Thanks for the reviews! :) RT and sweetfavoritethings, your satisfaction with the results may be somewhat delayed as this is not a Swaisy chapter. It's back to the case at hand for a chapter jam-packed with our favorite surrogate family.


Lance was stumbling up from the metro, trying to make it to FBI headquarters by 9 am without slipping on the ice that had nestled into the corners of the stairs. It was already 8:50. Lance didn't want to be late for the interrogation—it wasn't professional. As he emerged from underground into the blinding white light it was snowing again, which surprised him. DC didn't usually get much snow in December. It was quite pretty seeing the unclothed cherry trees dusted with wintry soot. He noticed that he was being stared at by a teenage boy. He did a double take. He didn't recognize the boy. That was odd. Lance almost began to approach the boy, when he retreated into the flurry of government officials headed to their respective offices.

Lance felt uneasy, but his destination beckoned him. As he was about to enter the door of the FBI he ran into Dr. Brennan, which made him feel a bit better about running behind schedule.

"Dr. Sweets," Brennan stated. "You look tired." She was prim and elegant in her creamy trench coat and brown boots.

"Dr. Brennan," Lance nodded. "I am tired. I got almost no sleep last night."

Dr. Brennan didn't inquire any further, but Lance didn't mind. Her taking note of his physical state was practically on par with throwing her arms around him for a hug-at least in the restrained world of Dr. Brennan. Besides, he was trying not to think of the pregnancy test that had come up negative. Just to be sure, Daisy was going to the doctor next week. It might have been too early to tell or something. Lance didn't really understand these mysteries of womanhood and just had to trust her.

What troubled Lance most in all of this was that he was actually disappointed by the outcome of the test. The timing wasn't right, but he seemed to want a baby. He thought about his own father and curling up in his inviting lap at Christmas to read stories. It was nearing Christmas, and it would be so nice to have family again—the kind you could always depend on, who would never leave you. The kind who decked the tree and sang carols with you at the piano bench. Lance didn't do any of those things anymore. He wished the holiday could be eradicated from the calendar.

He looked at Dr. Brennan out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself. She wasn't exactly family, but she was close to it.

"Dr. Sweets, I think you and Booth should conduct the interrogation today," Brennan said to him as they stepped into the elevator.

"Oh, why?" Lance asked, curious.

"I'm not feeling quite myself. I'd rather just listen."

This concerned Lance. Brennan didn't usually voluntarily give up her interrogation privileges without a fight.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about, Dr. Brennan?" Lance tried to read her expression. She was uneasy.

"I…I don't like this case. I don't have very positive memories of high school."

Lance stuck out his bottom lip. "Neither do I, Dr. Brennan. Neither do I."

"But Booth, he was on the football team, dated numerous young women; he was very popular. He seems to be nostalgic for his adolescence, as if he preferred it." Brennan seemed confused by this, almost jealous.

Lance shrugged. "Remember awhile back in one of our counseling sessions when I asked Agent Booth to tell you a vulnerable story from his past?"

"Yes."

"What did he tell you about?—You don't need to relate the specifics," he interrupted when Brennan looked to protest.

"He told me about a time in high school when his friends were tormenting another student, and he didn't do anything to stop them."

Lance smiled as they exited the elevator. That sounded like Booth, he thought, proudly. "Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth may have been popular, but I think he probably has just as much difficulty reconciling his adolescent past with his present as you and I do. We've all changed a lot since then."

"I was looking through my high school yearbook last night, and I wasn't in any picture except my senior portrait. No one signed my yearbook except some of the teachers." Dr. Brennan looked so vulnerable, her eyes sad.

She was being uncharacteristically confessional. Lance was worried that this was about more than just the memory of being rejected by her fellow classmates. He knew that she had been put into foster care at age 15 and that her foster parents had been cruel to her. They had locked her in the trunk of a car for breaking a dish, for heaven's sake.

Lance knew a thing or two about cruel adolescences. While his adopted parents had been very good to him in his high school years, his fellow students hadn't. It was after a particularly brutal bullying incident that Lance had tried to take his own life. His parents had pulled him from school, and he completed his high school degree without ever setting foot back on campus. He had gone on to college instead.

Lance put a hand on Brennan's shoulder to stop her. "Dr. Brennan, if this case is bringing up difficult emotions for you, it's completely understandable. Would you like to schedule some time to talk today? You know, I'm always available to you."

Brennan had a far off look in her eyes, but Lance was not at all surprised when she abruptly stated, "No," and charged ahead.

Lance sighed. These people were so difficult to reach sometimes. He wished they would just open up when they needed to. Humans were such astonishingly social creatures, Lance marveled. It still amazed him after all of these years of studying psychology that simply by the act of talking, humans could begin to heal.

Lance followed the retreating Brennan, and they met Booth outside of the interrogation room.

Lance said, "Hey, Agent Booth. I'll be coming in with you." Booth raised his eyebrows as Brennan shuffled off into the concealed room. He looked at Lance for an explanation.

Lance responded, "She's having a bad day. This case isn't sitting well with her."

Booth looked concerned but put a hand on Lance's back to give him a friendly shove into the interrogation room. There sat Mr. Baras—a scowling, wrinkled man who looked like he had been hardened by life in Stalin's regime. He was emaciated and looked far too old to be a high school teacher.

Lance and Booth questioned Mr. Baras for a while, exchanging the occasional glance. Mr. Baras revealed that he had caught Matt cheating on the Latin exam and had reprimanded him. He'd told Matt that the punishment was a failing grade on the test, a week of detention, and academic suspension. Matt had grown so angry that he had pushed Mr. Baras and left in a huff.

"Mr. Baras, were you aware that Matt had Asperger's?" Lance asked him.

Mr. Baras looked surprised. "No, no."

Booth said, "Your punishments seem a bit harsh for a kid who could have had his world turned upside down by even a minor disruption to his schedule."

"I swear, I didn't know. I thought he was just awkward," Mr. Baras insisted.

"Thanks for your time. We'll be in touch," Booth finished abruptly.

The two tall FBI men in their crisp black suits rejoined Brennan out in the hall.

"Did we learn something of value in there?" she asked, having not picked up on anything herself.

Lance offered, "He's obviously lying about something. The question is—is it murder?"

Booth nodded. "Any ideas on what else it could be, Sweets?"

They paused as Mr. Baras emerged and glared at them briefly before leaving.

"Man, he looks like a Scooby-Doo villain," Booth declared shaking his head.

Brennan said, "A who? What?" Her striking green eyes widened at this unfamiliar term.

"You know—"

Lance interrupted, "Later, Agent Booth." He was impatient. "Today when I was getting off the metro there was this kid, who looked around 16, staring at me. Can you get me a yearbook from Matt's school? I have a hunch."

Booth looked curious but also seemed to trust Lance's instincts without question. "Alright, Sweets. I happen to have one in my office—I was looking for kids who might have interacted with Matt in clubs and such. Actually, he wasn't in a single photo except his portrait. Kind of strange, huh?" Brennan shrank away slightly and mumbled something about needing to leave. "Bones, we'll see you later," Booth said to her, his eyes following her as she left.

Lance was now really worried about Brennan. He hoped she'd at least open up to Booth. He could tell that Booth already detected something was amiss with his partner.

Lance followed Booth into his office and began searching the pages of the yearbook, while Booth checked his messages on speaker. It was quite the familiar gesture, Lance noted, smiling a little that Booth felt so comfortable with him. One message was from Rebecca.

"Seeley, it's Rebecca. I need you to pick up Parker today from school. There's been an emergency at work. Actually, if he could just stay with you through tomorrow, then that would be great."

"Oh s-," Booth swore. "I can't pick up Parker, I have to interview another witness with Bones from 2-3."

"I'll do it Booth, I don't mind," Lance offered kindly.

"But you took metro—"

"Daisy's on rotation at the Jeff this week and next, Booth. I can take her car."

"You two patched things up then?"

Lance looked up from the book and shrugged. "We had a little pregnancy scare last night." Booth's eyes bugged out slightly, and he exhaled in a loud whistle.

Lance interjected, "It seems like it'll be ok. The home test came up negative." He already felt better having shared this with his friend. "We didn't get much sleep last night, but I think we ended up in a better place."

Booth shook his head, "Nothing like a pregnancy scare to bring two people together. SWEETS, you have GOT to be more careful. You don't want to end up in a situation like me and Rebecca."

"But you have Parker—he's the most important thing in the world to you, Booth. You're a great dad!"

"Sweets, listen to me. I do love this kid more than anything in the world—more than you can imagine till you've become a parent yourself. But it is so hard being a single parent. It kills me, and it kills Rebecca. Do it right, Sweets: get married, get settled, then have kids."

Booth looked so intense that Lance was a little frightened at his recent desire to spawn. Lance looked down at the yearbook and then held it out to Booth, pointing at a photo.

"Here. Here's the kid who was staring at me on the street this morning. Daniel Chace."