Temperance looked at her watch, sitting alone at the Reflecting Pool, heavy rain drowning out any other sounds. Her umbrella, though big, was not enough to shield her whole body, and she began to shiver as she counted the 67th minute she had been waiting.

"Brennan!" a voice yelled through the rain.

Temperance turned her head as quick as physically possible, towards the direction of her name.

"What are you doing out here, sweetie?" Angela said, walking towards Temperance, noticing immediately her friend's distress.

"Booth and I were meant to be meeting here. Today." Temperance said, standing up and turning towards Angela.

"It's pouring rain! Come back to the lab, Cam will be excited to see you. I hear that she fired your replacement after he decided that Michelle was 'hot'." Angela grinned, looking for a glimpse of a smile in Temperance's face.

"That would be rational, I know, but I feel like I must wait here for Booth. I promised." Temperance sat back down, her pants soaking.

"Come on, Brennan," Angela said as she grabbed Brennan's umbrella out of unsuspecting hands, and started walking swiftly back to her car.

"Angela! Please! Give it back!" Temperance yelled after her, standing yet not budging.

Angela stopped and turned to Brennan.

"Come get it."

"No Angela."

"Then freeze and die of pneumonia. I do have a great black dress I just bought."

Brennan finally let a sly smile seep through and took a step in Angela's direction.

"Bones!"

Brennan turned.

"Booth!"

Booth was meters away, but their eyes met, and their energy embraced one another's. They just stood, staring at each other for a few short moments, both with a blank face.

"Well... I can see you have some catching up to do..." Angela smiled, her all-knowing smile, and walked away, back to her car.

Booth and Brennan's eyes didn't move from each other, not even when Angela's car back-fired. Booth started walking towards Brennan, and she started running towards him. Their paths met and they grabbed each other, holding the tightest they ever had.

"I've missed you so much, Bones." Booth whispered in her ear.

"I've missed you, too." Brennan said as she pulled away, ending with her face so close to his, she could still feel his warm breath.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, a force pulling. Brennan looked at Booth's lips. Booth looked at hers.

"So," Brennan said, breaking the gaze, and stepping back subtly, "How was the Army?"

Booth paused, his hopes of their meeting extinguished, unable to fathom words. He turned away from her.

Brennan noticed his hesitation.

"I have heard that your whole base only lost 6 men all year. You must have been an exceptional Sergeant Major."

"Let's... Let's not talk about that," Booth said, gathering his wits and taking a deep breath, "Let's just have a coffee, and make small talk. Remember, 'Nothing really has to change.'" Booth tried to smile.

"Sure. Let's do that." Brennan smiled back and grabbed his arm.

"Shall we?" Booth said in his silly voice and grinned, forcing Brennan to remember his silly sense of humor. She smiled more than she had in the past year. Not because of his silly voice, but because she had him back.

"We shall."

The reunion of two partners was not the slightest bit different to when they had left.

"So, we have a case I hear, Bones." Booth said, finishing his last mouthful of coffee and stood up from the bench they had spent the last half hour sitting on.

"Yes," Brennan said, standing up and smoothing her damp pants, the sun breaking through the clouds, "Angela told me when we were driving back from the airport last week. I have already found cause of death."

"And that is...?" Booth requested and smiled. "I usually get an essay sized report on every detail."

"Sorry," Brennan said, looking down then back up to Booth's face, "A slash-like motion, cracking the clavicle and of which also marked into the manubrium."

"So how did they find her?"

Booth stared at the body, with very little flesh on the autopsy table. Each arm was tied by the wrist to the opposing leg's ankle, across the victim's front; both knees broken and the legs bend back. It was hard to imagine this was a 14 year old child.

"Ouch."

"All injuries, other than the slash to the victim's chest, were postmortem." Brennan pointed out, handing Booth the file.

"Yeah, 'cos getting slashed the boob doesn't hurt." Booth argued, receiving a disapproving look from Brennan that made him smile as he began to read the file.

"I'd approximate time of death at 4 to 5 days ago, according to the larvae's rate of growth." Hodgins said as he walked towards Brennan and Booth.

"Can you pinpoint where?" Brennan queried.

"Not yet," Hodgins said, bringing an image of the magnified feces found on the body, "But I do know that this excrement is feline, and I found traces of corn gluten meal which is commonly found in cheap cat food. There was no houses surrounding in a 15 mile radius of where we found the body, so I'm guessing, the body was moved."

"I agreed with your factual statement, but there is no guessing in science. I hope you are going to adjust to the fact that you are not in Paris anymore." Brennan pointed out.

"Or Kansas, even." Booth said as he laughed at his own joke.

"I don't know what that means." Brennan said, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Okay, how about this: it is statistically unlikely for a cat to walk 15 miles to poop on a dead human body, and not bother to eat it, ignoring its attractive fleshy smell." Hodgins said, shaking his head and walking away.

"What's wrong with him?" Angela said, walking up the stairs to the platform.

"I don't know..." Brennan said, leaning over the table and her eyes glued to the body.

Booth put up both his hands and turned them into mouths, acting out one yelling at the other. Angela giggled and Brennan looked up. Booth immediately moved his hands behind his back and looked away.

"I've been able to do a facial reconstruction," Angela said, turning her notepad around, showing the face of a pretty young child, "I put it through the FBI database and it came up with this."

Angela opened a file on the computer.

"Marisole Marlena Doglione," Booth read aloud, "Born in Italy, 1995, moved to America in 2000. Reported missing 5 days ago."

Brennan looked at the skull sitting before her, then looked at Angela's drawing, then to the computer image.

"I am comfortable confirming the identity of the victim," Brennan said, walking around the table, "Now we have identity, let's get to work."