Chapter One:

Wherein Fate comes in the form of Birthday Wishes.


"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

Oscar Wilde


Now we all know that Emma Swan had gotten into town, all with the help of a little boy towards to a little town with the strangest name that you think of. What on the other hand you never knew was that was much more that Emma didn't know.

Emma was not the only one needed for the Curse to end.

And it started with a call back to Washington D.C and right to New York.


Henry Mills quietly and quickly came down the stairs, the wood of the staircase whispering out creaks that nevertheless, were never heard by his mother (well, in all actuality, adoptive mother) as she went ahead going over the economy papers around Storybrooke; and right now, she was wrestling with the hospital budget and the pay check for the nurses within the ICU department. The creaks were not enough to make his mother pay any attention to him but regardless to the lack of dangers, Henry wore rubber-soled shoes for extra precaution.

Ever since his mother (his real and actual mother, biological mother as scientists would call it) had first came into town, Henry admitted things had changed. However, as evidence had shown with his sprained ankle, torn muscle shoulder and that wound that needed a few stitches, some things like the sinkhole that he wished had never happened.

The evening moonlight had sent a clean gleam in Henry's dark brown eyes, glinting in his youthful and large dark brown eyes. There was the small height of four feet and three inches, making him one of the shortest people in his class seeing he was ten years old. Lanky and small, Henry figured he'd grow up to be taller, taller enough to be a knight finally.

He tip-toed down the staircase, gently coming onto the floor while keeping his steps quick and light. His mind suddenly flickered back to the storybook, bound in brown and handsome leather with gold lettering. That book, who ever had made it, held all the fairytales, all of everyone's lives within Storybrooke. Well, the fairytales he knew. Because of how much his mother, Regina Mills, attempted to take the book from him, the only fairytales he knew right now was that Snow White's and Red Riding Hood's. He still had to get to the others, try to see who else was what fairytale character. And besides, they were fun to read and Henry loved looking at the pictures at night when his mother was asleep.

But there was one detail he didn't notice until now.

Right at the very back (a page he still kept to himself), Henry was looking over the page, remembering the details. Upon the page was a picture, a picture of his mom, his real mom Emma, set into a border of intricate paintings and almost-invisible golden writing (seeing how small it was).

For nights upon end, Henry would scavenge around the house for something that could help him see what that handwriting was but in the end, it was always too small to actually being seen. That was until one day, his mom Emma gave him some money to buy some ice cream from the local ice cream parlor; seeing what happened just about a week ago. Well, let's just say that Henry decided to put towards more practical usage; twenty dollars went to buying a magnifying equipment case leaving two dollars and fifty cents left for Emma, explaining it that he used it to but extra helpings and a soda.

Just because he and his best friend Archie (well, really, therapist but he liked to think of it as friends) gotten into a sinkhole because of the Curse, it didn't mean Henry would give up. Imagine if all the characters in our fairytales gave up because things got hard?

So, as his mother turned off the nights and made her way back to bed after a 'date 'with Sheriff Graham, Henry made a nightly adventure down the staircase and to his mothers personal office with keys in hand, he made it back with book in hand and magnifying equipment ready. And the golden writing, so small that Henry needed to use a flashlight to make the handwriting glint so he knew where it was, was perfectly intact, arranged within the intricate picture border.

But it was nothing. But yet it was. It wasn't some riddle or message or warning or great prophecy, kind of like the prophecy that Harry Potter had that Henry had read for a school assignment. That didn't mean it wasn't big. In fact, Henry decided that the Curse wouldn't be broken, that everyone wouldn't get home with Henry having not discovered it.

They were a list of names. Separated by artwork dots in fancy writing, there were twenty-eight names hidden in the painting. Most of them made sense. Well, until there were the last eleven names that Henry didn't know from any fairytale he discovered on that list on Wikipedia. But they sounded like normal names; names from his world.

Temperance Brennan. Seeley Booth. Jack Hodgins. Angela Montenegro. Camille Saroyan. Kate Beckett. Richard Castle. Alexis Castle. Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito. Lane Parrish.

So, like he supposed was smart enough to do, he went to the library claiming he was doing research for a school project, went on a computer and searched up the names. And he ended up getting more than he thought he would get. Like the first five were apart of a group called the Medico-legal lab in a place called the Jeffersonian Institute, the others worked as police officers in New York. That they all lived in Washington D.C, at least ten hours away from Maine and ten and a half if you went straight to Storybrooke; New York being 7 hours and a half from the small town. That they were the best forensics investigative team in the whole wide world. And that the book knew them, that they were all needed if Storybrooke was to be freed.

Emma was the heart of the plot, the great heroine of the story. But every hero or heroine had her team, her group that would support her and fight with her. And those names, those twenty-eight names were the names of her group members.

He looked up the Jeffersonian website, looking over the crime and forensics displays within the museum, seeing its connections with the Smithsonian Institute and contained the info about the group. Like the lab's phone number.

Scribbling it down as it dawned to 3 o'clock and rushed straight home with the excuse that he was with Paige, all he had to do now was get going to the phone. But for now, he had to get of his mother first.

"Henry, you've got a session with Dr. Hopper tomorrow morning, alright?"

Her prim and proper voice rang out, Henry instantly freezing, his heart feeling as if the ground might fall underneath him. "Yep, mom!" He said, his voice wobbling, only by a tony bit. Apparently, his mother didn't notice.

"Well, Henry, I have a meeting with the town counsel in a few minutes but I will be back in half an hour. You know the rules, right, my little prince?" Prince. The word could have being easily switched with the word pet and it would still sound the same, much to Henry's opinion. It was the little name that Henry could remember from when he was a little boy, much before he had the book.

"Yep, mom. No outdoors, no calling anybody, answering the door or answering the phone."

"Good boy." He could hear the rattle of keys and the snap of her bag coming closed, soon accompanied by the click of heels against the wood of the floor. They stopped, just right behind him. "I love you, Henry."

He turned around, kissing his mother in a well-practiced way, like how someone could roll their eyes or remember Shakespeare poetry. An soon, with the wound of clicking heels following her, Henry's mother opened the door and closed it. And only after when her car had drove out the parking area and disappeared from the vision of the windows, that was when Henry moved once more.

His gentle and quick movements had turned into a scrabble, quickly moving into the kitchen area where the phone had hung on the wall. Almost running, Henry pulled out the shred of paper containing the numbers of the Jeffersonian Institute from his pocket, freshly written just hours ago.

209-529-410.

Henry looked over the numbers, grapping for the phone on the kitchen counter with the strip of paper still in his fingers. Pushing the numbered buttons slowly and carefully, Henry had taken a deep breath and recited a reason. "I need to talk with Dr. Brennan and the forensics team about a school project about forensics," he recited to himself, imagining the adminisator at the end of the line.

Once he gotten beyond her and got talking to the team, then he could finally reach Dr. Brennan, Hodgins, Angela and Booth. There was the buzz of a empty line for a few moments as Henry held it to his ear, still checking the vision of the windows that the car didn't suddenly drive back. And then there was the receptionist, speaking cooly. "Jefferson Institute, how may I help you?"

"I need to talk with Dr. Brennan and the forensics team about a school project about forensics," Henry parroted.

Time for the adventure to begin.


Eleven hours and 675 miles away from the state Main and straight into the city of Washington D.C, right now the Jeffersonian Institute Forensic Branch was basically empty of cases to do. But that didn't mean the place was abuzz with something. Because today was someone's birthday; in this case, the head forensic anthropologists birthday, Dr. Brennan's 32nd birthday at that. But however, Dr. Brennan was not much in for a great mood at all.

"Ange, no, honestly, I don't want to celebrate!" Dr. Brennan said tiredly for what seemed like the one-hundredth time for her, going over three greenstick fractures within the chest of a eleven year olds skull. Must likely caused by adult, determined by the nature of the break, Dr. Brennan determined to herself. Angela Montenegro could only sigh in response.

"Brennan, it's only out at the Founding Fathers for some drinks and a slice of birthday cake, nothing massive," Angela said. "And Brennan, we already caught the killer; why the hell are you going over the remains again?"

"I need to be sure the evidence is correct when it comes for the persecution and the judge to look over, I thought you knew that," Dr. Brennan said coolly. Looking over at the evidence box, she figured now was the best time to start packing the remains up. Picking up the skull, she looked it – or in her mind's eye, her – in the eye.

Zara Heathridge was at least 6 years old, as seen upon the incomplete fusing of the skull bones and ossification of the fontanelles along with the greenstick fractures. Evidence of Zara being female came from the size and shape of her pelvic bones – pelvic girdle being round and large to accompany gestation and childbirth in later years. From the lack of clothing on scene and damage to pelvic area, sexual assault was evident all while the greenstick fractures had proved choking and organ damage.

Thinking of it, Dr. Brennan could only see it the way since she first came in the Jeffersonian as a young intern; to strip away the flesh and the blood, you would find bones and deeper inwards, pure and simple and sometimes saddening or horrifying truths. You came into the world through a creature of flesh and blood and beating heart and came out of the world as a bare skeleton with your life bared upon the bones. Life was as simple as that. (Right? Temperance thought to herself).

"Bren, please," Angela begged, Dr. Brennan busying herself with packing the bones. By this time, she had gotten to rib bones and now was proceeding to the pelvic bones, so small for a child. "It's just a party, just a small, teeny-tiny gathering with your friends. Over wine. And birthday cake. Did I mention it was strawberry and dark chocolate?"

"About the third time, as I can recollect."

Angela blow out a small fringe of her hair. Hair like of a inky black that was always tousled, the professional lights of the bone room had shown the light brown complexion of her skin, her full lips, her intelligent and dark eyes. The light was also cast upon Brennan; the porcelain white skin, sleek hair of a beautiful auburn colour, the even darker eyes, the slenderness of her form, the bones hidden underneath her skin. Angela could tell how this woman had gotten so many dates.

"Can you at least still come? Just to celebrate?"

Dr. Brennan breathed out. "Alright. I'll be over at 7."

Angela squealed, nodding her head. A small thought suddenly flickered over her mind. "Anyway… what about presents?"

Dr. Brennan shrugged, more occupied with making sure the femur bones got into the box safely than discussing birthday details. "What about them?"

Angela bit her lip, almost nervously. "Well… we all know that you happen to love adventure, so… Hodgins thought that maybe, if we all gotten this little van and well, maybe went on a small road trip around the place - "

"NO. Angela, no, absolutely not." Brennan finally gotten the bones in the box, closing the lid with a quick snap, and made her way out of the room. She'd have to call for a taxi since her car had broke down back at her apartment parking and right now seemed like the best time.

"And why the hell not?" Angela asked. "Look, only Booth, Hodgins, Cam and I are coming along and it'll be up the Boston and then back down again to Washington D.C! Cam doesn't have a problem with it, Hodgins can easily pay for it and tomorrow the weekend starts so - "

"Ang, when people think of presents, they think birthday cards or perfume or new clothes or - "

"A whole weekend of adventure with their friends? What's wrong with that?" Angela asked.

Brennan huffed. "I just… don't want you wasting time and money on me, Ang. You know how I'm like around birthdays." Birthdays was never a great occasion for Dr. Brennan as a adult; they were celebrations, events that were glittering memories of her childhood that she preferred she left behind. There were more important events ahead of her than that one day when she gained one more year to slipping youth.

"Bren."

"I'll be in my office." Dr. Brennan ignored the concern in Angela's face and made her way out. Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out; in, out, in, out.

It was not long until she finally gotten to her office. When she was a intern who only left from college with her bachelors in forensic science, she would have never imagined ever having a office of her own, Her boss, Cam's office, was much more larger but however, Brennan enjoyed the simplicity and treasure trove in which Brennan had made her office into. The Egyptian mummified corpses in their glass cases, the Ancient Greek relics, the prehistoric objects. A grotto of items lost within time, like how the little mermaid's grotto up on land and a lot more neater.

But right there, on the desk, there was a package. Small and circular, the present box was that of lavender and tied up with a ribbon of spring green silk, right in the middle of the desk. Cautiously, Dr. Brennan walked over. Open it or look for Booth? You'd be surprised with the danger attached with working within forensics; her friend Angela had learned the hard way, the way being a little present of a human heart sent to her.

On the box, Dr. Brennan could see a small card attached upon the large bow right on top of the boxes lid. Taking the box, carefully, into her hands, she looked over the card as she sat in her chair. The writing loopy and messy, it brought her back to a memory of being younger, brighter, so much less worldly, saying:

Tempy,

Time has passed for the pair of us and even more has changed. It's amazing what time does to us, doesn't it? Especially over three years. Anyway, Tempy, I heard it's your 32nd birthday today so I thought, since five years have passed…maybe we can try and start over again. As friends and nothing more.

You know my phone number, that's one thing that hasn't changed ever.

Dr. Brennan smiled. Warm and bright, remembering. From reading it, she could simply hear that warm and cocky voice in her head from so long ago; she could only hope that the years didn't have a effect over that. Getting the phone, she dialled a number with a small hum on her breath. She didn't need a signature to know who it was.

There was much of three years that she would have to catch up on.


The moon was high, it was 11 at night, the phone had rang and Richard Castle was grumpy as seven hells, seeing he spent the whole day and night going over a case involving a fantasy roleplaying club, a mentally ill mother and a case of wheat flour containing fungus with disturbing hallucinations. And he couldn't write. And just as he crawled into bed, hoping he can could maybe sleep in until 11 or even 1 in the after noon, Castle's IPhone had rang.

"Shit, bugger, hell," Castle moaned into the sheets. At least I had the time to get into bed, Castle quickly thought to himself, looking over at the phone. Even after nearly a year of being within the Ney York Police Force, Castle was still adjusting to the late hours of which were attached to the job like thorns upon a lovely rose. Late hours had stretched his sleeping hours and right now, he had enough experience to know that the seat of his desk in his writing office was comfortable enough if you had put a pillow to support your back on it; or risk the 99.9% chance you would wake up and find yourself – temporarily – hunchbacked for a few hours.

Grabbing the phone, he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and yawned. After this, he was definitely sleeping until 3 in the afternoon. "Richard Castle, how may I help you?" And why the hell are you calling me at 11 in the middle of the night, stranger? Was naturally added in the tone of his voice.

"Late night, Richard?"

He stopped. That voice, cool as winter's frost and as elegant as any queen from the pages of a storybook; and warm, a warmth he only heard in his memories at night captured and bound within her voice, only heard by him and his daughter.

"Temperance?"

Awkward silence followed. "Yep, Brennan over here."

He listened to her words, to the sound of her voice. And he laughed. "God, Tempy, it's being so long. How's things being going for you? Everything alright with your team? How did the trip to Cairo go?"

"Um," she stumbled over her words, Castle sitting up on the bed, "everything's being fine. The trip to Cairo was well… wonderful, actually, much analytical work going on along with interesting work upon mummification. Angela found a job in the Jeffersonian, Hodgins…"

"Still conspiring over GPS's in cars planted by the government?" Castle mused, smirking.

"And right now over the existence of television surveillance." The smirk on her face could be heard in her voice, Castle laughing. "Right now, the Jeffersonian forensics team is looking for interns at the moment, but other than that everything is alright."

He cleared his voice, listening to her closely. There were those moments, long ago and which still occurred even to today, that Castle would love to just stay still and listen to the sound of Brennan's voice. Right now, he could have put up with her comments over the existence of supernatural creatures, mini anthropology lessons which somehow had relevance on baseball games and comic books, mistakes on pop culture and ramblings on the forensic mistakes on crime shows all night long, just to make up for those million moments in those three years Castle wished he could hear Brennan's voice.

On the other side, a sense of apprehension could be felt over at her side. "How's Martha and Alexis?"

He smiled. "Martha's now over at my place, someone scammed her; for the fourth time. And Alexis…" Now was his time for a moment of awkwardness, words hardening into a lump in his throat. (She missed you so much and still does and so does Martha and Meredith and the Governor and me and sometimes there were these moments that I wished you just came back home and didn't go away.) "She's very well thanks. She's on the honour roll, sixteen years old right now. She's hoping to enter criminology once she graduates from school."

"Alexis was always a clever girl," Brennan said softly. "Is she… does she still sleep with Blinky? Still likes… Ariel, I think?"

He smiled gently. "Well, she did get it from someone, with you… you being around her when she was little." On the other side, he could hear her clear his throat. "Well, she's come to like Rapunzel and Mulan better these days, good guess by the way. And, she'll say no about Blinky but Brennan, try and throw him out to the trash, and she'll give you one mean Spock pinch."

"Castle, it's a pressure point pinch, remember that." Castle could easily imagine Brennan in her office, rolling her eyes at that little Star Trek reference; what seemed like long ago, they would spend hours in the kitchen arguing over pop culture references while little Alexis would sit at the kitchen island eating her afternoon lunch.

"Spock pinch sounds cooler."

"Certainly it does, Richard." She giggled, Castle closing his eyes and his smile becoming brighter. "I suppose Blinky still has the resemblance to road kill?" She asked warmly.

"Between a snot rag, in my opinion, and road kill," he told.

"Anyway, you opened your present?" Castle asked.


Tears were building in Brennan's eyes, her vision focused upon the box, listening to the phone where Castle's voice rang from despite being miles and hours away. Back up on the display area, Brennan could hear Hodgins talking with Sweets; most likely over his paranoia. She twirled her fingers around the bow of the ribbon, silky underneath her touch. Once upon a time, Castle would positively spoil her with birthday gifts that only gotten more elaborate – more special – as the years went by and Castle's books had gotten more publicity and Castle became wealthier. Brennan would tell him not to, Castle say he wouldn't, but at the end of the day, Brennan would come back to his apartment with a big birthday present that she simply could not deny.

"I suppose I wanted to call you before I opened it," she said. "Richard, please tell me it's not perfume or jewellery. Please, I've got enough to open a jewellery line." Temperance picked up the box, feeling the weight of it. Whatever it was, it seemed somewhat heavy, not light.

"Open the box, and see what's in there."

She smirked. She pulled open the ribbon, the bow coming apart and leaving the lid ready to be opened. And opening the lid, she smiled, closing her eyes. Opening her eyes, the tears were only threatening to spill out. And with two hands, easing the phone onto her shoulder and into the crook of her long neck, easing the present out of the box. It was a cake, a cake not large enough to be a proper birthday cake but not small enough to be a cupcake. With a bright green ribbon wrapped around the cake, Brennan could smell the fragrance of chocolate icing and cake. And right in top of the icy, a little pink star-candle was on top with a iced cricket wearing a top hat and proper clothes.

"Happy birthday, Tempy!" Castle cried on the other side of the phone, having heard her gasp.

She laughed, putting it right at the middle of her desk. The light of her office light had glinted against the marzipan of the tiny cricket, Brennan's mind having went somewhere, searching for a name; Brennan would spend hours doing film marathons with Alexis when she got sick, Disney somehow having its way of popping up. "Like the extra detail, Richard."

"While, I always knew your love for Disney."

"Who ever said I loved Disney? Where's your evidence?"

"Exhibit A is being you and Alexis watching the Little Mermaid over and over again, Exhibit B being the worn out DVD player. Anyway, love the cricket, Tempy?" Castle asked over the phone, his voice in a comical-lawyer voice at the first sentence.

"Love the cricket, looks delicious. Omnomnomnom," she said lightly. "Anyway, Jumbo…"

"Jiminy Cricket's the name you're looking for."

"Right, Jiminy looks lovely."

"And right now," Richard sad lovingly, "he's waiting to make your wish come true."

She cleared her throat, looking at the cake. Outside, she could hear all her friends outside, waiting for her. "Richard?"

"Yes, Tempy?"

She looked outside, the silhouettes of her co-workers, her friends easily seen. They were planning a night out for Founding Father's and soon, a road trip right up to Boston and then right back down. "Richard, do you mind if I could have my friends come in? Just to make the wish with me? Maybe you can have your friends come over here too?"

He laughed. "Alright. Lanie, Ryan, Espo, Kate! Come over here, I want you to meet a old friend of mine!"

Old friend. How very ironic, how humorous two words made of their long past, of who they once had being, being old friends. Taking the phone away from her ear, she craned her neck over to where her friends could be seen. "Hodgins! Angela! Cam! Booth! Can you come over here?" She shouted.

The light outside were dim, shadows dancing in the forensics lab. And dark figures advanced to the glass doors of her office, their faces revealed in the warm, yellow light.

Hodgins was the first to run over, a scarf halfway between be tied around his neck like the noose to a dead man. His bright blue eyes glimmered from the darkness, his neat hair looking a little frizzy from where Brennan stood. The beginnings of her short beard could be seen, his stance tall from 5'6 and leanly muscled. And right now, a coat was pulled over him. The glimmer of his badge, brightly declaring in red and blue words 'the truth is out there, "could be seen underneath his coat and pinned onto his blue sweater. "Everything alright, Dr. Brennan?"

Right after him, was Camille Saroyan, 'Cam' being the lab's unofficial nickname for the Head of the Forensics Branch. Statuesque and slender, she wore her professionalism on her face like a mask, a slight frown seen upon her lips as she walked in. With her glossy hair of black and dark complexion of light brown, Cam was wearing her usual fashions of sleekly designed dresses, clean-cut blouses and shirts along with form-fitting trousers, the large raincoat seemed out on place on her.

The third last behind, Angela had sped right into the room while in the middle of wrapping her scarf around her. And right behind her, flustered and ready for the fight as always, there was Booth. Just a few inches senior to her height, six feet verse five feet and eight inches, Booth may a well being the Prince Charming in real life; the clean cut dark brown hair, deep hazel eyes, the sharp-lined jaw, broad shoulders and muscled frame.

"Is there a fire?" Hodgins asked, his eyes sheepishly searching around the place, until his vision had reached the cake, a wide grin spreading on his face. "So who sent you the Jiminy Cricket cake over?"

"Me, to be more precise." Castle's voice rang from the speaker on Brennan's phone. "You wouldn't believe her love for - "

"Richard, shut it," Brennan coolly chided. Not too far away, she could see Angela's eyebrows rise, her eyes questioning. "Guys, this is a old friend of mine living in New York. Richard Castle, meet my friends."

"Wait." Angela held up a hand, "Richard. Richard Castle. Like Richard Castle of New York, who is the global bestselling author to the Nikki Heat series and the Derrick Storm Saga, Richard Castle?"

"Yep, yep and holding 8th place for New York's eligible bachelor list," Castle added. At that, every person in the room had their eyebrow unconsciously rise at that response. Except for Angela, it was more directed at her best friend, who was still innocently sitting in her chair.

"And you sent over a cake. To Dr. Brennan. For what reason, dearie?" Angela asked.

"Actually, good question, why?" That time, it was Booth, his voice that usual stern and commanding tone; desiring only respect, perfected over years of services within the US military and FBI work.

"Well… because everybody loves birthday cake on their birthdays. Especially if a Disney character is on top of it," Castle said lightly. Hodgins could only shrug, as if that explained the whole situation.

"So guys, this is Richard," Brennan introduced, "Richard, the man you just heard is Booth, my partner and officer at the Jeffersonian."

Booth cleared his throat, coming over to the desk and closer to the phone. "Agent Seeley Booth of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to you, Mr Castle."

Castle gasped. "You work with the FBI, how neat! And that other lady? The lady with the bedroom voice, Angelique I think you called her, Tempy?"

"Close call," Angela said, smiling at his comment. "The lady with the bedroom voice, as you call it, is Brennan's best friend, Angela. Forensic artist, big fan of Nikki Heat and Derrick Storm. Anyway, love page 105 of Heat Wave. And I loved the character of Lady Athena Rebann in the Derrick Storm books."

Brennan coughed and Castle chuckled. "She was always one of my favourite characters to write, Miss Angela. I've heard much about you over the years. And the other men?"

"Oh, right," Brennan said calmly, gesturing Hodgins to come closer to the phone while Angela's eyes widened, "This guy over here is Dr. Jack Hodgins, the primary forensic entomologist within the Jeffersonian, a close colleague of mine."

"Nice to met you, Mr. Castle," Hodgins said, smiling brightly at the phone.

"Good to meet you Jackie. And…anyone else?"

"Camille Saroyan, over here," Cam gently explained. "Brennan's boss, pathologist. I was once a coroner over at New York. How's everything over there, Mr. Castle with the NYPF?"

"You used to live in New York? And work in the police force?"

"Born there and lived there for twenty-odd years until I moved over to D.C." Cam pursed her lips. "And how is everyone in the police force going?"

"Well, actually! But, anyway, today is Tempy's 32nd birthday so… perhaps we could make a wish?" Castle suggested.

Brennan bit her lip, fiddling with the ring on her finger. "Make a wish?" Brennan asked slowly.

"Yea, Brennan, make a wish," Booth said brightly, "it's tradition! Upon your birthday, you make a wish and blow out the candles, and with faith and magic - "

"Your wish comes true," Cam finished for Booth, clearly recalling from childhood memory. Cam seen the cool look on Brennan's face, huffing as she supported herself, one hand on the desk that held her up. "Come on, Dr. Brennan, one wish, you only need to make one wish."

"Um…" Brennan blew a strand of her hair away from her face, uncertain.

"Oh, god, guys," Castle's voice had brought Brennan and all her friend's attention, "I want you to meet my friends. First of all, Kate Beckett, my partner in the New York Police Force," Castle said smoothly.

"And partner though work only, before you get any ideas." Kate's voice was stern, a sense of stoicism that reminded Brennan much of Booth and Cam. But before she knew it, Cam's eyes widened at the sound of the woman.

"Beckett? Detective Beckett?"

From the phone line, Brennan could hear Beckett gasp. "Camille?"

"Yes, yes, it's me, Dr. Saroyan!" Cam cried, a wide smile seen upon her face.

"On my god, Camille, it's being years!" Beckett said excitedly from the phone line, it's being years since I last heard from you! I only came into the homicide department in the police force when I first met you! You moved to D.C?"

"Better job, better equipment," Cam said gently, grinning, "Head of the forensics department now, with a larger office; at last."

"But wait, I thought you - "

"Wait, wait, ladies," Hodgins said over the pair of them, looking not too far away from a rabbit in the headlights of a car, "question, how do you know each other? Did you used to work together once back in New York, were you best friends?"

"An excellent question by Dr. Saroyan," Castle quipped.

"Which I think," Booth added, "you should tell all of us. Just to clear up confusion."

Cam smiled, turning to face all of them. "I used to work as a coroner in New York, you all probably know that by now. Lived in New York until I moved to D.C at least four years ago, finally gotten a call from the Smithosonian and became Head of the Forensics Branch. That's what you know. What you don't know was that I was a detective within the NYPD for eleven years before I became a coroner, long before Beckett came into the department."

"And when I first came into the police as a rookie officer," Beckett said knowledgably, "Camille was second only to Montgomery, the best of the best and at the time was also the Head Coroner with Lanie," she explained to Castle this time, "as her assistant."

"Speaking of which, is she fine?"

"Why don't you ask me that yourself, Cammie?" This time it was the voice of Lanie speaking.

"Lana? My god, Lanie, how are you?!" Cam asked. Hodgins looked as if he was going to fall asleep on the spot from all this talking and Angela looked in between the phone and Cam and Brennan with incedlous eyes. Apparently, Brennan thought to herself as she fiddled with her fountain pen, she wasn't the only one who made friends in New York.

"Well, ever since you left, Montgomery made me the Head Coroner," – Cam laughed encouragingly at that – "but, well, no one could match up to you. Not even little perfect me, by Montgomery's words.

"Aw, I'm sure you make up for the gapping hole. Speaking of him, tell the little bastard next time you met him, he owes me a poker match," Cam said playfully. Kate laughed and Lanie snorted.

"You sure you want to do that, Camille?" Kate asked.

"As we all know," Castle sneakily advised, "He'll have stepped up his game ever since you first left. And trust me, he plays a mean game of poker with those cards of his."

"And it's even worse when it comes to gambling." This time it was another new voice, fresh and seemingly young from what everyone believed.

"Guys," Castle introduced, "This is apart of the team, detective Kevin Ryan. And with him, is his partner Javier Esposito, Esposito really. Espositio, Ryan, say hello!"

"Nice to meet you all," Ryan said politely.

"And good to hear from you again, Cam," said Javier, everyone easily hearing that faint Jamaican accent as he spoke into the phone.

"Now," Castle started, "Tempy, I didn't send you that cake for nothing. Let's get going with the wishing!"

Everyone cheered, both in the lab and other at Castle's apartment. Before Brennan could stop her, Angela hurried off to find some matches or a firelighter while Hodgins looked around for a knife to cut the cake into slices. "You mind me using a scalpel?" Hodgins asked Cam, searching in his pockets. It only taken one second to get a response, a blatant no from the pathologist; and she didn't even have to say a single word.

After scrambling around Angela's unit, Angela by pure luck, found a box of fresh matches and Booth had ran up to the kitchen and fetched a knife to cut the cake in.

"Okay, Brennan, one wish," Angela said as she lit the candle, Hodgins turning off the lights.

"And make it quick, it'll be midnight and I need to get some sleep," Booth warned, looking at the iron wrought clock that was close to the glass case of mummified corpse.

"That'll make it more special," Castle mused, "more magical."

The lights were turned off, the only light being the soft glow coming from the flame. It illuminated the sarcasm on Brennan's face (perhaps even hopefulness, if you looked a little closer), glowing like the star in which was designed on top of the cherry pink birthday candle. It radiated against Jiminy Cricket's face and marzipan suit, bringing out the expectation in all of their eyes.

"Happy Birthday to you," Hodgins started, "Happy Birthday to you," - everyone began to sing along, both those in the lab and those over the phone, Hodgins moving his arms not too far from how a conductor of a orchestra would move his, "Happy Birthday…"

Brennan looked over the cake, the flame of which danced upon the candle. The concept of making wishes upon birthdays or upon stars was an idea that she left behind in her childhood; not to mention, as a woman of empirical beliefs, it was very much impossible to make wishes upon balls of gasses in the sky and expect for that wish to come to life, to believe in fairytales in general.

Growing up, Brennan could only admit that she as a young child (and secretly, even now as a adult) she was a fan of Disney. She would dream of breaking curses, fighting pirates, flying towards magical islands, swimming with mermaids and being awakened by true loves kiss. But then, over time, reality came. No matter how much she wished upon stars, kissed frogs, read fairytales or recited made up spells; no magic could truly exist. Fantasy was fantasy, reality was reality. That's what she believed.

But we know better.

But. But deep down inside of her, a little flame of innocence that only burned on by a thread of want, Brennan desperately wanted to believe. (Those stories, those tales that she watched by Walt Disney… they couldn't be wrong? Could they be real?) Castle, Esposito, Ryan, Lanie, Kate, Hodgins, Angela, Cam and Booth's voices had mingled together, Brennan's heart tightening in a small sense of expectation.

And with one small breath held in, her eyes tightly shutting. She wished.

I wish for adventure, for some magic to be real.

And with the last note of the song reaching its peak, Brennan's held in breath had blew from her lips and killed the flame in one single breath. Everyone clapped, Booth whooped and Castle cheered.

But as if by magic, as if Brennan's wish had summoned it, the phone began to ring, loudly and clearly that pierced the birthday air.


Authors Note:

Hello, everybody!

Now, the last chapter was that of the prologue if anyone had gotten confused and now, we're getting right into the story. So hang on tight and please remember to review! :3

~ Nee