbye, Agent Booth" Dr. Sweets called back in answer, slipping into his office and shutting the door behind him.