Hello :) Thanks to SouthunLady once again. You give great advice and I'm sure that your wish will be granted soon ;) I want that bitch gone too.
But I was so happy that Sweets didn't die I had to write a chapter about him. Even though I cried my heart out for the poor *insert other person's name here in case of spoilers*…
I apologize about the wait again, I have re-written this way too many times and I decided to just post it. I am a perfectionist sometimes, and I hate not getting things right.
I'm trying to get some chapters done on my other sadly neglected story 'Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder' which I am co-writing with liv.
HAPPY BIRHTDAY to Jessica! :)
Chapter 7:
Sweets checked his watch again. It was twenty minutes since he had arrived, and a good 40 minutes since he had received a call to meet him at the mental hospital. And Booth was never late. Today must have been an exception to that rule.
He was waiting right next to a small bunch of workers in the parking lot; he guessed they were janitors on their lunch break. Each of the scrawny middle aged men were taking long pulls of their cigarettes, and then puffing out a twisting, winding string of smoke through the air like they loved it. Every minute or so they would drop the butt, squish it with their shoe and then reach into their pocket for yet another smoke.
He watched them with curiosity out of the corner of his eye, trying to recognize patterns in their behavior.
The tallest one seemed to be the one holding the most power in their small clique. He would usually go first, either with a puff or grabbing a new butt, and if someone started to take action before him they received disapproving looks from the others and especially the man who had the power to make the first move.
After the taller one took action, they each followed suit. The bald one with sunglasses went next, then the one with the beard, then the short younger one. He looked to be timid, as if he didn't fit in with his companions.
Sweets could see their behavior and feelings towards each other like reading a book, and he hadn't ever met them.
He coughed once again and he tried to inconspicuously duck his face into his collar away from the smoky air, hiding half his face in his coat but trying not to look too much like he was an escaped patient.
Sweets then tried calling Booth again, but there was suddenly no need as his car was finally emerging into the parking lot and lurching to a stop not far away from him.
He stared at the approaching FBI agent, scrutinizing the reasons behind his lateness, he looked fine. He was still walking, Sweets couldn't figure out why he was late.
And then he noticed; Agent Booth hadn't paused to let a passenger out, or open the door for Doctor Brennan. He knew damn well why Booth normally did that for her, but funnily enough Booth himself apparently didn't. But where was Doctor Brennan?
"Hey Sweets, how's things? You know, since yesterday?" Booth asked him as he came to stand with the shrink and patted him on the back, quite roughly in fact.
Sweets gave a nervous chuckle,
"Good, Good. How have you been?"
"Umm, yeah, alright I guess. We better get going, don't want to be late eh?"
Sweets was about to open his mouth to explain that they were already late but Booth was about ten yards away from him already so he ran to catch up and didn't comment on the matter.
They were walking through the hospital corridors a few minutes later, Sweets decided to inquire why Doctor Brennan was absent.
"Agent Booth, I can't help but notice, where is Doctor Brennan today? Is she busy?" he casually asked.
"Um, Bones is busy with some old dead guy's remains, they have an exhibit in the museum opening soon and she was needed. I said it was okay, I would bring you. She might accidentally insult the therapists or something anyway." Booth started to chuckle with the sarcasm of the last sentence.
Sweets thought it was odd that she chose supervising an exhibit over assisting Agent Booth; she almost always went out in the field. She had interns to stay at the lab for a reason.
"Are you sure? She doesn't normally take much interest in the museum exhibits."
Booth grabbed his suit collar and tugged him aside into a small but open broom closet. The next thing Sweets knew he was being shoved up against a wall with shock and terror highly evident in his expression.
"There is NOTHING wrong with Bones! She is fine." Booth spat, he released him quickly and slumped up against the opposite wall.
"And it's not your business anyway." He muttered, looking at his shoes. Sweets nodded his head.
"Look, man... I'm sorry… I just hope she's fine. Bones has been… avoiding me lately."
Sweets regained his voice,
"Oh… how do you feel about that?"
Sweets thought Booth would have shoved him again; he forgot how much Booth hated that question. His expression suddenly turned from troubled to angry again, but he composed himself quickly.
The psychologist needed to think of a response, and quick.
"Umm, I didn't mean that… I'm sorry, it's a reflex question. But do you have an idea why she might be trying to avoid you? I… I don't mean to pry, but it would be helpful if you voiced you opinions on the subject."
Booth started to think as he stared at the floor, probably contemplating if he should tell him what he knew. Sweets could see that Booth knew why he was here alone today, and he was hiding it.
"You can tell me, I promise. Whatever is said in this… cupboard, never ever leaves here."
Silence engulfed them for an immeasurable moment. Silence that was of Booth unsure what to say, and Sweets hoping to hell that Booth would say something.
Finally, Booth's eyes moved up to meet Sweets' face. He started to talk.
"Well, she would probably be avoiding me because of something… that happened, the other night. You probably know how Bones solved the case, but we promised not to tell anyone of what happened after, after I saved her life and drove her home." He paused, with a pained expression on his face.
"She said something about no regrets and she wanted to... you know, give us a go… I turned her down for Hannah. I feel horrible about it, but I think she hates me now."
Sweets briefly remembered a scene out of his subconscious, of a night almost a year ago, in which that afternoon the partners had entered his office to tell him some errors in his book. He remembered seeing a glance of the two arguing on the Hoover steps. The way their faces looked from a distance… and the way he forcefully was pushed away from kissing her. He had never asked them about it because it would have broken their level of trust if he knew things, and he had pretty much forgot about it. He thought it was a dream because he never would have thought it really happened. Now he had reason to believe it did.
Booth drew in a breath, a look on his face like he had suddenly realized he sounded ridiculous and it angered him. His face went stone cold.
"But none of it matters. I made a choice, it may feel wrong, but I have to live with it."
And with that Booth stormed out of the broom cupboard and along the hallway, ignoring the strange looks of nearby doctors and therapists. Sweets, who finally regained his consciousness, followed suit.
They found the ward, and showed the receptionist at the desk their IDs before being shown to the head doctor who was the boss of the victim.
He looked up from sliding a needle into a patient's arm briefly and then finished the procedure. Then he was ushered out of the room by Booth to talk, the look on Booth's face made him obey immediately.
"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. This is Doctor Sweets." They all exchanged brief handshakes.
"Doctor Mason Reeves, how can I help you?"
"Well, we wanted to ask you a few questions about an employee of yours in this ward, Doctor Mark Jameson?"
Reeves nodded, recognizing the name as one of his frequent psychologists.
"Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Mark?"
Reeves' expression turned to shock. "What's happened?"
"Sorry to tell you this, but we have found some remains which we have positively identified as Mark Jameson."
The doctor tried to recompose his expression; obviously he had no idea that his employee was dead.
"Um, no… I don't. Everyone loved Mark here, he was a great guy. I can't say I knew him that well; he was a man who loved his work. He actually bothered to establish friendships, give up his time for the patients. He was a favorite doctor."
"Do you know of anyone who he was friendly with particularly well? Other doctors, patients…" Sweets piped in.
"Well, he did love being especially courteous to a few of the young interns. They were friendly to him, but didn't pay him all that much attention. Uh, his patients were some of his good friends, as far as I know he didn't really have a life outside of work. He visited his patients frequently, used his ID card to get around the visiting hours."
"Can you remember anyone in particular out of his frequent patients that he was good friend with? Maybe you heard a rumor, anything?"
"I don't know much, you would need legal representation and a warrant to be allowed into the secure cells where most of his patients are, but I have heard… whispers. Things like… that he was trying to help some patients whom he believed innocent to get out. As I said, I'm not completely sure, I don't pay much attention to office gossip."
Booth decided he had learned enough, and he had to go check on Bones to make sure she was okay; he hadn't seen her that day.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Reeves. We'll keep in contact if we need anything else."
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