Disclaimer: See initial chapter.

A/N: I hope that this comes out alright.

butterfly 2000, thank you so much for your wonderful review, for some reason I'm unable to reply to it in the normal fashion - with a PM. It was greatly appreciated, and I'm glad that you like it, and the possibilities that this situation presents. I hope you will continue to enjoy.

Booth was sitting in the chair next to Sweets' hospital bed. His hand was resting on the mattress beside Sweets', not quite touching, but close enough so that all he had to do was extend his fingers.

To Brennan's trained eye, Booth looked tired. No, she amended, he looked exhausted. He hadn't slept well for the past two weeks, but then again, neither of them had been sleeping very well since Sweets had been shot.

Brennan knew that the agent blamed himself for what had happened to Sweets, even though she'd told him about the dream she'd had, and shared her own fears that, if she'd have acted sooner, Sweets wouldn't have been hurt at all. Booth had assured her that it wasn't her fault, but it hadn't made her feel any less guilty.

She turned from watching Booth and the still sleeping Sweets to look out the window. It was a beautiful, clear autumn day. The leaves on the trees were starting to change colors – the tree nearest Sweets' window, a maple, had a nice array of leaves changing from green to orange.

Sweets hadn't been alert for more than an hour or so at a time. The doctors said it was normal, but nothing about Sweets' situation seemed normal to her. No one had told him about the injury to his spine yet, citing that they wouldn't know anything for sure until he was more alert. She knew they were really just stalling the inevitable, though she didn't know why.

"Dr. Brennan?" Sweets pulled her from her reverie, and she forced a smile on her face before she turned toward him.

"Hey," she said. "How are you feeling?"

Sweets gave her a lopsided smile. "I'm feeling pretty good. You know, you and Booth don't have to stay with me. I mean, it's really nice and all, but…"

"Relax, kid, we aren't going anywhere." Booth exchanged a look with Brennan.

"I don't think I'm going to be going anywhere for a while yet," Sweets said with a chuckle; it made Brennan's heart clench. "You two should really go home and get some real rest."

"We're fine, aren't we, Bones?" Booth looked at her, and she knew that he too was thinking about the irony of Sweets' words.

She could tell that it hurt Booth not to tell Sweets that he was paralyzed. The doctors had said to wait, and so they'd waited. Brennan wasn't sure they should wait that much longer. While Sweets would still maintain function of his bladder and bowels, but he would be unable to walk. Even though it was a good prognosis, Brennan knew that it would not be an easy one for Sweets to accept.

"I'm sure that you've got a case or some work to do," Sweets said around a yawn.

"We do," Brennan said, but she neglected to mention that the case they were currently working on was directly related to what had led Mr. Goodman to shoot Sweets and then take his own life. There had been more to the man's story than Hacker had known, and more skeletons in the dead man's closet than clothing.

"Look, I…" Sweets was looking at the foot of the bed, playing with the edge of his sheet with the hand that Booth hadn't grasped. "Thank you for staying with me, but I'm a grown man, and I can barely stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. Go home, sleep. Come visit me during normal visiting hours."

"It's nothing pressing," Booth said. "Nothing that can't wait."

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Sweets asked. His voice was small, vulnerable. He looked from Booth to Brennan, and then back to the foot of the bed. "I think, maybe, if I could stay awake long enough, someone would tell me something."

"The doctors don't think we should say anything to you yet," Brennan said, and she instantly regretted it.

Booth looked stricken, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Bones."

Sweets gripped the sheet in his hand, and pulled at it, exposing his feet. "I'm paralyzed, aren't I?"

Brennan watched as Booth squeezed Sweets' hand. He was good at that – comforting people. Brennan wanted to walk over to Sweets and hold his hand, or hug him, or something, but she felt rooted to the spot. Unable to move, she watched as a host of emotions crossed Sweets' face, and her heart ached for him. She neither confirmed nor denied his question.

When he looked up from his feet, there were tears in his eyes, but he bit his bottom lip and nodded. Taking a deep breath, he turned to look at them and said, "I'd like to be alone now."

"Sweets…" Booth gave Brennan a look that she found difficult to interpret. It looked pained, and desperate, and Brennan had no idea what to say or do to help him or Sweets.

"Please leave." Sweets' voice cracked, and he pulled his hand out of Booth's. "I'd really like to be alone now."

"Sweets," Booth tried again, "we can help you through this."

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, thank you, but I'd like to be alone now." Sweets wasn't looking at either of them, but at his hands where they were bunched up in the sheets. He was shaking, and there were tears in his eyes.

Brennan's body felt like it moved of its own accord. She was standing beside Sweets' hospital bed, her hand on his shoulder, before it fully registered to her what she was doing. She leaned down, and, taking care not to get tangled in the IV lines and various leads, she wrapped her arms around him. It was awkward at first. She didn't dole out hugs often, though Christine and Booth were an exception to that unspoken rule.

"It's going to be okay," Brennan said, and she hugged him as tightly as she dared.

She didn't want to cause him anymore pain than she already had. The wound in his chest, though stitched up, was still very tender, and she knew that his back would more than likely be sore as well.

The tears took her by surprise. Sweets' as much as hers. Neither of them was given to this type of display of heightened emotion. They were both typically reserved, but this was not a typical situation, and Brennan found that she didn't mind having Sweets crying on her shoulder.

Though she knew that her words must sound as hollow to Sweets as they did to her, she kept repeating to him that it would be okay. A small part of her hoped that, maybe, if she repeated the words enough times, things really would be okay, and that she'd wake up to find that this had all just been part of her dream.

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