"You've been ignoring me."
Sweets opened his eyes. Hodgins loomed over him, his toes standing by his ears. "I have not. I've been busy."
"I thought you were my psychoanalyst. It's been over a week now."
"I'm not a safety blanket, Jack." Sweets snapped involuntarily. "You know that you can come to me anytime, but I can't let you become overly dependent."
"Bullshit." Hodgins growled back. "Is this some weird therapy I don't know about? As soon as you get some patient to open up to you, you cut all ties from them immediately?"
Sweets remained there, on his back, watching Hodgins trying to pace, to stand still, to not stomp on his ears, to not be his usual jumpy self. "I've had a lot of things going on. My own research projects. Trying to sneak Zach back into a medium security mental hospital prison and blatantly lie to about three prison guards and the warden at one a.m. in the morning. Still trying to convince Angela that I was not, in fact, the reason that you two broke up. Also dealing with Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth's latest 'are we, aren't we?' coyness." He could tell that Hodgins didn't believe him, that his trust issues were kicked into overdrive. Sweets had to remain neutral. Be his normally goofy self.
"You've talked to Angela?" Hodgins gave him an out. His face went neutral, curiousity for his ex taking over.
"Only briefly. She mostly ignores me. She's projecting her anger about you onto me like you did with everyone else. It's normal to have a target, but all it means that she won't let me help her."
"I just. I need to talk." Hodgins said.
"Very good." Sweets smiled. "You want to open up, express your emotions." Jack rolled his eyes. "About what?"
"I want to talk about Zach." Hodgins replied, plopping into a chair.
"No!" Sweets shook his head.
"Seeing him here, work with the case." Hodgins went on, "it helped a lot. Wait... what?"
"Let's not talk about Zach." Sweets breathing hardened, his nose flared. He sat up, away from Hodgins, hiding his body reactions. "How about we talk about something else today. Open season, anything you want but Zach."
Hodgins's mouth scrunched to the side. Something ate at him: his psychologist was off, flakier than usual. Then he realized glumly that he had thought of Sweets as his psychologist and his earlier suspicion disappeared. "Okay, what should we talk about besides Zach?"
"Are you ready for the Parent Discussion yet?" He finally stood, popped his back, and slouched onto his couch.
"Not even when I'm 80, Dude."
"Well, tell me why you're here then."
Hodgins thought for a moment, then started. "Zach said that he felt sorry for me. As crazy as it sounds, it seems like he's settling in well at the Looney Bin. I was afraid, so afraid that he'd end up dead or worse. Even if his hands weren't blown up he'd never last in prison. Now he's even joking with me: 'King of the looney bin.'"
Sweets groaned.
"And who knew that he could escape like he did? He's probably figured out at least three other escape routes as well. AND he got back into the Jeffersonian without detection. Granted, our security system is about as holy as a breached Macrotermes bellicosus mound. I've seen better camera systems at day care centers. And not only did he escape, he knew how to get back in without repercussions. Our Zach is just so damn smart." Hodgins beamed. He wasn't doing therapy. This was boasting.
Sweets scooted up against the leg of his desk and tuned him out. He couldn't help himself. 'Every once in a while,' a professor once told him, 'there will come a time when you just can't listen anymore- your mind will wander, your willpower will drift. A patient will talk and talk and their their psychiatrist won't even be listening.' Sweets smiled at the memory.
"Well, this has been great." Jack finally replied.
Yes!" Sweets replied too loudly. He watched as Hodgins scrutinized him again, looking him for the slightest crack in his oath of confidentiality. "See you next week?" he covered.
"Sure. Maybe we can talk about Angela. She's ignoring me, and it's painful."
"We'll work on it. For now, it seems like you're making peace with your situation with Zach, but there are still things to work out." Sweets replied, ushering Hodgins out of the room and shutt the door. When he was sure that Jack was gone, he emitted another groan. "Holy mother of god," he intoned. "This is hell."
Zach had played him in his own unique way. He was most definitely sane. And innocent. And delusional. And crazy. And guilty. And crazy like a fox. And definitely needed to be in prison. But also had a real case for temporary insanity, or at least post traumatic stress coupled with a high probability of Stockholm Syndrome and a high functioning level of Asperger's.
The fact that he couldn't discern the difference between thought and action. The difference between murder and kill. The bizarre way he was unable to fathom why people had thought of him as a murderer when he had confessed to one verb but not another.
And now he was stuck here, thunking the back of his head against the desk. Bound by patient confidentiality laws. It was one thing for a medical prison doctor to report a confession of wrong doing by a prisoner- that had been legally determined to be permissible but this was about the patient's own healthcare needs. He tried to remember back through their many sessions- the same question over and over said in different ways, his notations that always ended in mobius loops and Alice in Wonderland quotes. He had always used the verb "to kill" and thus Zach responded to it every time the same way. Because he was Zach and could only think in literal terms. It left both of them frustrated and feeling like nothing was being accomplished.
While it seemed like Zach had confessed in such an offhanded matter: a casual statement about the literal interpretation of the others. But the more Sweets thought about it, it felt like Zach was playing him. Zach Addy didn't normally have that kind of sociopathic ability- to play people for his own gain. But Gormagon had changed him to lie, to steal, to plant evidence, and ultimately helping with the murder of someone, even if he was a lobbyist.
Sweets went to lie down on the floor again. It was hard, but it centered him. After an hour of doing nothing, he finally came to a conclusion. He could never trust Zach Addy again.