A/N : Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. Suspense. LOL I kept you waiting long enough, huh? I am expecting a LOT of reviews for this chappie as it's pretty much the culmination. There'll be one more… An epilogue of sorts. Love y'all. I'll be so sad when the REAL season starts of Bones and my story will just be AU. Pouts If you write for Bones and want to steal it as pass it off as your own… FEEL FREE! I will SO NOT COMPLAIN!

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As the waitress was clearing their now emptied plates and coffee cups away, Booth's phone buzzed.

Glancing at the display, he flashed an impish grin over at Hodgins. He held the phone out so the screen displaying the name "Sweets" was visible. Stifling a snicker, he answered the call with a stern, "Booth." Obviously, the young doctor wasn't in the mood for pleasantries because no other words were spoken on Booth's end of the call. His face displayed puzzlement, then the dawning recognition

That was enough for Hodgins. Something was up. He grabbed his jacket and followed Booth out the diner's doors without a word.

Once they were settled into the government issued SUV and Booth had disconnected the call, Hodgins raised his eyebrows at the agent.

"We gotta go talk to Zack again. Sweets is meeting us there with that art therapist he mentioned. Apparently, Zack makes a lot more sense when he draws than when he talks."

Hodgins, although not usually a religious man, closed his eyes and prayed silently that this nightmare was coming to a close and that logic would prevail in the case of his best friend.

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Zack silently held his hands out to the orderly. He knew that the man disapproved of the rules being bent for a "psycho." As he clasped the restraints onto said "psycho's" wrists, he continued to grumble about it under his breath. Patients, particularly ones who were considered dangerous were only allowed visitors once per week. This was twice in one day that Zack was being brought out of confinement to speak with friends.

The boyish anthropologist wanted to point out that he and Dr. Sweets were not friends, that they had, in fact, never even spoken to one another unless it was related directly to work, but of course, he chose silence instead. With his head bowed, he shuffled behind the green scrubbed worker and only looked up when he heard Hodgins exclaim, "Buddy!"

A smile crossed Zack's face and he quickened his steps slightly. As they reached the door to the room they would be meeting in, the orderly stepped back to allow Zack to pass him and join the two men waiting for him. Already in the room were the prodigal Dr. Sweets and the art therapist Dr. Addison, who also looked very young. Eying the four visitors suspiciously, the psychiatric facility employee told them to press the buzzer should they need him. Then, with one last sneer in Zack's direction, he left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"What got his panties in a twist?" Booth wondered aloud.

"I'm not sure, but I would imagine he's not wearing female undergarments. He seems to be the kind of man who played a lot of sports and crushes beer cans against his head. I think mostly he just thinks that I should be locked up and perhaps in a straitjacket and not conversing with sane people," Zack said, his face serious. Turning to look at Dr. Addison and Dr. Sweets who were seated at the metal table, he saw that Sweets was looking at him very oddly and Dr. Addison had covered her mouth with her hand—obviously to contain a giggle. "Oh… I guess that was more of an expression than a comment about his underwear."

Booth rolled his eyes heavenward as Hodgins snickered and cuffed Zack playfully on the shoulder. "Dude, I so miss you around the lab."

"I miss being in the lab. Can you get me out of here? I really don't think this is where I'm supposed to be," Zack's face looked hopeful.

"Well, let's hope so, sugar pie," Dr. Addison said tapping the folder in front of her. "Call me Libby. Hi!" With a sunny smile, she rose and extended her hand across the table to Zack. He looked at her small hand with its neatly manicured nails for a moment before he glanced self consciously down at his own reddened scarred hand before proffering it to her.

"Ouch! Bet that hurt like heck, huh?" She turned his hand over in hers, looking at damage.

"I… I… Don't really remember. But, it doesn't feel so great, now," Zack admitted, pulling his hand back from her grasp, sitting at the table and folding his hands in his lap out of her line of vision.

"Are you old enough to have a doctorate in art therapy?" Booth asked the young woman in front of him.

"No," she admitted with a playful grin. "But, I'm not old enough to have an M.D. with a specialization in psychiatry, but I have that, too. Top of my class."

"Oh my dear Lord you're one of them," Booth groaned.

"Them?"

"A squint," he said, by way of explanation.

"I don't know what that means," she admitted. Booth looked completely shell-shocked and Hodgins sniggered aloud. After looking at both Booth and Hodgins with an expression of mild curiosity for a moment, she shrugged opened the folder in front of her. In it were the sketches Zack had given the FBI agent and entomologist earlier, as well as enlarged photocopies from the journal.

"You claim that you don't keep a journal, Dr. Addy?"

"I don't," he said, feeling weary of this journal-talk.

"Is this your handwriting?"

Zack glanced at the sheet she slid in front of him and then back up at her, struggling to keep his face expressionless. "Yes… It is…" Giving up the battle, he frowned, "But… I don't remember writing it."

She shrugged, "That's OK, I just wanted to see if it was your writing."

Grudgingly, he nodded. "Yes, it is."

"You're positive?"

Again, he nodded. Closing his eyes, he crossed his arms over his chest and rocked slightly. "If I don't remember writing page after page, maybe I am insane. Maybe—"

Pressing on, she gestured to the doodles in the margins with a pen, ignoring his vocalization of his fears. "So, I can assume from similar pen stokes and pressure that you drew these also?" After a beat she spoke again, "Dr. Addy?"

Opening his eyes, looking hopeless, Zack looked at the drawings and spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Logically."

"Do you know what word association is, Dr. Addy?"

"Yes."

"Close your eyes for me, please. Do you mind if I call you Zack?"

"No. You can call me Zack… Everyone else usually does." The smallest flicker of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth as he closed his eyes.

"OK, Zack… I'm going to say some words and I want you to just say the first thing that comes to mind. Don't think too hard about it, OK? Just, whatever, alright?" Dr. Addison rifled through the pages and pulled out a sheet on which she'd scrawled a list of words."

"OK."

Hodgins and Booth both leaned forward, anxiously searching Zack's slack facial features for answers. Sweets leaned back in his chair and watched the two men looking at their friend. He was surprised to see how much Agent Booth really seemed to care for Zack. It made him smile to see that the special agent wasn't quite as tough as his bravado made him appear.

Libby began without looking at her paper, "Bugs?"

"Hodgins."

"Bones?"

"Dr. Brennan."

"Honor?"

"Agent Booth."

"Murder?"

"Wrong." Zack opened his eyes and frowned at Libby. "I don't think this is helping." He shoved his fingers through his shaggy hair and looked helpless.

"Shut your eyes, sugar. Trust me," she said, reaching out and putting her hand over his. "Quit thinking. I need your to relax and just speak without analyzing, OK?"

Zack's eyes strayed down to her hand over his on the table then back up into her green eyes. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Nope," Libby said without a moment's hesitation. "I think that these drawings were your subconscious leaving you clues. The answers to all of this are right here. I know they are. So, close your eyes, Zack" She pulled her hand back from his and watched his eyelids close.

"Same deal as before OK?"

"Alright."

"Scale, arpeggio, bar?"

"Music."

"A E I O U?"

"Vowels."

"Artwork?"

"Angela."

"Morse Code?"

"Telegraphic encoding."

"Record player?"

"Granddad."

"Nightmare?"

"Alone."

"Waiting?"

"Learning."

"From?"

"Don't know."

"The Master?"

"No…"

"Bones in a phone booth?"

"He'll kill Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth."

"Who will?"

"Don't know."

"House in flames?"

"Hodgins and Angela."

Libby looked down at her scrawled notes, searching for something enlightening, aware of the dubious stares of the men around her.

"Light bulb?"

"Incandescent."

"Cladduagh?"

"Friendship."

"Inventions?"

"Patents."

This wasn't going where she has thought it would. Dr. Addison looked over her paper for a moment and shook her head. Looking sadly at the three men whose eyes were open, she shrugged and shook her head slowly.

"Family?

"Love."

"Fangs?"

"Dracula."

"Needle?"

"Injection."

"Booth, Bones, Bugs, Paintbrush?"

"My friends."

"Light bulb, music, scribbles?"

"Morse code."

Libby's eyes lit up and she said, "Light bulb, Morse Code, PHONOGRAPH?"

"Edison."

"Thomas?"

"No, Clark." Zack's eyes flew open. "Clark Edison!"

"Who?" Libby looked puzzled, but Booth and Hodgins were already out of their seats and beating on the door to get out. Sweets stood quickly and pushed the buzzer to release the door.

"Clark Edison. He's a forensic anthropologist, too. He's—"

"Responsible? Yeah, I got that part."

As the door opened, Booth and Hodgins turned and looked at Dr. Addison.

"Thank you!" Hodgins gasped.

"See if you can get more info from him," Booth directed her. "And… Thanks." Turning quickly, he let the door slam shut behind him.

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"Dr. Brennan, I can't tell you how pleased I am that you called me in on this case."

"Well, it's just as a consult, Dr. Edison, but if all goes well, you know that we have a position open in the department…" Brennan trailed off. The very idea of replacing Zack made her stomach turn.

"I understand, Dr. Brennan. And really, it's an honor that you even thought of me for this." Edison simpered. He hoped he wasn't laying it on too thick. Honestly, though, he was very pleased. This might be even easier than he'd planned… Perhaps he would even do the honors.

"Sweetie? I'm exhausted. Why don't you call it a night, too? We can catch a movie, have some wine… It would be a regular, run-of-the-mill girls' night," Angela suggested from the bottom of the platform.

"Ange, I really want to get this skeleton catalogued. With Dr. Edison helping me, I don't think it'll take too much longer. Can I call you when I'm leaving here?"

"Sure, sweetie. But, try not to take too long. I can't promise I'll save you any wine tonight." Blowing her best friend a noisy kiss, Angela strode down the corridor to the front doors of the Medico-Legal lab.

As she was pushing the door open, Booth all but knocked her down as he burst through the door, closely followed by Hodgins and Sweets.

"Where's Bones?" he hollered.

"On the platform with that kid Clark. She—"

Without letting Angela finish, Booth bolted for the forensics department, pulling his gun from its holster as he went.

"What the—" Angela started and was cut off by Hodgins.

"It's him, Ange. He did this. He framed Zack! He's Gormogon!"

"Edison? Son of a—" Angela turned on her heel and raced down the hallway with the psychologist and entomologist.

As they rounded the corner, Booth's voice rang out.

"Freeze! Drop it or I will shoot you and believe me, I won't mind it one damn bit."