Author's Note: Yes, an update to this one at last. :) At this point, I am thinking that I will be only taking a couple of my projects out of hiatus at a time, but we will see...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

Lives in the now: Thank you for the review and your comments about my work with Zack. I doubt myself at this point that we will see much more of him on the show, but I do wish that the writers would give some more resolution to his story. Also, I am very relieved that you found my portrayal of him, and the way that the team still interacts with him, realistic. His was a character that always made me a bit nervous to write for, so I am glad that it is working out thus far. I can safely say though that he will appear at least one more time in this fic. :) Also glad that you liked "Sir Olivier" :D I am a big fan of classic film and for some reason the idea of someone trying to emulate him and his life really appeals to me...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update as well.

Peanutmeg: Thanks for the review. :) I agree that I can easily picture Sweets continuing to treat Zack even though we aren't given much info about that in canon. I, too, wish that that would get resolved someday...And yes, given how we have seen Sweets interact with insane patients and suspects in the past, it made sense to me that he would be so congenial to "Sir Olivier"...I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Whirlwind421: Well you can stop wondering if I am going to update this one. :) I sort of hate that so little was mentioned about Sweets' life during those missing seven months between seasons five and six, especially since it was clear that a lot had happened (what with his wearing hats, going on sabbatical and playing piano in bars). Thus why it felt like an ideal subject for a fanfic. As to your wish for more scenes between him and Cam...ask and ye shall receive. :D

Month Four—part 2

Sweets sipped at his second coffee of the day and, for once, he was actually glad that he had gotten a late start.

Lately, the therapist had found sleep difficult to come by and many nights were spent staring at the ceiling or at the window in his bedroom in a futile attempt to will himself into slumber. When sleep finally did come, it was only for a few dreamless hours that would be abruptly broken by the alarm clock the next day. As a result, Sweets was forced to turn the volume on his alarm clock up higher and higher in order to make sure that he would actually wake up when he needed to.

That morning, however, not even a blaring alarm could rouse him out of his exhausted state, and he ended up sleeping in. When he finally did wake up, he was mortified to discover what time it was and had scrambled to get ready and had rushed over to the Hoover Building. Despite his efforts, he was two hours late for work, and as he walked toward his office, the psychologist remembered that he was supposed to have a meeting with Warner over thirty minutes ago. His shoulders drooping, he decided to go ahead and face his superior first thing before trying to get through the rest of the day.

Warner had been somewhat understanding, given that Sweets had so rarely been late for anything in the past. Still, it wasn't enough to stop the agent from admonishing him.

"Doctor Sweets, you have been given a great deal of latitude when it comes to your activities at work and your schedule. So, I expect you to make sure to fulfill the few commitments you still have and that includes your weekly reports to me. Is that understood?"

Even though the words had stung, Sweets had to admit that Warner was right. He had been given a lot of leeway these last few months.

'Most people probably wouldn't still have a job if they had taken the approach I have to work here recently,' he pondered. 'I should be grateful that the Bureau is so invested in holding on to me and my work.'

With those thoughts came a rush of guilt, a feeling he had had many times for these last four months. This time though, the guilt refused to be rationalized away.

'Some "asset to the Bureau" I am. I hardly see any patients, and I haven't profiled any cases in weeks. All I have is the research I am doing and some occasional reports for Quantico.'

'I wonder if the Bureau ever regrets hiring me.'

That thought sat at the pit of his stomach, turning it sour. Even though it would mean skipping his normal visit to the psychiatric institute to interview patients and visit with Taylor, the therapist decided that it would be best for him to stay at the Hoover Building and concentrate on his duties there for the day. He ended up getting bogged down by stacks of paperwork, but plowing through them did take some of the edge off his guilt, even though it also depressed him.

Sweets' mood had sunk to an extreme low by the time he took a break to get some coffee. Once he got back to his desk, however, he discovered two new emails in his inbox, both of which he would have missed if he had followed his normal routine of late.

And both of which managed to give him some relief from the gloom that was oppressing him.

The first one was from Booth. He had thanked Sweets, albeit indirectly, for spending time with Parker and then caught the therapist up on his latest activities in the unit he was working with. Sweets smiled for the first time in a couple of days as he read the agent's email to him. Honestly, he hadn't expected Booth to keep in contact with him after he left, so every email from the agent had the ability to surprise and cheer him up.

"Still haven't heard from Bones. But she's probably too busy piecing together inter-species skeletons or something to bother writing anyone. At least…I hope it's just work that has her occupied. I mean, I'm sure she's ignoring everyone and not just me, right? You know Bones. If someone didn't remind her to eat and sleep once in a while, she'd work nonstop. Yeah, I am sure that's all it is."

Sweets shook his head and felt his eyes sting. Despite the attempts for bravado on Booth's part, the therapist could see the hurt behind the agent's words as well as the refusal to believe in any alternate explanations. As he scrubbed his eyes, he thought about how Booth had told him about the night he had confronted Brennan with his feelings and the disastrous results along with his intention to move on. Sweets had had his doubts then that it would be that easy, but did not confess them aloud. Even though he was convinced that the agent would not truly be happy with anyone else other than Brennan, Sweets wanted to support his friend as much as he could.

True to his word, Booth certainly did try to move on after that night. The brief fling with Doctor Catherine Bryar was proof of that. But as much as Sweets enjoyed seeing Booth make an effort to find happiness elsewhere, he knew that the relationship wouldn't last. That assumption was proven right when Booth eventually stopped mentioning Bryar and then when he took off for Afghanistan.

'Did Booth see the same thing I did between him and Bryar between me and Daisy? Is that why he never seemed to approve of her, even when he still gave me advice on how to handle my relationship with her?'

The psychologist sniffed hard and chided himself for letting his thoughts drift back to Daisy yet again. He knew that this was not the time to focus on his own problems. It was time to think of Booth and the best ways to help him.

He carefully read through the rest of the email and then read it a second time before starting to compose a reply. Almost an hour later, he hit the 'send' button, and Sweets hoped that he had been able to bring a tiny bit of solace into the agent's life.

He then spotted the other new email and was equally surprised by its sender: Doctor Camille Saroyan. Sweets opened it and was greeted with a brief note asking how he was doing along with an invitation for lunch tomorrow.

Sweets hesitated. Truthfully, he longed to see her and to relish a couple of hours of the old camaraderie he had been missing. But he also felt nervous about meeting up with her.

'Would she see how much I needed to see her and think I was needy? Needy and unable to live my own life?'

Sweets cursed inwardly. He had tried to make an effort to keep in contact with Cam via emails and the very occasional phone call, but he knew that wasn't the same as actual time spent in each other's company. Once in a while, she would ask to meet, and only rarely would he agree to it, often citing too much work as a way to back out. Thus, he continued to be astounded that she would still ask.

'She is still trying to be my friend….but I am not a very good friend to have,' he thought glumly.

The psychologist pushed these thoughts aside as best he could as he tapped out a response on his keyboard, suggesting a time to meet at the Royal Diner. It had been weeks since he had eaten there. In fact, the last time he had gone was during the last lunch he had shared with Cam. A part of him looked forward to the chance to enjoy some good food and even better company.

Another part of him was worried about what to say when he saw her.

The next afternoon, Sweets slowly ate his burger and fries while waiting for Cam. The pathologist was almost thirty minutes late by this point and had sent him a text encouraging him to start without her. Sweets had thought about waiting, but a rumble from his stomach put an end to that idea.

He had just finished his burger and was picking at his fries when Cam walked in, her pace brisk and her face contrite.

"Sorry, sorry," she said as she slid into a chair across from him. "I had forgotten that construction had started on that side of town this morning, and it's been a while since I've had to wing it in DC traffic."

"It's all right," Sweets smiled at her. "It's not like I have pressing work right now. My schedule is pretty light these days."

"Yes, Zack told me that you had been spending more time at the institution when I visited him recently," she said as she picked up a menu. "What is going on there?"

Sweets explained the research he was conducting while she ordered a salad and while they waited for it to arrive. He finished up just as the waitress sat Cam's plate in front of her.

"Well it sounds like you've managed to keep busy," she nodded as she added some dressing to her salad. "And what about outside of work?"

"Outside of it?"

"Yes, you know the things you do after work hours," Cam smiled at him. "Don't tell me that you're still burying yourself with work."

"It has been taking up a lot of my time," Sweets confessed. "I'm sure you know what I mean since you have research of your own. By the way, how is that going?"

A look of concern made its way to Cam's face, and the therapist could sense that she had seen through the deflection. Still, Cam went on to tell him about some of the interviews she had had and about her latest findings. It had been an intriguing conversation for both of them since it was rare for the two of them to share so much common ground within their fields of discipline during normal work activities.

"I am hoping to publish my findings before too long," Cam added. "Despite some people's misgivings about it."

"Misgivings?" Sweets asked. The psychologist picked up a fry while Cam stabbed at her salad a couple of times before continuing.

"There are people, people in the government and people in the military who would probably prefer that I keep my findings to myself," she said. "The status quo is an ironclad routine in some circles and there are those who might see my work as a possible threat to that status quo. I suppose that there might even be some retaliation if I do publish my research."

"But you're still going to go through with it," Sweets said. It was less of a question and more of a comment on what he felt he already knew about Cam.

"Yes I am," she said quietly. "I owe it to the soldiers, the people I interviewed, my family, my friends…but most of all to myself to not be afraid to stand behind my work."

Sweets nodded and felt a grin form on his face. It didn't really surprise him that she had made this decision, but it always felt comforting to him whenever she re-affirmed her dedication to her work and showed the strong, principled side of her personality.

The conversation then moved onto lighter topics like the latest happenings with Michelle and Cam's repeated attempts to catch up with Paul. Sweets mainly listened at that point, content to let her steer the conversation. Eventually they both finished their food and were sipping at cups of coffee. It was at that point that Sweets couldn't help but notice how the pathologist was studying him.

"Sweets, are you sure that everything is ok?" she asked. Sweets nearly spat the coffee in his mouth out and only narrowly escaped doing so by forcing himself to gulp it down.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Work is fine. My research is going well. I've already submitted reports to Quantico and am just doing some follow up work at this point. I might even expand my work into a project for publication at some point. Things are good."

"I know that things are good at work," Cam said. "You've mentioned that. But I…."

Cam sighed as she closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. She then re-opened them and did her best to smile at him again.

"I wanted to tell you that I'd like you to come to my place some evening for dinner while Paul is there," she said. "He mentioned that he would like to meet you, and I think Michelle might enjoy it somewhat as well."

"Thank you, but I you don't have to…."

"It's not a bother, Sweets," Cam interrupted. "The fact is…I miss you. And all of us. Together. And even though I am sure that your work is important, you have to eat sometime."

"Thank you, Doctor Saroyan," he murmured. "I will try to make it for dinner. I promise."

The two of them finished their coffees with Cam telling him about her new position and office as federal coroner. Apparently it was a far cry from the environment she had become accustomed to, but Sweets could sense that she was trying to make the best of it.

Citing work and the concern about battling DC traffic again, Cam left as soon as she finished her coffee and paid her bill. After she had left, Sweets looked down at his plate and began to plan the rest of his day at work.

It wasn't until after he had left a tip, paid his bill and started walking toward his car that the feelings that had been festering inside him during his meal with Cam made themselves known. Once he got to his car, he got in and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

'It's a sham. All of this…just a sham,' he told himself. 'The life I am living now, the work I am doing…it's not even my best work. It may be good enough for additional study by others, but it's nothing I am truly dedicated to. It's not like Cam, who is finding ways to help so many people and who is willing to risk it all to stand by her findings. My research is just busy-work so I can avoid facing the truth: that my professional life is now stagnant and meaningless.'

Sweets gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could, his fingers trembling, in an effort to control himself.

'I keep telling myself that everything is fine and that I'll move on, but so far that's been a farce too. I can function. I can get through the days. But that's just about all I can do. I can't pick up and start over…not like Cam or any of the others.'

'How long can I continue to go through the motions of pretending to live a life?'

Sweets took a deep breath and turned on his car. He then moved his car into traffic and began the journey back to his office.

He wasn't going to answer that question today…but he knew that he would have to answer it soon.