According to plan she arrived at their scheduled therapy appointment first. It was awkward as Sweets welcomed her and tried to make small talk. She made it more awkward by answering in short one word answers, her mind drifting through the long stretches of silence that weighed heavy in the room.

Booth had told her to go ahead and be mad, be angry, be as resistant as she wanted to be for at least this first session. Those were her genuine emotions, no acting required. It would seem unnatural if they were to all of a sudden be cooperative. It would be disingenuous and fake and that would arouse suspicion. Soon enough they'd have to start playing nice and get Sweets back on their side. They'd need his help to deal with Noble, Hackers replacement.

It wasn't a conversation she'd planned on having as they shared a bath. In all honesty, once she saw the string of candles leading to the bathtub she hadn't planned on any conversation at all. But, when he let it slip that Cam had come by his office the evening started rapidly going sideways.

She'd pulled away from the comfort of Booth, turned sharply in the tub, and drew her knees up to her chest.

"Whoa, wait, stop." He frantically tried to pull her back into his arms as she pulled away. "You're going to hurt your back on the faucet, Bones. Slow down." His admission that Cam had come to speak to him that afternoon felt like a betrayal.

"What did she want?" She wrapped her arms around her knees protectively and rested her chin on her arms as she stared at him and waited for his answer.

A small huff and tilted head, his exasperation mimicked in his words. "You know what she wanted, Bones. She wanted me to get you to go along with this whole therapy thing Sweets cooked up. She said she thinks we need it." He didn't like the distance that she'd created between them. Reaching out, he let his finger brush along her ankles as he talked.

"Why?" Her eyes somewhere between fiery and hurt, her voice caught between demanding and pouty. She braced herself for some personal attack relating to her inability to deal with emotions, some misplaced concern over her decision to compartmentalize such events and continue to work rather than let her emotions be as visible as everyone elses. Just because she didn't show it in front of everyone others seemed to think she never felt the depth of sorrow or compassion or hurt that they did. Assumptions angered her.

"Well, the obvious, of course, is Vincent's death." He took a long deep breath letting it out as he caught her eyes. "But she said that Sweets has concerns that our partnership hasn't been the same since we got back. That Hannah, you know, was harder on you, and our partnership than you let on." The small circles he traced with his fingers along her skin were calming, almost intoxicating.

"Hannah's gone." An odd statement of fact, just the kind he'd grown to expect from his beautiful partner. It brought a smile to his eyes.

"Yes, she is."

"It's in the past, it's over." She nearly quoted Booth, though he didn't realize it at the time. The memory of his anger, the rattle of the frozen peas as they tumbled and rolled over, down, around the stuck elevator, was all quite vivid. That was the last time Sweets had approached them suggesting therapy. He'd referred to them as a couple. They weren't at the time. Now she lifted her eyes to meet Booth's.

"Yeah, well I agree but Sweets and Cam seem to feel it needs to be revisited, that it drove a wedge between us." He let his hands travel up her calves, wrapping around them he pulled her whole body close. Searching her eyes, he watched her body language, anything, everything to get a read on what she felt beneath her tightly bound and protected exterior.

The creak of the door when Booth entered Sweets' office, the familiar sound of his weighted footsteps, his rhythm, his gait. It snapped her attention back from where she'd let her mind wander. She looked back over her shoulder, over the back of the small loveseat to see him coming towards her. Booth had followed her to the appointment, arriving a little late, a little snarky, but cooperative enough to not get written up or fired, all according to plan.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, I'm glad you two decided to move forward with this-" She didn't even let him finish his first full sentence.

"No, Sweets, no." Her arms tight to her body, she raised one hand in motion for him to stop. "We didn't decide to move forward with this. We were coerced into it, threatened by our respective employers with the termination of our partnership. Don't think for a second that we are willing participants because we are not, at least I'm not. I suppose I shouldn't speak for Agent Booth."

Agent Booth, Sweets couldn't help pat himself on the back for this move to bring them back in for therapy. She never referred to him as Agent Booth, clearly things were worse than they could see. They would thank him later, maybe not now, not in the foreseeable future, but, later down the road, they would see how he saved them, maybe even facilitated the progression of their personal relationship, if he worked it right.

"No, you got it right, Bones." Booth held the squishy sumo wrestler stress ball. He'd been distracted by his own quick pace of squeeze and release that made the wrestlers head grow big and distort then shrink back to it's regular shape.

"Look." Sweets tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the irritation in his voice. "A lot has happened since you two returned from your respective trips away and resumed your partnership, a lot of things that could weigh on even the best partnership. Don't look at this as some kind of forced torture look at it as an opportunity to build." He had a way with stupid hand gestures that made Brennan feel like she was watching a car salesman or motivational speaker try to emphasize important points. "So we are going to get back to some basics, starting with some trust exercises."

Groans, sighs, disgruntled slumped bodies protested his starting point. This was one of her fears, that Sweets would come up with reasons for them to touch and that if they touched he would be able to read the change in their relationship solely from their body language. Direct that nervousness, that worry, Booth had told her last night, and Sweets won't know. He'll think your mad at me. She let her anger at Sweets carry her just a little farther as they seemed to retrace the steps of their first meeting with him. Standing face to face he told them to move closer and closer then bring their hands up to meet one anothers, palm to palm. They knew what was coming next. He would instruct them to let themselves lean into one another.

Seeing his hands, raising her own to meet his, reminded her of last night, of the tub. Booth had a way with her, soothed her overactive mind, eased her fears. He'd slowly reeled her back into his arms. Her hands, his, first palm to palm, just like Sweets wanted them to to stand now. Then intertwined, holding to one another, clinging to what they were secretly building, their foreheads touched gently as she'd straddled his body. At first she'd leaned into him but as he kissed his way down her body she'd leaned back, arching to give him space, lost in the feel of his arousing touch. It awakened her every sense in the most beautiful way.

Physically shaking the memory off she caught herself. "No, these are just ridiculous trust exercises we've done before. What would be the purpose, they're redundant." She let all that energy, that desire sparked by memory, to pour out in disdain for Sweets' process as she pulled away from Booth. He saw it in her eyes, that flash of passion, their shared memory. Grabbing her wrists, he held her there with him hoping she'd take it as a form of support.

"Actually, Dr. Brennan, what you're experiencing is the manifestation of the very problem I'm hoping to address through these therapy sessions. It's broken trust, for you that would equate to betrayal, that I believe goes all the way back to before you two parted ways and you went to Maluku and Agent Booth went to Afghanistan." Sweets gestured with his hands to illustrate his point. "Those events drove a wedge deep into your partnership. One that has affected every aspect of your partnership since then." His hands together he pointedly pushed to emphasize how deep and real this wedge had been driven. "The goal, my goal in these sessions is to remove that wedge so that you can both heal. That starts by rebuilding your trust which is why these trust building exercises are important."

Booth interrupted. "Hey, stop, just stop right there! You're assuming you know things when you have no idea-" Booth fought desperately to maintain control of his anger as he huffed the words out through clenched teeth. He was enraged by the tone and implications of Sweets' accusations.

"I see you two are still fiercely protective of one another." Sweets watched Booth's demeanor change as Dr. Brennan slipped her hands down until they rested on his briefly. A noticeable calm fell over Booth. "That's a good thing." Sweets added as an attempt to salvage this session that seemed to be spinning out of control. Pulling back just a little the pair made small adjustments in posture, widening their stance, stiffening their posture as if they were bracing themselves, resigned to their fate. Their hands now hovered close but didn't touch.

Booth's phone rang first followed quickly by hers. With giddiness they both announced they had a case and headed for the door. Sweets called after them, they weren't done. When he got insistent that they finish at least this brief exercise reminding them of his mandate. Booth turned, came up behind Sweets, and forcefully invited him to come with them to the crime scene to finish their mandated therapy. It was nothing less than a pissing match.

She questioned whether any of them won. Though she was relieved to be out of Sweets' office and far away from his trust exercises she didn't want him at the crime scene. She certainly didn't want him riding with them, hovering, watching their every interaction. Her intense scowl directed at Booth behind Sweets' back made that clear.

"I know how important it is for you to get to that crime scene before anyone messes with your remains." Booth's intensity spilled over as he eyed her back.

"Good, then you won't mind if I drive considering it's at the Jeffersonian Zoological Park, an area of town which I am clearly more familiar with than you ." He shot her a look.

"How on Earth could you be more familiar with it than me, Bones? It's not like I'm not over there everyday, hell, multiple times a day."

"To the Zoo?" She paused for effect but continued before he could answer. "The Jeffersonian has a working partnership with the research facilities at the zoo, I do consulting work for them on a consistent basis." Her anger had turned to snipiness.

Back and forth they bickered as they took the elevator to Booth's office. Back and forth all the way down to the parking garage. Back and forth as they walked to his parking stall. Back and forth until she pulled straight from their morning meeting with Sweets.

"If you trusted me, you'd let me drive." Sweets was sure his jaw actually dropped open as he waited for Booth's response craning his neck to catch a good view of the man's face.

"Fine, Bones, I trust you." He walked around to the passenger side, grabbed her messenger bag off her shoulder, placed the keys in her hand as he spun her around, and gave her a little push as he sent her off to the drivers side in one fluid move. "You drive." His jaw was popping, his teeth clenched, and although he'd made such a final statement in handing over the keys he couldn't help but throw one more jab as they settled in the car. "See, Sweets, you got your trust exercise in after all." Sweets was about to answer but Booth kept going turning his attention back to Bones. "The bigger question is why don't you trust me. After how many years of me driving you to crime scenes, all of a sudden you think I can't get you there."

"I'm a good driver, Booth." There was a tinge of hurt in her voice. "I can get us there, too." The truck was in reverse and headed out of the parking garage before she'd finished her thought. Sweets, so carried away by the intense back and forth of their argument, hadn't even noticed that she didn't have to adjust the seat or mirrors when she got in to drive.

"I never said you couldn't, Bones." Booth flashed her a smile. "Hey." She glanced his way quickly then set her eyes back to the road. "I trust you."

Sweets, despite all his years working with and counseling them, still had a hard time understanding how their dynamic worked. It shouldn't. No partnership or couple should be able to survive the amount of arguing these two engaged in. The constant disagreement, constant bickering, should have broken them apart years ago. His theory was as complex as this coupling. The banter, he theorized, was some form of foreplay to the relationship they denied themselves. The intensity of arguing certainly releases adrenaline which triggers all those feel good brain chemicals. He could see the wash of pleasure they seemed to get out of it. At the same time it was a little torturous, a punishment for what they denied themselves, a way they punished each other. Probably more important, the bickering kept them from sucumbing to those constant urges to take their relationship to the next level.

His plan to fix it was simple, get them past these most recent hurdles, help them acknowledge their feelings for each other and move their personal relationship to the next level. He'd been doing his research, if he could get them there he believed he had a way of working past the FBI's rules against co-worker or consultant relationships. In the meantime, he'd sit back and weather the ride.

Thank goodness for short trips, even with traffic and the remote area of the zoo where the bodies had been found they were at the crime scene in about fifteen minutes. Sweets was first out of the truck leaving the two with just enough private time for Booth to grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze as he checked to make sure they were okay.

"I had to…" She started to explain. She'd pushed to drive knowing that if Booth got in he'd have to adjust the seat and mirrors. She'd driven them into the Hoover that morning a fact that could have easily blown their cover.

"I know." He'd caught that and did his best to help distract Sweets. With that they were out of the truck, grabbing equipment and on the case.

There was a peaceful familiarity to their work, an ease of routine that settled between them. Though Sweets had helped with many cases he was almost never at the crime scene as they gathered evidence and prepared to remove the body. He was easily swept away in watching the techs, officers, agents, and Jeffersonian staff. Giving them a sense of freedom from oversight as his attention darted from one activity to the next. Until Booth called him over and asked if he wanted to ride back to the Hoover with one of the other agents or techs. He declined, patted Booth on the shoulder and proceeded to tell him what a brilliant idea coming with them had been. Saying that shadowing the pair as they worked had been a great idea Sweets staked out his territory over the rest of their day.

Generally, the three worked well together, had for years. The interruption of that workable relationship largely revolved around Sweets feeling the need to intervene in their personal lives, which never seemed to end well. The angered heat of the morning had dissipated and the three enjoyed a casual lunch together discussing the case. Booth carefully sidestepped the conversation away from their partnership and kept it pointed towards Sweets, even enduring a long discourse on Daisy and their relationship. Before long they were headed back to the Jeffersonian to check on the remains and see what kind of progress had been made since they left the crime scene.

The day finally started to seem manageable until they walked into the Jeffersonian. Tarps draped the equipment and floor of the forensics platform. Workers dangled from harnesses as they scraped loose old shards of glass and prepared for the new piece to be settled into place. It rained tiny shards and old painted wood scrapings. Sights and sounds reminiscent of that terrible day. Booth and Sweets both stopped abruptly and watched as she took in every detail of the scene. A wave of emotional reactions played out in her eyes as she fought to keep them underwraps.

"Oh boy." Sweets let slip before he could think about it. She stiffened before turning, shot Sweets a hurt glare, and hurried off to her office without a word.

If there'd been time Booth probably would have slapped Sweets across the back of the head. He shouldn't have said anything. Instead he added his own look of disdain before he followed Bones into her office. They circled one another for a moment before settling. She ended up facing the platform, watching the activity from the safety of her office. He watched her wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and shelter her from everything going on around her.

Sweets watched. Though he certainly tried to not be obvious about it, averting his eyes, making it look like he was watching the workman.

He saw awkwardness, not the comfort and ease that used to be so natural for these partners. There was an awkwardness, though Sweets didn't understand it. This new relationship put them in old situations but forced them to seek new lines and boundaries for work. They were way past guy hugs in private but this was far from private.

Sweets saw Booth retreat, close himself off to her and her pain by folding his arms across his chest. He saw frustration bordering on anger. What he didn't see and didn't understand was the deep sense of helplessness that Booth felt when faced with her barely restrained pain. The urge was so great he folded his arms tightly across his chest in an attempt to keep himself from all the simple comforts his hands wanted desperately to give her at the moment. To tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, to wipe an errant tear, to hold, to caress, to let her know she didn't have to carry this burden of grief alone. He couldn't do any of those things right now. So he quietly talked to her and hoped, even prayed, it was enough.

"You okay, Bones?"

She didn't answer at first, completely absent, lost in the blur of past and present. He was about to ask again when she whipped her head back towards him and stated the obvious.

"They're replacing the glass."

"I know." It was soft, reassuring.

"That's good." The echo of tiny pieces of glass hitting the floor still ringing in her ears. Her hesitancy revealed a level of uncertainty and her own doubts that the fixed ceiling would fix the grief. She took a full breath letting it out slow, measured, deliberate then turned to Booth. "I need to work now." Nodding in agreement, in understanding he silently stood, grabbed her labcoat, and held it up for her as she slid into it. She knew she'd find stability and security in work.

Sweets saw so few words exchanged he ached for the partners who used to share everything. It had only been a few months since he'd asked Booth whether he'd talked to Dr. Brennan about Broadsky and his experiences as a sniper. Booth's words echoed in his head. "I don't go there anymore. That's over." Sweets cringed at the thought as he watched, judging their interaction through her office windows. He completely missed the subtleties, the subtext that were always present with these two. Enough was enough, lost in his theories, his concerns for them, what he viewed as evidence he continued to plot a way to fix what was so clearly broken between them.

It would be hours before Booth was alone with her. Hours before they walked through her apartment door and closed it. He grabbed at her. Taking her bag, her coat her, her keys, setting them all aside. Feeling the freedom, he could finally reach out and touch her in those simple reassuring ways he wanted to all day. When he did she fell thankfully into his comfort. Her compliant and willing body soaked up every kiss, every act of tenderness, every offer of support as she reciprocated freely in return. They tried to create balance by matching the restraint of the day with a completely uninhibited night.

Rage, fear, grief, all translated to passion. Rhythmic, consoling passion that carried them away from all the demands and troubles. The ease of which soothed and rocked her gently until she felt his body pulse within her own. It was a oneness that she didn't understand the power of before Booth. A connection, a unity that she was barely beginning to comprehend. She pulled him close, gripping his bare shoulders with all her strength, burying her face in his neck where she could feel his heart pound powerfully for her. Coming to the beautiful and terrifying conclusion that she could never lose him, because losing him would mean losing herself.

ooooo0ooooo

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. I got part of the way through it and had to rethink the whole thing as I decided exactly how I was going to tell this story but it's all settled now and hopefully will move forward a little faster. Please let me know how you liked this chapter after reworking it several times I am definitely a little nervous. Reviews make all the difference.

Thanks

DG