Author's Note: Next chapter. At this rate, I think the next few chapters will be kind of short, but hopefully I will be able to update a little more often. We will see...
I do not own Bones or any of its characters.
Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.
Fozmonster: Thank you. I will warn you now though that there will be cause for tissues in later chapters too...
Lunarweather: Thank you for the review. I agree that sometimes it does seem like many of the characters take it for granted that Sweets will always be there, ready to do what he can to help, and thus wanted to look at what could happen if that was stretched too far...As for the mention of 3.15, I think that all of them to some extent are carrying around unresolved issues that could rear their heads at any point given the right circumstances. The key here will be how they finally resolve them in the end...
DWBBFan: Thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic. I can say that there will be some different perspectives yet in future chapters.
Bbdarknyss: Yes, Booth can certainly be an idjit at times...as they all are to some extent...:)
Peanutmeg: Thanks for the review. Yeah, nothing is going to come easily in this fic, as you will see in the next chapter after this one...I hope you enjoy this update though
Rogue Soul Alchemist: Thank you...I can say that the others will find out eventually...but what happens after that...we will see...
The Break in the Ties—Chapter 10
Sweets sat in a chair across from a tall, barrel-chested man with salt and pepper hair, who was sitting behind a desk. The psychologist wished he could think of something to say, but his mind was drawing a blank.
The previous day, Sweets' doctor had had him come in to go over the results of the ultrasound. Unfortunately, the news had not been good.
"There was a shadow on your sonogram which does have me concerned. Therefore, I called in a favor and I'm going to refer you to an oncologist, Doctor Orson Kempton. I can assure you that you will be in good hands with him. Doctor Kempton is considered to be one of the leading oncologists in this country, if not the world. I have already sent your information to him and we can arrange an appointment with him while you are here."
Sweets and his doctor had managed to set up an appointment for the next day, and the psychologist had let Warner know that he would in late coming into work that day. Sweets had hoped that Daisy could come with him, but she ended up needed time to work on her dissertation before her latest shift at the lab began in two days.
All of this led to this moment with Kempton glancing at his files and at him. Kempton had introduced himself and invited Sweets to sit down, but now Sweets was at a loss to find anything to ask him. After he was done glancing through the therapist's files, Kempton studied him for a couple minutes before finally speaking again.
"Doctor Sweets, I have gone over the test results and the sonogram that your doctor sent me," he said. "I concur with his assessment that, while it is not conclusive, the signs do point to pancreatic cancer. I would like to perform another ultrasound, but this time it will be more invasive and will involve getting a biopsy of the area where the shadow was on your sonogram. You will be put under, but it is performed on an outpatient basis. You'll be able to go home in a couple of hours."
"Ok," Sweets nodded dully. Kempton tilted his head at his tone.
"Is there something on your mind?" the oncologist asked. "Perhaps you have some questions for me about the procedure or my diagnosis?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Sweets replied. "I am sure you know what you are doing. My doctor said that you are one of the best in your field, and I trust his judgment." Kempton nodded and leaned back in his chair.
"Doctor Sweets, I believe that it is important for the two of us to understand each other since your treatment will have to be a cooperative effort between us," he said. "If I might ask, what are you a doctor of?"
Unsure of this line of questioning, Sweets immediately felt tense.
"I have doctorates in clinical psychology and behavioral analysis," Sweets answered blandly, his voice tightly controlled.
"I see," Kempton said. "And you accomplished all that by the age of twenty-five?"
"Actually, I accomplished it by the time I was twenty," Sweets said, his defenses rising. "I spent time in England working on a project for my Rhodes and Fulbright scholarships and have been working for the FBI for over three years now."
"Impressive," Kempton said. The oncologist then noted the challenge in Sweets' eyes and smiled in response.
"Forgive me, I hope that you did not take my questions as an attempt to belittle you or cast doubt on your credentials," he added. "The fact is, I knew a man like you when I was in medical school years ago. He was also a young genius who completed his schooling long before I and most of my classmates did. Last I heard, he was involved in research with viral diseases. So please, do not feel as if you need to prove yourself to me. I simply wanted to learn a little more about you as a person and not just as my patient."
Sweets blushed and slumped down in his chair, ashamed at his misguided reaction to the doctor's inquiries.
"It's all right," the psychologist mumbled, unable to look him in the eye at this point.
"Psychology," Kempton said. "Well Doctor Sweets, I can tell you that I am not the expert that you are, but I can say that I do have some acquaintance with your field. You see, there is actually quite of bit of psychology in my line of work."
Intrigued, Sweets finally looked back up at him, and Kempton gave him an encouraging grin in response.
"I think you can imagine the issues my patients face when coming to me for treatment," the oncologist continued. "Of all the diagnoses a patient can hear from their doctor, cancer is the one that truly embodies fear and uncertainty. To say that it has an effect on a person's mental state is a vast understatement."
"That's true," Sweets nodded. "Most people have heard about the effects of cancer and the treatments for it. Many others have some first-hand knowledge of it either through their own experiences or by seeing someone they know develop it."
"Exactly," Kempton replied. "Generally, when people walk into my office, they are already grappling with their own questions, fears and concerns and many of them are already starting to confront a very real reminder of their own mortality. All of that is a heavy burden to bear….and all of this is before they know more about their diagnosis and path of treatment."
Kempton stood up and moved to sit down in a chair next to Sweets. He leaned forward and laced his fingers together. The psychologist looked over at him. Some of Sweets' tension had eased, but there was still a tight feeling in his chest and stomach.
"Once again, I hope that you do not take offense," Kempton said. "But someone within your field…I am certain that you are familiar with the need for a positive, proactive mindset while undergoing treatment for cancer. I know that any attempt to frame your situation into a less threatening perspective would be transparent, so I am not going to go that route. But, I also suspect that your work might make you a bit more prone to be…introspective in regard to your own thoughts and feelings. You may end up analyzing yourself to some extent."
Kempton leaned even closer to Sweets, making sure to look the therapist in the eye.
"What I am asking from you, Doctor Sweets, is to not give in to the temptation to retreat too far into your own mind," the oncologist said. "I need for you to keep me informed as to your overall health and to let me know as soon as possible about any issues you are encountering. As others have told you, I am an expert in my field, and I can tell you that no case is cut and dried from day one. So I ask that you remember that when thinking about what you may have read or learned about cancer and its treatments. I need you to remember that you are a unique person and that neither of us can approach this with preconceived ideas about what will or won't happen."
The oncologist sat back in his chair and placed his hands on his knees.
"In fact, I ask that you use the talents you have developed to assist me in your treatment," he added. "I think it should be said that whatever you are feeling, be it fear, anger, sadness or confusion, is perfectly normal. I know that it's highly likely that you already know this, but I believe that vocalizing such things is important to everyone, even those trained to know this ahead of time. And let me assure you that, however these tests turn out, I am completely committed to your case. I promise to work as hard as possible in your treatment."
Sweets struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat. He understood what Kempton was telling him and appreciated the approach that the oncologist was taking and the dedication he was showing. Still, he couldn't deny that all of those feelings that Kempton had mentioned were currently swirling about inside him.
"Thank you," Sweets said. "For your candor and for…everything you are doing."
"You're welcome," Kempton said, rising to his feet. He then walked back over to his desk and pulled out a large appointment book.
"Now, let's get your appointment set up for your next ultrasound," Kempton said. "The sooner we know what we are dealing with, the better it will be."
Sweets nodded and then the two of them worked out a date for him to return for this next test. For the first time since this whole thing began, Sweets felt some tinges of hope: hope that this could end up being nothing serious, hope that he could be treated.
Hope that he might come through this with his mind and body intact.
After he was finished with his consultation with Kempton, Sweets went over to the Hoover Building for another uneventful day of work. He left late in the evening and went home to find Daisy preparing another "cancer-fighting" meal for him. Sweets continued to appreciate her efforts, even though it was creating some odd food combinations.
The psychologist remained quiet during the meal as Daisy told him about her day, only speaking when she pressed him about his meeting with Kempton. She listened with interest as he told her about their talk and by the end of it; she was nodding her head in approval.
"I have been doing a lot of reading and research in between time spent on my dissertation," Daisy said. "Doctor Kempton's name came up in more than one respected journal of cancer studies, and he had written some very informative papers on various types of lymphomas. I am glad that you are seeing him."
The two of them finished their meal and cleared the dishes away. Daisy then started to make suggestions about how to unwind, but Sweets shrugged them off.
"I'm sorry, Daisy," he said. "I just…I'm really tired. I think I'll just go to bed."
The therapist then went to the bathroom for a few moments to prepare for bed before heading off to his bedroom to change into his night clothes. Seconds after he had settled into bed, turned off the light, and pulled the covers over him, he heard Daisy enter the room and sit down on the bed beside him.
She didn't say anything, and Sweets closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt her run her fingers through his hair. Sweets breathed deeply, the gesture soothing him. Suddenly, she stopped, and he heard the sound of clothing being removed. He then felt her hands along his torso as she pulled the tee shirt he was wearing off of him.
Sweets groaned and turned over onto his stomach, his face buried into his pillow. He couldn't deny that Daisy's touch was inviting, but he still was not in the mood to engage in more intimate activity. His current relaxed state was not enough to erase all of anxiety in his mind over his potential illness or the ache of loneliness he felt in his heart due to the fractured state of his relationships with his closest friends.
His exposed skin was chilled and Sweets tried to pull his blankets over his bare back, but Daisy yanked them away. He opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by the warmth of her body as she draped herself against him, her breath tickling the back of his neck. Seconds later, he felt her lips press onto his shoulder blades…right onto his scars.
Sweets shuddered even as he welcomed the sensation. Normally, he dreaded the idea of anyone looking at his scars and hated the idea of someone touching them even more. Other women he had been in a relationship with usually avoided the scar tissue on his back, only briefly touching it in the throes of lovemaking.
But Daisy took an entirely different approach. She never seemed uncomfortable with the presence of his scars, only saddened that they existed. Eventually, Sweets told her more about how he had gotten them, but she still never showed any unease about them whenever her hands caressed his shoulders and back, and Sweets had been grateful for that.
Then one night, things changed. Earlier that night, he had awoken with a cry from a nightmare from his childhood, and Daisy had been there to console him. He had been embarrassed that she had witnessed it, but she only responded by holding him and whispering comforting words into his ears.
"It's all right, baby," she said to him. "I'm here…and I'll take care of you."
She then started to do exactly what she was doing now: softly kissing his back, paying special attention to the scars there. At first, it had been awkward, and Sweets begged her to stop. He didn't want to think about her beautiful face and mouth coming into contact with his own ugliness. Daisy persisted, however, and soon Sweets understood that this was far more than just a physical display of affection: each kiss was a reassurance, each touch was an affirmation.
Kiss…'I love you.'….Kiss….'I accept you.'…
Kiss…'I am here for you'…..Kiss…'I want and need you'….
Sweets moaned again and arched his back slightly toward her. Then, just like now, these kisses were intoxicating and, despite his misgivings, he didn't want them to stop. Daisy responded by holding him even closer to her.
"Daisy," he breathed, lifting his head from his pillow.
"I'm here, Lancelot," she whispered in between kisses. "No matter how any of this turns out, I am here…And I love you."
Once he heard those words, Sweets could no longer resist her. He turned over and pulled her onto him, wrapping his arms around her as he did so. He then flipped Daisy over onto the bed so that he could be on top of her, his need plainly visible in his eyes and in the way that he touched her. All of the negative emotions that Sweets was carrying inside of him seemed to melt away for a while as he became lost in her.
He remained in this blissful state for hours until they were both completely sated and fell into an exhausted but peaceful slumber.