Author's Note: Next chapter. At the rate I'm going, I'm thinking that this fic will be finished by the end of the month. At least, I hope that's how it goes. :) I'm working on the sequel now, and again, hopefully I will have the first chapter of it up not long after this fic ends. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this nice long update. :)
I do not own Bones or any of its characters.
Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.
Lives in the now: No, I don't mind. I imagine that things appear just as you say from my reader's perspective simply because it probably does seem like things should have been getting better by now. I'll admit that sometimes it's hard for me to visualize that because I have the perspective of knowing how things will unfold and am in the process of planning how the sequel will play out. In other words, I already see the strength and triumph that you're referring to, whereas my readers can't because I haven't posted that far. Since I picture Andrew being kind of an "arch-villain" in Sweets' world, an epic confrontation with him would stir up more than just what was done to him recently. I could see it bringing many unresolved issues to a head (as will be illustrated in this chapter). The point of inflection was Sweets realizing that he needed help. Now it's a matter of pointing him in the right direction...
Super Ario: I kind of figured that the last chapter would be a visceral one to read. I almost put a warning on it, but didn't want to give too much away. As I mentioned to Lives in the now I picture Andrew and his actions stirring up many things inside Sweets that were brewing for a while which would push him closer to the edge. However, I also don't see him as the same person he was when he thought about suicide the first time and wanted to show that growth...I get your conflict with me though. I've had other readers alternate between calling me talented and a psycho, so I'm getting used to it. :)
D: I agree that Wyatt has no problem with disposing of the whole "affable Englishman" bit (as Rankor01 so eloquently put it) when he feels the situation calls for it. I kind of see him in a mentor kind of role, different from how Booth and the others play the part. I believe that Wyatt sees the future of his former field in people like Sweets and is trying to guide it along...Hmmm, you have a point about the razor. But then again, since they allow unrestricted visitation here, I imagined heftier razors. :) Or perhaps you could say that Sweets isn't exactly in a rational state of mind when he picked his method of choice...
Rankor01: Considering the struggle Sweets has faced in being taken seriously in his profession, I could see him being somewhat defense of being "shrinked" himself even though it's what he's dedicated his life to. Out-thinking other respected minds within his field can act as a sort of a perverse way to "prove himself". Plus, I do believe it's pot-kettle-black when Sweets mentioned to Brennan that people only know her as "as much as she allows" and the idea of Wyatt getting inside his head so skillfully must be unsettling...As this chapter will point out, there is more than what lies at the surface with Sweets decision to seek this kind of help...
ASummer: Thank you. I was a little unsure about the format of that chapter, so I'm glad you enjoyed how it was laid out. It seemed like the best way to build up to what I wanted to accomplish...Sadly, not all my updates will be so quick due to a grueling summer semester at college, but I hope to still put up at least one new chapter of one of my fics a week. So there's that I suppose. :)...I, too wish we could have a more Sweets-centric episode again in the same vein as Mayhem and am holding out hope for Season Seven...I hope your holiday was good and that you'll enjoy this long update.
Scarlet2009: Thank you. :) As to your question, this fic is supposed to be set within Season Five's timeline (no trip to Maluku, no Hannah, all squinterns still around) even though it's pretty AU at this point since these events would have drastically altered how Season Five played out. I haven't decided how (or if) I want to align my sequel to be more within the current canon and have some of the events from Season Six make their way into the storyline. I'll have to see how it goes while I draft it out. So in the world of this story, VKM is alive and well. :) We just won't see him in this fic.
Softballgirl05: I'll admit that it wasn't the easiest chapter to write either, thus why I decided on the back-and-forth sequence of scenes to alleviate some of the tension (although it does seem like I just added to it in the end). It would have been difficult if I hadn't done it that way and just had everything speeding to that one dark moment...I know this update wasn't quick, but I hope its length will make up for that. :)
Fearlee: As you will see in this chapter, we have reached the turning point...now it's time for others to act...
Rex01: No no, I don't really want to write deathfics. :) Even though I do like to add some suspense. And yes, like you pointed out, Sweets learned from what had happened before when he was a teen. He just needed a reminder of it...Although I must add that I loved how you connected the two fics and events together...As for the rest of your comments, you are onto something...Oh and thanks again for the review.
AnneWentworth: Again I'm really glad that my readers enjoyed the different format I used for the last chapter. It's the one that made the most sense to me and I was hoping that others wouldn't find the departure too jarring...You are right about Wyatt having an opinion and about being unsure as you'll find out in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
The Measure of the Spirit—Chapter 36
"Hey, how are you feeling, Sweets?"
Sweets blinked his eyes and stirred. It had about three hours since his conversation with Wyatt ended, and he had been left alone. In that time, the psychologist got about an hour and a half of sleep before hearing someone else walk into the room. Sweets hadn't moved at first, hoping that it was another nurse bringing or taking away his latest tray of food, but the familiar voice made him roll over toward the entrance to his room where he found Angela standing. The artist had a satchel over her shoulder and a smile on her face.
"Fine, thank you," he mumbled as he moved the bed up a little further. "How are you this evening, Ms. Montenegro?" Angela blinked at his stiff, strained tone, but kept the smile on her face.
"Sweets, you don't have to call me that," she said. "Angela is fine."
Sweets shrugged and rubbed his eyes. His fever had become more bothersome while he had been sleeping, and it was making him feel even more listless.
Uncertainty evident in her eyes, Angela looked around the grey, bare walls for a moment before clearing her throat.
"Aren't you going to eat more of that?" she said, tilting her head toward the tray of food that sat by Sweets' bed, untouched. The psychologist turned toward the window.
"Maybe later," he said.
"I get it. Hospital food does leave a lot to be desired," Angela nodded. "Hey, you know I could make you something. How about that? I'm sure Werner wouldn't mind. I have this recipe for paella…believe me, one bite and you'll…."
"I appreciate that, but no thank you," the therapist said. "I wouldn't want to put you out."
"It's no trouble. I've been thinking about making it for Hodgins anyway. I can whip it up tomorrow morning and…."
"I said no," Sweets snapped, finally looking her in the eye. At first Angela couldn't stop herself from flinching at the enraged look in the therapist's round brown eyes; however, she quickly recovered and gave him a stern look of her own.
"Sweets, you can't keep doing this," she said. "You need to eat or you won't get better. So you either start eating the stuff they're giving you here or let one of us bring you something. Either way, we aren't going to stand by and let you starve yourself."
"You don't have to do that," Sweets sighed as his expression softened. "I can make do with what they've got here. There's no need for you guys to feed me."
"Maybe we don't have to, but we want to, ok?" Angela said. "We love you, and we need you to get well."
Love. Sweets felt his heart constrict at that word. He wanted desperately to believe her…to believe that he was loved and that he was deserving of that love. He looked at her hands, longing for some kind of consoling touch from her. It was true that he was physically starving from a lack of food, but he was also emotionally starving from a lack of tactile reassurance and nurturing. It looked as if she might reach for him and he almost caved in to his craving, but he ended up shifting away from her.
'If I give in, I'll only want more…more reassurance, more interaction, more from all of them,' he told himself. 'I won't be able to stop myself. Better to remain distant and detached…the way I should have been in the first place.'
The psychologist looked down at his lap while Angela settled into a chair beside the bed, placing her bag upon the floor.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Oh, it's ok," she said. "I know you haven't had much food or sleep here lately and with everything else you've just been through…well it's no surprise that you're a little cranky."
"No…I mean I'm sorry about that," Sweets said, pointing at the scratch on the artist's arm. "I'm sorry that you got hurt." Angela put a hand over the mark, the gesture not even registering in her mind until after she had done it.
"It's all right, Sweets," she said. "This wasn't your fault."
"But it was," Sweets insisted. "The only reason you got shot is because Andrew wanted to send me a message. If you weren't a part of my life, you wouldn't have been at risk."
"Maybe not that day or that moment, but any other day I could have just as easily been at risk because I'm friends with Brennan or because I'm involved with Hodgins," she said. "We catch criminals, Sweets. Sometimes that's not the safest occupation to have."
"This isn't the life you wanted," Sweets said, his eyes growing sad.
"It's not the one I imagined for myself, but if having the life I imagined means never having Brennan as my best friend or having Jack in my life or not knowing you, Cam or Booth…then I wouldn't want that life," Angela said. "It might have been a safer one, but it wouldn't have been complete."
Angela looked down at her lap and twisted her fingers about.
"Still…I can't say that I wasn't scared," the artist added. "Hodgins was freaking out, so I tried to be calm for him, but inside, I was shaking. If he hadn't been there to hold me at night, I don't think I would have been able to sleep."
She looked back up at Sweets, and his face fell even more at the sight of her anxious expression.
"I'd be lying if I said that I have been able to stop thinking about it," she said. "I'm not sure why that whole thing still scares me. I know that Jensen's dead and that he's not going to go after us anymore."
"It's not so strange," Sweets said. "What happened to you was traumatic and it's natural to feel some residual fear and to retain a sense of vigilance even after the threat has been removed. It will pass with time."
"Are you sure about that Sweets?" Angela asked. "Because I hate this feeling. I hate feeling so…apprehensive and jittery."
"But you're still living your life, correct?" the psychologist asked. "Or have you been considering abandoning your career or your social circle?"
"No. No of course not."
"Then you're doing just fine," Sweets assured her. "You'll probably feel somewhat anxious and cautious for a while, but eventually you will work past it. It's only when fear is dominating and controlling your life that you have something to be concerned about."
"You're right," Angela nodded. "I shouldn't worry about it. That'll just make it worse. Thank you Sweets." She leaned over to pat his shoulder, but stopped when he flinched again.
"You're good," she smiled at him. "And your advice is pretty good too. Maybe you should follow it some time." Sweets gave a brief thin smile in response before turning his face back toward the window.
"Thank you for visiting," he said as he closed his eyes. "But I'm really tired now."
"That's fine," she said, settling back against her chair. "Go ahead and rest. I'll be quiet." She pushed her chair and bag a few inches away from the bed.
The psychologist sighed, but did not protest, certain that his pleas for solitude would go unheeded.
'She's humoring me,' he thought. 'She's never taken me seriously before. Why should she start now? Women like that always laugh at me.'
Sweets screwed his eyes even tighter shut, determined to keep his feelings hidden. He had thought that Angela was beautiful from the first day he met her. Beautiful, witty, open…an artist…a free spirit. Sweets couldn't deny being drawn to her even as he realized that she belonged with Hodgins. He marveled at the deep bond they had and never wanted to become even the smallest obstacle to it.
But somewhere inside him was the lingering idea that he could be happy if he could make a woman like that smile when she saw him, her eyes lighting up at his arrival. It was a dream that he had carried with him since his pre-teen years that persisted to this day.
'But that's all it is. Just a dream,' he thought as his thoughts drifted away. 'A sham. A lie. She's playing a game with me, but that's fine. I can play along.'
Angela opened up her satchel and pulled out a sketch pad and a pencil. She thought about maybe doing a still life or a simple portrait to calm her nerves, but instead decided to just let her hand guide her where it needed to go. The result was disorganized shapes that had jagged edges which mirrored her own turbulent emotions.
A soft snore from the bed caused her to look up. Sweets was still facing away from her, but his breathing had become slower and more even. She sat her things down and got up to stand on the other side of the bed. There she found Sweets dozing fitfully, his hand still caught up in their nervous agitation.
'He's so frail,' she thought. 'It's like something's eating away at him from the inside.'
Her eyes growing wet, Angela gingerly reached for one of his hands and placed it into both of hers, her thumbs rubbing circles over the back of his palm. Sweets did not awaken, but his hands finally stilled.
Angela sniffed and moved one hand away so she could brush some stray waves of hair off the psychologist's face. She thought about how Hodgins had told her once that Sweets had confessed to him that had "a thing" for her at one point. She had acted surprised for Hodgins' benefit and for Sweets', but she had suspected it long before that.
She hadn't minded. Angela had secretly enjoyed the honest and earnest way that he sometimes lightly flirted with her and was warmed by the smile that he always had for her. The artist knew that Sweets wasn't going to act on his feelings, especially after he got together with Daisy. But deep down, she had hoped that she would never lose his playful affection for her: something more than friendship, but less than romance.
Sweets started to stir in his sleep, and Angela carefully put his hand back down onto the bed, lest he wake up. On a whim, she then picked up the dog she had brought him and placed it securely under the crook of his arm. The psychologist rolled slightly toward the plush animal, and she smiled at her handiwork.
That smile soon vanished, however, when she saw how his hands resumed their twitching and noticed a shiver working through his slumbering form.
Angela brushed a couple stray tears off her cheeks and went back to sit in her chair. She knew that Wyatt would be meeting with the others to plan their next move to help Sweets.
Right now though, she was struck with the need to pray that they weren't too late in their efforts.
Leaning against a wall in the front room of Brennan's apartment, Wyatt surveyed the scene in front of him.
Booth and Brennan were sitting together on the couch with Cam and Hodgins sitting in chairs across from them. All of them were mostly silent, only occasionally letting a couple of sentences pass between them.
A couple minutes later there was a knock on the door, and Wyatt opened it to find Peter standing outside. The soldier came in, and Wyatt was pleased to see that he looked calmer and a little more rested than the last time he saw him. Judging from the encouraging nods Peter received from the others as he settled into a chair of his own, the chef was certain that Peter was slowly integrating himself into their social circle, thanks in part to Booth's efforts.
"Hey, Gordon, Gordon, what's this meeting about?" Booth asked.
"Yeah, and why wasn't Angela invited?" Hodgins asked. "Before she headed off to the hospital, she said something about how you needed her there for some reason."
"I have already spoken to Miss Montenegro about most of what I'm going to discuss with all of you," Wyatt said, straightening his posture. "She agreed with my suggestion to stay with Doctor Sweets while we have this conversation." The chef paused to reflect on his next words. He was certain that what he had to say would not be easy for any of them to hear.
"I'm afraid that we have reached a critical point in our care of young Doctor Sweets," he continued. "Therefore, we have no more time to continue on this gradual approach to his recovery."
"What do you mean by 'critical point'?" Peter asked. Wyatt sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out the bundle of tissues Sweets had given him earlier. He removed the tissues to show everyone the razor at the center of it, eliciting gasps from everyone present.
"Now, let me assure you that there have been no actual attempts thus far," Wyatt added. "This was a moment of weakness for Sweets, a mistake he has admitted to. He is aware of how dangerous his thought processes were in that moment, and he is in no eminent danger."
"Even so…you shouldn't have let it go at that," Peter said, his voice trembling slightly in horror. "Lance should be on some kind of suicide watch or something….And why didn't you call me the minute you found out about this? I know you have my cell number."
"I have no intention of letting it go," Wyatt countered. "It's the reason I have gathered you all here. And as I mentioned, Doctor Sweets is aware of how rash his decision was when he contemplated suicide. I can assure you that he will take no further action in the near future. However, as an added precaution, I asked Ms. Montenegro to stay with him. She is aware of the situation, and her presence will act as a sort of safeguard against any more sinister urges that might arise."
The chef crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on a nearby stool so he could face everyone while he talked.
"What I'm equally concerned about is Doctor Sweets' viable if flawed solutions to his current dilemma," Wyatt said.
"Which are?" Booth asked.
"Doctor Sweets is considering abandoning his practice and his profession and has asked for my help in having him committed to a psychiatric institution," Wyatt answered. Stunned, the rest of them sat in silence for several minutes.
"Are we sure that his solution is flawed?" Brennan suddenly asked.
"Doctor Brennan, Sweets is thinking about throwing away everything he's worked for and checking himself into a mental institution," Cam said. "How could that not be flawed?"
"Sweets needs help," Brennan said. "If he believes in the field of psychology and its ability to help him, shouldn't he go to people who are experts in the type of care that he needs?"
"Your reasoning is excellent as always, Doctor Brennan," Wyatt smiled. "But I'm afraid you've made one crucial error in your assessment. You're assuming that Doctor Sweets is doing this to get the care that he needs…and I will admit that that does seem to be the case on the surface."
"He isn't?" the anthropologist asked.
"I'm afraid not, no," Wyatt said. "Whether he will admit to it or not, I suspect that this is yet another attempt to isolate himself while ignoring the underlying issues at hand. He's not taking this step to get better; he's doing it so as to make it easier for him to withdraw from the world."
"He wouldn't be safe there anyway, Bones," Booth said. "He's probably still thinking of hurting himself. It'll just be more gradual and subtle this way."
"Sadly, Agent Booth is being very astute in revealing the true extent of this situation," Wyatt nodded. The chef then turned his attention toward Peter.
"SSG Sweets, I realize that this is a terribly invasive question, but I must ask it," he said. "Has your cousin contemplated or attempted suicide before?"
Peter scowled and immediately looked away without saying a word.
"SSG Sweets, I understand your desire to keep certain aspects of your cousin's life private, and let me assure you that you can trust in the fact that nothing said here will ever leave this room," Wyatt said. "But it's vital that we understand the intricacies of what we are dealing with so that we can formulate the best approach to help Doctor Sweets."
Peter's shoulders slumped down in defeat as he hung his head down further. A lump had formed in his throat, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to speak around it. Thoughts of his cousin and what he was grappling with, however, eventually pushed him to lift his head and answer.
"Lance tried to overdose on sedatives when he was fourteen," Peter said. "He, uh…High school was hell for him and that along with the other stuff he had been struggling with for years…It was almost too much for him. Thankfully, Uncle David and Aunt Carolyn found him in time."
Noticing the shocked and saddened looks on everyone else's faces, Peter narrowed his eyes.
"Look, despite what happened today, that's not who he is anymore, all right?" the soldier said. "He was just a kid. A confused and hurting kid. He's stronger than that now."
"Peter," Cam said softly as she rose to her feet. "Trust me; none of us think any less of Sweets because of what you told us. We all saw what kind of bastard Jensen was and let's just say that we all are at least a little familiar with how cruel some people can be." The pathologist moved over and patted the soldier's forearm.
"If we seemed shocked, it's because none of us wanted to imagine Sweets going through that kind of pain," she said. "I know that I, for one, am just grateful that Sweets had caring people like you and your family in his life, and I'm sure that everyone else is with me on this."
"Doctor Saroyan, I'm sorry," Peter said. "And thank you for that."
"No problem Peter," she smiled at him. "We just want to help."
"SSG Sweets, may I ask, how did your aunt and uncle respond to what their son had done?" Wyatt asked.
"Lance had been seeing a psychiatrist," Peter said. "So he and my aunt and uncle sort of confronted Lance about it. I guess you could call it an intervention."
"Your uncle, was he a proponent of the so-called 'tough love' approach?" the chef inquired.
"Maybe a little but not….Uncle David believed in being firm but kind," Peter answered. "That's the type of man he was. He believed in Lance and was always letting him know how much he loved him…But he wouldn't hesitate to put his foot down if he thought that he needed to protect Lance from himself." Wyatt nodded thoughtfully before smiling at the soldier.
"Your uncle was a good man and a wonderful parent," he told him. "As I'm sure your father was as well."
Peter nodded and looked back down at the carpet while Cam gave his arm one last squeeze before returning to her seat.
"I believe that the approach that we need to take is clear," the chef said as he stood back up. "I suggest that we meet at the hospital tomorrow morning before we talk to him."
"Wait, that's it?" Hodgins asked as he got to his feet. "What are we supposed to say?"
"Ponder what SSG Sweets has shared with us tonight," Wyatt answered. "I am confident that will give you all of the guidance you will need. And I'll be there to go over a couple last details in the morning."
"I should check on Ange," the entomologist said, clearly unsatisfied. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."
Hodgins made his way to the door, and both Peter and Cam rose from their chairs.
"I think I need a drink," Peter mumbled.
"Care for some company?" Cam asked.
"Thank you again, Doctor Saroyan," the soldier said as he followed her out into the hallway.
"Please, feel free to call me Cam," the pathologist said as they walked off together.
Booth stood up to leave, but Wyatt stood in front of him.
"I need to talk to you two privately," he said.
"Why?" Brennan asked. Booth sat back down beside her, and the chef settled into one of the chairs across from them.
"I've watched Doctor Sweets over the past couple of days, and I've come to the conclusion that there is something specific that is weighing on him in regards to you two," Wyatt said. "To be more exact, the focus seems to be on Doctor Brennan. I need to know what it is that he's so concerned about."
"I don't know," Brennan replied. "He hasn't mentioned anything to me."
"He's not exactly conversational right now," Booth chimed in.
"Think carefully," Wyatt urged. "Was there a major disagreement or misunderstanding between the two of you? Something that wasn't resolved or that nearly tore your friendship asunder? Whatever it is, he is still carrying around a crushing amount of guilt over it, so it must have been a major transgression."
"Bones?"
"Booth…I think he's thinking about that time," the anthropologist said haltingly. "That time when you faked your death, and Sweets didn't tell me the truth about it."
"Excuse me?" Wyatt said, startled.
"Bones, don't bring that up," Booth said, his expression stony.
"But Booth, this has to be it," Brennan insisted. "Sweets experimented on us, and you put him in jail. It's the only thing that makes sense."
"What?" Booth growled, leaping to his feet.
"Agent Booth, sit back down," Wyatt said, his tone and features stern. "Doctor Brennan, please explain from the beginning how all of the events you just described came to pass."
Booth glared at the chef, but soon complied with his request while Brennan began to speak. She told Wyatt about the Nunan case, about Booth getting shot, and about the subsequent plot to keep his survival a secret. She then went over Booth's appearance at his own funeral and her assertion that Sweets had used the situation to conduct an experiment on the two of them. Finally she gave some brief details about the Gormogon case before concentrating on the events that led to suspicion falling on Sweets and in Booth jailing him for almost two days.
Throughout Brennan's narrative, Booth ground his jaw and gripped the fabric of the couch tightly with one of his hands. Wyatt noticed it in passing, but chose to ignore it in favor of concentrating on what Brennan 'was telling him. By the conclusion of it all, the chef was shocked and more than a bit morbidly curious as to how the three of them moved past all of this.
"So…if I am understanding this correctly, you believe that Doctor Sweets kept the truth about Booth from you in order to gauge your emotional responses to both his death and his eventual return?" Wyatt asked.
"Yes," she nodded curtly. "It had all the markers of a planned experiment."
"And neither she nor Doctor Sweets mentioned any of this to you?" Wyatt asked as he turned his attention toward Booth.
"He kept saying that it was some kind of national security issue," Booth grimaced. "Bones, why did you tell me about this?"
"I…with everything that was going on with the Gormogon case and then Zack," she answered. "I didn't think it was relevant at the time."
"Relevant?" the agent gasped. Wyatt held up a hand.
"Agent Booth," he warned again before looking back at Brennan. "Now, Doctor Brennan, how did you and Doctor Sweets resolve this issue?"
"I told him that he better not try anything like that again," she replied.
"But he didn't apologize?"
"No," Brennan said.
"No?" Booth said, his anger increasing. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"Did you forgive him?" Wyatt asked.
"I…I didn't say anymore about it," she said.
"So no then," the chef nodded. "And you Agent Booth?"
"And me what?" Booth huffed.
"Did you apologize to Doctor Brennan for your part in this deception?"
"She was supposed to know," the agent spat. "It's Sweets' fault that she didn't."
"I will take that as a 'no' as well," Wyatt sighed. "Should I also make the assumption that the three of you never really discussed your incarcerating Doctor Sweets for suspicions that ended up holding very little merit?"
"I apologized…sort of," Booth said. "Now I know that that was a mistake."
Wyatt sighed again and fell back against his chair, placing his hands on his knees.
"I believe that Doctor Brennan has turned our focus in the exact direction it was needed," he said. "There has been a severe breach of trust on all sides, and quite frankly I am amazed that you were all able to blithely ignore and cast aside the conflicts this all must have stirred up…Nevertheless, we can no longer indulge in such false luxuries. The time has come to broach this quagmire."
"No, I'm not doing it," Booth said, turning away.
"Booth, please. Wyatt says that we need to do this to help Sweets," Brennan said.
"Oh so now, you believe in psychology?" the agent snarled. "Funny, you never seemed to before."
"Agent Booth," Wyatt said. "You need to calm yourself."
"Why should I?" Booth said, indignant. "Sweets lied to me. He lied to Bones. And for what? To prove a point? To add another chapter to his dammed book?"
"To be quite honest, I doubt that any of us will ever know what line of reasoning led to Doctor Sweets' extremely ill-advised decision," Wyatt said. "Just like I doubt that you two will explain to me what system of logic was used to make both of you willing to view Sweets as capable of the ghastly crimes you accused him of. What I do know for sure is that the two of you must reach some kind of understanding with each other before we can confront our young friend."
Booth ran a hand through his hair and went back to staring at a wall.
"Booth?" Brennan said, placing a hand on his leg.
"How can you do that Bones?" the agent asked. "How can you just let it go like that? After what he did?"
"He made a mistake," Brennan explained. "I think he learned from it. I wanted to give him another chance. Can't you do the same?"
"I suspect that there is more at work here than some lingering animosity in regards to Booth's feelings," Wyatt mused.
"You mean like guilt?" Brennan asked. "But Booth, Sweets doesn't blame you for what happened to him. He said that it wasn't your fault."
Booth hung his head and placed his hand over the one she had sitting on his leg.
"I never meant to hurt you, Bones," he mumbled. "I wanted to tell you myself. I swear that I did."
"I know," she said, her eyes growing moist. Booth looked up at her and the two of them shared a meaningful stare that last a couple of minutes.
"Before we go on, I have one question for the both of you," Wyatt interjected. "Have either of you contemplated the uncanny parallel between the deception that was played out in the past between the three of you and Doctor Sweets' recent and very similar experience?"
Both Booth and Brennan turned toward the chef with stunned expressions that quickly melted into concerned ones brimming with sadness. Wyatt noted them and nodded.
"I don't intend to go over every single nuance of what happened," he said. "Some of that needs to be between the two of you alone. But we must reach some semblance of an understanding before we go through with our plans for tomorrow. Ultimately, the key question I have for both of you is this: in light of what has been discussed tonight, are the two of you willing to forgive Doctor Sweets and continue your familial relationship with him?"