Except, despite her best intentions, they didn't. At least, not right away. It was other things that brought her home. Things like worry. And love. In the end, it took more than those simple words on a plain, white paper.

"Welcome to our small museum. We don't have a lot of funding, but we are proud of the work we do here." The woman, smartly dressed in a gray top and black pants, looked around the room in front of her. It wasn't the Jeffersonian, but she wasn't embarrassed by what she had, what she'd managed to obtain over the years.

Brennan nodded, noting the chairs held together with silver tape and the tables scarred from use. But she also noted the equipment that was available was clearly well maintained. Money was being used for the important things, something Brennan found encouraging. She wouldn't tolerate working at a place where money was spent on frivolous things, like office furniture, while equipment was ignored.

Because that's what this was. A place she could work. Far away from Washington, DC, and a winter that was going on both outside her home and inside herself.

She hadn't intended to actually come to the interview, especially so close to the holidays. But it seemed rude not to hear the woman out. Besides, ancient remains was a field that Brennan just couldn't let go of. It fascinated her, studying the lives of those who'd come before her.

But she also saw something she didn't recognize. Something she thought she needed. At least, she was trying to convince herself she did. Something her heart didn't really want, but her mind was working really hard on convincing it that it did.

Peace.

There wasn't a multitude of people running around a giant room, files in hand. There wasn't a platform where every move was scrutinized and studied. No impatient agents or lawyers or Booth, waiting for results Brennan wasn't ready to give.

It was a safe place where she could work. Explore theories she hadn't had time to consider in several years.

Things she'd wanted in Maluku and couldn't find. Not when thoughts of Booth, and what she'd walked away from, haunted her every waking moment. Days spent writing letters that she burned each evening, too afraid to allow what was in them to be known to anyone but herself.

Could she find what she find it here, in this quiet museum so far from the family she'd made? And if she did, was that what she really wanted. To leave her exciting and fascinating life behind to go back to research?

Was this the place she could finally let go of Booth and forgive herself for the chance she hadn't taken. Could Brennan find a way to forgive him for not waiting for her to catch up?

"Dr. Brennan?" the woman said again and Brennan blinked hard before smiling vaguely. "Would you like to see the skeletons we discovered recently?"

Her tour guide, Sarah, motioned toward a second area of the facility. The part Brennan was really interested in, the research portion. The woman waiting patiently didn't look much older than Brennan, but there was experience in her eyes. What did she see when she looked at Brennan?

"I would," Brennan said. She hitched her bag a little higher on her shoulder and fell into step next to Sarah. "When was the most recent skeleton discovered?"

"A little more than six months ago," Sarah said. Swiping a card in front of the security reader, Sarah opened the door and waited until Brennan entered in front of her. Turning on the lights, she revealed the secret behind the door. "Female," she said, pointing to a table where Brennan could place her bag. "There are some early indications she is indigenous to this area."

Bending over for a closer look at the skull, Brennan allowed several minutes to pass before rising again. "Local tribes?"

Sarah nodded. "Several. I have worked hard over the last decade to establish a working relationship with each of them. Because of that hard work, they trust us and give us the time to come to the correct conclusions about which tribe this ancestor belongs to." Her face clouded before she continued. "Sometimes, I feel that work takes too long. It can be difficult to determine the exact tribe a skeleton originates from. That's where you come in."

Brennan nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"I'm hoping, we're hoping, you'll give us some time. Six months, a year, whatever you

can give, to help this process go a little faster. That you'll be able to find the clues we miss. You can use your conclusions and information you learn to author papers or further your own studies. We won't be able to pay you much, but this is important work to a lot of people Dr. Brennan."

Holding up her hand, Brennan waited until silence had fallen in the room again. "Can I have a moment?" she asked.

"Of course," Sarah responded quickly, stepping back to lean against the door and give her guest the illusion of privacy. She'd seen a lot in her years and recognized a woman who was running from something. If she needed a place to rest, Sarah hoped that her quiet facility could give her what she needed. And Sarah could use her help, for as long as that took.

Pushing Sarah out of her mind, Brennan walked slowly around the table, her eyes focused on the skeleton in front of her. A woman who no longer had a name or a past. If she stayed, could hers be forgotten as well? Would her friends, and Booth, move on with their lives until she was nothing more than a fond memory to them?

She could find quiet here, Brennan was sure of that. It was a place where she could lose herself in her work for a time. Safer than Maluku, she wouldn't have to worry about the decision she'd made or wonder if Booth would give her another chance to answer. He'd moved on.

But could she find peace? Would her heart, an organ she'd managed to ignore her entire adult life, heal here? Would the desert air finally dry the tears that never seemed to stop coming?

"There are markers here to indicate this woman spent a significant amount of time walking. She rarely stayed in one place."

Sarah nodded, but didn't speak. There was a tension she was hesitant to break. In fact, she wasn't sure if Dr. Brennan even remembered she was in the room.

Was it a sign that it was time for her to return to her nomadic lifestyle? She'd barely been back from Maluku for six months. Was it time for her to move on again?

"Are any of your tribes nomadic?" Brennan asked, raising her eyes to meet Sarah's.

"Two of the four we were considering are considered nomadic. Or were, when this woman lived and died. But her bones indicate it was more than just a nomadic lifestyle. This woman walked a lot. We are also considering she lived in this area during a drought and walked a significant amount each day to collect water for her tribe."

Her skeleton reminded Brennan of one in the book Booth gave her for Christmas. A book where he gave her credit for saving all of them at one point or another. But if she'd never met Booth, if she'd never agreed to help the FBI, would any of them had been in those situations to begin with?

Perhaps it wasn't a good thing Booth had added all those pages at the back of the book. Was it a reminder of all she'd done right, or everything she'd done wrong?

"Your skeleton did not live her entire life in one place. She explored a small part of the world before she lived and died," Brennan said, echoing Sarah's words.

Life and death. It wasn't just a life that began and ended. It was hopes and dreams.

And relationships.

"Three months," Brennan said, looking up to catch Sarah's broadening smile. "I'll give you three months and then we'll go from there."