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A/N: The story takes places at some point after Sweets, Booth and Brennan have shared metaphorical scars. It presupposes some events revolving around Russ and Max Keenan that haven't happened in the actual TV series.
I work hard at getting Booth and Bones' voices right, but admit I'm not particularly adept at channeling Sweets. (The rest of the story only concerns the partners anyway.) Booth is kind of mean to Sweets in this, I'll admit, but he's defending his partner so it's understandable, right?
This is only the first two chapters, but I'll update soon. Meanwhile, please R & R! :)
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. I wish they were, I wish they were, I wish they were …
Chapter 1 – One more reason to hate psychology
Temperance Brennan sat on the edge of the couch opposite Lance Sweets. Physically, she gave every appearance of being her usual self. A chunky amethyst necklace perfectly complemented the dark purple wrap dress she wore. Her sartorial style remained impeccable, from her neatly pulled back hair and flawless makeup, right down to her strappy black sandals.
Sweets would have liked nothing more than to call off the evaluation and send the squint on her not-so-merry way. Unfortunately, the scowl on her face spoke volumes on her distraught state of mind. Eyes classically squinted, brow furrowed, lips thinned, hands clenched and arms firmly crossed in front of herself completed the picture of hostility radiating from every pore.
Sweets leaned forward earnestly in his shrink chair, trying to physically bridge the emotional barrier the scientist had erected around herself. "It's important that you grieve the twin losses of your brother and father, Dr. Brennan. You can't move forward until you've acknowledged their passing and your sadness at their departure from your life."
"My father and my brother departed from my life at age 15." Brennan reminded him icily. "They reappeared briefly and now they're gone again. I assure you, Sweets, for the last month, all I've done is acknowledge their passing," she snapped. "If my lack of tears doesn't fit your psychological profile for how a woman displays sorrow, then I'm sorry. However, I am entitled to grieve in whatever manner I see fit."
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. I can't recommend that you continue your work with Agent Booth until I'm confident that you've come to terms with your loss."
"This is emotional blackmail!" Brennan exploded, jumping to her feet. "Just because you're not comfortable with an atypical display of sorrow, I'm expected to somehow force my parasympathetic branch into suddenly secreting an overabundance of acetylcholine through both the nicotinic and muscarinic receptors so that I thereby melt into a hapless puddle of lacrimation, satisfying your desire for societal conformity!"
"Crying is a natural reaction to the death of a loved one, Bones."
Knowing her deep connection with Booth, Sweets had deliberately used the nickname to trigger a reaction. He got one—just not the one he'd expected. Brennan lunged forward and landed a solid uppercut to the psychologist's left eye. The woman definitely didn't pull any punches, physical or otherwise. As Sweets reeled backwards in pain, she stormed out of the room.