37-Let's Get Physical

Despite it being about zero degrees out, Brennan was hot. They had been skating for a few hours, and Booth had been touching her almost the entire time. She and Angela had been wrestling when Wendell dragged them both apart and pointed to Booth, who had Hodgins pinned to the ice and Hodgins' hood over his face. Hodgins was flailing and shouting for Booth to let him go. Angela skated up to the pair quietly and looked down. "I see we're continuing this lovely bromance," she said.

The men stopped and Booth looked down, realizing what it looked like with him on top of Hodgins. He quickly jumped off and helped Hodgins up. Brennan skated over and wrapped herself in Booth's jacket. "Cold?" he asked. She nodded as her teeth chattered. "I think I know a way to warm you up," he mumbled.

Wendell's eyes widened. "Oh, God," Angela said. Booth and Brennan looked at her. "I'm happy for you guys, really, but this," she said, waving her finger at them, "cannot happen in front of me."

Booth laughed. "Sure, Ange. Sorry."

"I forgive you, Studly."

"I'm gonna head out," Wendell said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, us too," Hodgins said, taking Angela's hand.

Booth nodded and they all walked over and took their skates off in the snow. The snow was up to Brennan's knees, and she and Booth took comically giant steps to get to the SUV. Warming the car up, Booth started the engine and left Hodgins' driveway, heading towards Brennan's apartment. Brennan took one of his hands in hers and fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

Upon arriving at the apartment, Booth kissed Brennan softly on the forehead. "Bones, we're home," he said against her skin. He loved saying that-we're home. It felt so right. Brennan stirred and climbed tiredly out of the car.

Unlocking the door, they both plopped down on the couch and Booth turned on the TV, scrolling through the guide until he found the Flyers game. Four seconds in there was a fight. "Who's that?" Brennan asked, pointing at the screen.

"I don't know who the tall freak from Montreal is," Booth said, "but that's Ian Laperriere. He blocked a shot with his face and lost a bunch of his teeth."

"Why did he block a shot with face?"

"Well it's not like he wanted it to hit his face on purpose. I mean, he was thinking about the play first, himself second, you know?"

Brennan nodded. She saw Laperriere knock the other player down and saw Booth pump his fist in excitement out of the corner of her eye. "I can see why you like this sport so much, Booth," she said.

"You can?" he asked. She nodded. "Why do I like this sport so much, Bones?" he asked with a smile.

"Well, hockey is obviously a sport for the aggressive. Physical prowess is a deciding factor in many encounters. You have physical prowess, which you've displayed in various hockey games." Booth ran through a series of fights in his mind, not missing the fight with Pete Carlson the day he saw Luc Robitaille. "It's also a game of teamwork. For example, the man you pointed out blocked a shot with his face because he put his teammates' interest before his own. It's very admirable," she added.

"Are you saying I'm admirable, Bones?" Booth asked playfully.

"In a way," she answered with a smirk. They finished watching the game in relative silence. Well, except for the six cheers Booth let out for the six goals the Flyers scored, and the various verbal thrashings of the referees. They were on their way to bed when Booth's phone rang,

"Booth. Oh." Sweets, he mouthed to Brennan. "Uh-huh," he said into the phone. "Uh-huh." He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, much to Brennan's delight. "Nine AM. Yep. Bye." He hung up and made a face. "Sweets wants to meet with us tomorrow morning," he explained.

"What about?" Brennan asked, pulling a t-shirt over her head.

Booth sighed. "He didn't say. He just said not to worry, although I think I'm going to."

"Why?" she asked as she rested her head on his chest.

"I don't know, Bones. It's hard to explain. I just feel like…why would he meet with us about nothing? I mean, we don't have a case…."

"Do you think it's about Jared?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Although I don't see what there is to talk about."

"Booth, Sweets basically said you have control issues. He's going to see something to talk about."

Booth groaned, making Brennan laugh. Soon after they both fell asleep, Booth's dreams tossing him scenarios he dreaded.

The next day they were inside Sweets' office at 9:15. "You're late," Sweets observed.

"Had a little trouble getting out of bed," Brennan said, purposely leaving an article out of her sentence. Booth blushed anyway, but his back was turned so Sweets didn't see it.

"So what's up, Sweets? I have paperwork," Booth said.

"Agent Booth, you've never been eager to get to paperwork. Don't make excuses."

"Oh, a little snippy today, are we, Sweets? What happened, did someone take your favorite toy from the sandbox?"

Sweets grimaced. "How's Jared?"

Booth stiffened a little. "I don't know."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Not really."

"Do you remember our last conversation?"

"I try not to remember any of our conversations."

Sweets smiled. "Well-."

"Bones says you said that I have control issues."

"You talked about our session?"

"Yes. Bones and I talk about everything."

"Dr. Brennan, is this true?"

Brennan looked up. "That Booth and I talk about everything? Yes."

"No, that you said that I said that Booth has control issues."

"Basically."

"Basically?" Sweets asked, intrigued that she didn't say yes or no.

Brennan sighed. "What I believe you said was, 'You like to be in control, Agent Booth.'" She raised an eyebrow, challenging Sweets to disagree.

Sweets was confused. "How did you know that's what I said?"

"Like I said, Sweets, Bones and I talk about everything," Booth answered.

Sweets scribbled on a piece of paper. "Good, then I feel pretty confident in saying that you will be comfortable with Dr. Brennan here for this."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. That's up to you." He paused, but the pair said nothing. "We're going to continue our discussion from last session."

"What is there to continue?" Booth asked.

"Well, have you found a way to effectively deal with your stress?"

"Oh yeah, I found a great way," Booth said with a smirk.

"Do you mind if I ask what that way is?"

"Yes."

"Well, even if you have found a way to deal with your stress, I still think you need to talk to your brother."

"Why?" Booth asked in exasperation.

"Because you and Jared have been through a troubled past together, and this case has called into question some very core beliefs in your life, Agent Booth."

"What? What am I questioning? That if I didn't get there when I did, who knows what would have happened? That if Bones didn't come and help it might have been different? What would my life be like without Jared? Yes. But those are questions in every case. There are always what ifs, Sweets. It's just part of life."

Sweets took a deep breath and settled further back into his chair. "You are right in that what ifs are a part of life, but the same questions don't pertain to every case. When you and Dr. Brennan encounter a body, it is sad that the person has died. But, it's not the same as losing someone in your own family. Emotionally, it is much different."

"What about when we found my mom?" Brennan asked, speaking for the first time in a long time.

"Excuse me?" Sweets asked.

"When we were asked to identify the remains of my mother. Then I don't think it was much of a difference," she said. Booth looked at her but he knew she could handle it.

"That's a different story," Sweets said.

"Why?" she asked.

Geez, they're just full of questions today, Sweets thought to himself. "Because your ability to compartmentalize is extraordinary, and your personality and situation is and was different from Agent Booth's." The partners were silent. "Now, we went over the basics of your control last time, but I think we should look deeper." Booth raised an eyebrow. "Tell me about your father."

"I already did," Booth said, and Brennan could feel his tension.

"I know, but in order to help you-."

"You can't help me!" he screamed.

Sweets put out his hand to stop Booth's rant. "Agent Booth, if I may say so, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Would you say that you tried to control your situation at that point in your life by taking all your father's abuse for yourself?"

"Jesus, Sweets, shut up."

"Bones!" Booth exclaimed, surprised at what had just come out of her mouth.

"Please, both of you, sit down. Just answer the question, Agent Booth."

"Yes. I took all my old man's abuse because I didn't want my mom or my little brother getting hurt like I knew they could."

"But how could you know the extent to which your father would abuse you?" Sweets asked.

"Because when he came home drunk every night, it got real easy to tell what was going to happen real fast."

"What did he hit you with?"

Booth looked at Sweets like the younger man was stupid. "His fists," he said.

"But one time he didn't, did he?"

"Didn't what?" Brennan asked, but her question went unanswered for the moment.

"No," Booth said quietly.

"Show me," Sweets said softly. Booth was chewing the inside of his lip furiously. "It's OK, Agent Booth." Booth turned and took off his jacket. He then pulled his shirt from his pants and lifted it up slightly to reveal an angry, bracket-shaped mark. Sweets winced as he saw it.

"I told everyone it was from the war," was all Booth said.