Hey guys :)

Thank you tagging along! To loyal readers, and of course, to my brilliant supporters (alexindigo, brennanize(aka forever-a-bonehead)) thank you for your ongoing support.

Enjoy!

XxG

21. A Friend In Need, Is A Friend Indeed

Although mass had ended a few hours ago, the church felt full of life. It always did. On the mellow Sunday afternoon it was, sunlight filtered gloriously through the stained-glass windows, and gave the great hall a warm sensation.

Amongst the collective rows of seats, Seeley Booth prayed.

"I'm lost," he murmured tormentedly. "Everything that had once been so in focus...has drifted away into a nonessential corner. I can't help feeling as though I'm walking on a fragile surface...that splits and cracks beneath the weight of every step I take. It feels as though there is this part of me that is so...desolate. I know that I have priorities. I know that I need to get them straight. But more than anything, I pray for the good health of my son, and that he heals. I pray that you give him the help he needs.
I wanna be a good father to him. I want to be someone that he can be proud of...and at the moment, I understand that you disapprove that notion of me...but I am getting better. Every day I try. I do...but it just feels like constantly losing battle." He lifted his head up, tears of silent agony creating lines as they travelled down the heated flesh of his face.

He prayed that he could regain the old part of him, that he seemed to have forgotten, as time had worn on. He wanted that man, back; the man that had sat in this very church three years ago with his partner, and thanked god for not only saving Temperance Brennan and Jack Hodgins...but for saving the whole team. He yearned for the man that had kissed his partner under mistletoe, so she could make Christmas for her family. He prayed for the return of the man who had nearly fathered her child, when she had asked him for one.

The prayer was finished, and he stood, pulled a coin from his pocket, and dropped it into the collection box. Walking outside to the gravel car park, he cast a look to the sky above.

It was clouding with charcoal clouds, puffy and threatening. There would be a storm.

As he opened the door to his SUV, the memory of the last stormy night he had experienced, flashed into view. His pulse combusted into a throbbing fire down his veins, recalling every desire that had or hadn't been explored that fateful evening.

As he drove along the crowded road towards his apartment, a small voice subconsciously wondered whether there was a significance to the storm.

Would history repeat itself, a month later?

He shook off the thought, despite the thrill of longing that intoxicated his mind at the notion.

His apartment, upon entry, already begged for an open window or two - which he did straight away, before heading to his bedroom, stripping to his boxers, and searching for his box of cigars. After locating them, he sought out his favourite whiskey, poured a glass, and went to run a bath.

Settling into the heated sensation minutes later, he allowed the watery mass to perform its magic on the knots of his muscles, and willed the alcohol to calm his agitation. Between nips of whiskey, and a puff of his cigar, eventually the relaxation process proved worthwhile, and he felt himself settle.

A loud rap on the door interrupted his serene moments though, and he unwillingly hauled himself out of the deep tub. Wrapping a towel around himself, Booth made his way to the doorway and opened it a crack.

"Agent Booth..." Lance Sweets greeted jovially at first, but upon scrutinizing his friend's appearance, did a bit of a double take. "I'm sorry, is now not a good time?"

Booth smirked. "Give me five. Wait here." He closed the door and ducked to his room, trading the single towel for fresh clothing. Returning a few moments later in jeans and a tee-shirt, he reopened the door and let his friend in, delivering him a good-hearted slap on the back as he passed.

"I heard about Parker," Sweets said quietly, when they reached the kitchen.

Booth stopped abruptly in his tracks. "Did Bones tell you?"

"No, Booth," Sweets defended their friend loyally. "Dr Brennan didn't tell me. Angela was at her apartment when she returned from the hospital. It was Angela who texted me."

"So you only came over here, because Angela suggested you did?" It felt to Booth as though the whole relaxation process had been worthless.

"I came over here of my own accord. I wanted to see how you were holding up; we haven't spoken in ages."

Booth softened. "Oh. Look, I'm sorry for snapping. I really am." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's seems to be all I'm doing these days; snapping at people."

Sweets sighed. "Would you like to go out for a drink?"

Booth grinned. "What, no shrinky advice or anti-depressants?"

"I never said I wouldn't be serving you some," the younger male said, turning on his heel, and heading back towards the entrance. "But you look like you need a drink, and a DNM."

"A DM...what?"

"Deep and Meaningful. I trust you to know these things. Am I talking too young for you?"

Booth sauntered over and socked him one playfully in the arm. "Wait here, tiger. I'll get my shoes and jacket."

.

-~B&B~-

.

"Are we really still going to do this?" Brennan asked with a hint of a moan.

"Yes." Angela tossed a pillow at her. "We are. You need this, Sweetie, and until he calls, I need to preoccupy you. Sit." The title page rolled onto the screen, which she pressed play on, and they both settled into the couch.

"I'm surprised that you didn't leave after I did," Brennan countered as the movie drifted into its opening.

"I had an inkling that you might have needed my support afterwards. I can read you like a book, Bren, and I know that I wasn't wrong." Angela outstretched a leg from her end of the couch, and nudged Brennan with her foot. "Now shush. It's starting."

A rower flittered onto the screen, and the piano score supported in a lethargic pace with each gliding stroke.

"He's just paddling," Brennan hissed after a short moment of silence. "It isn't very invigorating."

"Shush!" Angela threatened with another cushion.

After the final interruption from Brennan, they two finally piped down. The sky outdoors, though, dropped down a bucket-load of stormy mass, and didn't settle for a long while.

.

-~B&B~-

.

"It's too bad about the storm," Sweets commented as the bartender handed them another beer. His friend's mind, however, was far from the forecast outside.

Booth took a swig from his bottle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" the phycologist offered, watching his drinking partner speculatively.

"I'm not...thinking about that. Nothing. Zilch."

"Your eyes are doing something."

"Okay, so I'm thinking."

"About Dr Brennan."

Booth sat down his drink, and stood.

"No," Sweets chided, "you're going to sit, and you're going to hear this."

Booth slumped back into his chair, his shoulders rounded in silent defeat. For once, he felt like the kid being lectured; he didn't like it, but he knew that he needed to hear the guy out.

"Whether you like to admit it or not, you're a mucho man."

"I'm a what?" Booth regarded him as if he were crazy.

"A 'mucho' kinda guy. You value you manliness. You talk a big game, and swagger your jock status." Despite Booth's glare, Sweets continued, "deep down though, you have your real values."

"Where are you going with this, Sweets?" Booth asked stiffly, glancing around himself guardedly.

"You didn't want Dr Brennan to know that you were hurting. You still stung from her rejection, which made it easier for you to utterly lose yourself in someone else – someone you didn't have to really care about. Or, someone you could make yourself care about, so you didn't have to feel otherwise for your partner." Sweets put his hand up for another drink, heaved a deep breath, and then met Booth's eyes again. "If you had asked me to evaluate your relationship with Hannah, I would contrive that you were more in love with the idea of her, as oppose to really loving her person. You can object, but that is just my professional opinion."

"Professional, or personal?"

"Honestly?"

Booth nodded, jaw taut.

"That is my educated observation. I have hardly touched base on the personal."

"Here we go," Booth muttered expectantly.

Sweet cast him a stern expression.

Booth put his hands up in a defensive posture. "Okay. Sorry."

"Personally, I think that part of you went with the old 'first catch to sting'."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you dove into a serious relationship with somebody as soon as the opportunity arose, because - whether you like it or not - a small part of you wanted to make her sting. Hurt. By forming another relationship first, the psychological effects on her would have been...Anyway, I think you understand what I mean."

"You think I would try and hurt Bones on purpose?"

Sweets stood his ground. "Subconsciously, yes. I think you would. After all, she hurt you first. Psychologically, it is natural for you to seek an even score."

Booth exhaled in a hiss. "So you brought me out here to make me angry, and blame me-"

"I'm not blaming you - that's being a bit melodramatic. I am telling you the blunt truth; I'm not sugar-coating it. You're old enough now to take a full swing. I'd apologise for hurting your feelings-"

"Nah." Booth took a mouthful of his beer. "No apologies. I think you're knocked this one on the head."

"Okay...But what have you got to say?" Sweets pressed, although a little softer in tone.

For a moment, the young man didn't expect a reply.

Then, "I'm just angry. All the time. I am infuriated so easily," Booth jeered. "I'm sick of feeling like have no control over my emotions."

Sweets waited patiently for him to continue, and he did.

"I thought that sending off the letter to Hannah would seal of the anger. Zap. I'd feel better."

"But..." Sweets prompted gently.

"But the anger resurfaced when my night went pear-shaped. I can't help but think that fate is stepping in the way of things that I really want, and it never tips my way in favour."

"Well, it's perfectly comprehendible for you to-"

"Look, I know you wanna give me advice, and believe me, I need it...but the thing is...I am always one way, or another. One moment, I'll love her, and want to be with her more than anything, but then there are others - like when I saw her today – where I shut her out and snap. I'm so goddamn sick of snapping at her, when I know she doesn't deserve it." Booth gripped his forehead with a free hand. "She's trying, and I can't help feeling like I'm always letting her down."

Sweets eyed him thoughtfully. "You love her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"You just came out of an adrenaline-induced, highly fiery relationship with someone who isn't rational, lives all in the moment, and, to be quite honest, never regarded your feelings as they should have. You knew her for a day, at most, before you commenced a sexual relationship, yes?"

Booth nodded ruefully.

"So there was no foundation for a deeper connection."

Booth watched him carefully, taking in every aspect of the scenario being put before him.

"You can let her go," Sweets said miraculously. "You had something, but its past its expiration date. There was nothing else there, so you have no reason to hold on to her. You can let her go."

"Easy there, Sweets. You don't have to spare my feelings, or anything."

"Truth zone, Agent Booth. No sarcasm."

"Right."

"You have known Dr Brennan for a good seven years, yes?"

Again, Booth bobbed his head, although this time it was accompanied by wondrous expression.

"There is a very big foundation there. You have years of a beautiful partnership, built up to this great relationship. If you're not careful, you could lose that. Because of your actions since you left for Afghanistan, you've already threatened that."

"You didn't just say beautiful, Sweets..."

"Booth."

"Hmm?"

"I am serious. I have told you before; we both know that Dr Brennan's hyper-rationality is really just a cover for a very vulnerable and sensitive core." He caught Booth's eyes in an inescapable hold. "You have reached those defences, and if you push her anymore than you already have...you could really lose her."

Booth remained silent for a long time, but then, very lowly, he murmured, "so what do I do?"

Quick Note (Long, actually, sorry):

Firstly, generally, I am not a churchy person, but I remembered Booth saying that he attended church every Sunday, and that he has always been one to send a prayer, so I thought I might just slip that scene in here :)
Secondly: I know this a lecturing chapter – but it was important that I had Sweets in there, because you all know about the family-ish triangle that these guys (B, B and Sweets) are in.
This is better for Booth too, because it knocks it right on the head. - No more stuffing around, Booth. - I'm sick of the snapping. Pull your finger out!

As always – I love my reviews, if you have time to pop one in. Thank you for all submitted from last chapter :) x

Xx G