AN: I'm sorry it's been nearly 2 weeks since an update. That's the longest I've ever gone without posting and I feel horrible! I've only have one week left of classes, in which I'll be busy with final exams/papers and graduation. So, there might not be another update for a while. But I'll try my hardest to update next week, even if it's just a short chapter. But to make up for it, here is a nice 16 page chapter! Very much anticipated, if you're still reading it anyways...

PS: if you haven't seen Hole in the Heart, don't read the author's note at the end of this chapter!

CHAPTER 14:

After leaving Maggie Dawson's house, Booth had Officer Marks and his partner drive him over to Dr. Riley Scott's home. Officer Briggs had been reluctant to drag the new hotshot doctor into the mix, but Officer Marks was persistent, saying that his relationship with the prime suspect already brought him into the investigation.

When the police standardized Crown Victoria slowed to a stop, Booth lifted his head to look out at the surrounding houses. Dr. Scott lived in a well-to-do neighborhood on the southern end of town. All of the homes in this part of town had large yards, bountiful greenery, and were intricately decorated to show off the owners' wealth. Riley Scott's home was no different. It was a brick, ranch style home with an old treehouse high up in one of the trees out front. It was the very picture of country living.

Booth shook his head and opened the car door, stepping out onto the warm pavement beneath. While Booth waited for the two police officers to make their way out of the car, he let his eyes once again assess the features of Riley Scott's home. The red brick was accented with white trim and a big white front door. As Booth's eyes wandered over the paned glass windows, a flurry of movement from behind the curtains caught his eyes.

"Are you ready, Agent Booth?" Officer Briggs asked.

Booth turned to look at the man. "Uh, yeah." Booth began to walk forward, keeping his eye on the, now empty, window. As they approached the front door, Booth raised his hand and rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface.

A few seconds later, the door hesitantly creaked opened and a young man stepped out. He was wearing jeans, bare chested, and had a t-shirt thrown over his left shoulder.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. Are you Dr. Riley Scott?" Booth asked as he pulled out his badge.

"Yes," Riley nodded, flustered. "Can I...uh, help you with something?"

"Dr. Scott, does Rosemary LeFay happen to be here?" Booth questioned.

Riley forced a smile at the FBI agent standing in front of him. "Call me Riley."

Booth waited for him to answer the question, but Riley remained quiet. Booth sighed, and prompted the young doctor to continue. "Rosemary LeFay. Is she here?"

Riley shook his head. "Nope, sorry. I haven't seen her yet today."

Officer Marks stepped forward. "Do you always answer the door in such a state of undress, boy?"

"I...uh...I..." Riley turned his head to look over his shoulder and into his home.

"You seem flustered," Officer Marks observed. "Do you have a girl in there with you? Is it Rosemary? Has she offered to give you a little something in exchange for an alibi?"

Riley snapped his head back to the officers standing in front of him. "What! No!"

"You're out of line, Officer Marks," Booth reprimanded. He turned his attention back to Riley. "Is it okay if I come inside to have a few words? Officer Marks and his partner can remain out here, if you want."

Once again, Riley turned to look over his shoulder. He took a deep breath before answering. "Sure." He opened the door widely, allowing Booth to enter his home. Once inside, Riley led him into the living room; the same room which had just previously been occupied by himself and Rosemary.

The minute Riley turned his back, Booth knew that he had been lying. Recent scratch marks on Riley's shoulder blades proved it. Riley had obviously just been, or was in the process of becoming, intimate with someone.

Booth took a deep breath. "Do you know where she is, Riley? If you do, you need to tell me. I know that Officer Marks seems to have some sort of personal vendetta against her, but I can promise that I'm not the same. But I do need to speak with her. I know she was just here. So tell me, do you know where she is now?"

Riley took a second to look over the man seated in front of him. "At this point, I can honestly say that no, I don't know where she is."

"Are you telling me the truth, Riley? 'Cause I gotta say, it's pretty important that I speak with her as soon as possible."

"Why can't you just leave her alone?" Riley asked, raising his voice slightly. "Hasn't she been through enough already? She's still struggling to deal with things, to come to terms with what happened to her. I'm not going to just stand by and let you, or anyone else, cause her more pain!"

"I don't want to cause her any more pain," Booth stated. "I want to help her."

"It doesn't matter whether or not it's your intent to cause her pain," Riley said. "It can still happen. It will still happen if you continue to pursue her."

"What do you know about Ms. LeFay's past?" Booth questioned. "What has she told you?"

Riley shook his head. "Not much. She doesn't really remember anything beyond the past two years. And knowing the injuries she suffered, I don't really want her to remember. I may not have seen the police report, but I've seen and heard enough to know that what she went through wasn't good."

Booth nodded his head in agreement.

"What is your fascination with her, anyway?" Riley asked. "The police already have her statement. She has nothing more to offer the case."

Booth took a deep breath, contemplating what to tell the young doctor. "Two years ago, I was put in charge of a case. Me and my partner were put in charge of finding the bastard who kidnapped and tortured college women. We struggled for a long time to find enough evidence to track down the person responsible. In the meantime, one of our friends, a young Georgetown student who worked at my partner's lab, was kidnapped by that monster. She was supposed to be out of town. We didn't even realize she was missing."

"I'm so sorry, Agent Booth," Riley solemnly said.

"A few days later, we found some remains that were believed to belong to her. However, recent evidence has come to light that proves that she's still alive," Booth stated. "Those remains we found didn't belong to her. She's still out there somewhere."

"And you think that Rose might be your friend," Riley stated.

"I believe so," Booth said. "But I'm not positive. Which is why I'd like to speak with her."

"My advice, for whatever it's worth, just let her come to you on her own time," Riley replied. "She will. I know it. Her memories are starting to come back. And it's scaring her. You're right, she was here. Something happened, she panicked and then left. My guess is that she went to the hospital. It seems to be one of the few places that keeps her calm when she's stressed. Just don't pressure her."

oOo

While Riley went to answer his front door, Rosemary snuck out of the back of the house and ran. She didn't care where she went, only that it was as far from the police as she could get. She knew she wasn't guilty of anything, but she felt like a criminal on the lam. Probably because, as of late, she was constantly running from the police.

Before she knew it, she was walking through the doors of the hospital. She briefly nodded to a few of the on-duty nurses and made her way to the locker rooms, where she knew she could find showers and a change of clothes. The room was relatively empty, being that the shift changed occurred a few hours ago. Rosemary was glad for this, she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle interacting with anyone just yet. Not before she had a chance to cool down and wash the morning's stress away.

'Stress. Yeah, that's one way of putting it,' Rosemary thought wryly to herself. She scoffed at herself for being weak. She shook her head and pulled open the door to her locker, sending a sheet of white paper flying to the floor. Rosemary squinted her eyes in confusion and bent over to pick up the offending piece of paper. She unfolded it, and a smile broke out on her face when she read what was written inside.

Rose,

Smile. I love how it makes your eyes shine brightly. I miss seeing that. Trust me...things are all going to work out in the end. You'll see. I'm always right about these things. Call if you need anything.

~Riley

Rosemary chuckled to herself, thinking about how Riley must've snuck into the room to drop off the note during his last shift. She carefully placed the letter back inside her locker as she shuffled her hands around in search of a change of clothes. After finding her spare pair of jeans and a green square neck flutter sleeved tunic, she made her way over to the showers. She set her towel and clothes onto the bench in front of the shower and then turned the water on until a steady stream of hot water flowed from the shower head. As she stepped under the heated spray, she let her mind relax and her thoughts drift, a distant memory imbedding itself onto the forefront of her mind.

.

She opened the door without knocking, and walked into Dr. Brennan's office, or at least that's what the name plate said. She didn't expect Dr. Brennan to be there today. As soon as she stepped inside, she saw Brennan sitting at her desk, focusing all of her attention on her computer screen. There was a video playing, the volume was turned up loud. She heard someone screaming while another person gave an evil laugh. She walked up behind Dr. Brennan, unnoticed, and looked at the screen.

She saw a young woman tied to a pipe. The woman was covered in blood and her clothing was torn. A man was getting off of her, pulling up his pants and zipping them back up. The woman was crying, pleading with the man to let her go. The man grabbed a baseball bat and started hitting her with it, as the woman pleaded for the pain to stop.

Without letting her eyes leave the screen, she spoke her thoughts aloud. "How can someone do this to another human being? That poor girl," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Morgan, what are you doing here?" Dr. Brennan said, startled, as she shut off the video.

"I..um...I..." Morgan was too choked up to say anything further. She broke out in sobs as she let the tears rain down her face.

Dr. Brennan walked over to Morgan, placed an arm around her shoulders, and led her to the couch. "Did you...did you know this victim? Cam told me you go to Georgetown, just like the victim did."

Morgan shook her head. Clearing her throat she said, "No, not really. I mean, I met her a few times in class. We never really said much to each other though. Why would someone do that to her? What is it that drives a person to do such unspeakable things to another person?"

"To be honest, I'm not really sure. Anthropologically speaking though, violence has existed in virtually every society throughout history. But what causes someone to do such a thing, I don't really know. I have never really understood motives," Dr. Brennan started. "I have always viewed motives as irrelevant, so long as the evidence points to the person. What does it matter why they did it? I think Booth, or perhaps even Dr. Sweets, would be better able to explain it to you."

"Yeah, I understand. The psychological crap ain't really your thing," Morgan said, lightening the mood.

Even Dr. Brennan laughed at this. "Exactly, psychology is a soft science. It's just guesswork. Though I do have to admit that some people are more gifted at guessing than others."

.

Rosemary shook her head, trying to clear the memory from her mind. She almost couldn't believe everything that had just so vividly played through her head. She remembered things prior to her abduction. It was almost a happy memory. She realized that she knew that woman from the park. It wasn't just a gut feeling anymore. She had proof: a memory, a name. Not only did she have a name for that woman, but she had a name for herself. Morgan.

She felt tears leak from her eyes and mix with the cooling stream of water. She wasn't sure she could handle everything she was remembering. She needed to reassure herself that she was no longer experiencing the pain of the past, but rather was living the wonderful life that she had built for herself in the past two years. She was finally happy, and she was determined not to let her memories, Morgan, ruin it for her.

"That's not me. I'm not Morgan. I'm Rosemary. Rosemary LeFay."

She gave herself over to her heavy emotions, unable to hold back her tears. A sob escaped, echoing off the walls. Hating herself for being so weak, she turned the water off and punched the tiled wall, feeling her knuckles crack upon impact. "Dammit, Rosemary. Get a grip!"

She stepped out of the shower and quickly dried herself off. She threw on her clothes, haphazardly dumped her towel into her locker, then made her way upstairs to have one of the doctors check out her swollen hand.

She walked into the emergency room, scanning the area for Dr. Auge. When she didn't see him, she asked the on-duty nurse about getting her hand looked at. The nurse smiled at her and told her that Dr. Auge would come get her next.

"Rosie, what did you do to yourself?" Dr. Auge said as he walked through the double doors.

"I got into a fight with a wall," Rosemary replied, unable to stop smiling at her own stupidity. "I guess the wall likes to fight back. Apparently it ain't as easy to punch a whole into a tiled wall as it is to do in a wall made of sheetrock."

Dr. Auge shook his head. "Well then, get your butt back here so I can make sure you didn't break anything."

Dr. Auge took her into one of the unused private rooms and examined her hand. "I don't believe it's broken. Just badly bruised. If it doesn't improve in a few days, we'll take some x-rays." He handed her an ice packet. "Keep it iced for a while, it'll reduce the swelling."

Rosemary smiled at the doctor. "Thanks, Don."

"No problem," Dr. Auge smiled. "Now stay here for a second, I'll go get you some medicine to deal with the pain."

Rosemary nodded and watched the doctor walked out of the room. He was gone for a few minutes before coming back in. He smiled as he handed her two pills and a paper cup of water. "Take these. They should kick in pretty quickly. And no more getting into altercations with inanimate objects."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

He took a deep breath and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Sensing his discomfort, she asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"You have a phone call," Dr. Auge said. "A member of the FBI, Agent Booth, is adamant that he speak with you immediately."

Rosemary's eyes widened. "Did you tell him I was here?" She wildly searched his eyes for the answer.

"I had to, Rosie," Dr. Auge said. "You know I can't interfere with the letter of the law. No matter how much I want to protect you from their inane accusations."

Rosemary took a deep breath. "Thank you. Can you ask that the call be transfered into here so that I could have some privacy?"

"Yeah, I'll go to reception now and get it transferred."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Rosemary attempted to smile.

Dr. Auge nodded and then made his way back out through the door. Rosemary hopped off the hospital bed and began to pace the length of the room. After a few minutes, the shrill ring of the phone pierced the thick silence. Rosemary nervously ran her hand through her still damp hair and slowly made her way to the phone.

"H...Hello?" she stammered.

"Is this Rosemary LeFay?" a very familiar voice asked.

Rosemary nodded, too nervous to say anything.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

"Uh, yes. I'm Rosemary," she answered. She heard a sigh of relief come through the earpiece.

"Hi, my name is Agent Booth. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions."

Rosemary remained silent. Booth. She remembered hearing that name in her memory.

"Listen kiddo, I know you've had a pretty tough time lately," Booth said. "I'm not on a witch hunt here. I just want to talk."

"Go ahead and talk, then," Rosemary replied, somewhat bitterly.

"I understand you went through a difficult time two years ago. I hear your memory is a little shoddy. Do you think you could tell me exactly what you can remember?"

Rosemary shook her head in disbelief. "You're not here to discuss my case. The police have given up, it's gone cold. You're here because of the body I found. And no offense, but I'd prefer not to relive my tortured past."

"Does the name Morgan Johnson mean anything to you?" Booth asked, hopefully.

Rosemary once again went silent.

"It does, doesn't it?" Booth asked. "Rosemary, are you Morgan Johnson?"

Rosemary's eyes watered, and a sob escaped from deep within her throat. "You need to stop, right now!"

"Morgan, if that's you, then you need to know that I'm not here to hurt you," Booth stated. "We just want to help. To bring you home to your family."

"I already have a family," Rosemary snarled. "Right here, in Ashland. I don't need you. Or even want you, for that matter!"

"You don't mean that," Booth said quietly.

"STOP!" Rosemary screamed. "I do mean it! Don't tell me what to think. You don't know me!"

"I do know you, Morgan," Booth said. "I know this is confusing to you, but you have to trust me."

"I don't have to do anything!" Rosemary cried. "Leave me alone! I gave the police my statement. You don't need anything else from me. I just want the damn law enforcement to leave me alone for once. Tell Officer Marks to quit accusing me of crimes I didn't commit!"

"Morgan-"

"Stop calling me that! My name is Rosemary. Rosemary LeFay. I'm not your precious Morgan! I'm Rosemary."

"Fine. Rosemary, please listen to me-"

"No, just leave me alone," Rosemary pleaded, her anger diffusing into sadness. "Just stop." Rosemary slammed the phone down onto the receiver. She slumped into a nearby chair as the waves of sadness, pain, and misery washed over her.

"My name is Rosemary," she muttered to herself. "Rosemary. Rosemary LeFay." She repeated her name aloud as she attempted to gain control over her emotions. When the tears had subsided enough not to draw attention to herself, she stormed out of the room. She ran through the unending maze of deserted hallways until she found a fire exit at the back of the hospital, which lead to an empty alleyway.

oOo

When Booth heard the click of the phone call ending, he slammed his phone shut. "Dammit!"

He pressed his hand to his forehead, hoping to ease some of the tension. "Dammit Seeley, you just screwed everything up!" He hit his steering wheel with the palm of his hand, then reached down to turn the ignition on.

The minute he separated from Officer Marks and his partner, Booth called the hospital hoping to speak with whom he believed to be Morgan. He was positive now that Morgan was living here under the name Rosemary LeFay. Only problem was that he just messed everything up by pushing her and scaring her away. He needed to drive over to the hospital to speak with Brennan about what happened. Maybe he'd even be able to run into Morgan, and things will work out okay. Shaking his head, he shifted the car into drive and pulled out onto the road.

When he reached the hospital, he immediately made his way down into the morgue, hoping to find his wife alone. Unfortunately, he had no such luck. As soon as he entered the room, he noticed that his wife was bent over the autopsy table, conferring over some findings with Vincent. Since Vincent didn't know yet, Booth knew he needed to wait to discuss things with Brennan about Morgan.

"What have we got here?" Booth asked, making his presence known.

"Male, late 50's, early 60's," Brennan began, flashing a smile up at her husband. She had hoped to be able to discuss her findings about Morgan as soon as she saw Booth, but unfortunately had to wait due to her intern's presence in the room. "Occupational markers indicate that he was either a farmer or a rancher. There doesn't appear to be any indicators of self-defense. Most of the bone damage was done postmortem, probably due to the fire. There is bruising to the hyoid bone."

"That's the bone in the neck, right?" Booth asked. "So he was strangled."

"That's a possibility, although the hyoid is more likely to be fractured in cases of strangulation," Brennan said. "But there doesn't appear to be any other damage done to the bones antemortem or perimortem. He didn't struggle at all."

"So, he was unconscious when someone strangled him," Booth said.

Brennan shook her head. "I highly doubt that, Booth. There are no indications that he was hit on the head. We tested what was left in the tissue and were unable to find any poisons or medications."

"Maybe they did it while he was sleeping."

"He would've woken up and fought back," Brennan said. "Booth, I am seriously reconsidering Officer Marks's ruling that this was murder. It is far more likely that this was suicide."

"But someone still had to bring the body down here and light it on fire, Bones."

"I can keep looking if you'd like, Booth," Brennan said. "But I'm positive that this man killed himself."

"But why would someone bring his body down here and burn it?"

"I suspect we'd find the answer to that once we've figured out the identity," Brennan answered. "I've sent everything I know to Angela. She'll let us know when she's found something."

"Dr. Brennan," Vincent said. "Is it okay if I...?" Vincent pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

"Certainly, Mr. Nigel-Murray," Brennan replied, relieved that she'd finally have a few minutes alone with Booth to discuss Morgan. "Take as long as you need."

Booth waited a few moments until Vincent walked out of the room, and the door closed solidly behind him. "How's he been doing?"

Brennan shook her head. "Not good. This is his fourth break since we've started."

Booth nodded his head. "Just give him time. It's his first case back."

"I know," Brennan stated. "Besides, Cam says the important thing is that he's here. And that he keeps coming back in to continue working."

"She's right, you know," Booth smiled. "I'm very proud of you for being so understanding."

"Yes, well," Brennan said, blushing slightly from his praise. "I need him to be focused on the remains. If this is what it takes, then I can only be patient with it."

Booth stared at his wife, falling even more in love with her. "You're an amazing woman."

The blush on Brennan's face darkened further. "Thank you. You're kind of amazing yourself."

Booth laughed. "Damn straight, I am."

Brennan walked over to the door and looked out into the hallway to ensure that Vincent was nowhere in sight. She took a deep breath, then turned back to face Booth. "I found something. About Morgan."

"You did?" Booth asked. "What is it?"

Brennan reached into her back pocket and pulled out the cell phone she had found earlier. "It was buzzing earlier. I found it hidden underneath the shelving unit in the corner."

"A phone?" Booth questioned, taking the cell phone.

Brennan nodded. "It...um...has pictures on it." Brennan walked over so that she was standing next to Booth. "Here, I'll show you." She grabbed the phone, expertly maneuvering through the menu until she found the photo album. From her ease of finding the photo album, it was clear that she had looked through the phone several times already. She selected a photo, and then showed Booth. "Take a look."

Booth looked down at the phone, squinting at the picture on display. He couldn't believe his eyes. He stared down at the young woman pictured, she had wavy strawberry blonde hair, warm hazel eyes, and even a few freckles shining through. It was Morgan. He knew Morgan was here, having spoken to her earlier, but this only confirmed it.

Brennan took the phone again, flipping to another photo. "I am now quite certain that this town's Rosemary LeFay is our Morgan Johnson."

Booth looked at the new photo illuminated on the screen. It was of the same young woman, Morgan. She was holding the sheriff's daughter, Ruthie Lee. Booth could hardly believe it. "It's her."

Brennan smiled at Booth. "It's her."

"Does Vincent know yet?"

Brennan shook her head.

"Good. Don't tell him. Not yet, anyways."

"Why?" Brennan inquired.

"Bones, it's been two years. She has no memories of us, of Vincent," Booth explained. "Two years is a long time for someone her age to be alone, and...um..."

"She's moved on," Brennan finished. "She had no choice but to move on with her life. She's in a relationship, you know."

Booth nodded. "I figured. I spoke with a man named Riley Scott. He's a doctor here. I noticed that he's very protective of her."

Brennan looked down shyly before admitting, "I looked through her text messages."

"Oh?" Booth said.

"From what I gather, it's a new relationship. But she seems to really like that man, Riley," Brennan stated.

"Poor Vincent," Booth said.

Brennan nodded. "I'd like to speak with her. I know she doesn't remember us, but maybe seeing us, or even hearing our voices, will trigger her memories."

"Maybe," Booth said, unsure. "But I already talked to her on the phone."

"Oh?" Brennan raised her eyebrow. "And what happened?"

"She completely freaked out on me," Booth admitted. "It's my fault, really. I pushed her too hard. She doesn't remember us. And, if she does, she's rejecting those memories."

"She's been through a lot," Brennan reasoned. "It's going to take time."

Booth shook his head. "I pushed her. She said she doesn't want anything to do with us. She said that she wasn't our 'precious Morgan'. She kept saying that she's Rosemary LeFay."

"So, we won't call her Morgan, at least not until she's ready," Brennan stated. "Booth, she spent the past two years under this new identity. And all of a sudden, things are rapidly changing. She's like me, she doesn't know how to deal with it. She just needs time."

"What if she never deals with it?" Booth asked.

Brennan sighed. "Then, we let her live her life here, no matter how much we dislike the thought. We can't force anything, Booth. All we can do is give her enough information to protect her and let her make her own decisions."

oOo

Vincent left the morgue, disappointed in himself yet again for needing to escape. He couldn't handle looking at human remains. All he could see was Morgan's face, her body laid out on the autopsy table. Sure, he knew there was still a chance that she was alive. That's what the team back in DC were working on: finding out where Morgan is. But it was too painful. And he hated himself for not being able to work anymore. He loved being an anthropologist. He loved working for Dr. Brennan. It was what he always wanted to do. But now he feared that Dr. Brennan would become irritated with his lack of focus and inability to work with recent human remains. She would take away his internship. And he didn't want to lose that too. He didn't want to leave. He loved working there, at the Jeffersonian.

Vincent shook his head and made his way outside to gain some fresh air. This was his fourth break today. Each time, he anxiously walked a complete circle around the exterior of the hospital while reciting random facts to himself before heading back inside. The fresh air calmed him. The sunshine drove away his sadness.

As Vincent rounded his way to the back of the hospital, he heard someone sniffling. Every once in a while, a muffled sob would escape. Vincent looked around quickly, but didn't see anything. After a few moments, he resumed walking, chalking the incident up to his imagination. But after a few steps, he heard it again, louder this time.

"Hello?" Vincent asked, his soft British voice echoed off the walls.

No answer.

"Is anybody there? Do you require assistance?"

Again, no answer.

Vincent heard more muffled sobs. He walked forward slowly, stopping when he spotted a small, darkened alleyway. It appeared that the sounds of the hysterical sobbing originated from somewhere within the alley. He decided to venture inside, scanning his eyes over his new surroundings until they landed upon the source of the cries. A young woman was sitting on the ground with her knees pulled up to her chest and her head cradled against her forearms, her long wavy strawberry blonde hair shielding her face from the world.

Like a magnet, Vincent was pulled towards the woman. There was just something about her, something that made him feel like he needed to be there for her; something that told him that she needed him to be there for her. He was blinded to everything else except for making sure that she was okay. And it was that blindness that caused him to trip over a wooden crate that was laying in his path.

"Go away," Rosemary ordered without lifting up her head to see who had joined her. Her voice was thick and raspy from crying.

Vincent stopped in his tracks. "I...uh...I heard you crying."

"So?" Rosemary sobbed. "Go away."

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," Vincent explained. He took a few steps closer, attempting to get a better view. "Are you?"

"Am I what? Am I okay?" Rosemary cried out, keeping her face from the man's view. "Of course I'm not okay! The police here think I'm the one responsible for the death of that person. I didn't do anything! But they won't believe me."

"I believe you," Vincent whispered. He took the final few steps and crouched down beside the crying woman. He placed his hand on her knee in an attempt to provide some comfort.

"You don't even know me," Rosemary scoffed. She let out another, slightly quieter, sob before mumbling to herself. "I don't even know me..."

"I'm not sure what you mean by that," Vincent admitted, "but you know you didn't kill that man. And that's enough for me."

Rosemary nodded her head and then dove into the comfort of his arms. She didn't know this man, this stranger who offered her kindness in her time of need, but she felt safe. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. And she found that not only did she need that, but she craved it.

After what felt like an eternity, but was really only a matter of minutes, her cries subsided into soft whimpers.

"Are you doing better?" Vincent asked, rubbing her back.

Rosemary nodded and then clung tighter to him. Her arms wrapped further around his body and she nestled her head into his neck. She took a deep breath and then whispered to him. "Thank you...um...I don't even know your name."

"Well, Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth refer to me as Mr. Nigel-Murray," he answered. "But you can call me Vincent."

Rosemary stiffened in his arms. Everything she knew, all the little details of her past that has been on her mind, was starting to make sense now. The Jeffersonian. Her memory of Dr. Brennan. Agent Booth. His name, the name that has been haunting her nightmares. She was frozen in panic, unsure of how to escape.

'Does he know who I am?' she thought to herself. 'No he couldn't possibly know. He would've hurt me by now. Kidnapped me. Taken me someplace horrible to do unspeakable things to me.'

"What's your name?" Vincent asked her.

His voice brought her out of her panic-induced catatonia. "I need to go."

She wrenched herself out of his arms and jumped up off the ground. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, she started running away.

Vincent didn't know what he did wrong. Clearly something had happened, but he never even saw her face or any indication that would inform him of what he did wrong. So he got up and ran after her. When he caught up to her, he reached out and grabbed her arm. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She turned around to face him for the first time as she yanked her arm from his grasp. "Don't touch me, you rat bastard!"

Vincent studied her face and looked into the hazel eyes he knew so well. She was skinnier, her face didn't light up as much as it once did. But he knew it was her. He was shocked, wondering why she didn't seem to recognize him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and uttered the word he has been unable to say for two years. "M...Morgan?"

AN: Dun...dun...dun!

SPOILER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HOLE IN THE HEART

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RIP VINCENT NIGEL-MURRAY. As Brennan so eloquently put it, you were my favorite...