okay second try at a Bones ficcy, un-beta'd etc. i think i captured the whole feel of a real episode in this one, and this will be an episodic story, so stay tuned. tell me watcha think. It's really hard to write scientific jargon! like, uber hard! lol. XOXO my reviewers! BB FOREVERZ!

"I know that look. What now." Brennan commented dryly as she put a set of bones back in their plastic Limbo container.

It had been fairly quiet at the Jeffersonian the past week, and she knew it could only be a matter of time before another case came in.

This one, going by Booth's grave face seemed to be a doozy.

"two bodies found not far from here, up in the old shut down Sewers by the power plant. I already had the team bring them in…they were found last night around 2 in the morning. Some homeless guy found 'em."

"Okay…Booth, why didn't you call and tell me?"

Booth gave her a sarcastic glance. "Because I figured you'd be doing what most humans do at 2 o'clock in the morning, Bones and I didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep."

"Sleep has nothing to do with maintaining beauty although it does decrease the appearance of unsightly bags under the eyes and the development of stress."

"Whatever, I was being considerate in having the guys bring it in and telling you in the morning. Speaking of, what time is it?"

"9:12."

"Thanks. Time for my coffee, going by how much you're annoying me right now."

"I wouldn't have minded, you know."

"Well, now I know that next time I get an irritating case call in the middle of the night, Bones, you're the first I notify."

"Good."

Booth stalked off with a backward glance over his shoulder. Brennan returned to classifying past case files in her computer memory, and no doubt looking into the status of the bodies that had been recently brought in.

He sighed. He hadn't had the heart to tell her they were the bodies of what seemed to be a woman and a young boy.

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"Estimated Time of death?"

"Approximately 28 days ago to little over a month, Dr. Brennan."

"Cause of Death?"

"Seems to have been a bullet wound to the neck, note the serrations on the chipped C5 vertebrae, although there are odd grooves in the neck bones that could have been caused by a kitchen knife or some other smooth instrument."

"Status of those grooves?"

"Well going by the evenness and symmetry, I'd have to conclude they were created post-mortem. No one could be so accurate with a thrashing victim."

"Both sets have these serrations and the bullet wound?"

"Funny thing, the boy seems to show signs of being shot, but no grooves are present."

"Hm. Whoever did this must have not had the heart to decapitate a child…"

"Perhaps…"

"Good analysis. What's your name again?"

"Vincent Juarez, Dr. Brennan, 3rd year anthropology student."

"Well done." Brennan awkwardly patted the young man on the back and started back towards her office. Hodgins came up to her holding what was evidently his findings on the bodies. His face was lit up with pride. Evidently something good then. She stopped.

"Got something good then?" she asked.

"More then good. I tested the soil found in the cuffs of the boys jeans. It matches a fertilizer used in certain school gardens to help decrease the amount of pollen-based asthma attacks in some of their students. I have the full list of all the schools right here."

Brennan peered at the list. "Small list. There's only three names on here."

"They're all top of the line city schools. Pre-Kindergarten for the gentry you might say."

"Hmm. I guess we'll run a trace on any missing children on the school rosters. Should come up with something."

"Already done. There's only one case. And it's as old as the bodies are."

Brennan smiled at her comrade squint-at-arms. Always two steps ahead, that was Hodgins.

"The boy might be a certain Christopher Beucanon, son to Anthony and Serena Beucanon. Mr. Beucanon's the one who filed the missing persons report on both his wife and son."

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"It's been a month…God…She went out with Chris to get icecream…he'd had a good day at school, the first one in a long time…You see, my son had ADHD, he always had a hard time at school…that's why we sent him to St. Constance. We thought they'd help him there. Dead…I can't…" the man dissolved into tears, crying heavily into an expensive monogrammed handkerchief. The penthouse apartment Booth and Brennan were standing in rivaled even Brennan's luxurious flat.

"We're sorry for your loss, Mr. Beucanon. Our job now is to find out who did this to your family." Brennan put a hand on the man's shoulder, despite past knowledge that told her to be wary of the action. Booth tensed. But the man only nodded, sniffling back into his hanky.

"Thank you so much Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth…I just…I need peace of mind now, if I can't have them back…Oh, Serena…Chris…do excuse me…" he walked out of the foyer and into the bedroom, most likely to try and get a grip. Brennan sat down on a leather ottoman while Booth stood next to her, taking in the apartment.

"Why is it that cases with kids always make me feel so uneasy…" Booth murmured, his eyes going over the big screen TV a bit enviously, and then the African sculptures and paintings that covered the walls.

"It's a common response to feel on edge. I mean, children are depicted to be the model of innocence, pure conscious, pure intention. If they aren't safe from being murdered then none of us are." Brennan looked up at Booth who met her glance, sadness in his eyes.

"It's just…I don't know. This sort of stuff makes me want to see Parker…extremely badly. Just hug him and enjoy his life. Cuz, well…I don't know what I'd do if I was in that guys shoes. I'd shoot myself most likely. Losing my kid? No thanks."

"And your wife."

"Yeah, her too." Booth said it flippantly, but then he looked back down at Brennan, something unreadable in his gaze. She stared baldly back.

"Her too. Most…her too…" he trailed off.

"I'm so sorry, I just had to get myself together a moment." Mr. Beucanon reemerged from the bedroom, his face red with tears but evidently tear free-for now.

"Mr. Beucanon is there anyone who would want to harm your wife and son, any enemies or rivals?" Booth cut right to the chase once he'd been shaken out of his reverie.

"none. Everyone's very civil and kind at my job. I'm a paper pusher over at a big deal company in the city. Make a reasonable salary, but nothing outrageous to cause jealousy. I-wait."

"There was somebody?" Brennan asked.

"Maybe…but no…it's been 5 years."

"Who was it, Mr. Beucanon?" Booth was studying the man closely.

"before Chris was born…Serena she-she was having an affair with this blue collar guy, named Frank DeSanza. Met him at her job at the law firm…for so long I trusted that she'd ended it…but then when she told me the baby might not be mine…" he trailed off, his right hand making a fist. Booth and Brennan shared a quick look.

"We did a paternity test before Chris was born…I was so relieved…But Frank, the idiot refused to believe the results. He said we'd paid off the doctors, gotten a false positive somehow to cheat him out of the money he would have gotten as compensation to keep quiet. He bothered Serena for months after, until Chris was nearly three. Then he moved I think, and we never heard from him again."

He sighed.

"Frank's the only one I can think of who might have done this to Serena and Chris. The only one…"

Booth patted Brennan's back and she got up off the ottoman. "Well we'll look into this Frank DeSanza, for you, see if he knows anything. Again, my condolences."

And the two left.

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"Anything on this DeSanza guy?"

"Not much so far, besides he's 5'11 and lives in Ontario, Canada."

"Canada? That's a far stretch from here. Think he had something to hide?"

"Most likely. Files say he's currently working for a power plant up there. Bottom dollar. Only reason a guy'd settle for such cheap conditions is a cheap hidey hole."

"Nice graphic, Bones."

"Thanks."

"So, we're going to have to go aalllll the way up there to question the guy?"

"Looks like it."

"Juuust great."

"Although there is another alternative. I had Vincent run a trace on similar cases, and there was a very odd pattern."

"Odd? How? And ahhh the intern trying to brown-nose the Bones. Hahaaa. Nice."

"He is not trying to brown nose, he's doing his job, Booth and very well. Anyway. The pattern is that the deaths of mothers and their children have been recorded across the country. It's always the same MO, one female and one young male child around the ages of 3 and 9. But get this."

She pulled out a case file and flipped to a list. "Notice anything strange?"

Booth peered at it in a very squint-like way. Brennan smiled as she watched him.

"Nope…nothing-hold on a second…first one on this list's an Abigail George…the next one's Brenda Albenn…next one's Christine Jordan…next Dorinda…they're in alphabetical order!"

"Yes. Apparently it's only the mother's first names. The children's names have seemingly no correlation."

"All those kids and women…god, Bones do you think we're dealing with an alphabet serial killer?"

"That, or some sore ex lover in Canada."

Booth rolled his eyes. "So…he stopped at Serena Beucanon…S…so the next one is T then, right?"

"Bingo! Looks like you know your letters." Brennan stifled a giggle but a slight snort still came out in the end.

"Very funny, ha ha. Well, I'm just glad you don't have any 3 to 9 year olds running about or he might be after you next, Tempy."

"Now THAT wasn't funny."

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