I'm baaackk! Who's addicted to internet? Admit it, you needed some Dr. Brennan in your life, and you shall get her! Plus, Lance finally makes some decisions, but the depression is back with a vengeance.
I get to respond to reviews now! I seriously devour them, so please keep them coming! HPLover21, thanks for reading so voraciously. I too wish the Bones writers would do more with Sweets—in fact, I read interviews with the actresses who play Angela and Cam, and they agreed they also want more Sweets. RT, you know I can't resist an opportunity for casual sex. j/k, j/k. Lance was trying out a new behavior and failed miserably—that's why he had to get in touch with Booth for reassurance. He will always be a commitment kind of guy, don't worry. Seletua, thanks for reading—please return!
I'm up to chapter 16 in my own writing of this story and think it probably has a life of around 20-25 chapters. So we are more than halfway there.
Disclaimer: The Usual.
For the next month, Lance had some good days and some bad days. On his good days, he was really enjoying his new friends and anticipating his future plans with excitement. On his bad days, he could barely drag himself out of bed, his heart ached for Daisy so much. His bed felt desperately empty, but at least Knox had taken to sleeping on the pillow next to him. Sometimes he found himself counting breaths to measure the passing moments of his life. Whatever keeps me breathing, he thought.
Lance continued to meet with Dr. Wyatt, who helped him through some of his darker moments. Cam had also been kind, and the two had been meeting for lunch frequently. Cam also needed a bit of extra support, as Michelle was driving her crazy. Cam was trying to be cool, but she had incrementally been pushing Michelle's curfew earlier and earlier to postpone the inevitable teenage rendezvous.
On this particular day, Lance's last at the FBI, Cam had finally agreed that it was time to check in with Dr. Brennan. She had resisted so long in an attempt to protect Brennan—after all, the anthropologist had left in order to escape the Gravedigger case in particular and forensics more generally. Cam thought it was a bit insensitive of Sweets and Bea to be pushing so hard for Brennan's assistance. Cam caved when she became fearful that the entire summer would slip away before they made any progress. They had set up a Skype date with Brennan, and right on time Brennan's face appeared before them on the screen by the forensics platform.
In addition to Sweets, Cam, and Bea, Fischer was on rotation and hovering around. He kept ogling Bea, which annoyed Lance. He was leaning a little backwards with his hands in his pockets (typical Sweets' posture), glowering at Fischer until he saw Brennan materialize. She looked like just as he remembered her, only tanner. Her eyes shone brightly as ever, but she had cut bangs into her shiny brown hair. Lance literally felt joy at the sight of her.
"So what is this about a Gravedigger accomplice?" Brennan asked abruptly.
"And hello to you too, Dr. Brennan," Cam laughed amicably. "You look great. Love the bangs. We've all missed you! This is Bea our new computer expert."
Before Bea could say hello, Dr. Brennan jumped back in. "You think the accomplice attacked Sweets? What makes you think that? Sweets, you look so thin," she chided. "Have you made a full recovery?"
Lance utterly delighted in her attention—a sure sign she cared and possibly missed him too. "I'm fine, Dr. Brennan. We think it might have been a potential accomplice, because a tazor was found at the scene, among other things."
Dr. Brennan nodded. Cam said, "I'm sorry to bring up this subject when I know it's painful, but did you notice any signs that an accomplice may have helped in yours and Hodgin's abduction?"
Dr. Brennan looked pensive. "It's certainly conceivable. The evidence from the car we were confined in was too compromised from the explosion and of course, Booth's capsule was destroyed in the bomb. We went over and over the evidence from the other kidnappings and didn't find anything there."
Cam nodded. This was exactly the problem.
"Hodgins was hit by a car, and I was tazored. I'm confused about the order of things but…it seems that there was likely another attacker involved." Brennan looked like a light bulb lit up over her head. She grew excited. "The husband!"
"The husband?" Cam asked confused.
But Sweets snapped his fingers and said, "Taffet was married for a brief time and then annulled the marriage. She did it to develop an alternate identity to rent the storage locker where she stored her implements. He's definitely worth checking out. Good thinking, Dr. Brennan."
"Sweets, you know by now that I am able to reason at a much higher level than the average human," Brennan responded with confidence. She looked very pretty, and had a giant green stone clasped about her elegant neck.
Sweets grinned, "I do, but, you know, I've missed having you around to prove it."
Brennan looked confused but pleased. She continued her conversation with Lance, ignoring everyone else. "Sweets, I hope you've moved on from Daisy. She's certainly moved on from you. She has a new boyfriend—a local. He's not as intelligent as you, but he's significantly more brawny. They seem to copulate frequently, anyway."
It was like she had stabbed Lance in the heart. He knew she was probably saying this to be encouraging, but it had come across very harsh. Anyone who didn't know Dr. Brennan as well as Lance would have probably forsaken her then and there.
"Uh…thanks?" Lance tried. He felt so uncomfortable and hot that he excused himself quickly to the bathroom. He heard Brennan chatting a bit more with the ensemble. She was ordering Fischer to do a task he deemed odious. In the restroom, Lance put down a toilet lid and sat atop it. He attempted to clear his mind, because he felt his brain might explode. His chest was so tight he could barely breath.
"Dr. Sweets?" a voice called an indeterminate period of time later. Through his Zen state, Lance recognized the voice as Cam's.
"Cam are you in the men's room?" Lance asked, perplexed.
"I'm just poking my head in. Are you ok?" Cam called.
Lance came out of the stall and looked at Cam's face which was hovering in the door like a disembodied Cheshire cat. In the place of a toothy grin, however, was an apprehensive frown.
"I'm ok."
"Good. Then we need you to look through your Gravedigger profile again and glean what you can about Taffet's marriage," Cam said.
"I'm on it," Lance said. He was relieved when Cam retracted her head. His brain was nowhere near 'on it.' It was in Indonesia imaging Daisy humping a beefy local.
As the summer weeks before Lance's new job were growing short, Lance knew he had a decision to make: to go or not to go to Florida to see his bio mom. Part of him was extremely curious and the other wanted to pretend that he had been born to the Sweets family. Years one through six of his life had simply been blotted out by their love.
Dr. Wyatt wasn't going to tell Lance what to do. When it came to children of abusive relationships, it was not a compulsory part of therapy to forgive or confront your abuser. Not that his mother had laid a hand on him directly, but she had certainly seen what his father was doing and hadn't intervened. She was party to the abuse.
Daisy had told Lance before she left that he was not "Mr. Adventure," and he was beginning to think she was right. Wouldn't anyone want to make this journey to understand their own birth? Finally, if out of nothing more than spite (he was currently livid with Daisy), he bought a plane ticket to Miami, where his mother's circus was performing. The trip would be brief.
Lance's depression had set in to a slow, burning ache after learning that Daisy had moved on. He tried to tell himself that he too had had sex with someone else, but it had only made him miserable. It was the only time he had ever had casual sex, and it had sucked, actually. All he could do was replay the image he was concocting of Daisy laughing, flirting, and f-ing another man. It was too much for him. Perhaps he was going to Florida just to escape his own personal hell.
On the night before he had an early flight scheduled, a strange event occurred that would change his life. It was almost 11 pm, and Lance was in his boxers and a t-shirt just about to go to bed. He heard a knock at the door and peeked through his peep hole. It was Bea and Lulu, and they appeared to be hobos. Bea had two enormous bags slung over her shoulders and a diaper bag across her chest.
He opened the door in shock.
"Bea! What? What's going on?" Bea was crying, which was hard to imagine let alone see in person. The woman was practically a stoic when it came to life's hard knocks. Lance took her bags, which he flung to the side, and then grabbed Lulu and ushered them in.
Bea's lip was bloody and she had red welts on her forehead and arms that would turn to bruises.
"I left him. It's over. I came here—a safe place," she said rapidly.
Lulu looked wide-eyed in fear but also very sleepy. She alternately rubbed her eyes and twirled her hair. Lance shifted into professional gear—emergency clean up was needed.
"Is it ok if I lay Lulu down on my bed for now?" he asked the distraught Bea.
"Yeah."
Lance gently placed the little girl on his bed, and she fell asleep almost immediately.
He returned to the front room to find Bea seated at his piano bench, staring blankly but calmer, and led her by the hand to his bathroom. He took out his first aid materials—alcohol, butterfly band-aids, some Neosporin. He tried to tend to Bea, but she brushed him off and did it herself.
"How badly are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?" he questioned.
"No," she responded flatly. "It's just some superficial stuff."
"Do you want to talk about what happened?"
"No. It's just the same old s-."
"But why did you leave this time?"
"He attacked me when I was holding Lulu. I almost dropped her."
That was enough for Lance. "We should contact the police."
Bea turned around to face Lance and said with venom, "WE are not calling the police. WE are not doing anything, or I am leaving."
Lance threw up his hands and said, "Ok, ok. I won't do anything without your permission. Stay here as long as you need. I want you to stay." His voice was tender.
"You mean it?" she asked dabbing at her forehead.
"Yes. Let me get you ice for that…Bea, I was supposed to leave in the morning for Florida for a few days. Some personal business. I can cancel…"
"No, go. If we can stay here while you're gone, maybe I can get my act together by the time you come back."
"Does Perry know where you are?" Lance asked, worried.
"No idea. We'll be fine here. He doesn't even know you exist."
This revelation hurt Lance a little. He wanted to be important in her life.
"Then ok. I'll leave you my key. I'll get that ice. Bea?" Lance said, lingering in the doorway.
"What," she stated rather than asked.
Lance approached her and wrapped his arms around her. He hugged her until tears were streaming down her cheeks once again. "It's ok, you're safe now. You're safe with me." Bea sobbed for what seemed an eternity. Her small shoulders shook, and Lance did not let go.