My first seemingly plotless piece. To be updated every or every other day. I hope you like it. I own nothing. -JF

Day 3

"Perhaps, if you feel you need a change, if you feel that will help, I can file for a different—"

"It's not about another shrink," Brennan interrupted stoically. "It's not about another compromise."

"Then why are you here?" Sweets asked her, searching her face for some kind of indicator.

She was completely unreadable. She sat with her hands in her lap, her legs crossed, her back straight as it always was. She always carried herself well. Even when she was delivering unbelievable news. "I thought it would be considerate to tell you."

Sweets shook his head, unable to comprehend what she was telling him. "When was this decision reached?"


"And you and Agent Booth came to this conclusion together?"

"We agree, yes."

"That wasn't my question, Doctor Brennan," Sweets half-chastised.

"I hate psychology."

"And yet, here you are." Sweets leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees. "Doctor Brennan, I believe you're making a huge mistake."

"No one asked you," she said matter-of-factly. "What you think doesn't hold weight anymore, Doctor Sweets. You can't hold splitting us up over our heads anymore."

"You will both be very unhappy."

"It doesn't matter," she quickly retorted.

Sweets knew he couldn't outwardly analyze her. It would just make her angry, and it wouldn't get them anywhere. He tried very hard not to be the psychologist, but rather the friend. The friend who knew this was a horrible idea. "Since when does your happiness not matter?" he asked quietly, softly.

"It's not a relevant factor."

"I can't see that."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Doctor Sweets. The way you look at the world is far too soft. You've had the wrong idea about me and Booth since the beginning."

Sweets shook his head again. "I don't understand, Doctor Brennan. Your and Agent Booth's partnership has thrived for years. And my so-called 'idea' about your partnership has changed as your relationship has changed. Which is bound to happen. How have I been wrong?"

"The first time we met you, you said that we complement each other."

"You do," Sweets said, acknowledging this as a given. "You always have."

Brennan stood up and turned for the door. "And that's where you've always been wrong," she said with her back to him. And then she left.


The difference between Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan was never more painfully obvious than when Booth sat in the chair Brennan had occupied only a few hours before. His knees bounced up and down with impatience and his arms were folded across his chest. His face bore the clear message of "back off". Unlike Doctor Brennan, he was very easy to read.

He was in pain.

"I don't get why I'm here," Booth said in a gruff voice.

"While you and Doctor Brennan have tried the 'I don't see the problem' excuse many times before, Agent Booth, I don't believe you this time. You know exactly why you're here."

"Doctor Brennan came and talked to you," Booth said with a sigh, though he didn't seem resentful.

But Sweets was taken aback. "'Doctor Brennan'?" he repeated.

Booth raised his eyebrows. "What? That is her name, isn't it?" He was looking at Sweets like he was a complete idiot.

Sweets very badly wanted to analyze the usage of Doctor Brennan's given name and nickname aloud for Booth's benefit, and explain to him what this suggested, though the meaning was obvious. But he wasn't here to talk psychobabble with Booth. He was here to save them.

"Yes, she came in a few hours ago."

"…and? Why am I here?"

"Because I believe you're making a huge mistake," Sweets said for the second time that day.

"Yeah, well, nobody asked you."

"Look, Agent Booth, it's not officially my business anymore—"

"—And it wouldn't be anyway—"

"—but I believe very strongly that both you and Doctor Brennan will be extremely unhappy if you go through with this. It's a mistake."

Booth looked at him for a silent moment, and Sweets began to think maybe something was sinking in.

"…are you done now? Can I go?" Booth asked rudely, gesturing to the door behind him, crushing Sweets' hopes of getting through his stubborn exterior. "Or do you have more judging of other people's lives to do?"

"I'm not judging, Agent Booth. I'm concerned," Sweets emphasized. "I'm concerned because I have absolutely no idea what is going on between the two of you."

"And you know why you don't know?" Booth asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Because it's none of your business. Not anymore."

Unable to help it, Sweets slipped back into psychologist mode. "But there were absolutely no psychological indicators to suggest that there has been something wrong between the two of you. There was no unusual tension. There were no unresolved problems. You were just beginning to access the full potential of your partnership."

Booth stood up and turned for the door, just as Brennan had a few hours earlier. But then he turned around. "You know, Sweets, you're very good at what you do. I've learned to trust your expertise when it comes to catching murderers. But when it comes to me and Doctor Brennan," he said with another sigh, "you've never really been right."

"How?" Sweets asked. Again. But the answer he got this time was very different.

"I loved her, Sweets," he said, as though it were a simple fact Sweets had merely been overlooking.

"Then why are you doing this?" he asked immediately, though he was shocked by the confession and the use of past tense and a million other things.

Booth took a moment before answering. Sweets guessed he had been asking himself the same exact question. "Because it's all I can do."

"Did you tell her how you feel, Agent Booth?"

"Why else do you think this is happening?" Booth asked rhetorically, once again looking at Sweets like he was an idiot.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Booth asked, annoyed. He still stood, half turned towards the door.

"I just…I finally realized what's been going on," Sweets breathed, amazed he had missed it. He knew exactly what had happened.

"Good for you," Booth said, deadpan, as he turned fully to the door and left without a backwards glance.