Look at that! It's not Sunday and I'm updating! :)

Hope you enjoy.

The drive over to the FBI building was silent. Mostly because she was alone, of course, but also because she just didn't have a need to turn on the radio or make any sound on her own. Lonely might have been a better word to describe it, she mused, but there wasn't time for regret. She'd chosen to come alone, and that was what she was going to stick to. After all, she'd gone by herself the last few times, and this would be no different, no matter how worriedly Booth watched her whenever she left and whenever she came back. She just ignored it until it passed over and he went back to being the same way she loved so much. It was always much better when he was relaxed, when he stopped being so concerned about her emotional state. Coming alone seemed to be helping her, and so in turn it was rubbing off on him. That was good, she convinced herself, and she pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine.

She breathed out a sigh, leaning her head back against the seat and splaying her fingers across her legs. She gripped them around her knees and then leaned forward and turned to the door, grabbing the keys from the ignition as she pulled the handle and slid one foot out.

It shut with a thud behind her, and she hit the lock button on her key set, hearing the satisfying and familiar 'beep beep' before she turned and headed towards the doors to the building. They slid open with no difficulty, and the guards just inside nodded to her as she went past. They knew who she was; they no longer checked ID. And they knew it was a Wednesday.

She headed straight for the elevator unimpeded and smiled politely at the young man who had held it for her. "Floor?" he asked as the doors slowly closed.

"Four," she said, "Thanks."

"I haven't seen you around," he commented as the elevator began to move. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?"

She gave him a large, falsely cheerful smile, "Seeing a psychologist," she stated calmly.

He shut up very quickly.

The elevator stopped on the third floor and he quickly stepped out after casting her a slightly apologetic look. He vanished from view, and another two men walked in. One of them hit the ground floor button, and the other stood in the corner with his sunglasses on, his expression blank.

They arrived at her floor, and she stepped around them to get out. The closest one saw her turn left and called a, "Good luck," to her. She turned back and nodded her thanks. Clearly the man had been to see Sweets before, and knew that it was really the only actual office in that direction, since the elevator was located so almost everything was to the right upon exiting.

She settled herself on the bench, ignoring the agent in the corner, who was muttering to himself and staring into space. His reasons for being there were very obvious. She didn't bother trying to think of how he'd come to that state, knowing it would only cause her more suffering than the good it would do to keep herself occupied.

There was no clock, something she'd gotten used to but still found highly annoying. She'd taken to carrying a watch in her bag, seeing as she hated wearing one. Her hand slipped into it, sliding the straps out of the way as she pulled the clunky golden band up enough to see it in the faint light from the flickering bulbs on the ceiling. They really needed to fix those, she thought irritably. Probably hadn't only because the janitor disliked Sweets. Or something like that, from what she'd seen last week with him dumping his vacuum contents on Sweets' feet in what he had insisted was an 'accident.'

It was ten fifty-two. She was a few minutes early. Sighing in irritation, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort of the stiff seat. Those eight minutes were plenty of time for her to have spent on the case, with Booth, over at the Jeffersonian. She never really minded making Sweets wait for her, but apparently her normal efficiency hadn't been working quite properly and she'd somehow been too quick in her departure.

Oh well, it wasn't too long for her to sit while he finished with the patient before her, which she knew by now was a young female agent from a different branch of the FBI then Booth. She'd been involved in a hostage situation, that much she'd been able to gather from the bits of conversation that she always heard when Sweets opened the door to send her out while she was still talking quickly to him about how she wanted to discuss other things during their next session... apparently she'd been one of the hostages, and it had been a tense situation that had ended when another agent had been shot right next to before she got the gun away and killed the man. It wasn't incredibly hard to see why such a young agent, probably not long on the job, was so greatly affected by all of it. Temperance couldn't blame her at all for needing to see Sweets, and as the weeks passed by the woman had seemed to be improving each time she saw her.

She wondered, briefly, if the woman thought about her at all, the one who passed her going into the office as she went out... if she ever heard any bits of conversation. If she knew what she'd been through. What she would think of that... if she would compare the situation to her own, the way she always seemed to be doing herself. The woman's face always seemed to remind her of herself, of Kenton, of the Gravedigger, of Jake. She could think the name now, yes, but it didn't mean she enjoyed it.

The door opened, and she stayed seated as the woman stepped out.

"Thanks so much," she said in the doorway, "This has meant so much to me... and I don't know if I'd have gotten through without your help."

"My pleasure, Agent Hallidon. You'll do just fine; I'll send in the full forms to your boss as soon as I get the chance. You'll be back at field work before you know it... and I know you'll do very well."

"Thank you," she whispered, nodding quickly, her ponytail bobbing up and down.

"If you need to talk, you're free to come back and I'll fit you in; any time at all."

She nodded again, then turned and hurried away towards the elevator, casting Temperance a small smile as she went passed, which was returned. Well, she was free, for the most part. She'd always have it with her, what had happened, that she knew from her own experiences, but that agent would be able to get on with her life now. If only she could do that, too.

But it was her choice, she reminded herself. She came here every week because it helped, and because she wanted to. She could stop whenever she wanted.

The only problem... she wasn't sure when it would be right to stop.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets said to her, nodding in greeting. She got up from the bench and followed him into the office, the door shutting softly behind them.

He didn't need to point to the chair, she simply settled into it, feeling the familiarity of this scene. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation, but it certainly wasn't cheerful, realizing how normal this situation was for her now.

"How did this past week go?" he asked in a friendly way. This was the norm, of course, since she had taken his advice and his request seriously and chosen to address him as a friend and treat their meetings as such. Only it was a bit more professional and almost always incredibly serious.

"Well, you were at the wedding," she said, "So you know that I was as well."

He smiled, "Yes, Dr. Brennan, I know that."

She grinned back, enjoying how easy it was to twist their conversation and not answer the way he wanted her to. She'd gotten quite good at it over the past few months, and she had a feeling it unsettled Sweets a bit, how quickly she'd learned and caught on to his methods.

"It was pretty busy," she answered at last, choosing to go down the path he was looking for. "I didn't have much else on my mind besides preparations and making sure it would all run smoothly for Ange."

"And that was good, correct?"

"Yeah," she agreed, "It was nice, having so much to focus on. And it was certainly thrilling how the ring almost got lost and the band showed up ten minutes late."

She'd thrown in a tone of sarcasm for good measure, which didn't go unnoticed.

He nodded and she saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards a bit.

"So you're coping very well, so many months later."

She simply nodded to that question.

"Nightmares?"

She stiffened slightly at that one. It was the one topic she always refused to go into depth with the psychologist on. She told Booth about her fears and about what happened, well, most of it at least, and that helped. But she wasn't telling Sweets anything, and she never planned to. She didn't care how useful dreams were to his psychology analysis or whatever.

"Just a few over the past month. One this past weekend, and that's it," she answered firmly, her eyes hard.

He nodded, knowing he wasn't getting more that that. He apparently wanted to try anyways, though. "And they're getting less vivid?"

"They've been less vivid for two months," she answered, her tone taking on irritation now. "I told you that."

"Friend, remember, Dr. Brennan?" he cautioned, his tone calming.

"Call me Brennan," she repeated for the third time that month. If she was his friend, why did he always defer to the title, rather than addressing her the way everyone else she was friends with did? Maybe Booth had threatened him or something, which was rather a viable hypothesis, if she thought about it...

"Brennan, then," he said, surprising her. "What effect do these nightmares have on you, if they aren't as... vivid as those from right after the attack?"

"They still upset me, if that's what you're getting at," she replied, feeling uncomfortable. She fidgeted in the seat, wishing he'd move on to another topic.

"That's expected," he assured her, not that she needed it. She already knew it was to be expected, otherwise they wouldn't still be considered nightmares, now would they? "But less so than the earlier ones, I'm sure?" She nodded, meeting his eyes with what she hoped was a look that would convince him to drop it and talk about something else. He apparently didn't get the message. "Booth living with you has helped?"

So they'd gotten to the topic of Booth. Not unexpected, of course, since it was Sweets.

"You know it has," she said somewhat dully. She was getting tired of this. When was he going to ask something new? He'd usually gotten them into a reasonable discussion by this time in their session. This... well this just wasn't helping her at all.

"Have you thought at all about what I brought up before?"

She refrained from glaring. Barely. "Yes, I have."

"And?"

"Booth and I are in a relationship. Nothing more, Sweets. We aren't going to get married."

"Nothing more than a relationship? Dr... um, I mean, Brennan, how exactly would you classify your relation with Booth, then? You are romantically involved, correct?"

This time she did glare. "He loves me, if that's what you mean," she said through her teeth, her eyes blazing.

"How is that different from the relationship couples have before getting married, then?"

"We live together," she stated, as if that should clear it all up. "But not together."

"You're referring to your sexual relationship," he said, nodding in understanding now. She didn't answer, which was as good as a yes, she knew. "From what I understand of what you've said before, Booth is not interested in any aspect of your relationship other than being with you and your safety."

"Exactly," she said firmly. "It's not... a real relationship."

"Have you mentioned this to Booth?"

"Somewhat," she muttered. "Not... entirely."

"Maybe you should."

"I've discussed... sex with him. He refused."

Sweets eyebrows went up. He must be surprised that Booth had turned her down.

"You asked him?" he questioned in what sounded like alarm.

"Yes," she answered, feeling confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

He groaned and rested his head in his hands. "Okay. Um... Brennan, listen. Booth is very... well he's incredibly protective of you. I thought you knew that."

"I do." What did that have to do with anything?

"Well then you can see why it's very obvious he would... refuse." She stared at him. "Okay... Booth, he... Dr. Brennan, you were sexually assaulted; Booth is terrified of hurting you."

"Brennan," she corrected automatically while another part of her brain was replaying his words for her.

"Sorry, Brennan, right. But do you see why he wouldn't be willing to engage in..."

Suddenly she nodded. Yes, she could see that. "I understand," she said to Sweets. "But... I don't know how to move past that. Clearly Booth cannot remain of that view forever; he does have needs."

Sweets leaned forward slightly. "Do you believe you're ready for something like that?"

She hesitated. That was a question she really didn't know the answer to. But she didn't want to remain trapped like this forever; she wanted to get on with her life the way it had been... only with Booth now. She didn't want to be scared of anything.

"The fact that you are unsure leads me to think you should give this more thought. And more time. The fact that Booth doesn't wish to pull your relationship in that direction is a clear sign of just how much he cares about you, and only you. Not the physical part."

She nodded again. Yes, it did, didn't it?

"Okay, so let's talk about Angela and Hodgins," he said, changing the topic on them. Suddenly his reasoning for bringing up marriage made more sense. Sort of like Ange's comment about freaking her out when their last wedding had ended with her and Booth at the alter. She hadn't realized that was bothering her until much later, and Zach's departure to Iraq had further clouded it.

"What about them?"

"Well, clearly the idea of your friends getting married was something you found great joy in. Have your views on marriage changed at all? Even slightly?"

"Ange and Hodgins are happy; marriage works for them, even if it doesn't for the majority of the population."

He nodded slowly. "Right. But this is a change, nonetheless. You accept that people can be happy in marriage, and that it is a conventional way to live... for some, of course."

She scowled, but nodded anyways in agreement with what he'd said. It was possible, yes. "But I don't consider myself in that range," she said as Sweets opened his mouth to continue. "Marriage is an antiquated ritual. If two people can live together, then it is far more of a connection without the legal or religious aspect tied in. Relationships aren't meant to be tied in such a way, at least not how I see it. Two people should be able to live together without such ties or such a ritual, and when it doesn't work out they are more free to move on to other mates without the trouble of divorce or other issues."

"...Yes, that does fit truthfully," Sweets replied slowly. "But yet you agree that Ange and Hodgins should have gotten married. You wanted them to, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," she answered testily, "Because that would make them happy. They both believe in marriage, and they wanted the ritual and all that. So I was happy for them because they're my friends. It doesn't mean my views for myself have changed in the slightest. They haven't."

There was a long pause.

"Okay, then, let's talk about how things are going at the lab with the two of them gone," Sweets finally spoke up a bit awkwardly.

Fine. That was an acceptable topic, and one she'd been expecting him to pursue all along. It was about time he got away from marriage and moved on to it. Marriage had nothing to do with her reason for coming to see him.

"How have you been handling their absence?"

"Very well," she responded confidently. "The interns are doing more work in limbo since the casework has slowed down, but Booth and I are currently working on a murder. The replacement entomologist isn't anything I can't handle."

His eyebrows went up. "That suggests that the replacement is someone who you have to handle. Is everything all right?"

"Dr. Thomson... we worked together a while back."

"Oh. I... didn't know that," Sweets half-muttered, looking very nervous all of a sudden. And... guilty?

"Did you have something to do with him coming to work with us while Hodgins is on his honeymoon?" she asked incredulously.

"Dr. Brennan, you have to understand that I was simply asked to find a replacement since I worked with your team. Dr. Thomson was in the area, and he had great credentials. Plus, I knew he'd worked at the lab before, although I didn't realize you'd been there when he quit. Um... how well do you know him?"

"He wasn't around long after I started working there," she said with an irritated sigh. "He left because I worked there."

"Oh." Sweets had gone rather pale. Or paler than usual, she supposed. "I'm... very sorry. I wouldn't have recommended him if I'd known. Really."

For once, she believed his apology was sincere. If he'd still been following her around like he had been after Booth got shot, then she might believe it was another social experiment to check her well-being or something, but he rarely even visited the Jeffersonian as of late. She nodded her forgiveness.

"Not your fault," she said. "And I've got the situation under control," she added with a glint in her eye. He was quick to nod his understanding to that. At least he knew she could take care of herself, and he believed her when she said it.

"I should get going," she said, getting to her feet. "Mr. Nigel-Murray is working on identifying the weapon, but there are circumstances that require my involvement in the matter. I'm pretty sure our session is nearly up anyways."

"Over," he said suddenly, making her frown. "It's our session is nearly over. Or... our time is nearly up."

She just shook her head at him. He sounded like Booth, almost, with his corrections of her word usage.

"Next Wednesday?" he checked as she headed towards the door.

She paused, thinking about the woman who always came here before her, and who was now heading back out into the field. She wouldn't be coming back to see Sweets again.

"I'll make an appointment when I see fit to do so," she answered instead, her voice firm.

He seemed surprised, but he smiled a little. "Very well, Dr. Bren- I mean... um... hey, can I ask you something?"

She turned back, taking her hand off the doorknob. "Sure."

"If you don't want me to call you Dr. Brennan... can I call you Bones? Please?"

She resisted the urge to laugh at him, imagining Booth's face if he ever heard the psychologist calling her that.

"No." she stated firmly. "I've already told you that before."

He sighed in defeat. "Right. I just thought... you know, since we're technically friends..."

"Cam doesn't call me Bones. Neither do Angela or Hodgins. Only Booth is allowed to call me that. And his son." She quickly continued speaking before Sweets could launch into an analysis of why that was, "I'll see you around. We might even need your help on this latest case."

Then she vanished out the door before he could say another word, thinking about how she wished she didn't feel the need to keep coming back here. It was something else to work on... getting away from talking about her feelings and her life so she could focus on work more... and then at the same time working on how she felt about Booth and how she was going to get over what the past still held on her, and apparently, on him.

For now it looked like for the second one she was going to need the first one. She sighed.

But she pushed all ideas about marriage and everything else Sweets had said out of her mind, and instead climbed into her car with her only thoughts being about how she hoped Nigel-Murray and Thomson had been successful with their analysis of the thread they'd found and the particulates from the weapon. Maybe they'd have something new for her.

Next chapter will be up next weekend probably. I'm going to try to update once a week so that I can get ahead with prewritten stuff. Then I'll be able to update closer together again, like back at the beginning of What She's Been Through :) Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far; I appreciate it :)