Alright, thanks for the reviews everybody. Yeah, Gail sounds girly, and I was going to somewhere with that, but I changed my mind, so...
"Okay. Victim is a young male. I would say between seven and ten years old. Trauma to the head by a blunt object. Right ulna is broken."
Brennan frowned as she looked closer at the forearm.
"Actually, it doesn't look like this was the first time he had broken it."
Standing upright, she scanned the surroundings around the body. Tilting her head slightly, she stepped over the small body gingerly.
"Bones?"
"Hold on. I saw something."
She bent down and moved a garbage bag out of the way. Underneath it, she found a small necklace chain covered in blood.
"Booth," Brennan said as she mananged to sidestep the littered ground.
"Look at this."
"It's a chain."
"And covered in blood. I think I'll take it back."
"It might not be part of the crime scene."
"If it is, it could help."
"Okay, take it back."
Brennan noticed his hollow tone and followed Booth's gaze. The boy was lying flat now. Before, they had had to move the dumpster to free the body. He had literally been stuffed behind the dumpster. They wouldn't know which breaks had come before or after the dumping until they got back to the lab.
Booth finally turned back to Brennan. He wore a concerned frown and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
"Can you, uh, tell if he died quick...or not?"
"Well, blow to the head looks like that was what killed him. I really won't know until later." She paused. "But yes. I think it was quick."
His stance relaxed a centimeter.
"That's one good thing."
Angela sighed as she put aside the sketch of the boy found today. He was a pretty boy. He had high cheekbones, a cute nose, and huge puppy dog eyes. A boy like that would have had more than his fair share of the girls.
As she stood, she wondered who would kill a child? Who would be that sick?
"I finished the sketch, Brennan."
Brennan held the pad in her hand and looked at the young victim's skull on the table. It seemed to match perfectly.
"Good job, Ange. I'll get this to Booth-."
"Or Booth will get these to you."
Brennan and Angela turned to watch as Booth help up two papers. They were of two young boys who had went missing the past month.
Brennan reached for the one in Booth's right hand and compared it the Angela's sketch.
Angela peered over Brennan's shoulder and nodded her head.
"Thomas Hart. That's him."
Nodding her head, Brennan looked up to Booth.
"I'll get his DNA, but there's no doubt in my mind that this is him."
"Cause of death?"
"Blunt trauma tot he skull. There are no indicators as strong as that. But, we did notice stress marks."
Brennan pointed to the wrists.
"If I would say anything, I would say he was bound before he was murdered. His ankles are the same way, and the break in the arm preceded death. The other small breaks to his nose were post mortem. Probably from being shoved behind the dumpster."
"What about that chain?"
"Hodgins is looking at it, along with the victim's clothes."
"Okay. Let's go tell Thomas's mother the news."
"Booth?"
"Yeah?"
Brennan looked out he window of the vehicle, trying to gather her thoughts.
"You like your job, don't you?"
"Most of the time."
Booth glanced at her outline. For all her staring, she didn't look like she was seeing anything out the window.
"Why?"
Brennan shrugged.
"I was just asking."
"Bones, you never ask questions just because. There's always a reason."
"Not always."
"Oh, yes. Always."
"That's not true."
"You're not good at lying, you know."
"I'm not lying! I merely wanted to know how you feel about your job."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Brennan waited a beat.
"Do you ever think about leaving?"
"What? My job?"
"Yes."
Booth took off his sunglasses and sighed.
"You know, Bones? Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it. Sure, I get the bad guy and lock him up, but...I don't know. There's so many more that manage to get away. There's always more bodies that need answers. And the families. It gets to me a little. I have to tell these people someone they loved died and that I'm going to find the killer."
"It's a lot of responsibility."
"Yes," Booth said as he put his sunglasses back on, "but if there's a chance I can give them closure, I'll do it."
Brennan smiled softly. Did he even realize how much he had on his shoulders? Did he know how impossible his task was? But he didn't care. He was the savior to countless innocents. Same old Booth. Trying to save everybody but himself.
"So why are you asking me about my job?"
"I wanted to know."
"We've been partners a long time, Bones."
"I know."
"You're not going to tell me are you?"
"Nothing to tell."
"Fine. So, since you asked me a buttload of questions. Who were you going to Marsoulles with?"
"I wasn't going with anyone."
"Oh, so you were just going to some fancy restaurant to sit by yourself and drink tea?"
"No. I was meeting someone. And even if I wasn't, there is no reason why a woman can not eat by herself in a nice restaurant."
"Who?"
"Who what?"
"Who were you meeting?"
"Why do you care?"
"Bones, I don't want to say this, but it seems most of the time you go on a date, you manage to almost get yourself killed."
Brennan fought a blush at his reminder. That was so so so not true.
"But this is not a date, Booth."
"It sounds like it was."
"It was purely business."
"Really?"
"Absolutely."
"Then just tell me who it was."
Pursing her lips, Brennan gave up.
"Gail Perkins wanted to have lunch to see if I would be willing to go to South Africa and identify bodies at the Larousse Tombs."
"The what Tombs?"
"Larousse. He found it about a year and a half ago. Recently, they found about twenty bodies who aren't part of the Tomb itself."
"Gail Perkins. The name sounds familiar."
"His father founded the Perkins Institute in England. They house more artifacts than the Jeffersonian."
"Do they really?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to?"
"Going to what?"
"Go to South Africa?"
"I would like to. I'll talk about it with him tonight."
"You're meeting with him tonight?"
"For dinner."
"You're going to talk about dead bodies over dinner at Marsoulles?"
"Yes. There's nothing wrong with that."
Booth laughed.
"Okay then."
"What? We do that."
"So?"
"So?"
"So?"
"So?"
"So," Booth said with finality. And annoyance. So what if she was going to talk about dead bodies over dinner? So what if that was what they always did? So what if she was having dinner with some man who wanted to go to South Africa? So what.