(Mummy in the Maze)
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I don't own Bones.
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Sitting in the Lab, Brennan sat next to Booth on the steps leading up to the platform. Holding his arm, she leaned against him and tried to console him, "You didn't do anything wrong, Booth. I know you hate to kill people, but if you hadn't done it he would have killed you me and Megan."
"Yeah, he had it coming." A feeling of sadness pressing on him, Booth tried to tell himself that the life he'd taken was necessary and justified, but deep down, he felt that small kernel of doubt growing inside.
Aware that Booth felt each death deeply no matter what the circumstances were, Brennan tried to console him, "You hate that I know. I'm sorry that happened to you, that you had to kill him."
Booth knew that Brennan was agonizing over his funk and he tried to put the death of the EMT in perspective, "We saved the girl, Bones. To do that I had to kill the sorry bastard. I'm not sorry I did what I did, not really."
A sense of relief washing through her, Brennan smiled, "We did save the girl. We did our jobs and we saved Megan."
Patting her hand, Booth leaned over and kissed her, "And I'm not afraid of clowns. I think I pretty much proved that don't you think? The EMT was dressed up as a clown and I did my job and I didn't run. I'm not afraid of clowns."
Returning his kiss, Brennan smiled, "No, you're definitely not afraid of clowns."
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"So Agent Booth, you suffer from coulrophobia." Glancing at his notes, Sweets missed the look of rage that his patient threw at him and then at Brennan, "It must have been very difficult for you to confront Peter Geller when he attacked you and Doctor Brennan dressed up as a clown. Would you like to talk about that today?"
Barely able to control his anger, Booth tried to school his face in to an unemotional mask, "I'm not afraid of clowns. Whoever told you that doesn't know what the hell they're talking about."
Surprised, Sweets looked up from his notes and stared with interest at Booth, "It's in your psychological profile. You've taken several of those tests over your career and during one of those tests it was determined that you're afraid of clowns."
His anger threatening to spill out, Booth licked his lips and then glared at the young psychologist, "I am not afraid of clowns. I didn't give a fuck that Peter Geller was dressed up as a clown. He tried to kill Bones and me and I killed him. End of story."
Holding up her right hand, Brennan commented, "Booth handled the situation with professionalism, Doctor Sweets. At no time did he display any fear while confronting the EMT. He was brave and he saved us all from being murdered. If Booth does suffer from coulrophobia I didn't see any signs of it while we were rescuing Megan Shaw."
Judiciously deciding to make no further comments on the subject, Sweets made a few notations in Booth's file and then closed it. "Good, I'm glad that was a mistake and I've made a few notations in your file. . . . Would you two like to talk about Max Keenan? Doctor Brennan, have you seen your father lately?"
Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan replied, "I visit with him at least one day a week. We have had several conversations and I have bought him socks, shampoo and conditioner."
Pleased at Brennan's attempt to connect to her father, Sweets clasped his hands together and smiled, "Excellent, that's great. Have you talked to him about his abandoning you when you were fifteen?"
Coldly, Brennan replied, "Yes we have and so far he has not given me an answer that I consider reasonable."
Crossing his legs, Booth leaned back against the couch, "Look Sweets. You've made us fill out a test booklet which I think was a waste of our time and you've dug and prodded at us about Bones' father. Bones and I are tight. We aren't having any problems in our marriage or in our partnership. I don't think you have a reason to see us anymore. I plan to talk to Deputy Director Cullen as soon as I can. This is a complete waste of our time and you know it."
His eyes locked with Booth's dark brown eyes, Sweets slowly nodded his head, "You're right. I haven't seen any signs that you two are having any marital or professional problems. To tell you the truth, I think that's pretty amazing. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Let's change our meetings to once a month until Max Keenan goes on trial. That way I won't be wasting your time and I'll still be available to you if you're having any trouble. . . You can go to Deputy Director Cullen and complain, but you and I both know that I have a final say in this matter. Let's do this my way. Meeting me once a month isn't a lot to ask of you and Doctor Brennan and yet it will allow me to keep in touch with you two and that will assure the Deputy Director."
Reluctantly, Booth glanced at Brennan, saw her nod her head and sighed, "Fine, once a month."
Pleased that his plan was so easily adopted, Sweets smiled, "Alright. I knew you'd see it my way."
A sneer on her face, Brennan stood up, "Booth and I have work to do. We've wasted enough of our time here today."
Standing, Booth moved around the couch, "See you in a month, Sweets."
A little amused at the way the couple fled his office, Sweets reopened Booth's file and made a few additional notes.
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His back in a corner, he looked in horror as the strangely dressed man came towards him. The man wore a frightening amount of makeup that consisted of bright red, deep black and blinding white colors. This terror on two legs wore a wig that was a garish messy knot of green and yellow hair. Panting, he was aware of how close the horrifying figure was coming near him, slowly stalking toward him, laughing manically.
Abruptly, the clown leaned forward and started to punch him with closed fists causing him to fall to the floor. Trying to cover his head with his hands while the shrieking clown continued to beat him unmercifully, Booth started to scream in horror.
Waking Booth found Brennan holding onto him, whispering in his ear that she loved him and that he needed to wake up. Gasping for air, Booth reached up and grabbed his wife's wrist, "I'm awake . . . I'm awake." Trying to calm his racing heart, Booth laid still and stared into Brennan's worried blue eyes, "I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. It was a bad dream."
Placing her forehead against Booth's head, Brennan assured him, "I know, Booth. You don't have any control over your dreams. I'm alright."
His throat dry, Booth licked his lips and squeezed her wrist, "Good. . . Good, I . . . it was a dream, but I'm okay now."
Releasing him, Brennan moved away from her husband and reached over to her nightstand. Snagging a bottle of water she kept there just in case she needed it during the night, she rolled back over and handed it to Booth, "Here, I think you're a little dehydrated."
His skin sticky and sweaty, Booth took the bottle, twisted off the cap and drank the entire bottle. Gasping, he nodded his head and handed the empty bottle back to Brennan. "My clothes are soaked and so are the sheets. Sorry."
Shaking her head, Brennan smiled, "Go take a shower and I'll change the sheets while you're in the bathroom."
Grateful for Brennan's kindness, Booth moved off of the bed, "Thanks Bones. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't with me."
Trying to lighten the moment, Brennan moved off of the mattress, "Well for one thing, you'd be changing your own stinky sheets."
Laughter bursting from him, Booth smiled, "Thanks Bones. Thanks for making me laugh."
Pleased that she was helping him, Brennan smiled, "I am becoming quite amusing."
Flashing her a grin, Booth replied, "Yes you are Bones. You really are."
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