When Booth arrived, he parked and made his way toward Sweets and the gang of boys in the yard.

"Guys," Sweets shouted. "This is Special Agent Booth from the F.B.I., he's a colleague of mine. He's going to join, is that cool?" As though any of them were going to protest.

Sure enough, the boys quickly surrounded him, asking to see his badge and his gun.

Booth smiled and played along, showing the kids the badge, explaining that he didn't carry his gun with him all the time, and making a few jokes. Though he was handling himself well- he got along great with kids- Sweets could easily tell he was distracted and not fully himself today.

He made his way over to the group. "Alright, are we going to play some ball, or what?" he said, clapping his hands.

It was decided that Sweets and Booth would be team captains. After nine competitive innings, Sweets' team admitted defeat (most of them) and everyone bid enthusiastic farewells to Booth, then ran off in various directions, probably to brag about playing baseball with an honest-to-God F.B.I. agent.

Sweets was gathering the Frisbees they had used as makeshift bases when Booth joined him. "Sounds like you're coming back to do this again." he stated, squinting against the sunlight as he looked up at Booth. He had gracefully promised the boys he'd come back again sometime to play another game.

"I guess so." Booth said. "I'll bring Parker next time."

"I'm sure he'll be excited about that." Sweets smiled. "Would you like to come inside?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

Sweets led him into his house, feeling just a little disoriented due to the change of scenery. He didn't particularly like bringing Booth onto his turf, especially on short notice, and he eyed the takeout boxes and messy stacks of DVDs and computer games with apprehension. He needn't have worried, however, because it was clear Agent Booth was distracted and caught up in his own thoughts.

"So, how's it going, living with Dr. Brennan?" Sweets asked after they had sat down. He had a feeling whatever was distracting Booth was related to his partner.

"Fine." Booth said, focusing on the coaster he had picked up from the coffee table and was rolling around in his hands.

Sweets didn't say anything. Often this was the easiest way to get someone to speak, and although he knew Booth knew that, he let the silence permeate.

Sure enough, after about thirty seconds, Booth said, "Weird, you know? I'm not really sure. It's just this crazy…" he stopped playing with the coaster, spacing out completely. This intrigued Sweets, so still he said nothing.

"I don't even know why I came. I don't even… this is stupid." Booth was saying.

"Well, you're here, so it doesn't really matter why you came." Not entirely true, but they'd leave that for another time. "Did something happen between the two of you?" Sweets asked.

"Not really. Well, yeah, but not what you would think."

"I would never presume anything." Sweets said.

"We made cookies last night. Do you remember a few months back, when we were fighting a lot?" Booth finally looked up.

Sweets tried to connect the dots. "Yes, I remember."

"I surprised myself by taking your advice." Booth told him. "I wrote nice stuff…about Bones."

Sweets was surprised as well. "Really?" he leaned forward. "What made you decide to do that?"

Booth leaned back. "I don't know. It was weird… she called that night and apologized, and I jotted something down, and now I do it, just every once in a while."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Maybe…" Booth paused. "Maybe I don't want to forget."

"Forget what?" Sweets asked. This was fascinating.

"Once, I beat Bones at a game of checkers. She is not a very gracious loser."

Sweets remained silent, wishing he was writing this down.

"And… I don't know. It freaks me out, though."

"What does?"

"Not…remembering her. Or that stupid game of checkers. I don't ever want to forget the stuff she says, you know? I'm writing it down, because what if I forgot?"

"What if you forgot?"

"I'd be… lost."

----

Trusting someone is difficult. Trusting someone with your heart is very near impossible. If you give out too much of yourself, sooner or later there will be nothing left for you, and where would you be then? If you haven't been hurt, it seems to be remarkable easy to be flippant about guarding yourself. But if you recognize the sting of a broken heart, you know. You know how excruciating it is to be alone. How much agony one person can cause you. How hard it can be to get out of bed every day. Why take a chance? Do the benefits of loving someone outweigh the inevitable risk that accompanies giving yourself completely to someone?

But what if that wasn't true? Angela easily gave away pieces of herself all the time, and to everyone- Hodgins, her college girlfriend, her (ex)husband, even Brennan herself. Was Angela worse off? Did she feel incomplete? Or was it just the opposite?

She sighed and hit the delete button. She couldn't write, not now. Her own personal thoughts were clouding the vision she had for this particular character. Not that she wanted to give Booth her heart, that wasn't it. What was it, then? She didn't know where those words had come from.

Frustrated, she stood and began pacing her office.

I don't love Booth. I don't even believe in love. You can't do something you don't believe is real, so rationally there is no way I love him. I have some sort of misguided attachment to him because he hasn't abandoned me, like other people in my life. God, I hate psychology.