"You owe Booth an apology," Angela said to Sweets.
"They found her?" Cam asked, breaking out into a smile. "How is she?"
"Pretty much as Booth said she would be. Broken right leg, and a cut over her forehead. They are driving her to the hospital."
Sweets ran his hand through his hair. He'd canceled his dinner with Daisy, choosing instead to wait at the Jeffersonian. "So she really plunged off the side of a cliff?"
"Yes, she really fell," Angela answered.
"Damn," he muttered. Sweets wondered if he could write a paper on this, or if he could somehow include it in his book. Of course, getting the two people involved to talk about what happened would be almost impossible.
"I don't think Booth or Dr. Brennan would be pleased to know you were thinking about them like bugs in an experiment," Cam admonished him.
Cam wondered what nerve she had hit when the blood drained from Sweets' face. "How do you…what do you think?" he stuttered, trying to understand. He ran his hands through his hair again and tried to put it into words. "How is this even possible?" he finally asked.
Angela looked at him closely. "Are you looking for some sort of - explanation - for what happened?"
"Well, aren't you?" Sweets cried. "I don't understand how you can be so calm about this. He had visions of Dr. Brennan that were better than close. They were perfect. No psychic can claim that."
Angela laughed. "He's not psychic, Sweets. And I don't have the word doctor in front of my last name. I don't need explanations, or reasons, or words with fancy endings. I believe in magic, and faith, and miracles."
"Is that was this was?" he demanded. "Magic or some sort of miracle?"
Angela shrugged. "Does it matter what you call it? Booth found Brennan. Why isn't that enough for you? Not everything can be quantified or tied up in a neat little string with pretty words. Sometimes, no explanation has to be enough."