(Harbingers in the Fountain)

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I don't own Bones.

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Booth was finally released by his surgeon and was told he could go back to work. Filled with uncertainty, he found that he was conflicted about the situation, being both happy and afraid about what might happen when he resumed his job. He was still worried that he might have lost his skills as an investigator.

The last few weeks had been filled with days spent relearning some old skills. Brennan had purchased plumbing books and auto repair books trying to help her boyfriend regain skills he used to have. They had seemed unimportant to her at first, but the look of fear on Booth's face as he stumbled from one lost skill to another made her realize that his tumor had affected him more than his surgeon had believed.

The removal of the tumor had caused some changes in Booth that she had noticed while he recovered. The changes were small and rather odd, which left Brennan wondering just how much if any brain damage Booth had suffered. He had changed the way he walked up stairs, the way he drank a cup of coffee, the way he buttoned up his shirt. All small things and yet they had an accumulative affect.

When she realized that Booth was living in fear that he might be useless she had encouraged him to study the things he had forgotten and much to their relief he was able to relearn the things he had forgot. With her by his side, he had successfully changed the spark plugs in his car which had been a huge relief to both of them. Now that he knew that he could relearn old skills he felt that he might be able to fix the things that were wrong with him. At least he hoped so.

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As he entered his office, Booth noticed a pile of folders waiting for him on his desk. They were stacked neatly on the right side of his desk, while there was several post-it notes affixed to the top of his desk. Annoyed, he moved around the desk, leaned on it and read the post-it notes. Most of them were reminders of upcoming meetings scheduled during the week and one post-it informed him that Human Resources wanted to talk to him as soon as possible.

After he removed his jacket and hung it by the collar on his coat tree, he returned to his desk and sat down. Collecting the post-it notes, he placed them all on a sheet of paper, so he didn't lose them until he had time to enter them into his calendar. Next he started flipping through the folders and found they dealt with a departmental audit that had been done during his absence and the upcoming budget due in six weeks.

As he started to read the material he heard a knock on the doorframe and looked up. Certain that Sweets was there to pump him for information about his recovery, Booth shook his head. "Go away, Sweets. I have more than enough work to do without your meddling."

"Meddling?" The young psychiatrist's feelings were hurt. "I have no intention of meddling in your life, Booth. I'm here to welcome you back and to let you know that you have an appointment with me this afternoon. I have to clear you before you can go back into the field."

That was news to him and Booth didn't like it. "I'm not a loon. There is nothing wrong with me. My surgeon cleared me to come back."

"And I'm glad, but I still have to do an evaluation before you can go back into the field." Sweets was firm since that was the only way he would get Booth to comply. "You will also have to be recertified at the firing range."

He had known about the recertification and he was prepared. Booth and his partner had been practicing at the gun range for the last week. His aim seemed to be okay, but he knew he needed practice. His left eye seemed to lose focus at odd moments, but his surgeon had assured him that it wasn't permanent. He sure hoped that was true. "I can pass the recertification, no problem . . . look I'm really busy. I walked in and found a pile of shit on my desk and I have a lot of meetings to attend this week."

"And yet you have an appointment with me this afternoon at two." Sweets kept his expression neutral. "You can't go out in the field if I say you can't."

That alarmed Booth. "Fine, I'll be there, but it's a waste of time."

"It's my time to waste." Sweets left so that Booth would not be able to talk his way out of the appointment. The agent was very head strong and if he decided he didn't want to do something then he wouldn't do it. Telling him he had the appointment and walking away would force Booth to actually show up.

Annoyed, Booth grumbled as he retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. As he sat down, he called his girlfriend. "What are you doing?"

I'm going through my email. I have quite a bit for some reason.

"Want to have lunch with me at the diner today?" He hoped she'd say yes. He knew it was going to be a long day and lunch with his girlfriend would help remind him that someone was on his side.

Of course. I'll meet you there at noon . . . what does your work load look like?

"It's not bad, a budget to look over, the results of an audit . . . I have a meeting with Sweets this afternoon. He has to say I'm not crazy so I can go back in the field, plus I need to recertify at the gun range.

Well you aren't crazy and you will pass the certification . . . just don't push yourself too much. Slow and steady wins . . . something . . . a race?

"Yeah, a race." Booth thought it was so cute when Brennan screwed up popular sayings. Of course, sometimes she did it on purpose, but that was cute too. "I'll see you at lunch."

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"Well Agent Booth, I'm going to ask you some questions and I need you to answer them truthfully." Sweets watched Booth fold his arms across his chest. The man didn't want to be there and he knew that the agent might not cooperate. "I need to remind you that you need my approval to return to the field with your partner."

Booth was well aware of what was at stake and he hated that he had no control over the situation. He liked the kid, but his career was on the line. "Let's just get this over with. I have work to do." He decided that confidence would be his defense.

"Alright." Sweets decided to ask his questions quickly and not give the agent time to think too deeply. "Are you married?"

"No."

"Are you in a relationship with anyone?"

Annoyed Booth glared at the younger man. "What the hell does my private life have to do with my job?"

"Answer the questions, Agent Booth." Sweets wasn't about to let Booth control the session. "Are you in a relationship with anyone?"

To irritate Sweets, Booth decided to pause before answering each question. Sweets might control the questions, but he controlled the answers. "Yeah . . . sure."

"Do you like cats?"

"No . . . I like dogs though."

"If I recommend that you can't go in the field, what would be your response?"

Booth stared at Sweets and finally smiled. "Then I wouldn't go in the field and the FBI would lose the best investigative team they've ever had. No me, no Bones. The FBI solve rate for murders in this district will go in the shithouse and that's a fact."

"Dr. Brennan has a contract." Sweets hadn't expected that answer.

He knew he had surprised the young man and he enjoyed it. "Her contract says she will go in the field when she is available. She's been very careful to keep that clause in her contract. The Deputy Director tried to get it taken out, but Bones refused to sign if it wasn't in there." Booth admired how smart his mate was. "She is allowed to go on digs and participate in projects related to her field . . . If I'm sidelined or fired, she'll just go on a dig until her contract it up in two months."

The agent's smugness was very irritating. "You'd separate from Dr. Brennan for two months?"

"Her career is important to her and to me, so yeah I could deal with it." The possibility of this being put to the test was real, but Brennan had already made it clear to him she would only work with Booth. If the FBI screwed with him, then they would be punished in the only way that he and Brennan had left open to them. Brennan had helped the FBI win a lot of court cases including serial killer cases. He knew that without her and her team at the Jeffersonian the FBI would lose more cases than they were used to.

Sweets would pass this information on to the Deputy Director. It was a real threat and he knew Dr. Brennan well enough that she could not be persuaded to do anything she didn't want to do. "Do you think you're ready to go out in the field?"

"I'm not sure. I won't know until I try now will I?"

Surprised, Sweets smiled. "A very honest answer. Thank you." The psychiatrist sat silently and watched Booth. The agent didn't usually like to be stared at and silence had always bothered the man, but this time he just stared back. After a few moments of silence, Sweets nodded his head. "I'll clear you to go back into the field. You need to pass your gun recertification in the next three weeks. The Deputy Director wants to give you a chance to fully recover and allow you the time to practice and get your shooting skills back up to normal, well normal for you."

Relieved that the nonsense was over, Booth stood up. "I have work to do." Once he was at the door, he turned to look back at his friend. "I'm a good agent, a good investigator or at least I was. If I can't do the job, then I'll stick to desk duty. I won't jeopardize Bones' life, but you will lose her expertise if I can't go out in the field. That wasn't a threat, it's a fact."

"Yes, I know." Sweets watched the agent leave the room and felt that under the circumstances, everything had gone well. Booth was honest and Sweets had counted on his honesty when he answered the questions. He had taken everything Booth had said as the truth. He needed to pass on the conversation to the Deputy Director and prepare him if anything went wrong with Booth. He didn't think it would though. The agent may have had brain surgery and some of his brain removed, but he seemed to be the confident man he had always been. "So far so good."

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