A/N: just a reminder that I don't own the Bones characters, and any resemblance between my invented characters and real people is an amazing coincidence. Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it.

It was early the next morning when Special Agent in Charge James Aubrey sat at the head of the table in the main conference room, listening as the agents under his supervision delivered their reports on the information that had been gathered about their ongoing cases over the past few days. Reaching into the nearby box of doughnuts and pulling out a raised, glazed beauty, he took a bite of the sweet treat and focused his attention on Agent Duval's report.

"The field office in New York City finally found Ms. Burley's apartment, sir. Turns out it's basically a pied a terre...you know, a studio apartment that has a Murphy bed, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny kitchen with a dorm fridge and a microwave. It's like a hotel room, really...designed more for occasional use instead of being an actual living space." Duval cleared his throat as he looked up at Aubrey and shrugged. "Probably not really enough room for her and a child, too...the place is tiny, like less than 500 square feet. It's more like a big walk in closet, I guess. There was a small sofa, a dresser, a desk with a chair, and not much else. Her name is the only one on the lease. Anyway, here's the thing...when the agents got there, they found out that the place had been tossed. The cabinet doors were torn off their hinges, holes were punched in the walls, the Murphy bed and the sofa were torn up...the works. Somebody was apparently looking for something important. Agents found none of the victim's personal belongings in the apartment. They speculate she hadn't been there for quite some time, even though the rent was paid in full for a year and the utilities were still turned on."

Aubrey nodded as he sipped his coffee. "That fits with what we know about the victim. She evidently spent quite a bit of time in the recent months here in DC with the child." Aubrey looked at the young agent sitting next to Duval. "What have you got for me, Granger?"

"We finally found a birth certificate for the child...actually, there were two birth certificates filed in the state of New York. The original birth certificate lists the child's name as Vasily Iosef Petrovich Biryukov. His mother is listed as Irina Andreynovna Chernikova and the father is listed as Pyotr Vladimirovich Chernikov. Date of birth: 11:36 pm, March 30, 2011 at St. John's Episcopal Hospital, Far Rockaway, New York. The attending physician is listed as Dr. Philip Henson. A year later an amended birth certificate was filed. All of the details, including the mother's name were the same, but the father's name was changed…" Granger began to blush as she stammered over her report, somewhat embarrassed by the information she was about to share.

"Go on. What was the name changed to?" Aubrey glared at the young agent impatiently. "Granger?"

Fidgeting with a paperclip, Granger continued. "Um...okay...the father's name was changed to Seeley Joseph Booth, sir, as in the Deputy Director of the Major Crimes division here in the DC office. Both documents were signed by the woman who actually gave birth to the child: Snezhana Ivanovna Biryukova, also known as Hannah Burley, instead of the biological mother."

"That's interesting.", Aubrey commented blandly, sipping his coffee again. As he reached for another doughnut, he nodded at the next two agents at the table. "McAnally and Lopez...anything new about the boy's kidnapping?"

Lopez hesitated slightly as he looked at his partner McAnally, who smiled and gave him a quick nod of approval. When they began working together a year ago, they'd spent some time learning how to take turns when it came to presenting evidence and reports. McAnally, being the only girl and the youngest child in a family of seven brothers, had learned early in life to be vocal and assertive so she couldn't be ignored, but after a few weeks of working with Lopez, she'd discovered that she'd been overshadowing her soft spoken partner, a man of few words who often had very insightful things to say about their cases if someone actually bothered to listen to him. Her smile encouraged him to plunge ahead with the report.

"McAnally and I went to see Mr. Chernikov at his office yesterday, Boss. He seemed really surprised when we asked him about a ransom demand for the return of his child. It was like it dawned on him that there should've been a request for ransom all along, but he obviously hadn't heard about one. He called his lawyer…" Lopez looked at his notes…"a Mr. Tyomkin, into his office. Mr. Tyomkin said that he had received the ransom demand, although he didn't say from who, and he had 'taken care of it' so that Mr. Chernikov and his wife wouldn't have to be bothered with it. It was Mr. Tyomkin's contention that the boy should be back home soon."

McAnally spoke up. "Both Mateo and I think that Tyomkin either took the boy himself, or knows who has him, based on his reaction to the questions we asked, and that the whole ransom deal he was talking about is a lie. Unfortunately, there's no way for us to prove any of that right now. I think Chernikov felt that way as well, even though he acted like he was cool with what the lawyer said. When we asked about Polzin, it appeared that Chernikov really didn't know who he was, but I'd bet my last dollar that Tyomkin knows him. If Polzin is still alive, he probably has the boy. The problem is finding them. We really don't have a good place to start looking for either one right now."

"The background check I ran on Tyomkin didn't show anything out of the ordinary. He seems to be respectable enough." Aubrey looked at the members of his team as he contemplated their next move. "Do we have enough probable cause to bring Tyomkin in for questioning? Maybe we could put the squeeze on him somehow and get the truth. What do you think, Granger?"

"Maybe the guys in cyber intelligence can use The Patriot Act to see what he's doing on the internet.", Granger said quietly, still fidgeting with her paperclip, hoping her idea didn't sound really stupid.

Nodding slightly at the agent's suggestion, Aubrey considered it for a minute before he continued. "I don't know if it's the Patriot Act we want to invoke. I think maybe we can get some agents from the Crimes Against Children Unit to talk to Tyomkin. They can ask him some more questions about Polzin...maybe see what he knows about Polzin's involvement with selling underage girls and what he knows about the prostitution setup. The video of the senator with the underaged girls was posted online, so maybe the guys in the Cybercrimes unit can check to see if Polzin is selling other sorts of kiddie porn over the internet, and that may bring us back to Chernikov and Tyomkin. Good idea, Granger. Okay, good work everyone. Keep looking for more facts to back up what we already know. Don't ignore any detail, no matter how tiny it seems. Remember, we still have a little boy unaccounted for. I'll get this information to Director Booth."

Oooooooooo

Early morning at the Jeffersonian saw the team preparing to conduct Senator Camden's autopsy, which had been delayed by Brennan's accident the previous day. Dr. Saroyan offered a relieved smile to the intern who joined them on the lab platform. "Thank you for coming into the lab on such short notice, Ms. Warren. I know you're busy working on your dissertation, but with Dr. Brennan being injured we're going to be short handed until she has a chance to heal. Her doctor wants her to rest a few days because of her concussion." Cam bustled around the lab platform as they prepared for the initial inspection of Senator Camden's body. "Of course, as you can imagine, Dr. Brennan had planned on coming to lab this morning, even with a concussion, her ankle in a boot and her arm in a sling, but Director Booth vetoed that decision right away. Dr. Brennan wasn't happy with that, but, at least for the next few days, she's decided to defer to his opinion. She'll probably want to skype with us later today to make sure she's kept up to date on pertinent details as a way of compromising with Booth."

Jessica smiled to herself as she imagined how animated the "I'm going back to work" discussion had been between those two stubborn people. "It's no problem, Dr. Saroyan. I'm just glad Dr. Brennan wasn't injured more severely in the incident. Besides, the majority of my dissertation is complete. Dr. Brennan said she would proof it for me shortly...if she's not still laid up, that is."

"That's good news. Have you decided where you'd like to work when you've obtained your doctorate, Jessica?" Hodgins steadied himself on his crutches as he prepared to take particulate samples from the skin on the senator's neck. "I would imagine there are a lot of possibilities available to you since you've worked here at the Jeffersonian as an intern. That always looks good on a resume...hey, I'll write a letter of reference if you want..."

"Thanks, Curly." Jessica grinned at Hodgins as she pulled on her gloves and lab apron. "I'd like to teach at a major university eventually, but I'll need some practical experience first. I'm considering applying with the CIA." Jessica began taking photographs of the body as she chattered happily. "I think that would be really exciting...CIA forensics would be kind of like being a spy, without so much of the 'people trying to kill you' part."

Cam and Hodgins smirked across the table at each other as they imagined their chatty intern trying to keep a secret. "That does sound interesting." Hodgins scraped under the decedent's fingernails as he spoke. "There are lots of conspiracy theories in the world to prove or disprove…"

"Why not the FBI?", Cam asked innocently, even though she was fairly sure she already knew the answer. "It seems like they always need competent techs and team leaders, and you've had a lot of practical experience in forensics…"

"I've suggested that several times to James, but he says he doesn't think we should both work for the Bureau, and since he just got a big promotion, I guess his career should take priority right now." Jessica grimaced slightly as she moved around the exam table. "I don't see what the problem is with me working there, though, since Dr. Brennan and Director Booth manage to make things work between them well enough to satisfy the FBI. I think James and I could work well together, just like they do. They seem get along so well at work. They always seem so professional." She rolled her eyes, slightly frustrated at her boyfriend's reticence. "I think they're such a good model of how partners should work together."

Cam snickered and rolled her eyes at a grinning Hodgins as she thought about all of the arguments at work that had occurred between Booth and Brennan over the years. "Sounds like you've still got a few details to work out then. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out after you get your degree, even if the FBI doesn't work out for you..."

Hodgins scoffed at Cam's lack of enthusiasm. "Right now, it shouldn't be a problem if you and Aubrey both work for the Bureau. It's not like you're married to each other." Looking up, he caught the rather pointed glare Cam directed at him. "Of course, it doesn't hurt to think about every contingency, I suppose."

Jessica shrugged as she thought about what Hodgins said. "Well, we'll see. I think I'm still leaning toward the CIA…"

Cam continued her examination, closely examining the victim's upper body. "Uh oh…" Cam motioned to Hodgins. "Bring me that multi-band forensic lamp, please, Dr. Hodgins." She focused the light on Senator Camden's neck and chest. "Look at this bruising pattern on his throat. Four fingers on each side,wrapping around his neck, and two thumbs here, over the larynx. These bruises were made by someone with very large hands. It looks like his larynx was crushed. He was probably strangled before he was strung up in that tree."

Hodgins nodded as he peered over Cam's shoulder. Pulling up a photograph on the lab station's computer, he pointed to the area on the ground under the tree where the Senator had been found. "I was looking at this picture of the crime scene that the FBI sent over. That's a four foot step ladder...our victim appears to be about 5'8"...and that branch is a little over ten feet off the ground. There's no way he could've tied the rope to that tree branch the way it's shown in the picture using that ladder. He's just too short. I think our crime scene was staged to look like a suicide. We need to get the FBI techs back out there to check the scene again…" Hodgins grinned at Ms. Warren. "Maybe you should ask to go with them to see if you'd like to work for the FBI. I bet Special Agent in Charge Aubrey wouldn't mind a little extra help at the house."

"Except that we need her here at the lab!" Cam directed another stern glare at Hodgins. Turning back to the body, she pointed to the neck again. "Make sure you check his neck for rope fibers…"

"Yeah, got it." Hodgins glanced up at Jessica again. "You know, it's kind of fun being a couple and working together for the same organization...I'm really glad Angie and I work together. We've gotten to spend a lot of quality time together over the years. We ride to work together, and we eat lunch together most days." Hodgins grinned to himself as he thought of other ways he and his wife had spent some quality time together in the various storerooms around the Jeffersonian, but decided against sharing that information with Ms. Warren. "You need to get Aubrey to agree to let you work for the FBI, and then you could come visit us from time to time…" He saw Cam glare at him again. "Not that I'd meddle in your private business or your personal relationships or anything like that…"

"Of course not, Curly." Jessica grinned back at Hodgins. "I still have some time to figure things out, and we have work to do now, right?" She pointed to the decedent on the lab table.

"That's correct, Ms. Warren. Please help Dr. Hodgins take some samples from the victim's clothing. I'm going to run a tox screen. It's possible that our victim was drugged…." Cam paused as she bent down and removed a small group of hairs from the victim's shirt. "Black hairs...this victim's hair is gray, and Hannah was a blonde. It looks like the Senator may've had a visitor we don't know about." She bagged the sample and turned to Hodgins. "Check the hair to make sure it's human...I don't want to send the techs on a wild goose chase over some dog hair." She picked up the pans that contained the victim's organs and briskly walked back to the autopsy room.

Jessica giggled softly as she reached over to take the scissors from the tool cart next to the exam table. Being an intelligent young woman, she had realized that there would be several perks to working at the same place as her boyfriend, and those perks weren't limited to carpooling and pleasant company for lunch. She knew that even though the Hoover didn't have as many varied and interesting places as the Jeffersonian for a couple in love to indulge in some lunchtime passion, there were some out of the way storage closets that could serve the same purpose more than adequately. She smiled to herself, licking her lips in anticipation of her evening plans with Superman, even if he did have to work late at the Hoover tonight. Director Booth had been thoughtful enough to request that blinds be installed on the wall of windows overlooking the bullpen when he used that office, and she was looking forward to taking advantage of the little bit of privacy those blinds might offer the Special Agent in Charge and his favorite squinty girl.

Oooooooooo

The morning sun was just barely peeking over the horizon as Booth sat on the beat up old sofa in his man cave, looking through the pages of an album filled with pictures from his most recent deployment in Afghanistan. It was surreal to see himself in those photos, standing there in his government issue body armor and helmet, laughing and seeming to be happy, when most of the time that was exactly opposite of what he felt, and it wasn't just because he had missed Bones terribly while he'd been separated from her. He remembered the day he'd had a picture taken with some of the Afghan soldiers he'd been training, only to have four of them lost the next day when their transport truck hit an IED. You just never know when your time comes. There were a couple of pictures with some American soldiers, too...guys who were there to lead units or to help train other soldiers, and some of them were never coming home again, like Roger Tracy, or Jimmy Kaplan. He sighed as he shook his head, trying to force himself to concentrate on the purpose of this photographic journey back in time instead of getting bogged down by sadness and regret. He turned the page and found one of the pictures he'd been looking for. There he was with Hannah and the group of guys who'd been with him when he'd arrested her for her incursion into no man's land. What a day that had been...pulling a beautiful blonde woman out of the line of fire in a dusty village square was the last thing he'd expected to do on that tour of duty. He'd been so angry at her for putting his unit in danger, especially when she seemed so clueless about what she'd done wrong...and then she turned his life upside down when she 'thanked' him over and over again underneath that damned fig tree. It seemed like a good idea at the time, didn't it, Booth? Shaking his head ruefully, he still felt slightly disgusted with himself over that turn of events. Now, looking back on that period of time, he realized just how foolish he'd been to think he loved Hannah enough marry her. I really should've known better...it's always been Bones for me...I can't imagine things any other way…Thank you, God, for letting things work out the way they did...

Sighing as he turned back to the album, he thought about the men in the photograph. Let's see...that's me and Jerry right there...Mohammed, and Ibrahim...Ibrahim's dead...he was killed by a suicide bomber. What about Mohammed? Nah...he just wanted to get back home to his wife and kids. No way he's here in the States. He was a good guy….so was Jerry...last I heard Jerry was doing security work in California... Booth was trying to jump start his memory. He so was close...he could feel it, but what was he missing?

He turned to the next page, and it was like a jolt of electricity passed through him. Their Afghan interpreter, a man in his early thirties at the time...there he was in a picture, standing on one side of Hannah with Booth standing on her other side. The look on the man's face was strange as he stood looking at Hannah. What was the guy feeling? Love, jealousy, rage? He'd followed Hannah around like a puppy while he was with their unit...like a lovesick teenager, actually, but Hannah and Booth were a couple by then, and she'd let the guy down none too easily, if Booth remembered correctly. Did she laugh at the guy? Insult his masculinity? Surely not...was she really that cold? Yeah...Booth grimaced as he remembered his former girlfriend. She really could be cold hearted to get what she wanted. Hannah had been a strong, assertive woman, used to being on her own and doing exactly what she pleased whenever she pleased. If she was with a man, it was because she chose to be, and she certainly didn't need anybody to take care of her. She sure as hell wasn't going to be able to handle the traditional Afghan style of courtship.

Looking over another picture of the three of them, it struck Booth for the first time how angry the man looked. How could it be him that's causing all of this trouble for me? I always thought we were friends. I looked out for the guy! I taught him to shoot and some special ops stuff to protect himself, like how to take a guy down...how paralyze a guy with gunshot...how to aim for the heart. I was trying to do the right thing! Did he really hate me that much because he thought I'd stolen girl his girl from him? Except she was never his girl, was she? You can't steal something from someone if it never belonged to them to begin with. Anyway, I didn't make a play for Hannah...she made the first move on me...but I didn't say no, did I? What would I have done if I'd realized how that guy felt about Hannah? He was my friend...

There was another picture of the man standing next to Booth. The interpreter was a handsome man with dark hair and big brown eyes, slight of build and stature. He'd suffered some sort of traumatic injury as a child which had never completely healed, and he had a pronounced limp on the left side. He couldn't qualify to be a soldier in the Afghan army, no matter how desperate they were, because of his injury, even though he was an excellent shot. Booth had taken pity on the guy and had tried to befriend him so the other guys in the unit wouldn't tease the guy so much. He wanted to serve his country so badly. He was so good with a gun, and they really needed him, but he couldn't handle the physical aspects of basic training. The man seemed to have been fairly well educated at a good private school, and in fact, he spoke excellent English, but his sheltered upbringing had made him quite naive...the guy truly thought Hannah was head over heels in love with him, and that she wanted to marry him.

Booth turned to the next page of the album, and as he looked through the pictures, he began to realize what had happened. Hannah was a natural flirt, and she didn't always know when to quit. She had probably led the guy on...maybe even slept with him a couple of times...and then threw him aside for the American sergeant major who'd rescued her from a dangerous situation, and that sergeant major just happened to be one Seeley J. Booth. It would've been hard for the other man to face...he might've already caught some grief from his own community for helping the Americans, but then to lose your American girlfriend to an American soldier would definitely be considered disgraceful. The guy acted like it didn't bother him...but looking back at that picture, who knew what he really felt? He looks really angry...if looks could kill….he has to be the guy behind all this shit...but how? That's just crazy...if he is alive, he's probably not even in the States. Last I heard he was in Kabul...

Even though it was still early morning, Booth pulled out his phone and called one of his contacts at Homeland Security. Better safe than sorry, I guess. "Hey, Johnny! Yeah, it's Booth. Sorry to call you so early, but I was wondering if you could see if you can get some information on a guy for me. This is gonna sound batshit crazy, but hear me out, okay? This guy I'm looking for is an Afghan national, probably between the ages of 35 and 45. He was one of the interpreters for my unit when I was deployed over there, and I was wondering if he's made it here to the States yet. He would've gotten into the country on a Special Immigrants Visa because of his work as an interpreter with the Army. Yeah...I don't think he's a terrorist, really, but he's no angel, either. It's possible he may be involved with the Russian Mafia here in DC. Yeah, I know...not good, right? Can you maybe check on his visa status and whereabouts for me? I want to know if he's in the DC area, okay? The guy's name is Ahmed Zubair Durani. Call me when you find out anything, okay? The sooner, the better. Thanks."

Still unable to shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong, Booth called his friend Danny at the CIA and asked for any information they had on Durani. "Yeah...see if the US offered him safe passage and asylum on a Special Immigrant Visa here in the States since he was an interpreter for our unit. I need to find out if he's in the States on a visa, and if so, how long he's been here and if he's in the DC area...yeah, call and let me know, okay? As soon as possible, you know? Thanks, man. What? Yeah...you're right. Now we're even."

Booth hung up the phone and stared out the window that overlooked his pleasant backyard. Now that he had a name to go on, he knew he wouldn't be able to rest easy until he knew more about where this guy was, and if this was really the bastard causing all of this pain and suffering. The sooner he knew the whereabouts of Ahmed Zubair Durani, the better he'd feel.

He glanced at the clock on his desk. It was still early...6 am...but he knew his Bones would be chomping at the bit to get out of the hospital as soon as possible, so he got dressed and ready to go to work, planning to pick her up from the hospital on the way to the Hoover. He was still angry that Stark had demanded that he go home the night before, having insisted that it would look bad if the Deputy Director didn't trust his own agents well enough to let them guard his wife in a hospital. What looks bad is that Stark doesn't listen to the people who work for him. Booth regretted that his exhaustion had led to his caving in to the Director's demands to leave his wife to sleep alone at the hospital, even though it seemed that no harm had come from it. When this is all over, me and Stark are gonna have a little heart to heart talk. Maybe he's my boss, but that son of a bitch doesn't get to run my personal life.

Booth rushed through his breakfast and gathered his belongings quickly, picking up his wife's tablet on his way out the door. He gave a cursory glance down the street before pulling the SUV out of the driveway. A produce delivery van at this hour? He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. 6:45 am? Hmm. Maybe Mrs. Leonard is having another party. He put the SUV in gear and drove away from his house, focused on picking up his wife and on how he could convince her that she didn't need to go to work for the next few days. Maybe she could hang out at Angela's house instead..use her tablet and work from there...she can skype...

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with that problem, he would've seen the delivery van pull into the street to follow him...