Author's Note: Yes, I am finally back. After some time to get RL sorted out and some time to reflect on my fics and the show, I decided to get back to updating. I am sorry that it took so long to get to the next chapter for this one, but I hope my readers will enjoy it.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

Peanutmeg: Thanks for the review. :D Well I think angsty should be made into a word since I use it so much in reference to my fics. :) Unfortunately, things will not be easy for a while between Sweets and the rest of Team Jeffersonian. As to Daisy, I think recent episodes have shown that she cares for Sweets, albeit in her own unique way at times. I hope that you enjoy this new chapter.

Shinju90: Well I wasn't able to return that soon, but I hope to continue on again for now. For the moment, I will only be continuing with a few of my open projects, including this one. Thank you for your wonderful review of this and the rest of my work. I hope that you will enjoy the updates I will be putting out for the next while.

Annibal: Sorry about the long wait, but I am back to work now, and I hope to update this one again later this week. Thank you so much for your comments on my writing as a whole. Characterization, plot and story structure are all big for me, so I am very glad that you are enjoying how I put them all together in my fics. Hopefully this longish update will help with the long wait.

Whirlwind421: Thank you for the review. We still have a while to go with this fic, but I can say that some more interesting developments will start to build in this chapter. Also, thank you for all of the reviews you have been giving me here lately. I am glad that you are enjoying my work as a whole and I hope that you will enjoy the updates I have planned for this week as well.

Doodlechick12: Thank you. It took me a while to get back into fic writing again, but I hope that this longer update (along with other ones I have planned this week) will help a little to make up for that. As to whether or not Sweets will mend things with Team Jeffersonian...only time will tell...

The Break in the Ties—Chapter 7

The weekend sped by with Sweets spending as much of it as he could either asleep or in Daisy's arms. Monday came and he decided to take a taxi to his doctor's office to find out about the test results. After what had happened on Friday, the psychologist did not want to take any more chances when it came to driving until he knew more about what he was facing.

After he was dropped off in front of the building where his doctor's office was, Sweets felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text from Daisy.

'Hope your test goes OK. C U tonight. I love you, Lancelot.'

Sweets managed to smile despite his anxiety. She had taken care of him this last weekend, making sure that he had plenty of food, rest and affection. More important than any of this, however, was the fact that she had provided all of that while still not pressing him to divulge more than what he was ready to share. No amount of words could express the gratitude he felt, but Sweets hoped that soon he could find some way to let her know the depth of his feelings.

'Whatever my doctor says, I have to tell her tonight,' he told himself. 'I can't keep putting it off and keeping her in the dark.'

'I can't push her away too.'

Sweets felt his heart constrict. All of the arguments and tense moments he had had with his friends this past week felt like signs that were pointing to a larger, painful truth. Even though he had recently carried the suspicion that his relationships with them had been tenuous all along, it still hurt to see these ties start to crumble.

The psychologist walked into the building and headed off toward his doctor's office. Right now, he only felt confident of his relationship with Daisy, even with the fears he sometimes had that she might leave him again too at some point. He needed the connection he had with her and thus, he knew that he would do anything he could to hold onto his relationship with her.

Even if that meant facing what he feared most at the moment.

"I've looked at your test results, Mr. Sweets," his physician said, his expression solemn. "While these results are not one hundred percent conclusive, I am sorry to inform you that there is a strong possibility that you have cancer."

Sweets did his best to show no outward signs of distress, but had been unable to stop the gasp that escaped his lips. There was a moment of silence before the therapist found his voice again.

"Um, do you know what kind…I mean, what can you tell me about it?" Sweets stuttered.

"I'm afraid that it looks like it could be pancreatic cancer," the doctor replied. "Although there is no way to tell what stage it could be in from just these tests."

Sweets swallowed hard. Over the last couple of days, he had done some research on cancer from his laptop at home. He knew enough to know that pancreatic cancer is difficult to treat and is considered to be one of the deadliest forms of cancer with a low survival rate.

"Now, the important thing to keep in mind right now is that these tests, while indicative, are not definitive," the doctor continued. "And even if I was able to give a diagnosis of cancer beyond a shadow of a doubt, there is still the fact that we do not know how far it has progressed. Caught early enough, pancreatic cancer is still treatable and curable. What I would like to do is schedule you for a sonogram so that we can get a clearer picture of what we may be dealing with here. Then I can refer you to an oncologist or some other specialist if necessary."

"All right," Sweets mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

The doctor then left and a nurse came in to set up an appointment date for the sonogram and to give him instructions on what to do on the day of the appointment. He repeated the time and day he was to show up three times in his head in an effort to make sure that his shell shocked brain could absorb the information. Once she was finished, Sweets thanked her and left.

He walked out the door and watched the cabs speed down the street in front of him. He had originally planned on getting another taxi to go to work, but instead turned to walk toward the nearest subway station.

Ever since the subway accident where Sweets had to watch someone die right in front of him, the therapist usually avoided traveling by subway whenever he could, especially when he was by himself. This time, however, he put that discomfort aside. It would take an additional hour for him to get to work this way, but Sweets was certain that he would need that extra time to prepare himself for the rest of the day.

Hours later, Sweets leaned back in his office chair and stretched. After spending all his time on the way to the Hoover Building emptying his head of any thoughts related to his personal problems, the therapist had managed to get into a suitable mindset to tend to his work. He spent the rest of the morning plowing though paperwork that had continued to pile up and had begun to focus on a stack of reports that Warner assigned to him the previous week. He even completed a profile that had been requested by an agent investigating a series of kidnappings in the area and went to the agent's office personally to consult with him for over an hour.

Sweets then got back to his office and began answering emails that he had gotten over the weekend and had just finished about half of them when he decided to stop for a moment to take a break. By this time it was early afternoon and he was pleased with how quickly the time had gone by.

The heading on the last email in his inbox, however, made him frown again. It was from Warner, and Sweets was worried about what it could be about. He remembered what Brennan had said about Booth possibly pressuring his superiors to get the psychologist reassigned to their evaluation and thus, Sweets dreaded finding out about the email's contents.

Taking a breath, Sweets moved his mouse to click on the email and scanned the words that came up on his screen. It turned out to be a note asking the psychologist for updates on both his current medical condition and on the latest developments with Agent Thompson. No mention of Booth, Brennan, or their evaluation. Sweets heaved out a sigh of relief.

That relief only lasted a moment though as Sweets continued to stare at Thompson's name on his computer screen. He knew that despite the agent's repeated attempts to dodge him that Thompson's Bureau mandated therapy could not be put off indefinitely. If Thompson continued to avoid him, Sweets would eventually be forced to either declare him uncooperative and let the agent's supervisors take a disciplinary step with him or he would have to request that Thompson be assigned a new therapist.

Neither of these choices appealed to Sweets. His sessions with the agent, along with what he had learned from his files and from talking to Thompson's co-workers, had convinced the psychologist that Thompson was a good man and an asset to the Bureau. Sweets hated to think that this great career could be cut short needlessly. Even worse though, was the thought that Thompson might not receive the help he needed to move past this tragedy and toward healing.

Every time he considered having Thompson transferred to another therapist, Sweets felt something inside him rankle at the idea, but now he was beginning to question this feeling.

'It's not like I am the only person who could treat him,' he told himself. 'There are other therapists, great ones, here at the Bureau. It might take some additional time, but eventually, I am sure that Thompson could learn to work with another psychologist. I can't let professional pride and satisfaction get in the way of what is best for him at this point.'

Sweets pulled out his cell phone and dialed Thompson's number. He had expected to be greeted with another opportunity to leave a voicemail and was surprised when the agent answered.

"Doctor Sweets?" Thompson said. "Um, hey, I know that I haven't called you back and I'm sorry about that."

"It's all right," Sweets assured him. "I know that things went badly during our last session, and I can't apologize enough for that. But I would like to schedule a makeup appointment and then perhaps we could…."

"That's ok, Doctor Sweets," the agent interrupted. "I…I'm good now. Really. I just needed a chance to say some stuff about…about that day and all. We don't have to continue with therapy."

"Agent Thompson, I understand that you might feel reluctant to go over such a painful topic again," Sweets replied. "And I am deeply sorry that you have been placed in this position. But you need to talk about this, to confront it. Until you find a way to deal with your partner's death, I can't, in good conscience, certify you to return to field work."

"But I told you that I am fine," Thompson said. "Why can't you believe me and let this go?"

"Because I know that you haven't let it go," Sweets answered. "Because I know that it is still overwhelming you. And because I sincerely do not want you to suffer needlessly. I'm asking for another chance. Please give therapy and me another try."

"Look, I appreciate that you care, Doctor Sweets. I do," the agent said. "But maybe…maybe it's time I consider leaving the field anyway. Maybe it's time for a change."

"Agent Thompson, I…."

"I'm sorry," Thompson said. "I…Hey, let me get back to you, ok? I've got a lot to think about now, and I just need some time to sort it out. I'll let you know what I've figured out in a couple of days, all right? I promise."

Before the psychologist could say another word, Thompson hung up. Sweets stared at his cell phone for a couple of minutes before turning his attention back to the email from Warner that was still on his screen. He knew that Warner needed an answer, and his fingers paused over the keys. After another minute of consideration, his fingers finally started to move.

"Agent Thompson is still experiencing some difficulty in discussing his partner's death. More time will be needed for therapy and assessment…."

Sweets still felt uneasy at his decision to stall Warner, but he could bring himself to make any other decision. All he knew for certain is that something inside him was driving him to persist with Thompson's case, something he couldn't name.

Something that he needed more than ever right now.

"Have the two of you given any thought to what we discussed the last time we met?" Ellis said, peering over the rims of his glasses.

His gaze was focused on Booth and Brennan sitting on a couch together across from him. Brennan shifted about for a moment in an attempt to find a more comfortable position while Booth let his knee bounce.

"Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan?" Ellis said.

"I did consider the questions you asked us last time," Brennan answered. "But I fail to see the purpose behind them."

"You do not see a reason for taking the time to assess the current state of your professional partnership in light of the dramatic change in your personal relationship with Agent Booth?" Ellis asked.

"No," the anthropologist replied. "I know that you have access to files that detail our work here at the Bureau and the cases we have solved. The rate of successful investigations and reports about the methods we have used and procedures we have followed should be sufficient to illustrate the effectiveness of our partnership."

"And what are your thoughts on this, Agent Booth?" Ellis asked. Booth continued to stare at a wall until Brennan nudged him.

"What?" Booth said. He looked over to see Brennan tilting her head at the psychologist, and he began to nod. "Right. Whatever she said."

"Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan," Ellis said, his voice stern. "I can appreciate that you might feel less than enthusiastic to participate in this evaluation. A situation like yours, lovers who have worked closely together for years and who are now expecting a child, would tend to be insular by nature. Rest assured, however, that I am not here to explore every nuance of it nor am I actively seeking evidence to support any preconceived theories I might have about the viability of this partnership. I am simply carrying out a directive from the Bureau to examine your partnership. Now, it will involve some personal questions by necessity, but I am confident that we can all cooperate to make this as painless as possible."

"I still do not understand what you can hope to learn," Brennan said. "But I can cooperate."

"Good," Ellis said. "Agent Booth?"

"Fine, whatever," Booth huffed.

"Good," the psychologist nodded. "Now, how about we start with something a bit more challenging? I would like each of you, in your own words, to share with me your best estimation of when you realized that your partnership crossed over from the purely professional to one more intimate in nature." Booth leapt up from his chair.

"No, I'm not doing this," the agent grumbled.

"Booth," Brennan said, looking up at him.

"No," Booth repeated. "Look pal, you want to know more about how we work together? Fine, we'll talk about that, but that's all we're talking about. I'm not going to sit here while you poke around inside our heads just so you can have something to write about on a bunch of forms."

"All right," Ellis said, closing the notebook in his lap. "Fine."

"That's it?" Brennan asked. "You are done with your evaluation and we are free to go now?"

"No," Ellis said, standing up and walking over to his desk. "This session may be over, but I assure you that this evaluation is not. I am sending notice that the two of you are uncooperative and refuse to follow the Bureau's mandates. I will be recommending a week long suspension of your partnership until our next session. Whether or not it is extended from there will be contingent on your behavior in that next session."

"You can't do that," Booth growled at him. Ellis met the agent's fiery gaze with a determined one of his own.

"I can and I will," Ellis said. "Quite frankly, I do not know how Doctor Sweets was able to conduct any meaningful sessions with the two of you, given your flagrant lack of respect and decorum. But while he might have allowed this sort of behavior, I will not. So I suggest that the two of you use the time until our next session to seriously consider both my questions and how you would like this evaluation to play out."

Both Booth and Brennan stared at the therapist, their eyes lit up with anger, but Ellis did not flinch. No other words were spoken between the three of them, but all of them had one thought on their minds.

Any sort of compromise was going to be difficult to achieve.

After what seemed like an endless journey along the streets of DC, Sweets finally made it back to his apartment late that evening. By that point, he was ready to crawl into bed and seek the oblivion that sleep could provide. As he inserted his key into the lock, however, he remembered that Daisy would be waiting there for him.

Sure enough, he opened the door to find her sitting on the couch with stacks of papers neatly arranged on the coffee table across from her. When she saw him come in, she sat the notebook she was flipping through down onto one of the stacks and beamed at him.

"Hi Lancelot," she said. She stood and rushed over to embrace him, her ponytail swishing as she moved toward him.

"How was your day?" she asked as she squeezed him. "Mine was super busy. Doctor Brennan told me about this book that could help me with my dissertation and I…."

"Daisy," Sweets interrupted. "I…I need to sit down." Her smile immediately vanished.

"Oh, ok," she said, letting him go. Sweets emptied the contents of his pockets onto the coffee table and then let her guide him to sit with her on the couch. Once there the therapist took off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them to rest over the side of the couch.

"Is this about the test you had today?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around him. Sweets fell back against the cushions and reached over to hold her. She watched him expectantly but silently until he was ready to speak.

"Yes," he said. "My…my doctor has to run some more tests. He thinks I might….that I might…."

Sweets felt his tongue grow numb as the words became stuck in his mouth. He hadn't said the words aloud ever since this had all begun. He couldn't. Saying it would mean the end of being able to avoid thinking about it, to avoid dealing with it.

"Baby, what is it?" Daisy asked. Sweets felt his throat constrict even more and his eyes water up.

"My doctor thinks…that I have cancer," Sweets choked out. "Pancreatic cancer."

Once the words were out, the dam broke and Sweets began to weep again. Daisy was stunned for a moment, but then she responded by grabbing him to hold him even tighter.

Sweets clung to her, not daring to let her go.