A/N: The story needed a Sweets' scene, however, I just really, really do NOT write Sweets well, nor do I find writing him even a remotely enjoyable experience. Luckily, Eternal Destiny 304 has Sweets' voice down to a science, so I enlisted her assistance. She is the author of this chapter's section on Sweets. To make sure she gets credit for what she wrote, the beginning and end of her section are delineated by ~B/B~, instead of the usual o-o-o-o-o-o. Any feedback for that section should be directed toward her, and I will ensure she receives it. I owe her a bucketload of thanks for taking time out from her own writing efforts to help mine. Once again, I recommend a visit to her wonderful fic Ice Skating, if it hasn't yet made your reading list.

Thanks also to the brilliant Skole, who continues to assist me in all matters squint-speak related. If you haven't already, mosey on over to her excellent story The Progeny in the Parting.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Sweetie!" Angela swooped down on Brennan as the anthropologist arrived on the platform at 7:30 am. "Tell me that's what I think it is."

"A few specifics would be helpful before I answer that question," Brennan replied, raising an eyebrow. "Tell you what I think what is?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Dr. Brennan." Angela stabbed a finger at the very visible mark on Brennan's neck.

Somewhat self-consciously, Brennan touched the dark-colored mark just above her collarbone that Angela's eagle eyes had immediately spotted. "It's a superficial microcontusion to the subcutaneous and dermal tissues caused by the local application of negative pressure, resulting in the traumatic disruption of capillary membranes."

Angela shook her head in exasperation and dragged her best friend into her office.

"Call it whatever you like, but that is most definitely a hickey." Glee poured across the artist's face like the colors of a particularly vivid sunrise. "And if you don't spill the beans right now about how it happened, I'll follow you around all day and drive you crazy."

"It happened the usual way, Ange. I'm sure you don't require a full explanation of how the actual mark was produced." Brennan had to laugh seeing Angela's eyes narrow dangerously, indicating that she definitely did want all the details ASAP. "Okay, okay. Booth's date last night was very inventive."

Angela almost bounced in excitement. "Yeah?"

"He took me to see MacGyver. However, his intention was apparently never for us to actually watch the movie."

Angela squealed. "Buttoned-up Booth took you necking?"

"I now have a much better understanding of what the term means." Brennan ducked her head, blushing slightly. Generally, she had no qualms about expressing her sexuality honestly and aggressively, but with Booth things were … different.

"Booth has thus far exercised unusual restraint on all our dates, from some misguided notion he has about the importance of waiting. However, last night …" she trailed off meaningfully, gesturing at her neck with a grin.

"Is that the only one?" Angela demanded.

Brennan tugged the collar of her shirt away slightly, so Angela got a good glimpse of the other 'microcontusions.' "He said he wanted us to be teenagers for the evening."

The memory of his hot mouth sucking on her sensitized skin was pleasurable to the extreme. She found herself wishing he was nearby so they could repeat that stage of the experiment.

Angela sank into a chair, fanning herself heatedly. "Sweetie, the man is sex on legs. Don't let him get away."

Her words triggered another, altogether different memory. As always, Angela picked up on her mood change instantly.

"What?" she asked in alarm. "Did something happen at the end of the date?"

Brennan sat down beside her friend and struggled through an explanation of Josie's death—something she hadn't mentioned even to Angela.

"You have to tell him these things, Bren," Ange said softly, after listening to the whole story.

"I didn't intentionally not tell him."

"I know it doesn't come naturally, but if you're sad you need to tell him, Brennan. Even if you don't think it's a big deal. It's part of being in a relationship."

Seeing the sad, confused look on Brennan's face, Angela patted her knee. She knew all too well how her friend's mind worked. 'Teenage' might be a very good way to describe Brennan's emotional frailty when it came to meaningful relationships.

"He'll get over it. The man is crazy about you, Bren. Something little like this is not going to ruin things, so stop worrying." Angela stood, planting her hands on her hips and grinning. "Now, break out the makeup, so I can help you cover that hickey before the other squints get a glimpse of it and you have to run the morning after gauntlet."

o-o-o-o-o-o

His phone rang as he was plowing his way through paperwork for a weapon he'd discharged several days ago in pursuit of an alleged bank robber.

"Booth."

"Are you free for lunch?"

"Hi, Bones." A goofy grin spread across his face and he did nothing to stop it. Hearing her voice, with the slightest little nervous hitch on the end of it to indicate that things had definitely changed between them permanently, made him flat out happy.

"Hello, Booth. Are you free for lunch?"

This was unusual. He was usually the one to drag her away from the office in the middle of the day. Booth propped his feet on the lip of the desk, idly toying with a race car Parker had left in his office on a recent visit, while he waited for her to elaborate.

"Angela has made a positive identification on three of the victims from President's Park and I assumed you would want to discuss the details."

"You wanna have lunch, Bones, or talk shop?" he inquired, feeling slightly let down.

There was a long pause on her end of the line.

"I want to have lunch."

His gut did a slow somersault. This was promising. "Your place or mine, Bones?"

"Yours." Brennan appeared in his office door, holding several plastic bags and smiling nervously. Clearly, she wasn't sure how he'd respond to her out of character gesture.

Booth was on his feet and moving to close the door to his office almost before Brennan was fully across the threshold. He pulled her inside, locked the door behind them and dropped his head to kiss her passionately, reassuring her in the best way he knew how that he was very, very happy.

o-o-o-o-o-o

She was unaccustomed to performing what society referred to as 'romantic gestures,' but her decision to leave the Jeffersonian for a couple of hours and procure lunch for her partner was turning out to be an excellent choice.

Booth sprawled beside her on the floor of his office, where they'd laid out her version of a picnic, complete with vegetarian entrée for her, diner burger for him and a large plate of fries for both of them. He'd loosened his tie and tossed his coat aside, something she rarely saw him do while in the FBI building.

He reached for another fry and gave her a slow, wide grin that made her heart flutter improbably. "This was a seriously good idea, Bones. Now I know why they call you a genius."

"I am a genius," she reminded him, sliding the remaining plastic bag over. "There's apple pie for your dessert."

"What if I say I want you for dessert?"

"The pie will get cold," she warned, her protest fading instantly as he shoved the plates aside and went for her with the same kind of hunger he'd devoured the burger with, his large body pressing her into the carpet as he kissed her, tongue thrusting deeply along hers in an approximate imitation of what was awaiting them in Week 6.

Brennan gasped with pleasure as he slid an arm under her hips, pressing her up towards him while with the other he supported the back of her neck. She dragged her nails across his well-developed deltoids, enjoying the feel of them flexing in order to hold her more closely. "Booth ... I like this."

He raised his head from the neck where he'd been assiduously destroying Angela's makeup job, and looked at her questioningly. "What do you like, Bones?"

"You. Almost on top of me."

His eyes darkened until they were almost black. "I'd fix the almost, baby, but …"

"Week 6, I know." She caressed the lower muscles of his spine, following his rules and remaining above the waist, but just barely. He was solid muscle from head to toe, and everything in between. The sensation of him poised above her, hovering almost predatorily, was overtly erotic.

Brennan traced his rigid abdomen, following the defined lines upward into his pectoral musculature. She played with the buttons on his shirt absentmindedly. "You're very hard, Booth." The minute she said the words, she knew what he'd interpret them as meaning, even though her intent had actually been innocent for a change.

"Jesus, Bones." Booth groaned, rolling them over so she was now completely on top of him. He tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her head down until it rested right above his. "What are you trying to do to me?"

"I meant your muscles," she protested. "You have extraordinary definition. It's very pleasant to feel against my skin, although I would admittedly prefer less clothing between us. It inhibits the sensation."

"I'll show you uninhibited, naked sensation one of these days," Booth promised darkly, sliding her along his torso so her neck was directly in line with his mouth. "You said Angela noticed these?" He brushed his lips across the most visible hickey, cupping her breasts gently in the process.

Brennan shivered at his tender touch. "She has excellent observational skills."

"Then I'll just have to make sure the next few aren't in such plain sight." In case his meaning wasn't clear, he tugged her collar back, fastening his mouth to the hidden skin beneath the fabric.

~B/B~

"Ok, guys, it's been a long time since we've met here so I think it's important that we go through some exercises designed to reacquaint us with each other." Sweets leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked back and forth between the two partners. "Sound good?"

Booth glanced at Brennan. "Uh, what?" He raised his eyebrows derisively. "I think we all know each other pretty well, Sweets. That's Bones, she's a genius anthropologist." He grinned at her. "A sexy, genius anthropologist."

Brennan flicked her eyes to his and they shared a brief, private moment of remembrance before Booth cleared his throat and moved on, looking back at Sweets.

"I'm Booth, Seeley Booth, best investigator around. And you're our twelve year old psychologist. I think we're pretty clear on all that, Sweets, so let's just move on, shall we?" Booth sent the younger man a cocky grin and flipped his poker chip in the air.

"Fine, Agent Booth, since you're so eager to move past the preliminaries, we'll just cut to the chase." Sweets' tone was somewhat clipped. "What impact has your new sexual relationship with Agent Booth had on your partnership, Dr. Brennan?" Sweets directed his attention to the surprised woman across from him.

"Excuse me?" She fumbled for a moment, glancing at Booth.

"Hey, hey, hey," Booth sat forward, waving his hand at Sweets. "Don't just throw questions like that at her. Talk to me. Over here." Booth frowned, draping his arm over the back of the couch and resting his hand on Brennan's shoulder. "And that's no way to talk to a woman, by the way. You should know that."

"Booth, I can speak for myself." Brennan whispered.

"It was a valid question, given the situation." Sweets defended himself, sitting back and drumming his pen on the pad of paper he was holding. "I know you two have been dating, so don't even try to fake me out. It's all anyone talks about anymore around here. Hodgins even came to see me because he wanted me to tell Angela that it was unfair for her to compare his romantic gestures to yours, Booth." Sweets shook his head, shaking his pen at both of his patients. "So don't tell me there's not something going on here."

Brennan glanced at Booth before she spoke. "Booth and I are not involved in a sexual relationship."

"Please, Dr. Brennan, do you really expect me to believe…"

"Are you calling my partner a liar?" Booth's voice was low as he challenged the doctor.

"Yes! Well, no. I mean I'm not saying she's… actually, you know what? Yes, I am saying she's lying." He tightened his lips and glared defiantly at Brennan. "You're totally lying if you say you're not in a relationship with Agent Booth. Totally lying."

Brennan nodded. "That is a correct conclusion. It would be a lie for me to say that I am not in a relationship with Booth."

Booth grinned. "But that's not what she said, is it Sweets?"

Sweets spluttered. "But…"

Booth and Brennan exchanged looks.

"Should we let him off the hook, Bones?" Booth raised his eyebrows at her.

"I think that would be best."

"You sure?" She couldn't help but feel like he was asking her about more than just Sweets and it occurred to her that this was another opportunity to make up for not trusting him with her cat's death.

She nodded, holding his gaze. "I'd like to tell him, Booth." When he gave his silent assent, she turned back to Sweets. "Booth and I are conducting an experiment to determine whether or not we would like to form a more permanent romantic attachment. We are on the fourth week of the experiment and it has been exceptionally successful so far. Booth and I are very compatible outside the workplace."

Sweets blinked at her. "That's nuts." He decided.

Brennan glanced at Booth. "Was that a positive response?" She asked him quietly.

"He's processing, Bones." Booth watched the psychologist. "The positive response is coming any second now, isn't it, Sweets?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I mean I already knew you guys were dating… but you just said it out loud and even better you think you're compatible." Sweets grinned. "Guys, this is great. This is a real breakthrough for both of you."

Brennan smiled at Booth with just a touch of wicked sensuality. "Yes, it has been very educational."

Booth tightened his grip on her shoulder and inched closer to her on the couch. "It's only going to get better, baby." He promised, his voice low.

Sweets heard him and practically squirmed himself off the couch in his excitement. "You two are finally opening up to each other, sharing your feelings, communicating honestly. Do you even realize the awesome potential this has for your partnership?"

"We get it, Sweets. You're excited." Booth rolled his eyes but still grinned because no one was more excited than he was. He gave in to the impulse to move closer to her and pull her in, placing a kiss in her hair.

Sweets looked on, taking in the angling of their bodies as they reacted to each others' movements, Brennan's soft smile as she felt Booth's lips on her, the unadulterated emotion radiating in Booth's eyes as he looked at her. Even though he'd always firmly believed the two were on unstoppable tracks destined to collide, he couldn't help but feel at least a little responsible for their union. Just a little.

"So how is the new sexual component affecting your partnership?" Sweets asked, attempting to get the conversation back on track.

Brennan looked at him in surprise. "Do you not listen?" She looked at Booth. "Does he not listen?"

"Not that well." Booth replied. "Sweets, Bones and I are not having sex. Not yet."

Sweets frowned. "So you're dating, but not sleeping together."

"Yes, Booth insists upon waiting for week six of the experiment to engage in intercourse." Brennan's voice contained a distinctive wistfulness that sent shivers of pleasure running through Booth. "He believes our relationship should progress in stages."

"Stages like what?"

Brennan looked at Booth as she spoke. "We've gone on a number of elaborate dates designed to be both romantic and instructive."

"Instructive?" Booth asked, holding her gaze.

Brennan shrugged. "Well, yes. For instance, the first date you took me on was our sky diving dating. You were teaching me to let go and to trust you."

Booth smiled at her. "I think it's working…"

Sweets cleared his throat as the two drifted towards each other. "Those types of exercises are excellent for your relationship. In fact, sky diving is just a more dramatic form of what I try to get you to do in here each week when we do our trust exercises."

Booth groaned. "Great, Sweets, you've just tainted one of my favorite memories with your therapy gimmicks."

"They are not gimmicks." Sweets argued. "They're proven techniques developed by the best scholars in the field."

"It's putting your hands together and leaning towards each other." Booth smirked. "Not that impressive, Sweets."

Sweets glared at the agent before turning his attention back to Brennan. "And how did engaging in this trust exercise with Agent Booth differ from your previous experience with sky diving? Did you find the experience to be heightened by his presence?"

Brennan started to answer, but Booth cut her off quickly.

"Wait, what previous experience with sky diving?" He demanded, looking between his partner and his psychologist. "I don't know about any previous experience."

Brennan shrugged easily. "I went sky diving once when I was in college. It was during Spring Break and my roommate at the time was quite persistent in her insistence that I do more than simply study. I was telling Sweets about it a few weeks ago while we were waiting for you to arrive in the interrogation room."

Booth gaped at her. "You've been sky diving before?"

"Agent Booth, you seem to be upset…" Sweets said calmly.

"Yeah, I'm upset." Booth kept his darkening eyes on Brennan. "You just went along with me, never mentioning you'd already jumped out of a plane before. Geez, Bones, I thought we were taking this big step together, facing our fears together and it was just another night on Spring Break for you."

Brennan seemed unsure of how to react to his sudden burst of anger. "Booth, I don't understand why you're upset. You never asked if I had been sky diving before. I didn't think it was pertinent."

"It was pertinent, Bones, when we were falling together, swinging with our arms around each other. It was pertinent when we were making one of earliest memories as a couple. Not to mention, that it's just one more thing about your life that I don't know about."

"Booth…"

"No, Bones. You don't tell me when you're going to go wandering around a dangerous neighborhood, you don't tell me when you're going to disappear from my apartment injuries and all, you don't tell me when your cat dies. Now I find out that you passed up – what, a billion – opportunities to tell me that you've gone sky diving before. I think it's pretty obvious what's going on here."

"Agent Booth, you should calm yourself back down and find another way to express your feelings of resentment to Dr. Brennan." Sweets suggested.

"Shut up, Sweets." Booth snapped at the young doctor. "Come on, Bones, just be honest with me. I'm important enough to you that you'll make out with me in the back of a movie theater, but when it comes to actually sharing your life, you can't do it. Or won't do it."

Brennan recoiled as though he had struck her. "Booth, I share my life with you. I tell you everything!"

Booth stared at her in disbelief. "Yeah, Bones? Then how come this keeps happening? Why didn't you just tell me you'd been sky diving before? Would that really have been so hard?"

"I'd never been night sky diving before." Brennan stated as though it was the most logical defense in the world. "The two instances weren't the same. There was no need to bring it up."

"Seriously, Bones? That's your answer? Some unimportant technicality?"

"I think that it would be best if we took a moment of silence to collect our thoughts…" Sweets interjected as both partners ignored him.

"Booth, you're overreacting." Brennan moved to lay her hand on his arm but he avoided her touch. "I do want to share with you…"

Booth stood abruptly. "No, Bones, if you want to do something, you find a way to do it. You make it a priority. You don't make someone drag it out of you."

"Agent Booth, our session is not over." Sweets protested as Booth headed for the door.

"It is now." Booth muttered. "I'm done talking about this."

Brennan stood too. "Booth, please…" She said uselessly as the office door closed behind her partner. Livid, she whirled on Sweets. "This is your fault!"

"Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry. I didn't know… I had no idea that he would…" Sweets stuttered. "That was majorly intense."

"I need to talk to him." Brennan began moving towards the door.

"Maybe he needs some space." Sweets suggested lamely, guilt all over his babyish features. "He seemed pretty upset."

~B/B~

The 24 Hour Fitness Center on Harvard Street didn't know what hit it as Booth stormed in and cornered the floor manager tasked with ensuring his clients didn't injure themselves unintentionally. Unintentionally was key here—Booth had every intention of injuring himself deliberately this evening, in his quest to drive the memory of Brennan's shocked face from the very cells and muscle fibers of his body. And he didn't want anyone stopping him.

The floor manager wasn't a small guy, but he was dwarfed by the FBI Agent's fury.

"I'm going to do sets of extremely high reps with heavy weights. If you hear screaming, don't spot me. If you see me rack the weight and drop to the floor without moving, don't call an ambulance. If you see me puking or bleeding, walk away. I'll sign whatever the hell papers you want in order to keep your ass safe legally, but I do not want anybody interrupting me. If they do, I will personally find a way to make your life a living hell. Is that clear?"

Personal trainers who considered themselves more than adequately fit, and were rarely intimidated by anyone under 300 lbs, hovered at the fringes of the weight room buzzing as they watched the man hell-bent on killing himself.

It wasn't until his leaden pecs, lats and delts would absolutely not do another bench press, chest fly, pull up or pulldown, his calves, quads and hamstrings could not tolerate another squat or deadlift, and his abs threatened to disintegrate under the force of yet another weighted incline crunch that Booth finally quit.

Of course, the gym had to be on the bottom floor of the only structure in DC without an elevator. He dragged himself up the stairs under the watchful eye of a gym owner who was still concerned about being sued should Booth choose to suddenly drop dead inside the building.

"Whoever she is, she ain't worth it," the floor manager advised, shaking his head at the sweat pouring from every pore in Booth's body. He forced a Gatorade into the agent's hand and made him take a seat. "You can't drive until you rest a few minutes."

"You're wrong." Booth rested his elbows on his knees, his mercilessly overworked muscles trembling visibly. Brennan's face floated in front of him, more painful than anything he'd put himself through that evening.

"She's worth everything and more. I'm the one who fucked up royally."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Booth drove home at a snail's pace, unwilling to face the prospect of an empty apartment, an empty bed, an empty life, now that he'd definitively scared Brennan permanently back to Guatemala or some other place. As he maneuvered the SUV towards his place, an old song came on the radio, one that made him laugh in bitter incredulity. Sometimes God had a really sick sense of humor.

I don't want you to give it all up
and leave your own life collecting dust.
And I don't want you to feel sorry for me,
you never gave us a chance to be.

And I don't need you to be by my side
to tell me that everything's all right.
Just wanted you to tell me the truth,
you know I'd do that for you.

So why are you running away?
Why are you running away?

He pulled into the parking lot and staggered into his complex, the lyrics still burrowing through his brain like one of Hodgins' beloved maggots.

and when I get close, you turn away.
There's nothing that I can do or say.
Now I need you to tell me the truth,
you know I'd do that for you.
So why are you running away?
Why are you running away?

Determined to torture himself into a stupor where he could no longer see her blue eyes widening and the color draining from her face, Booth took the stairs. By the time he staggered onto the 8th floor, the burning pain in his chest had reached a new high.

He lurched down the hallway, coming to a swaying, disbelieving halt as he turned the corner and immediately spotted Brennan sitting on his doorstep, knees drawn to her chest, head tilted back slightly in apparent sleep. He reached for a wall to steady himself, not entirely certain he hadn't worked himself into another coma where he was, once again, hallucinating.

"Bones …"

Her eyes flashed open and locked on him immediately, but she didn't move from her spot.

"Bones," Booth repeated helplessly, fumbling for an adequate apology. Sure, he was still angry. She'd hurt him accidentally, but he'd hurt her more and he knew it. Worse yet, the pain he inflicted had been deliberate. Just for that moment he'd wanted her to feel what he felt, to know what it was like to always be on the receiving end of grief. As if she hadn't felt enough grief in her life already.

"I'm trying." Brennan's words were softly spoken. "You may not believe it, Booth, but I am trying."

"I know you are." The very fact that she was on his doorstep, standing her ground and trying to fix things in her own clumsy way was testament enough to the growth she'd made not only over the last six years, but over the last six weeks. "I shouldn't have blown up the way I did."

"My college experience with sky diving was in the daytime. It wasn't tandem."

"I know."

"No, you don't." She climbed to her feet. "It was a completely different experience, Booth. I was all alone. My roommate convinced me to do it, but she didn't go with me in the end. After all the hours of training, I went ahead and jumped, but nobody was there to catch me."

"I'm sorry, Bones." So many people had abandoned her, time after time. Was it any wonder she was skittish?

"Perhaps I should have told you, but it honestly never occurred to me. Our tandem jump was unique. To compare that date to my negative experience during Spring Break would taint what was, for me, an extraordinary moment." Her voice rose as it often did when she was trying to communicate something for which she lacked the appropriate emotional vocabulary. "Booth, I've never felt anything like that. Ever."

"I haven't either." He moved toward her like a man at sea seeking his anchor, fearful it would yet again drift away on an unseen current. Brennan met him halfway and they clung to each other frantically, neither one able or willing to verbalize how frightened they were at the cracks that seemed to be appearing in their relationship.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Post-narrative A/N: I don't own Bones, or the song lyrics to Running Away by Hoobastank. Thanks to those readers who continue to provide specific feedback about what they do and don't like about the story. Reading what makes you laugh or cry, or even what makes you mad about my writing, makes me very happy. =) We're closing in on Week 6, believe it or not …