(The Gator in the Girl)

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I don't own Bones.

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The last few days had been rough on Booth and Brennan. Booth hadn't really slept very much at night and his snarky answers to most questions directed at him weren't making him any friends during the day.

Brennan had tried to talk to her boyfriend about Epps, but he insisted that he was fine and the reason he couldn't sleep was bad dreams. He refused to discuss his dreams, but Brennan had heard him mutter in his sleep and she was sure that when he was sleeping his dreams were quite vivid and nightmarish.

As they left the Royal Diner on their way back to the Lab, Booth received a phone call that was interrupted by an ice cream truck cruising the street next to him. Brennan had witnessed her boyfriend and partner, draw his gun and in a fit of pique shoot the mechanical clown head on top of the truck. The truck owner had been terrified and abandoned his truck in the street while Booth stood staring at the damage he'd done.

Brennan knew that he'd discharged his gun in a non-professional manner and there would be very serious repercussions.

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Booth couldn't believe his luck. He'd hadn't been fired, instead he'd been given desk duty and ordered to see a psychiatrist. Booth had half expected to be unemployed after he'd shot the truck, but he was grateful for the reprieve. On the other hand, he was a trained sniper and everyone involved should have known that no one had been remotely in danger when he'd lost it and shot the clowns head. He had tried to explain that the loudness of the music and been excruciating and after repeatedly telling the vendor to turn the music down he'd grown frustrated and taken the matter in to his own hands. Deputy Director Bishop suspected that Booth had been under too much stress lately and had ordered the psychiatric evaluation. If the evaluation proved that Booth was unfit for duty then he would be let go, in the meantime he had a job, but he had to do it from behind his desk.

"Look Bones, I'm sorry." Booth had been given his orders and now he had to break the news to his partner. "I made a mistake and now I have to go see a psychiatrist. In the meantime, Agent Tim Sullivan had been assigned to help you with the Florida case."

Booth, how much trouble are you in? Are you going to lose your job?

God, I hope not. "Nah, I'm going to be fine." Booth sure hoped he was going to be fine. Shooting his gun in public at a vendor truck was probably one of the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "I just have to see the psychiatrist and get him to release me. Now take it easy on Sully. He's a good agent, but he's not used to working with geniuses like I am. Just be patient and you two should be okay."

I'm not happy working with someone else, but I will get by. Call me tonight Booth and tell me how your session went the psychiatrist.

"Sure Bones, I wish I was going with you to Florida, but . . . well, I'll talk to you tonight." The call ended, Booth pounded his fist on his desk a few times and tried to calm down. His anger issues were why he was in trouble and the last thing he needed was to make his situation worse.

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Agent Tim Sullivan was immediately attracted to his temporary partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. She had been a little impatient with him, but Booth had warned him that she was a genius and she was not one to mull things over. She was blunt, but honest and Sully found that fascinating. He wasn't used to someone quite as honest as Brennan was and somehow that made her very attractive to him. He hoped that once the case was over, he even might find a way to get her to date him.

Brennan had found Sully to be fascinating, but she wasn't interested in him sexually. She was satisfied with her relationship with Booth and didn't think Sully was quite the man that Booth was. Her alpha male was in trouble right now, but she knew that no matter what happened with his career, she would support him. She had never loved anyone like she loved Booth and she would not jeopardize their relationship by having a dalliance with Sully no matter how interesting he was.

In the meantime, Booth visited Gordon Wyatt and was forced to come to grips with what he'd done when he'd discharged his weapon at an ice cream truck. He hadn't wanted to dwell too much on his motives, but the psychiatrist had forced him to. His fear that he'd dropped Epps on purpose had caused him to act out and Gordon had made him see that his fear was probably groundless.

"For a man like you to admit you don't know what happened, to relinquish control that could indeed argue in your self-view, that was large enough to motivate you to shoot a clown. This is a place from which we can certainly begin." Gordon smiled at the young agent. He'd read Booth's file and he knew about his background. He knew the agent had a tendency to try to control everything going on around him. It was why he had a tendency to take the blame when things went wrong. After Booth had cooked their steaks to perfection, Gordon cut into the medium rare steak and anticipated a wonderful meal. "You should keep in mind, Agent Booth that it isn't always possible to control your environment. There are times, when no matter how hard we try, no matter how well-meaning our motives are, tragedy will happen. It's part of life."

His steak resting on his plate, Booth held his knife and fork in each hand and dared to ask the question he needed to ask. "Is it possible I dropped him . . . on purpose?" The thought that he had murdered a man, made his stomach clench and he felt nauseous.

Gordon knew that Booth was still struggling and he knew that they would need to meet a few times to help the man come to grips with the root of his issues, but there was one thing he was certain of. All the witnesses had sworn that Booth had tried to save Epps and there was no way Booth was going to be able to do that since Epps hadn't tried to help save himself. "Epps wanted to die, but he wanted to control how it was done. When you grabbed him as he left the balcony you took control and Epps couldn't allow that to happen. He hung from your hand and he refused to try to grab the rails. He was determined to control how he died and if that control disturbed you in anyway then that was a plus for him. Epps was a game player. A sick game player, but he lived to control people's lives. In the end, he even tried to control your life. The answer to your question is, no, I don't think you dropped him, Epps fell."

The relief was so sudden, Booth felt light headed. "Okay." Thank God. I'm not a murderer.

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The case had been interesting, but Brennan was glad to be home. She had worried about Booth the entire time she'd worked on the case and was relieved when she entered his apartment and found him making homemade pizza. His cheerful greeting was a surprise, but Brennan was happy to see his smile. "How did it go with Dr. Wyatt?"

"It was good." Booth turned and continued to work on his pizza. As he sprinkled some shredded provolone over the sauce covered dough, Booth debated how much he wanted to tell his partner. "I . . . I talked to Gordon Gordon and he doesn't think I actually dropped Epps. I know you hate psychology, so I won't go into the why, but anyway I'm not going to shoot anymore ice cream trucks. I'm going to be fine."

He was right, she thought that psychology was nothing but guess work, but in this case, she was grateful that Dr. Wyatt had helped her boyfriend. She had actually been afraid for him and now she knew that he was going to be alright. As she watched him place mushroom slices on top of the pizza, Brennan leaned against the counter. "I'm glad . . . Sully is interesting. He seems to have had a lot of jobs."

"Yeah, Sully used to be an EMT before he joined the FBI. He makes furniture and he's talked about opening a sandwich shop." Booth finished with the mushrooms, sprinkled some black olives on next. "I think he's always kind of looking for something better."

"Well, he is a fine agent, but the way he was talking to me during the case, he might not stay with the FBI." Brennan pulled a bell pepper from the fridge, sliced it into thin slices and handed them to Booth to add to the pizza.

Not really surprised about Sully, Booth scattered the bell pepper on top of the pie and stared at it. "That's too bad, I guess . . . want anything else on the pizza? I'm not going to add meat."

"Green olives, maybe some onion?" Brennan appreciated that Booth was making the whole pie vegetarian.

Pointing at the fridge, Booth smiled. "Sure get the olives and I'll slice up an onion." Once that was taken care of, Booth slid the pie on to a hot flat stone he had in the heated oven and closed the door. With nothing else to do, Booth moved closer to his girlfriend, leaned over and kissed her. "I still have to see Gordon Gordon a few times. He's cleared me to work in the field again, but I guess he wants to make sure I'm not going to go psycho and kill someone the next time I lose my temper."

Brennan placed her arms around her boyfriend and rested her head on his shoulder. "You're not psycho, Booth. You would never deliberately hurt or kill anyone. That isn't who you are no matter how upset you are. I think talking to Gordon is a waste of time, but if it's required then you must do it. I think you shot the truck because the music was too loud and you just became impatient. You do need to work on that, Booth. You do tend to be impatient when things aren't going well. Besides that, there is nothing wrong with you."

Both happy that Brennan saw him as normal and not a nut and annoyed that she thought he was impatient, Booth placed his arms around her and leaned his chin on her head. "Maybe, but sometimes the bullshit gets deep and a guy just loses patience that's all. I will try not to shoot at trucks in the future though. All that does is get a fella in to trouble and I can do without that."

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