Quick note: All credit to Fox, Bones is not mine. Most of my stories are centered around Dr. Lance Sweets, I'm sorry, he's my favorite. This will be mostly about him, but not completely. Have fun reading, thanks! Review, Follow, Favorite, whatever you like!

Chapter 1-

Dr. Temperance Brennan's experienced hands flew over the x-rays, pointing many markers out to her young intern, Arastoo Vaziri. The remains before them were from 'limbo'. They were checking a few remodeled fractors on the left ulna. Cases had dried up recently, they hadn't had a murder to solve in nearly a week. Temperance let out a deep sigh, looking at her promising young intern. "Mr. Vaziri." She commanded his attention with her strong tone. "What do you think could cause injuries such as these?"

"Well, I see remodeling, and from the look of it the injury was obtained six years before death." He nodded, tracing a gentle finger across the bone. "It's a greenstick fracture." The intern said, turning his dark eyes to the pelvic bone he sighed. "A boy, judgin by the size, between 5 and 10."

"From your tone, I discern that this is displeasing." Dr. Brennan said, hiding her own sadness. Ever since Christine was born, she had found herself feeling deeper loss when the remains of a child arrived on her table.

"He was so young…" He chimed, staring at the bones. "Well, there are no obvious wounds, or anything pointing to foul play. Natural causes?"

"Yes." Brennan nodded, a small smile on her face. "By the density of these bones, and the other details we've discovered it's obvious that cause of death is-"

"Bones!" Came a thick, strong voice. "Bones? Bones, where are you!...Oh, Bones!" Booth announced, smiling like a child. He walked over to his partner, grinning. "We've caught a case!" He clapped, and the anthropologists face lit up.

"Let's go, Booth!" She smiled up at him. "Mr. Vaziri, can you gather these up and bring them back down to bone storage?" She asked, but Brennan was already heading out the door with the large agent. The intern nodded, his eyes still on the skull.

"Okay, so some nature lovers found the bones in the forest." Booth explained as he turned a corner, his voice giddy with excitement. "They were walking the trail when one saw this rare bird, or something and went running off. When they caught up with the ditcher, she'd found a pile of bones. The tech guys say it's literally a pile of bones!"

"Sounds peculiar." Brennan nodded, watching him intently. "Though, not definitely murder."

"What do you mean, 'not definitely'?" Booth groaned. "How else do you explain a pile of bones, Bones?"

"Well, scavengers could have piled them up, or it could be a tribal ritual. Actually, there was an ancient tribe that-" But she halted her words when Booth parked the car.

"Yeah, that's great Bones." He smiled, unbuckling his seat belt. They both slid from the car, and Brennan snapped on latex gloves. FBI techs swarmed the area, slowly the partners made their way through the area to find Cam standing over a pile of bones. The largest of the 206 bones on the bottom, slowly moving up to a skull balancing precariously on a femur that was stabbed into the ground.

"I must admit, this doesn't appear accidental." Brennan sighed, shuffling to the bones. She bent over them, gliding a hand over the rib cage on the bottom. "Definitely murder." She nodded, pointing her finger to the two bullets lodged in the fourth left rib. Nodding slowly, Agent Booth scribbled away in his notepad. A few FBI techs wandered over, taking closer photos of the rib cage.

Cam, Brennan, and Arastoo buzzed around the bones as Angela sketched off to the side. Hodgins was analyzing particulates in his office, and Booth was shouting into his cell phone. The team was working the way it should, perfect chaos. Booth was groaning into the receiver of his phone, telling Caroline they hadn't identified the remains yet, and she was shouting back. Angela was laughing as she made a base for the facial reconstruction. "Brennan, sweetie, are you done with his head?" The artist asked, her voice light and sweet.

"Yes, Angela, you can take the skull." Brennan said, waving her hand at the skull. Angela nodded, picking the skull up. Dentals had come up empty, and the team was running out of patience. The woman carried the skull gingerly, finally setting it in her office.

"Well okay, Brennans says your early to mid thirties, caucasian-latino racial mix." Angela smiled, brushing her fingers along the skulls forehead. "I bet you were rocking facial hair. Okay..mhm, here we go. There, now I've got your eye shape down. What'd ya think?" She grinned at the skull, feeling a little ridiculous talking to it. Soon she worked over the reconstruction. Before her was the face of a well built man. Square jawed, with eyes a little too far apart, a 5 o'clock shadow on his chin. He gave a stern look, with strong, squinty chocolate eyes, and a small smirk. Soon she ran it through the data base, and got a hit on missing persons.

"Angela, get a hit?" Cam asked as Angela rushed onto the platform, giving a file to Booth. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, pulling a face up on the screen.

"One Mr. Daniel Medina, age 33. He lives in Leesburg, Virginia with his wife, Maria Medina. No kids, and he works as an accountant for Kingston and Co." Booth skimmed over the file, reading it out for the others. "All around good guy, volunteers during his vacation time even. Doesn't seem like a cult crime kind of target."

"You couldn't possibly know that from reading a file. There is also no evidence of a cult crimes on the remains yet!" Brennan sighed, looking over the bones. She was about to go on, but then she remembered Booths ability to read people and understand them was one of the reasons she cared so deeply for him.

"Well, Bones, how else could you explain how we found the victim...wait, no. Don't answer that!" Booth waved his hand at her, taking a deep breath he continued."I called Sweets, he said he'd work up a profile. I'll see how he's doin on it." Booth smiled, walking off to call the Psychologist. "Sweets, yeah...Hey, did you get a chance to work on that profile?...What do you mean, 'what profile?!'...C'mon Sweets...yeah, yeah I know you're sorry….Just get working on it!" The agent groaned, shaking his head. The man was still so young, and flakey. He was a smart kid, Booth knew, but he just acted so immature sometimes. Booth said a quick goodbye to his partner, and headed out of the lab and towards the Hoover building.

A half hour passed, then an hour and soon Booth was walking back and forth in his office. He had spoken to half an hour ago, and had gotten no leads. The victims wife was clearly upset, but not surprised. Thinking back over their conversation, Booth shook his head and plopped into his chair.

"Dead?" Maria sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"Yes." Booth spoke softly, giving her a moment. "You don't seem surprised, Mrs. Medina."

"I'm not.." She gasped out, her body shaking with tears. "I knew something horrible had happened, or he would have been home."

Booth understood, many family members just know when a loved one is gone. He'd asked her the usual questions: Did he have any enemies, recent arguments, problems. She'd said no, over and over. He was supposed to talk with Daniel's boss the following day, and now he was stuck, waiting for Sweets' profile. Collapsing in his chair, the agent felt a new rush of annoyance hit. The psychologist hadn't been around much, burying himself in work. He'd been working a case this last week, while the Jeffersonian team waited for some bones. Sweets kept himself busy, and Booth hadn't seen him in two weeks. His first case with the young man in a week, and he just forgot? Booth growled to himself, clicking a pen in his hand. Soon he heard a light knock on his office door. "It's open!" He shouted, hoping his voice would make it through the thick door.

"Agent Booth." Came Sweets' cheerful voice. "I have your profile, though I'm sorry to say it's not my best work." He sighed as the agent turned to him. The psychologist tossed a file to Booth, giving a nod he turned to leave.

"Why do you think that?" Booth asked half-heartedly while flipping through the profile.

"Ah, I just haven't been able to organize my thoughts." Sweets explained with a shrug, Booth looked up, interested now. He nodded, feeling like the psychologist had more to say. "It's nothing to worry about, I'm fine."

"You're probably over tired." The agent offered, getting a skeptical nod from the man.

"Yeah, wish I could get some sleep." Lance sighed, turning towards the door. A sudden wave of nausea took him over, and he reached his arm out. Propping himself against the wall, Sweets held his breath until the vile in his throat went down.

"Woah, you okay Sweets?" Booth had jumped from his chair, already with a hand on the young mans shoulder. Sweets nodded, pushing himself up to stand. "What do you mean, 'wish you could'? You don't have to work this case if you have to much work.."

"No, no no no. It's not work, I just can't seem to fall asleep." Lance laughed, smiling at the agent.

"Oh, well I hope you feel better." Booth eyed the man suspiciously, but Sweets pretended not to notice. Soon the psychologist was out the door, and Booth was left with his worry. He sat in his chair, going over everything Sweets had said, his big brother concerns taking over. Soon another knock was at his door, but they didn't wait for an invitation. Then, Brennan walked in, bouncing Christine in her arms.

"Say 'hi' to your father, Christine." Brennan smiled to her baby, and Booth stood up.

"Hi Christine." He cooed, pulling Brennan to him for a kiss. "Hey Bones." He whispered when they broke apart, giving her a sly smile. "Lets get out of here." Booth grinned, pulling his jacket on. Brennan nodded, and they headed out of the office. When they passed the coffee maker, Booth saw Sweets. Christine started bouncing and giggling, waving her chubby hands at him. Sweets waved back, making a silly face at the baby who started laughing crazily.

"Dr. Sweets!" Brennan announced, turning towards him. Sweets jumped at the sound of her voice, spilling scalding coffee over his hand. The psychologist jumped backwards, waving his hand in the air as the dark liquid flooded onto the floor.

"Awh man!" Sweets growled, looking at the mess. "I'm sorry about that, I'm just so nervous lately, it makes me jumpy." He held his burnt hand to his chest, smiling at the bewildered couple staring at him.

"Woah, Sweets, are you sure you're alright?" Booth was still staring at the pool of coffee on the floor, and Christine was reaching for Sweets to hug her. He smiled at the baby as he peeled of his jacket, the sleeve wet with coffee, and rolled up his right sleeve which was also damp. Brennan held the small child out to him, and Sweets took the baby with his left arm, hanging the right one at his soon noticed the bandage wrapped around Lance's wrist, going nearly to his elbow. "What happened to you?" Booth gasped, staring at the professionally wrapped bandage on his arm.

"Oh, that?" Sweets laughed, bouncing the baby at his side. "I just fell."

"On what, a knife?" Booth countered, staring down the young man.

"It's much more likely he scraped himself when he fell." Brennan offered, and Sweets nodded in agreement. Sticking his tongue out at Christine, she began giggling insanly. Lance plopped the baby in her fathers arms.

"I have to get back to work." The psychologist said, turning back towards his office.

"Work? It's nearly 10:30 at night!" Booth moaned. "Go home, get some sleep. You look like you haven't hit the hay in days!"

"Well, I haven't." Sweets admitted, earning himself a worried stare from the partners. He hadn't slept in nearly 3 days, and he felt like puking when ever he ate. He'd lost two pounds in a week, and he knew it showed. Whenever he did slip into slumber, he would awaken every few hours, unable to fall asleep for at least 20 minutes. He'd been stumbling, and falling all week, and he couldn't see straight sometimes. Lance was worried about his health, but he wasn't going to push it. Everything made him nervous, and his emotions would cascade over him in swings from sad to angry with no warning. Headaches tortured his days, but nervous sweats and waves of emotions haunted his nights. "Don't worry about me, just go home." He sighed, waving his hand to make them leave. Soon he felt himself getting upset at them for not leaving, the annoyance evident in his tone.

"Okay, if you want us to go, fine." Booth complied, slipping his arm around Brennans waist. "Come to the lab tomorrow, some files I need you to see are there." Sweets nodded as the trio made their way to the elevator. Christine reached over her fathers shoulder, waving a chubby hand at Sweets. He waved a finger back at her and snatched his jacket up. A wave of unexplainable anger washed over him as he stomped towards his office. Lance pressed away the rising memories of the past week, ignoring all his fears.

'Useless. All you do is study what you think people feel, Dr. Sweets. Do you really know anything?' The heinous voice breaking his barrier. Sweets shook his head, pushing it all away, there wasn't time. He was prepared to work himself to the bone to help Booth, he owed those partners so much.

And, Bam. Next chapter coming soon!