What Goes Around

15. The Intervention

"Did he say why he wanted us to meet him? And why here?" Brennan asked Booth as he parked the SUV in front of the diner.

"He just asked if we could drop by, but it sounded important."

"Did you give him the crime scene photos? Maybe he got something off of them," she suggested.

Hodgins' wish for a dead body had been granted. A woman, early thirties, had been found, completely skinned, in a file cabinet of a dentist clinic. So far, they had identified her, but had found no connection to either of the two dentists or to any other employees.

"Maybe," he said, holding the restaurant door open for her. As soon as she past in front of him, he put his hand on her lower back, without thinking, and guided her –as if she needed help- to their table by the window, which Sweets had already high jacked.

"Hi, guys," he greeted them. "Thanks for meeting me."

Brennan smiled, Booth grunted, and they both sat down in front of him, next to each other.

"What was important enough to meet right away but not enough to meet in your office?" Booth asked, pretending to be more annoyed than he actually was.

Sweets took a deep breath to answer, but Brennan asked another question before he had a chance to.

"Did you find out something about the case?"

He turned to her.

"I didn't get a chance to look at the pictures, yet."

"Then what are we doing here?" Booth wondered.

"I thought you would be more receptive to what I have to say in a non-clinical environment."

Booth frowned. Brennan fidgeted. Sweets explained.

"Since you both seem to be comfortable here, I thought it would be an appropriate setting for a discussion."

"I thought we were done with the shrinking," Booth let out.

"You told the Director of the FBI we didn't need any more therapy. That we were fine," Brennan continued.

"Well, that was before."

"Before what?" the anthropologist asked, looking at Booth, afraid she already knew what this was about.

"Would you like a cup of coffee or..." Receptive, my eye. "No? OK."

Booth rolled his eyes and sank into his seat, hoping the doc would just get on with it so he and his partner could go back to their investigation. But Brennan saw the young man bring his shoulders back and put his shrink face on. Uh, oh !

"It is my understanding that..."

"I do would like some coffee!" Brennan interjected.

Sweets nodded with a smile. She was trying sidetrack him, to delay the inevitable. It didn't matter. They would have this conversation today if it killed him.

"I'll be right back, then," he let out before heading to the counter to find the waitress.

"What are you doing, Bones? You want this to take all day?" Booth whispered, leaning in, a hand on her forearm.

"He offered us coffee. I wanted some. That's all."

Sweets came back quickly. Booth took his hand off of Brennan's arm, but it didn't go unnoticed by the trained eye of the psychologist.

"Here you go," he said, slowly putting the cup in front of Brennan.

She whispered a thank you, hoping Booth would ask for pie. She really didn't want to hear what the therapist had to say.