They still don't belong to me, sadly. And I'm still not making any money. Just a lot of fun.

Thanks to Fox and to Kathy Reichs for creating the characters. And to MintExpresso for her betareading.

Tuesday 10.45pm

"It's not him," Zack burst out. The others nodded their agreement.

"I agree. Hodgins, what did you find?"

Hodgins held up his piece of paper. "The evidence shows that the body died over five days ago. Thursday morning, in fact. Between 9 and 10am. We saw Booth Thursday evening. Ergo, it cannot possibly be him."

Zack could hold back no longer. "The bones show a break to right radius and ulna. Remodelling indicates the break was about three months ago. We've known Booth for longer than that, and we'd have noticed if he'd turned up with his arm in a cast. It can't be him."

Angela held up the printout of the facial reconstruction. There was no doubt; the face was notably different from Booth's, with the jaw narrower and the nose shape completely different.

"So who is it?" wondered Zack.

Brennan tapped the papers in front of her. "Booth was investigating the disappearance of another FBI agent, by the name of Charles Cotton. I have the dental records here. They match." She held up a photo. The resemblance to Angela's sketch was uncanny.

As the others sank down in chairs, relief written on their faces, Brennan grimly picked up her phone and dialled Agent Harris's number. She reported briefly on their findings, then replaced the phone.

"I knew it wouldn't be Booth," Zack said confidently. "He's too good to get killed." He looked round at the others. "What?"

Hodgins shook his head. "I'm sure he'll turn up," he said, reassuringly. He looked at Brennan. "Do you still need us here?"

Brennan shook her head. "Okay, team, let's head for home," she said. "We can continue work in the morning. We've identified the body, and that's plenty for one evening. The rest can wait."

Zack and Hodgins jumped up and shot out of the room, while Angela remained behind looking quizzically at her friend.

"You don't look as pleased as I'd expected," she said quietly.

Brennan looked straight at her friend for a moment. "So this wasn't him," she said. "It doesn't mean the next one won't be. And it doesn't mean that he's any safer than he was. Just that we don't know what happened to him. And if he really has gone missing then there's a chance we never will know."

Angela sat silently, contemplating her friend's words. "Booth's good," she said reassuringly. "If anyone can take care of themselves, he can. Anyway, maybe he's not missing, maybe he's ... just too busy to check in." She knew as soon as she spoke the words how weak that sounded.

Brennan shook her head. "I'm sure Agent Cotton could take care of himself as well - until now. Anyway, I checked," she confessed. "He was supposed to have Parker for the weekend, and he never showed up, never even called."

"Oh."

"Exactly. He'd never let Parker down, not unless he was in real trouble. "

Angela stood up, wiggling and stretching her fingers. "We can't help him by sitting around," she declared, trying to sound positive. "Let's get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow we'll turn up something that will help find him."

Brennan nodded and stood up herself. "Yes, let's go home," she agreed.

Tuesday 11.29pm

When Brennan arrived home she sat for a few moments in her car, thinking. Much as she had tried to hide it in front of her colleagues, she was seriously worried about Booth. Where the hell could he be? She could think of no explanation for his disappearance that did not have him lying dead somewhere, or at least badly wounded. Reluctantly she accepted the thought that it was possible they would never know.

Life was not fair. Was she destined always to have the ones she loved disappear on her without a trace? She remembered the dark days after her parents disappeared, the time it had taken for her not to expect them to walk back into the house at any moment. At least Agent Cotton's family would not suffer that agony. Agent Harris was heading over to tell them the truth even now.

Booth would have taken her with him on such a task.

The thought hit her almost like a physical pain. She missed him. Not just the man himself, which was bad enough, but also the camaraderie they'd developed between themselves, the working relationship that saw his growing respect for the science she worked with, while she in her turn had come to understand better the twists and turns of law enforcement and the restrictions he worked under.

She gathered her things and got out of the car, easing the door shut quietly out of respect for her neighbours. Juggling papers and laptop into her case, she walked slowly towards her front door, almost reluctant to return to the light. Somehow, the darkness around her seemed appropriate, as if her physical surroundings should reflect the murk her mind was currently struggling through.

As she got to her front door she lowered her case to the floor and fumbled in her pocket for the key. She had just found the right key and had inserted it into the lock when a shadowy figure emerged from the bushes by the door. It pushed her into the house and followed close behind.

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