AN: I don't own Bones. I found the start of this story in my Fanfiction ideas folder on my computer so I thought why not polish off the first chapter. Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE: The Memories in The Mirror

Lance Sweets gazes at his reflection in the mirror. He saw his dark hair, his dark eyes and the dimples, which he knew that his ex Daisy adored so much. He may only have been young, twenty-eight to be exact but it was still his job to deal with the problems of the people at the Jeffersonian. He helped them but sometimes he felt that the help had to be returned, he went through tough times just like anyone else and people failed to acknowledge that.

He removed his white business shirt and ran his hands over the scars on his shoulders and back. They were harsh, angry red lines that zigzagged and overlapped without a sense of care. It was one of the strongest reminders of then, when he was only a young boy. Huge dimples and curly dark hair, he trusted people and he thought that they loved him.

Lance had tried to banish all memories of those days but they would keep living on in his nightmares and whenever he got changed. At least now he had some people that cared for him and that appreciated his bad jokes and shrinky nonsense even though they denied it. Booth and Brennan were his family and he knew that they knew it. God he knew it since the night that they walked into his office and Brennan confronted him about his scars. He hadn't really told the truth but he knew that they had a pretty good idea of what happened to him, how his young form had been scarred for life. Scars weren't something that could just be erased as if they had never existed in the first place.

Lance Sweets had grown as a person since then. He knew that he'd always have a place in the world ever since he started working with Brennan and Booth. He had made an impact on many people since he first became a psychologist. He had helped to strengthen and cement the relationship between Booth and Brennan whilst caring and helping out with their daughter. He loved that little girl more then any other child in the world and was eternally grateful that he could be part of such a beautiful and innocent life.

Sweets removes his black suit pants along with his boxer shorts and steps in the shower. He sighs deeply as he feels the warm water rush against his back and soak his scarred skin. He lathers his dark black curly hair up with shampoo and runs a comb through it.

After turning the tap off and stepping out of the shower he wraps his towel around his dripping wet frame. He dries himself off quickly whilst still soaking the bathmat. The water dripped like blood, the blood of the murder victims that he saw everyday of his life. That was the dark reality of being a Forensic Psychologist, you saw pain every single day but no one ever saw if you were feeling pain yourself, no one ever seemed to care.

Lance Sweets strolls into his bedroom dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts. He lets out a sigh and climbs under the covers. When he was alone there was no reason to cover the scars because there was no one there to notice them. Just him and the ghosts of his past who he knew would never tell.

He presses face down into the soft white pillow and closes his eyes as tight as he possibly could. Before long Lance was oblivious to the world around him and all that he could see and comprehend were the figures that occupied his dreams, no wait they couldn't be called that, he meant to say nightmares. The kind of thing that makes a child hurry up to it's parents, tears streaming down their faces, only those nightmares weren't usually like his. Children dreamt of getting lost or ghosts and zombies but his nightmares were all too real. They were the insights into the memories that were still there, still haunting his every sleeping moment. They once haunted a six year olds mind but now, twenty two years later, they still managed to hang on and never be forgotten.

Lance would try to sleep and dream of pure things, well not just pure but you know exciting, dreams about him and Daisy. She was the most perfect woman that he had ever touched and made love to but for some reason she managed to slip between his fingers and once again Lance was to be left alone in the world with nothing but cold, harsh and violent memories of the time that a small, lonely child spent in foster care. That child was alone, unloved and hurting but no one ever thought to ask if they were okay. That was part of the reason that Lance became a psychologist because he wanted to help people and to show that someone was there when people felt alone and helpless.

AN: Hope you enjoyed. Chapter 2 will be up soon and it will be called "One Trip Can Take a Life"

RIP SWEETS.

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