Author's Note: Yes, another new fic. I was originally thinking of putting this idea aside until I finished a couple of my open projects, but it just would not leave me alone. Rest assured though that I will continue to work on all open projects even as I add this to the roster.

This one is a bit of an experiment for me and thus it will be a little different at times from my normal fare. I hope it works out. It is set about three months or so after the end of season six, and is slightly AU because...well I can't say right now because it would be a spoiler, Sorry. ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who reads/follows/reviews this. It is always appreciated. :)

The Break in the Ties—Chapter One

We live our lives in moments.

Each moment that goes by is added to the previous moments. People put them all together to create a history, a past. People also try to foresee and plan for the moments yet to come in order to create a future.

But all the living that people do only happens in each moment as it unfolds.

Doctor Lance Sweets had never forgotten the time when his father, his true father, had explained all of this to him. He had been fourteen at the time and getting ready to leave his home to go to college. His parents had made arrangements so that their son could live with them off campus while he attended classes, but Sweets had still felt anxious about all the changes that were coming to his life. It was then that his father told him this in an effort to get him to focus on the moment instead of worrying excessively about the future. It was a piece of wisdom that the therapist had carried with him to this day.

Sweets was indeed focused on the moment he was in…but now he was beginning to think that lives were not only lived in each new moment.

Each moment also was the beginning of the end.


It had been time for the therapist's annual physical. Sweets hated going to the doctor and tried to avoid it whenever he could, but he understood that working for the Bureau meant making sure he was in good health. That meant a visit to the doctor at least once a year, whether he wanted it or not.

So he had shown up three days previous to allow himself to be examined, tested and prodded for almost two hours, and today was the day that he was scheduled to go over the results with his doctor. Sweets had actually been looking forward to this appointment since it meant that he could soon stop thinking about all this for another year. He had been expecting a quick visit with the doctor telling him that he was fine and asking him to set up his appointment for the next year.

The day, however, had not gone the way Sweets had envisioned it.

The doctor came into the examination room with a serious expression on his face, and right away, the psychologist suspected something. At first his physician breezed through the results, but soon the conversation took a definite turn.

"There were some…irregularities…."

"We will need to do some more tests…nothing too invasive at the moment…"

"It's probably nothing…we just need to be sure…."

As a student of human behavior, Sweets knew that the doctor was downplaying his concerns in an effort to keep the therapist calm. He could tell by the slight modulations in the physician's voice and by the subtle eye movements as the doctor talked. Soon, Sweets became frustrated by the doctor's attempts to spare his feelings and had asked him to be straight with him and explain why he wanted those additional tests. The doctor hemmed and hawed for another minute before he finally gave in to the psychologist's request.

There were a lot of words spoken, but only one that Sweets could focus on.

Cancer.

The word seemed to hang in the air as Sweets grew silent. The doctor then let loose another flurry of reassurances, and Sweets made sure to nod in the appropriate places to show that he was listening. After a couple more minutes of explanation, the physician left, instructing Sweets on the way out to make another appointment at the desk. Sweets had nodded and after the doctor closed the door behind him, the psychologist put his head in his hands.

He tried to regulate his breathing as a way to calm himself while his mind desperately searched for some kind of comforting thought to cling to.

'It's just some tests…he's not even sure if there's anything to worry about.'

'It could be nothing…he's just being cautious.'

'Even if there is…something…we're probably catching it early. And that's important, right? Catching it early? That's what gives you a better chance.'

'A better chance of survival.'

'If there is a chance at all.'

Sweets blinked hard as his eyes started to water up, and his hands began to shake. There had been many times when he had been the one to deliver bad news to others. Whether it was informing someone of a loved one's death or telling someone that someone else, someone they thought they knew, had committed some atrocious act. Almost every time, Sweets had felt at least some small measure of empathy as he observed each person's response as they worked through feelings of confusion, disbelief, grief, anger.

All of which he was experiencing himself right now.

The psychologist thought about how he had always strived to be comforting in moments like those, but he couldn't help but wonder right now if his condolences had been as meaningless as his own doctor's assurances had been to him.

Sweets swiped at his eyes and sniffed hard as he worked to compose himself. He couldn't stay in this room forever nor could he just go home and crawl into his bed and hide under his blankets, even though both options were immensely appealing to him. He had a job to think about, responsibilities to attend to, and people who wanted or needed to see him.

The psychologist stood up and exited the room, his expression a mask. He signed out at the front desk, signed the proper forms so his insurance would be billed, and then sat up his next appointment. He then began a slow, deliberate walk back to his car in the parking lot.

Sweets noted with each step that he was starting to feel like a zombie: numb inside and slow in the brain. But then he reasoned that that might not be such a bad thing after all. Not with the news he had just gotten.

Especially given how his week had gone thus far.