Only seven more days till my internet gets installed! :( Many thanks to those reading and reviewing! *hugs* RT, I kind of adore how in sync our stories on this topic are! Our Lances are spiritually linked through the internet ether.

Disclaimer: Still don't own the loveable characters of Bones…sad but true.

The next day, Lance went to the Jeffersonian to see if he could help Cam on the case she had mentioned. It was early in the morning, perhaps 8:30. As he entered the building it felt eerily lonely without the familiar faces of his friends. He was passing by Angela's old office when he noticed that it was not unoccupied.

A small, attractive but strong looking Asian woman wearing stylish black plastic frames was craning her neck toward a computer. Oddly she was clutching a young baby on her lap, who had wild tufts of blackish-brown hair sticking out all over her head and long luxurious eyelashes. Lance knocked out of curiosity. Perhaps this was…who had Cam said the new programmer was?

"Hello?"

"Hey, just a sec." The woman typed her computer keys in a mad frenzy, which set her glasses slightly askew, and then turned to regard her visitor. The child cried, "Bahhh!" with glee at the sight of Lance.

Lance crossed the room and shook the woman's hand, saying, "I'm Dr. Lance Sweets—a profiler and psychologist with the FBI. I work with the Jeffersonian sometimes."

"Oh yeah. Cam mentioned you'd be dropping by. I actually have some info on the new case for you—but," she interrupted herself, "not to be all business. Sorry, I'm Dr. Beatrice Vu. Bea is fine. I'm a little harried this morning. Babysitter didn't come. Oh this is Lulu." Lance noted that Bea's hair was very shiny black and drawn up in a messy bun above a golden sun tattoo.

"It's nice to meet you! And you, Lulu. How old is she? She's beautiful." Again when the topic of babies came up Lance felt an odd mixture of jealousy and upset at Daisy's absence.

"She's just six months. I've got to drop her off at daycare in an hour when it opens. Hey, do you think you could hold her? I've gotta pee like mad. Then we can tell Cam you are here and get you briefed on the case."

"Sure," Lance said, but she was already stuffing the child into his arms. Beatrice had richly tan skin, and Lance guessed she was of Southeast Asian descent. As Cam had mentioned, she was kind of a hipster-her glossy hair was shot through with a streak of green. She had a tiny star nose ring and a tattoo sleeve of cherry blossoms on her arm which extended its branches nearly to her elbow. Hot, Lance thought. He had always been a sucker for tattoos. Then he remembered he was holding a child, who was batting at his nose and giggling.

"Hey there, little one," he said to Lulu and bounced her a little. He took her over to look at some of Angela's paintings. She seemed impressed by the colors. Lance liked holding the little girl. He squeezed her to his chest and thought, It feels good to hug someone again. Lulu was right at home in his arms.

After a few quiet moments, Bea was back and accompanied by Cam. Cam didn't look pleased, but rather angry to see Lance.

"Bea, could you excuse us for a minute?" Cam asked.

Bea replied, "Sure, I should get this little stinker to daycare anyway. I'll be back in 30 minutes or so."

Cam nodded and when Bea had removed Lulu from Lance's grasp and departed, Cam approached the young psychologist who was shrinking under her glare.

"Did you tell Michelle it would be a good idea for her to have sex with her boyfriend!"

"Woah!" Lance threw up his hands to fend her off. "No, no. Of course not. What did she say?"

"She said that she came to talk to you, and you told her that she was mature enough to pursue a sexual relationship, and she agrees. She said that you said that I would be supportive of her decision!"

"Ok, Cam. That's not exactly how it happened. I don't feel comfortable telling you all of the details, but what I told her is that she was equipped to make her own decision. I also told her that you are a great mom, who will eventually be able to cope with her teenage daughter having sex and support her through it."

Cam fumed.

"I know this might take you time to accept, but neither you nor I could prevent Michelle from having sex, if that is what she wants to do. All we can really do is encourage her to be safe and responsible and let her know that she has people she can talk to about problems that arise."

Steam seemed to be coming from Cam's ears.

"Cam?" Lance asked hopefully. "I would never say anything to your daughter that I felt would hurt her. She's growing up. She's basically 17, soon she'll be 18. This gives you a year to help her navigate adult relationships before she embarks for college. It's going to be ok."

Cam's rage seemed to be ebbing somewhat. She sat in one of Angela's chairs and put her head in her hands. "I just…I want the best for her. What if she gets pregnant?"

Lance crossed the room and put his hand on her shoulder. "Nearly every parent of a teenager goes through what you're feeling right now. It will take time for you to digest this. Michelle is a very responsible young woman. She'll be fine."

Cam looked up at Lance and swallowed. She still appeared slightly hostile. "Ok, we have a case to attend to."

"Cam? I have a quick question. Perhaps now is not the time, since you still seem angry with me…" Lance pouted, hurt. He was easily wounded when people he cared about were upset with him.

"I'm not angry with you, Dr. Sweets—well, I am a little. I'm mostly livid with Michelle." She sighed. "What's your question?"

"If I quit working at the FBI, would you consider hiring me at the Jeffersonian as a part time profiler?"

Cam started. "What? You're leaving the FBI? You want…contract work?"

"I may have the opportunity to teach at Georgetown next year, but I wouldn't want to miss out on working at the Jeffersonian. The FBI work has been…less satisfying of late."

Cam nodded, taking in this new turn of events. "Well, what's your going rate?"

Lance smiled. "It's hefty, but I'll make sure I fit in your budget."

Cam smiled at last too. "That sounds like a possibility. We wouldn't want to lose you to academia."

"Great. I'll let you know if that is the direction I end up going."

Cam said, "Ready to look at some remains?"

"Yep. And Cam…"

"Yes?"

"Don't tell Michelle you're upset with her. It will just make matters worse. She's counting on you to be cool about this and advise her."

Cam sighed. "I know."

She led him over to a body and various pieces of catalogued evidence. One was a large chest that was covered in dirt. Lance pondered the evidence in silence for a long time, an unpleasant thought forming in his head. He had profiled this murderer before. Cam folded her arms and watched him until he was ready.

"Either the Gravedigger has a copycat or an accomplice," Lance said flatly.

"Usually I celebrate when someone from my team agrees with my hypotheses. This time, however, I'm downright alarmed that you have come to the same conclusion."

Lance ignored this and continued, "My guess? It's an accomplice given what Taffet said to Dr. Brennan after her guilty verdict. She said, 'This isn't over.' Maybe she already had someone working with her before, or maybe she trained someone during the trial. It's hard to say."

"I've been going back and forth about whether or not to contact Perotta and the FBI. I'm leaning toward not for now."

"I agree," Lance said. "I'll work on this for the rest of the day and see what I come up with. Keep me informed of your progress?" Cam nodded her assent.

The two parted, and Lance made his way out of the Jeffersonian and into the street. Maybe I should have waited for Bea to return, he thought. She had something to tell me about the case. He had to admit, he also wanted to see the beautiful new addition to the Jeffersonian team again and learn more about her background. She had a Ph.D. obviously, since she had introduced herself as 'doctor,' but she couldn't be more than 27 or 28 years old. Lance was guessing given what Cam had both said and left unsaid that Bea had her degree in computer science, and that Lulu may not have a dad in the picture.

The street Lance was on was almost void of people. As he passed by an alley he heard a crack—like a stick breaking—and whipped around. Someone was pulling on his arms and he saw the flash of a tazor. Because he had heard his assailant approaching, somehow he had the upper hand and was able to twist the short man's wrist. He heard it crack and flung the tazor, attempting to run away. Something bashed his calf so hard he felt like it shattered into a million pieces. He fell headlong to the ground, trying to stay conscious despite his fear and pain. Just as something crashed into his head, he heard screams that did not belong to him.

Lance's already dark world dimmed to black.