Ok so here is another bit of the story, hope its worth reading let me know. Reviews are nice..well one hopes they will be. Either way thanks for reading.

I DON'T OWN BONES or any the rest of the characters.

The scream of police sirens filled Camille Sayroyans mind, the sound jolting her out of some less than pleasant dreams. She fumbled blindly, hand searching the nightstand for her cellphone. I really need to change that ringtone. Where the hell is my phone? At that moment Aristoos strong arm was across her chest, in his hand was the shrieking device, which he held in front of her face. Cam took the phone, accepted the call, thus ending the auditory assault. Aristoo turned away trying to resume his slumber, it was only 4:30 AM and he usually didn't wake so early. Cam quietly slipped out of bed and went to the livingroom. A body had been discovered. Time to go to work. Cam stealthily collected and donned her clothing. Kissing Aristoos cheek before leaving for the Jeffersonian.

Booth got up earlier than usual due to a restless night. He had given up trying to sleep, choosing instead to steal away to his study where he decided to take a look at Andrews scrapbook for himself. Flipping on the desk lamp, Booth saw the manilla folder Sweets had given him laying exactly where he had tossed it after reading the short, less than informative page inside. Underneath the folder was the scrapbook. Booth took it then turned off the lamp. The floorlamp beside his Lazy-Boy flashed to life as Booth eased into its well worn leather seat. He took a look at the book in his hand. It was a simple handmade affair. About forty pages of assorted types of paper sandwiched between two heavy weight sheets of cardboard. The pages were bound together by dental floss maybe? Then bound to the cover with glue and twine? Crafty Booth opened the book to reveal the pages devoid of photos that Bones had read to him on the ride back from the prison. A couple more pictureless pages a few more inscriptions. "Chessmaster in the making!" Booth turned another page this one still had its two photos intact. The one picture was a Polaroid with a very unimpressed, unhappy boy sitting on the lap on one of those cheezy mall Easter Bunnys. Booth agreed with the kid, that costume was just creepy. Below that one was a better quality photo, this time the same boy, but much happier, was sitting on the lap of a smiling woman who sat criss-cross on the floor. There was an Easter basket full of candy in front of the pair. The grinning child had a box containing a large chocolate rabbit clutched in his hands. "Our First Easter". First Christmas, first Easter, first family picnic, a lot of firsts, the implication was that there would be more, Andrews saw a future full of moments like these. So what changed? Or was this just a happy facade Andrews wanted to believe in? A few more pages, mostly clippings from various papers highlighting personal achevievment. Honors listings, graduation annoucements, scholarship recipients. In each one Lance Sweets name was highlighted. One even had a picture of what looked like a early teens Sweets holding some certificate, behind him beaming with pride was an older couple Booth could only assume were Sweets adoptive parents the Finnleys. More pages, more clippings but now they were about his time at the Bureau. APA Journal entries written by Sweets. One of the last pages had grainy printouts of candid photos taken from remote locations. Sweets getting into his little blue car, Sweets waiting to cross the city street looking at his phone,but the one that caught Booths attention was the one of jean jacket clad Sweets standing beside Booths own black Suburban outside the outreach center Sweets had volunteered. Standing in front of Sweets was Booth himself. How could this be in here, this was five months ago, Andrews has been in the medical facility for seven months. That lying son of a bitch...At that moment a dark shilouette appeared in the doorway, backlit by the hallways light. As she stepped into the room the lamps soft glow revealed Bones, in her dark blue satin pajama bottoms and one of Booths own white tanks, moving toward him. She held her cell phone in one hand and was massaging her aching temple with the other. The uneasy nights sleep had done little for the headache that had began the night before.

" Booth? I see you had troubles sleeping as well." Bones spied the journal on his lap. "Did you find anything helpful? she said attempting to stifle a yawn.

"I think so, Bones.", he opened the book to the page with the picture of him and Sweets."Bones this, this picture.." Booth tapped the picture excitedly."...was taken just five months ago. How did Andrews put it in here? He was transfered two months prior." The FBI agent was wide awake now. This was a lead. He wasn't sure to who or what ,but...he knew where.

"So back to the prison then?, Bones yawned again,as she sat on the corner of the small tired eyes ached. Booth watched his wife as she lifted both hands to rub at her temples again. That's when he noticed the cellphone still wedged in one hand.

"Hey Bones..did you get a call?" He asked, as he left the recliner to go behind his desk. After a moments search in the top drawer, he withdrew a white container of ibuprophin. Booth removed a couple of caplets then offered them to his reluctant spouse.

"Dr. Sayroyan called, a body was found in an condemned building set for demolition. She would like us to meet her at the scene as soon as possible." She stated flatly, then swallowed the pain meds. Normally, she would have opted for a more natural remedy to ease her pain. However, now faced with what promised to be a very busy day ahead she accepted the effectivity modern pharmaceuticals could provide. Booth sat back down, this time at his desk, and flipped the switch on the desklamp. Sliding Sweets summary aside he found the information Agent Shaw had gathered on recent releasees who could fit the profile of their child killer. Its was a longer list than Booth hoped but maybe it would be useful when he made his return visit to the prison to have another chat with William Boyd. But that would have to wait until later, there was a body. Time to go to work.

Alone...alone in the dark..alone and locked up...again. Tearful begging for forgivness had grown into frantic screams for freedom from the cramped confines of the closet...but screaming hurt..breathing hurt...everything hurt...Sweets sat up chest heaving so hard it ached, he fought off the bedding that had wrapped tightly around him while he wrestled with the nightmare. A chill cut through him, the cool air kissing sweat soaked skin. He was awake...again. Disgusted, he flung the cool damp sheet aside, as he slid one leg then the next off the bed. He could see the indigo glow of the alarm clock through the spaces between of his fingers that were currently rubbing the last remnants of sleep...and tears ...from his eyes.4PM Damn! Deciding a third try held no charm, Sweets pushed his tired frame onto its feet. Might as well get this day started.

The heat of the water spilling atop his head, across the web of scars, then sliding down his back did wonders against the chill, but little to ease the continued feeling of helplessness the nightmare had churned up. So he turned dial further into the red transforming the showers spray into super heated needles of pain that pushed away all other thoughts except the immediate physical sensation. Steam formed clouds that rolled away from the glass stall like the thunderhead of an impending storm. I have control over this. He let the heat build and pain build until it was all there was..no other thought. Breathing in the hot moist air until the lightheaded feeling of hypotension signaled time to adjust to cooler temps lest risk passing out all together. Feeling centered and in control, he twisted the dial closer to the blue which brought cooler water and a return to the more mundane purpose of the shower. Lathering up, rinsing off, then shutting off the shower, he stepped out of the glass cubicle and through a steamy haze. Rubbing the large charcoal hued towel over his head before wrapping it around his hips, the young man stood before the vanity mirror. Swiping his hand across the fogged up mirror revealed a slightly distorted look at his reflection, he ran his fingers along his jawline. After using a handtowel to dry the glass completely, Sweets continued his morning routine. Eventually he emerged clean shaven with minty fresh breath, and unruly curls tamed into submission. He took his time picking the suit and tie combination, he had plenty of time. After a few minutes thought he chose the trim fit, dark grey pinstripe, with the jewel tone blue shirt and for a bit of color the crimson tie with similar blue stripes. It was one of his most expensive looks, great quality fabrics and tailored to fit. He had a scheduale full of patient sessions today...no fieldwork. No risk to the nice threads. Dressed for the day ahead, he entered the kitchen, with all the extra time he could fix a pretty decent breakfast I did skip dinner last night., but settled instead for a cup or two of his perfect coffee and a bagel. He flipped on the the tv letting the sounds of the local weather and traffic reports fill the silence that was part of his solitary lifestyle. He thought back to his decision to move out of the house he had shared with two lovely roomates. A decision made the same moment he had decided to take a leave off from the Bureau. It had been so perfect.I miss those two, but my living there just put them at too much risk from Pelant or which ever killer wanted to take aim at me again for that matter. But it had been nice while it lasted. Memories of everyday moments shared with friends..lost..kicked at him, causing him to abandon the last half of bagal to the plain, white ceramic plate untouched. Alone..always alone. Before those thoughts could take hold, the reporters words drew his attention.("Blackouts due to overnight storms in outlying areas of the northern DC area were causing commuter delays..") Hmm, that's Angela and Hodgens neck of the woods, hope they're okay. Checking his wrist for the time, he gathered his plate and mug then deposited them in the sink. Time to go to work.

As the morning sun began to filter through the blinds of their bedroom window, a groggy, half awake Angela had that odd feeling that something just wasn't right. Sitting up she leaned over her husbands sleeping form then nudged him in the chest.

"Jack, Hon wake up I think we are going to be late.", Angela pointing at the nightstand and the totally black alarm clock.

"Wha..? Oh man, wait..", Hodgens grabbed his cell phone only to find it had zero charge. Angelas device lay just as lifeless beside his. He sat up flustered. "... so much for the back up generator having our back...wait til I talk to that installer I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind, huh, peace of mind my ass!" He was still grumbling as he rushed around getting dressed. Angela threw herself together as fast as she could, then went to ready Michael.

After a very rushed morning routine the Hodgens household flew out the door. Angelas minivan inched its way through the traffic at a snails pace. Until, in an attempt to make up some time, Hodgens left their usual route for side streets. It turned out to be a wise decision as they were able to make decent enough time to actually not be late after all. In fact, there excited rush had given them enough time to drop off Micheal Vincent at pre-school and contemplate breakfast at the diner. Angela also hoped to swing by Booths office, she had a gift she wanted give him. Maybe Booth, and Bren could join them, maybe Sweets too. She thought of giving them a call but since they were already arriving at the Hoover building she would just let the phone continue charging.

Jack Hodgens was too busy railing about the malfunctioning generator to remember he had slid the switch on his cellphone to silent mode last night at theatre. They had gone to see some romantic chic flick Angie had been keen on and the film had left his wife in a very amourous mood. He didn't give the phone or its settings a second thought after that. He pulled into the visitor parking lot. He grabbed his and Angelas partially charged phones, while Angela grabbed a framed canvas from the back. Together they made their way into the FBI Headquarters. Confident they would make it in time to get to work.