A/N: And here I am again with a fresh new story. This is going to be more of a case story with B/B sprinkled throughout because I miss wondering 'whodunit' and 'wheresthenexttwist.'

Looking down at the scattered remains, Dr. Temperance Brennan had the strong inclination to wipe away a worm that had begun to wiggle through the dry skin on the victim's cheek; or what was left of it. Instead, she squatted fully on the rich soil, trying to disrupt the fallen leaves as little as possible. The upper torso was mostly intact with the exception of the right hand and forearm. The lower limbs were spread just beyond her.

"Lloyd Marshall's dog kept wandering off. He thought it was strange, but didn't think much of it."

"What made him change his mind?"

Special Agent Seeley Booth kept his gaze averted from the body his partner was intently studying. He flicked his dark sunglasses against his thigh, annoyed he couldn't wear them considering it was evening and thick trees offered more than enough shade from the sun.

"This."

The sheriff pulled out the small evidence bag and handed it over. He too kept looking away from the body on the warm dirt, not used to the harsh decomposition of flesh in such a small town.

Booth held the bag in front of him before bringing it close to his face. It was silver or platinum class ring with a vivid blue crest mounted in the centered and edged in pearly white. The sides were covered in the usual symbols of track star, honor society, drama faces, base ball and bat, and a proud number of 12, probably for football or basketball. While most kids had their names engraved on the inside, this one had only two initials: R.D.

"Dog crapped it out beside his porch. When he found it, he decided to follow the mutt and wound up here."

"You got anything, Bones?"

"Male. 18 to 28 years old. Left ulna is broken, signs of trauma to the head, and there are two fractured ribs."

She stood and walked over to where a lone piece of femur with dried muscle still attached at the ends lay.

"No other outward signs of trauma, but I'll have to wait until we get these cleaned at the-."

"What?"

Brennan didn't answer him. Her focus was centered on a small irregular mound of earth. Gently, her gloved fingers sifted through the unusually packed soil and came in contact with cardboard. No, it was an orange juice box like those used in schools for breakfast. With a frown, she held it in her palm, knowing it was too heavy to be empty, but with it being crushed in on one side, she'd wait until getting to the Jeffersonian before examining its contents.

"It's an orange juice box."

"This is a wildlife refuge isn't it?"

"Yeah," the sheriff replied.

"How many people come through here?"

"Rangers, biologists, ecologists, researchers, tour guides, tourists. This is the largest refuge in Virginia. We're busy nearly all year long."

"Well, I'd say we're looking between 24 and 45 days for time of death. Maybe shorter considering the hot weather and insect habitation."

"No missing persons in that time period?"

The sheriff shook his head and tapped his foot.

"Only people missing were a seven year old girl and a 54 year old woman."

"What about in the surrounding towns?"

"Maybe. I'm not really sure. Young kids, especially those graduating from high school, always end up running off. Most parents tell us they're missing, but we follow up and it turns out their kid is working at some factory in some small town just like the one they ran away from."

"Something tells me, if this boy ran away, people would know. You would know."

"How's that?"

"The kid's a star. Looking at his ring, he's probably a well known kid with smarts and athletic ability. Someone's going to notice he's gone."

Brennan glanced down to the body, wondering who he was and where he'd come from. Obviously, this wasn't his home and someone was missing him. Or maybe she just hoped someone was.

"I heard you were taking a vacation."

"Who told you?"

Booth shrugged his shoulders, flicking his gaze up at the last stoplight they would meet in the small, rural town.

"Well," Brennan sighed as she leaned carefully against the door, "I am."

The light turned green and he slowly accelerated, nodding to the few pedestrians walking in the almost dark.

"That's good, bones. It's been pretty rough."

Without a word, she nodded her head and slipped the seatbelt farther away from her neck as it snaked higher.

"You want to talk?"

"It's just a small vacation, Booth. It's not even a real vacation. I'll be working with Dr. Richmond with his excavation in Bolivia. That's not really a tourist site to relax with."

"It's alright to just sit back and have nothing to do. I think you deserve it."

She didn't look at him. Her eyes never veered away from where she was watching ahead of them at the waving trees and the paved road that would take them to the interstate and back home to D.C.

"I feel better knowing I'm helping to identify people we forgot about centuries ago."

He threw a glance her way, noticing not for the first time, the darkness under he eyes, the paleness of her face, the tautness of skin across her cheeks, and the downward lines beside her lips.

"Okay," he said heavily, not wanting to push her any further away than she was already pushing herself.