"I think something is wrong with Booth."

The mention of my name made my hand stop in mid-air. Their backs to me, Angela and Bones stood in front of a large screen. My eyes followed their gaze and I recognized the girl staring back at them: Christie Rogers, 16 years old. I knew how this would end, unfortunately. She had been found at the bottom of a lake, just outside of DC, dumped there by a schizophrenic wacko who was going to be judged unfit to stand trial. They would send him to a high-security psychiatric ward and the parents would be left with an unfinished sense of justice.

"What makes you say that?" Angela asked.

She was so pretty, even from behind. All those weeks away from her desperately made me want to hold her in my arms and never letting her go. Of course, she would want none of that, independent as she is. I felt a twinge of sadness, knowing she had no clue how I felt about her at this very moment.

"Well, first of all, he was talking about my death that happened ten weeks ago."

"Death?" Angela asked, surprised. "Was I in a coma when it happened?"

Both of them laughed at the absurdity of the thing and I felt a spur of irritation.

"Maybe he's just tired, Sweetie."

"Maybe, but he seemed so serious," Bones replied, still unsure.

It was obvious to me they thought I was crazy. Then again, I couldn't blame them. Even I had trouble believing what was happening.

Unable to resist being far from her, I knocked softly on the door. Both turned around.

"We've found our victim," Bones announced, proudly.

Our eyes met and I felt my heart skip a beat. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. The last time I had seen her, her face was bloodied and her body had been all tangled up in her car.

"Yeah, I know. It's Christie Rogers," I said, trying to push back the images from the accident.

She frowned.

"How did you know that?"

They already thought I was crazy for thinking Bones was dead. I wasn't going to let them think that I had also turned psychic. I glanced quickly at the screen, hoping to find something that could save my butt.

"It's right there on the screen."

Bones nodded. She was now looking at me strangely, and that's when I felt it: the overwhelming rush of guilt and helplessness I always felt when I thought of her after the accident. The urge to hold her in my arms grew stronger. I turned my attention back to the screen, hoping my eyes weren't betraying how I felt inside.

"Tell me about her."

Her voice was like music to my ears as I listened to her read from Christie's file. Slowly, her voice seemed to drift away until I barely heard what she was saying. It had dawned on me that I had to stop her from coming over to my place tonight. I couldn't possibly just tell her bluntly to stay home. First of all, I knew she wouldn't obey. Second of all, she would ask me why I thought she would come over to my apartment in the first place. She already suspected I was going crazy. Her assumptions would turn out right if I'd tell her I'd crash into her car later on tonight and that I would end up killing her.

"Booth!"

I snapped back to reality.

"What?"

"You're not listening," she replied in an accusatory tone.

"Yes, I was," I lied. "You said Christie was a student at Lincoln High school. She disappeared three months ago while walking home from dance lesson. The police first suspected her older boyfriend, Rick Lancaster, 23, of abducting her but his alibi for that afternoon checked out. Having no other leads, the cops were forced to drop the case."

She looked at me, unconvinced but satisfied by my answer.

"So, what do we do now?"

"We go talk to the parents," I answered, feeling a wave of happiness wash over me.

We were back!

The last time we had visited the Rogers, our conversation hadn't gone too well. Bones had managed to piss off the father, which had ended in me getting punched in the jaw for stepping in between them. We had left the house, my jaw throbbing and angry at my partner for being so insensitive with the parents. Maybe this was where I was supposed to change the day. I'd make sure the meeting went smoothly, that Bones didn't anger anyone. No one would get punched, and maybe I wouldn't need to go out with Erin to take my mind off my bad day.

The Rogers lived in an upper middle class neighbourhood. The houses were all big, the lawn were neatly kept, almost to perfection. This perfection made me edgy, almost aggressive and frustrated.

Christie's parents resembled their neighbourhood: their house was tidy, everything in its right spot; Mary Rogers's hair would be tied in a bun on the top of her head, not a single hair out of place, and her clothes would be wrinkleless. This type of perfection would have made any teenager feel out of place and eager to get out. That is why Christie had taken up those dance classes, her dance instructor had told the agent who had taken on the case. She had needed to get away.

Bones followed me to the door. I rang, and the doorbell chimed on the other side of the door, just as I remembered it. Seconds later, as if she had been expecting us, Mrs. Rogers opened the door, her clothes the same as they had been the first time. We introduced ourselves and Christie's mother let us in. We waited in the living room while she went to get her husband.

"Everything is so… clean," Bones said, as she looked around the room.

"I know. No wonder Christie wanted out of this house."

Her head snapped in my direction and I knew I had made another mistake.

"How do you know she ran away? The file said she disappeared after dance class."

"I never said she ran away, Bones."

I had to justify my answer. I thought quickly and said the first thing that came to mind.

"But you see it all the times. The parents are rich and controlling. Their houses are too neat, too perfect, compared to how their children actually feel in their minds. According to them, their lives are hectic and disorganise. They feel trap in their parents' world and they want out. So, they leave the comfort of their homes and go somewhere they feel freer."

Bones scoffed.

"That's psychology, Booth. You know how I feel about it. Good luck explaining that to her parents."

I sighed, half in relief that she bought my explanation, half in frustration that she didn't believe the truth of what I was saying. I was about to reply when the Rogers walked in the room. Lowering my voice so only she heard me, I whispered:

"Just let me do the talking."

"Fine," she replied in a hushed voice.

I introduced myself once again and invited them to sit down, which they did. The last time I had spoken to them, they had reacted badly to the news of their only daughter's death. I cleared my throat, preparing myself mentally to relive that conversation.

"I'm guessing you're here to talk to us about Christie." Mr. Rogers said, before I had the chance to speak.

That took care of it.

"I'm sure you heard about the body found in the lake, just outside of DC."

Mrs. Rogers nodded while her husband remained still. His eyes were staring straight at me, as though daring me to tell them I had found their daughter.

"We have reasons to believe that the remains belonged to your daughter."

Similar to the last time, Mrs. Rogers let out a cry of despair before letting a river of tears pour from her eyes. Mr. Rogers remained calmed, his fists clenched on his lap, the twitch in his jaw the only clue to the emotional despair going on inside of him.

"You're sure it's our Christie?" he asked in a rough voice.

Bones and I looked at each other.

"Yes. Dr. Brennan's colleague was able to draw a sketch using the tissue markers provided by Dr. Brennan. Using the sketch, we searched in the missing person's database for a match. We are very sorry for your lost."

"How… I mean, how did she die?" Mrs. Rogers asked, in a choked-up voice.

It was Bones who answered that question.

"We found evidence of blood trauma in her skull, suggesting there had been massive internal bleeding prior to her death. No cause of death has been established so far."

I looked over at Bones. So far, she was being polite and hadn't given the family too many details. I had to admit I was surprised.

"What happened on the day Christie disappeared?" I asked, even though I already knew.

It was Mr. Rogers who answered.

"Nothing unusual, if that's what you mean. She woke up, left for school, and was due to return home after her dance class. Her teachers assured us she was at school. Her dance teacher also said she showed up for class and she saw her leave when it was over. She just never came home."

"Did you notice anything different about her? How was her mood that day?"

"James and Christie had an argument," Mrs. Rogers answered.

"Mary!"

"They have to know, James. If they find out later on, they'll think you've killed her."

I pretended to be surprised by her comment. I knew what was coming.

"James and Christie didn't get along very well. They argued a lot, which led to a lot of door slamming."

"She was always defying my authority," Mr. Rogers cut in. "She didn't respect curfew, she was arrogant. When I confronted her about it, she'd talk back. That morning, I told her I'd have enough of her attitude, that if she didn't change her ways, we'd send her away to live with her grandparents."

"That's it?"

I knew it was, but somehow I felt the need to ask anyway.

"Yes, Agent Booth. That is it."

"Do you think it's possible that she might have run away?"

Mrs. Rogers gasped.

"Christie? Running away? Never. Christie was happy here. She went to the best dance school in Washington, had a lot of friends at school, and, even if we did disapprove of their relationship, she had a boyfriend whom she loved. Her life was perfect, Agent Booth. Christie would never have run away from that."

"It doesn't take much to tick a teenager off," I suggested.

And before Bones could add anything else to that, like she had done the last time, I gently touched her arm and stood up. I thanked them for their time and walked back to the door. To my surprised, they walked us back to the door.

"It's so horrible. Christie was just a child."

I turned around to face Christie's mother. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot but she was no longer crying. I smiled sympathetically at her.

"I know. We are both very sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. Christie was a very beautiful young woman."

"Thank you," Mr. Rogers replied, in a calm manner.

"If only I had picked her up after dance class, instead of letting her walk home, maybe she would still be alive."

A lump had formed inside my throat.

"Maybe."

"If only we could go back in time, right Agent Booth?"

I simply nodded.

This uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach followed me all the way back to the Jeffersonian. Mary Rogers's words still echoed in my ears. If only we could go back in time, right Agent Booth? If only she had known what had happened to him. I had somehow been granted that opportunity. Why? To save Bones? To save myself? Was there something else I was supposed to accomplish tonight? There was no way I would have been granted that wish for no reason.

I dropped Bones off at the lab and went back to the Bureau. The last time, I hadn't worked the Rogers case. In fact, I had been given a two-week sick leave to mourn my partner's death. When I had come back to work, Agent Fuller had already taken the case. There were still so many things to deal with: I'd have interviews to conduct and I still needed to find the schizophrenic man who had killed her.

I knew one thing. To save Bones, I needed to decline Erin's offer.

I stepped out of the elevator to find Erin talking to another agent. When she spotted her, her face lit up.

"Seeley!"

The agent she was talking to immediately walked away.

"I was wondering if you had given my invitation some thought," she said, straight to the point.

"Actually, I did. Listen, Erin. I don't think I can go out with you tonight."

"Okay. How about some other night?"

She sure was persistent.

"I meant, I don't think I can go out with you at all. There's… actually, there's someone else in my life at the moment."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

I truly felt sorry. I had had a really good time with her, when we had gone to the restaurant. Erin was such a sweet girl, but if I wanted to save Bones, I couldn't go to that restaurant tonight or, deep down inside, any other night.

"Don't worry about me, Seeley. It's not the end of the world."

Maybe not the end of her world, but it had the end of mine the first time.