"It's impossible." Special Agent Seeley Booth growled. He swept the beam of his flashlight around the scene. The door was ajar, the lock opened and glowing green, throwing dim shadows across the room. The whole room was spotless. Zack would never be caught.

"Bones, have you found anything?" he asked, keeping a hand on his Sig Sauer the entire time. The cold metal cooled his sweaty hand, sending lines of cool through his veins.

Dr. Temperance 'Bones' Brennan, his wife and the best forensic anthropologist in the world turned around. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a pony tail, showing the fresh coat of pain on her face. "Nothing yet," her voice cracked, and she whiped her head down quickly to hide her face.

Booth felt sadness pour into his heart. Zack Addy, the young man who had escaped from this mental hospital had been an intern and doctor for many years at the Jeffersonian, the forensic institute where Bones worked, and had been a reliable person, even though he had a hard time making social relationships. And yet, he was an apprentice of the most infamous serial killer in the history of the Jeffersonian, the Gormogon, who ate his victims, and then left bloody clues everywhere. His hands had been destroyed in an explosion he had created in the lab to help the Gormogon, and then been prosecuted and placed in the mental hospital.

And now, the brilliant Dr. Zack Addy had escaped, and old wounds were opening.

In the corner, Jack Hodgins, was inspecting the walls, not showing his face, his curly hair slick with sweat, and his shoulders slumped.

"Have you found any evidence?" questioned Booth, checking his watch. 2300 hrs.

"Nothing." Hodgins measured the length of the walls, and recorded them on slate of paper. "There's absolutely, no evidence."

"Impossible," muttered Booth. He shifted forward, and grabbed Hodgins arm. He felt hard sinews flex beneath Hodgins's arm. "Give me the microscope,"

Anger flared in Hodgins's eyes. "You think I would deliberately miss evidence to save my friends ass?"

"No," admitted Booth. "But I know that if you go into a case loving a person as much as you love Zack, it's hard to concentrate. I know a lot about that type of stuff."

Hodgins ripped his arm free, his muscles clenched, and his face red with fury. "The hell do you know about forensics?"

"Dr. Hodgins," Temperance Brennan's voice held a cold, searing edge. "Why don't you let some of the agents handle the evidence?" Her question hung in the air like a tantalizing smell. She gestured to a glass jar next to her that refracted light all over the room. Inside were a few multicolored sparks. "I want you to identify the particulates inside this jar. I think it's an alloy of carbon and iron."

Hodgins's hooded eyes examined the jar with cold efficiency. "Yes, Dr. B." He accepted. He picked up the jar with latex gloves and left the room.

"Enough with this!" Booth shouted. The FBI agents around the room froze, eyes flicking up from their work, latex squealing.

"We have a serial killer on the loose, and we're not dealing with him! I don't give a rats ass about Dr. Addy, I just want Pelant dead. Everyone clean up. We're going back."

"But, no!" Bones slapped her latex gloves on the ground. "Booth, that's irrational! Leaving a crime like this unsolved, would be, more than a mistake, it would be a catastrophe! The Jeffersonian would be disgraced!"

"Also, Zack could help us find Pelant!" Hodgins stated flatly. "All of your new interns are inefficient and have 'tude, Dr. B."

"They do not!" Brennan shot back, her icy blue eyes on fire.

" I find it interesting that Dr. Brennan continuously uses redirected aggression to deal with the pain of losing a loved one," Dr. Lance Sweets commented.

Booth stepped in, his dark eyebrows pulled together. "Come on. We need to get back to the Jeffersonian."