Sweets scribbled out his work on the files he had taken from Booth. Him going back to being a full time shrink at the FBI instead of a profiler and junior agent after what he mentally called 'The Pelant Accident' had lasted all of two weeks and he was back to business as usual. Sweets personally blamed that stupid ass computer system they dragged in during his absense. If it weren't for that he would have been free, but no he had to get all competive with something that wasnt even alive. At least he had proved himself. Sort of.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated and rang at him, as a friendly reminder that there was, infact something outside whatever case or file he was working on, he did forget sometimes. His eyes glanced at the caller ID as he swooped the phone up from his pocket. He didn't recognize the caller ID, but he answered anyway.
"Hello, this is Lance Sweets, to whom am I speaking?" Sweets wasn't normally that formal on his personal line but for some reason it felt right, he was working after all.
As the words of this stranger poured from his phone, he found himself left cold and still from what they were. He didn't believe it. He couldn't believe what was happening, he knew it would happen, but thought it wouldn't be so soon. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath.
"Mr. Sweets? Are you still there? Do you understand me?"
"Yes..." Sweets rasped, blinking himself back into the world. "Thank you for telling me. Good bye."
The phone was hung up and dropped. Sweets leaned forward, holding his head in his hands and trying to collect himself. He couldn't believe it, well logically he knew it had been twenty-four years but it didn't feel like nearly that long. But had happened.
Tim Hanson was out of prison.
His abusive ex-foster father was out of prison.
He shouldn't be reacting so drasticly, he was a grown man, a psychologist, and his abuser was literally states away. His brain listed several studies on the abused when confronted with their abusers being set free, but they bounce right off just as quickly as they appeared there. After another few minutes, his training kicked in and he was able to calm down. Even after he had calmed down he just sat there, staring at his desk, not moving, not really knowing what he was supposed to do. Eventually enough he snapped out of his stuppor, it had only been maybe fifteen minutes, but it felt like much longer, like hours, and he noticed that it was time to leave for lunch with Booth and Brennan. He wasn't really hungry, but if he cancelled they would question him later. They had been a little careful with him that last few months, for obvious reasons. He got up and left to go to the Diner.
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"Sweets! Your late!" Booth grunted as Sweets walked into the resturant. Sweets suppressed a groan. Great. "Get on over here and settle this."
"What are you bickering about today?" Sweets sighed as he went and took his seat across from them. "You ordered my food for me?" He puffed upon finding his normal sandwich and fries infront of him.
"We thought it would save time. And we aren't bickering." Booth said before looked Sweets up and down, analzing him. Sweets wondered for a second if he looked like that when he was analzing people, because if he did, then he could see why most people didn't like him because it was annoying as hell having Booth do it to him. "You okay, Sweets?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Sweets dismissed, even Brennan didn't believe him. "What are you two talking about?"
"Booth thinks that Christine should-"
Sweets was sure Brennan was still talking, but his brain wasn't hearing the words and he found him floating around in the blank space in his brain, zoning out completely. He might has well have been on another planet. He could see Brennan talking, and he could see it when Booth jumped in and started to agrue whatever she point she was making, but the words just weren't making it to him. It was all muffled and disorted, and so were Booth and Brennan. Who long had they been talking? He was snapped out of it by a fairly pissed off Booth.
"Sweets! Are you even listening?" Booth snapped and Sweets blinked stupidly at him.
"What?"
"Booth thinks Christine should be able to ride her tricycle in the house." Brennan statted simply.
"She's a kid!" Booth protested, but it was ignored.
"Well, thats stupid, there's a high risk of breaking things and making scuffs on the floor, Dr. Brennan is right, she shouldn't ride it inside." Sweets supplied, pushing his fries around on his plate.
"Thank you, Sweets... Though while I find the very direct way you answered, I do find it slightly unsettling." Brennan raised a brow, slightly curious. Sweets normally gave long rants, filled with psychobabble nonsense that she only understood half of the time. This Sweets was different, and if she had noticed, she was sure it was something obvious to Booth. A glance in Booth's direction confirmed as Booth was starimg Sweets down again. "Is there something wrong? You seem..." She failed to find a decent word to use. "Off." That would work.
"I'm fine." Sweets dismissed again.
"He's lying, Booth."
"I can tell, Bones." Booth was still staring down Sweets. "Why aren't you eating? You love the fries here."
"Not very hungry, had a big breakfast." Sweets continued to lie, though a little more seemlessly this time. Brennan seemed to except his answer this time, Booth didn't, but if he was going to say anything about it Sweets couldn't tell.
"Alright." Booth nodded, dropping the subject.
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It was a perfectly average day in the Booth home. Booth and Brennan were home for the night and the Lion King was playing on the large TV that Booth had insisted that they buy. Brennan was sitting on one end of the couch reading some oversized book about some sort of anthropology thing, Christine was flopping and dancing around the living room in classic child fashion, singing along with the character's on the screen. And Booth, Booth was just... sitting, thinking. Mostly about Sweets. In the days since the strange and akward lunch Sweets had become withdrawn and silent. Booth had of course not said anything to Sweets about it again, because Booth wasn't really the one for personal talks, but if Sweets actually came to him to talk he wouldn't object. He hadn't worried about it too awfully much, intill tonight. Sweets had looked scared, panicked, like a cornered animal. Something was definetely wrong, he just hoped Sweets came forward before anything bad happened.
The obnoxious ringing of his phone broke him of his thoughts. He quickly paused the movie, earning groans and whines from Christine.
"Hello?" Booth asked the caller.
"Hello, is this Seeley Booth?"
"Yes, this is, why are you calling?"
The next words that the man on the phone chilled Booth to his core.
"You are listed as the emergency contact for one Lance Sweets. He is currently in critical condition and in surgery after what appears to be a severe assault."
"Damnit!" Booth slammed out of his chair, frightening both Christine and Brennan. "What hospital?" The man on the other end answered and Booth hung up immediately."Come on, Bones, Christine, we are going to the hospital, Bones, call the others, tell them to go the hospital off first street."
"Booth, slow down, what happened?" Brennan's eyes were wide, but she was heading towards the door anyway, scooping up her confused daughter from the ground.
"Sweets was attacked."
God damnit, Sweets.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I rushed this a bit, but I'm just so hyped for this story. This is a rewrite of an old story, but it's going to be way different so that hardly matters. And don't worry, this story is going to feature the team in a big way, even if the story is Sweets centered. I hope somebody reads this story, if only so that I am motivated to finish it. I doubt it though, because Sweets has been dead awhile and everyone has moved on but I can't help it... Sweets is my muse 3
Leave a review, my ducklings! Tell me your favorite line or moment in this chapter, because I'm curious.
Also, just a warning, this story is going to get INTENSE. I might even have to push the rating up at some points, and there might be some triggering things in here later on.