I apologize for the brevity of this chapter. It's extremely difficult for me to write lacking identities in speakers and thoughts.

Disclaimer- I don't own Bones, any of the characters, or any allusions to such.

The Jeffersonian team stood on the forensic platform, enveloping the silver autopsy table before them.

Tears ran down their cheeks at the sight of the mangled body lying just beyond their fingertips. Never before had one of their own been in this position. In truth, never before now had they lost one of their own. Sure, they had participated in near death experiences innumerable times, but always had their loved ones returned from the brink of death, fighting to stay alive for friends, and in some cases, family.

Now all that was left of their friend was a broken, bled-out corpse. Stab marks were scattered randomly throughout the remains, a clear act of uncontrolled anger/passion.

"I knew one day one of us would end up here," a voice rang out. Even with the lack of trained observance skills, they could all hear the strained tone of the speaker, who was trying to mask their grief.

"I never thought it would be this soon," another person voiced their opinion. This one wasn't in such strict control of their emotions, or maybe the decedent was just more special to them, and their throat constricted and hysterical sobs escaped their lips.

In typical circumstances, one of them would comfort the distressed, but in this scenario all were so miserable that none of them had it in them. So the cries incessantly rang out across the empty lab, off the high ceilings, bouncing off the sophisticated machines that the team member would never use again.

"Well, we shouldn't delay any longer. Let's initiate the autopsy." Into a miniscule microphone, a woman spoke "Victim-Zachary Uriah Addy.