A/N: Yeah...sorry about the long update wait, but I've been busy. Like, really really busy. But hey, new chapter! :D
I was totally going to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show tonight (I even had my Columbia costume ready!) but Dad ended up
having to work, so I decided "fanfiction" as the fall back. XD So my loss is your gain (or your loss as well, if you hate the chapter).
It's nearly 3 AM, I'm watching Bones right now. The Beginning in the End to be exact. Sweets being "Mr. Adventure" is still so cute!
By the way, shameless self promotion here, but I recently wrote a Criminal Minds fanfic which you may like if you're into speculative fiction.
Anyway, that aside, I'm sorry in advance for whatever makes the next chapter take forever.

Chapter Thirteen: Bad Situation

The first scream shocked them all.

Booth had sworn loudly, Daisy murmured a quiet "No" and Brennan had simply winced.

The second one came quickly afterwards. Booth gritted his teeth to keep from another outburst and stepped harder on the gas, Brennan muttered "Oh God" under her breath but Daisy remained silent, looking absolutely horrified.

It wasn't long before a thrid one came, followed by a fourth. With every one, the car seemed to disregard the speed limit more, but to it's occupants, it felt as if they were heading nowhere.

As Booth tore down the streets, Daisy continued to direct him. Her voice quivered as she tried to keep calm, occasionally stopping to call "We're coming, just hold on," or other reassurances into the phone. Eventually, the silence between the cries became longer and longer until they stopped altogether.

The silence let the pair in front hear the quiet "Oh God...no..." that escaped the intern's mouth.

After what seemed like hours, the shaky voice in the back seat said "Stop."

Booth's foot slammed the break and the tires produced a noticeable screech. He threw the door open and hopped out, Brennan and Daisy following suite.

The apartment building looked average. It was dark red with white trim, about seven stories tall and had a rusty fire escape on the left.

The agent pulled his gun from it's holster.

"Wait here." he told them.

"Like hell I am." the intern said, her voice not deciding if it was fearful or defiant.

"Daisy, this could be dangerous," Booth hissed under his breath. "I can't risk either of you getting hurt."

"But we'd be in more danger out here," she spoke quickly. "Two women all alone at night on a dark street? Who knows what could happen."

"Miss Wick does have a good point." Brennan whispered. Although she did believe the logic to Daisy's argument, she really just wanted to help Sweets.

Booth sighed, defeated. "Alright, just...stay behind me." The two women nodded and Booth took a step forwards.

He was alerted to their presence by the screeching tires.

Becker quickly pressed his back to the wall, edged the window open a crack and listened.

"I can't risk either of you getting hurt."

He quietly cursed and peered out. On the street below, a man and two women stood outside the building. In the darkness, he couldn't make out any distinguishable features, but the voice was unmistakable. It was the man from the phone. He glanced back at the man lying on the floor.

He was going to have to speed things up a little.

Sweets had given up on screaming, realizing that if no one had responded yet then it was incredibly unlikely that anyone would. Now he just focused his remaining energy on gripping his quickly slipping state of consciousness.

The entire apartment had become blurry and just looking at the mass of swirling shadows gave him a headache. He knew what that meant; bloodloss, lots of it. It was taking it's toll, rapidly depleating the little force he had left. Despite the massive pain hammering his head, Sweets forced his eyes to stay open, knowing that if he closed them for even a second, he'd be out like a light. And with Becker still there, that was something he didn't want to risk

He knew what had just happened to him. Hell, he could feel it. But Sweets just couldn't bring himself to accept what was going on. Patrick Becker, his biological father, was in his house and...and...oh God.

The true weight of the situation came cashing down right then. He'd tried to do it when he was five. Sweets knew he was only alive today because of Becker's hesitance and the extra time it'd bought social services to find him. But he wasn't five anymore and Becker hadn't seen him for nearly twenty years. He referred to him only as Doctor Sweets, never Lance. He was trying to making him a stranger, not, as much as the shrink hated to admit it, his child. He had a gun, it would be easier now.

Patrick Becker was going to kill him.