Booth didn't think he would ever see the man sitting in front of him for a second time. Pharatt hadn't changed since the two weeks he had seen him. He didn't had the same long salt-and-pepper beard, his blue eyes were still bright under his thick gray brows and his hair surely hadn't seen a haircut in years. The dementia he had detected in the man's eyes were still there and, as a father, Booth found himself pitying the older man.

Booth turned to his wife who in turn nodded. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Pharatt, we know you didn't kill your daughter."

Pharatt's, who's head had been down, snapped up. The vivid blue eyes widened and the man's jaw dropped slightly as he stared in shock at the couple in front of him.

"How... how do you...?"

Temperance and Booth exchanged looks.

"We've had special help on the 53 Maple Street case. A psychic named Clara is helping us piece all of the information together. She told us she knew Melanie wasn't pushed down the stairs."

Pharatt remained silent, his eyes never leaving Booth.

"I was later able to determine how the victim died." Temperance said, slowly.

"How...?"

"Just like Clara had foreseen, your daughter was tripped down the stairs and not pushed. We've seen the report stating you had a fear of being underground, therefore you couldn't have been the one to trip her." Booth replied.

Pharatt nodded.

"I asked her to go in the basement to get something to eat for dinner. The next thing I know, she was laying face-down on the cement floor. There was blood around her and she wasn't moving."

Seeing another exchange of looks between the couple, Pharatt frowned.

"What?"

Booth cleared his throat and turned to his wife. Temperance licked her suddenly dried lips.

"Your daughter didn't die from the fall."

Pharatt's eyes widened.

"Then how did she die?"

Temperance looked over at Jason Triggs, who had been quiet since Pharatt had stepped inside the interview room.

"Strangulation."

"What? How could she be strangled? No one was in the house."

"At this point, Mr. Pharatt, we are not able to answer that question. However, based on new evidence, we are now looking for an "alive" serial killer that has taken as a target your previous home."

"The new girl died as well, hasn't she?"

"We can't discuss the ongoing investigation." Booth replied.

"I told you to take her out of that house and you didn't." Pharatt said, his tone rising.

"Mr. Pharatt, please remain calm. There is no reason for you to get angry."

Pharatt calmed down.

"You don't know how it's like, Agent Booth. You don't know how it's like to be in prison for a crime you didn't commit. Prisoners have no morals but the second you hurt a child they are on you like flies on a pile of..."

"I know." Booth said, interrupting the prisoner. "But you won't have to suffer much longer. We have this artist at the Jeffersonian who is able to run a machine called the Angelator. The computer has the ability to run some scenarios. Dr. Booth and I will be meeting with the artist tomorrow and see if we can figure out which step your daughter was tripped from. If we can prove that Melanie was tripped and that you are afraid of being underground, we might be able to get an appeal."

Tears threatened to spill from Pharatt's eyes.

"Th... thank you, Agent Booth."

Booth smiled sympathetically at him.

"We're just doing our job."

Angela groaned softly as she was slowly pulled from her first peaceful sleep since her son's birth. Stretching in her bed, her left arm felt an empty space beside her. Her eyes shot wide open as her heart began racing faster inside her chest.

Sitting up in her bed, she glanced around her room. Her eyes caught sight of her boyfriend's suitcase near her dresser. Angela let out a sigh of relief, a few tears of happiness sliding down her cheeks. At least she hadn't miss his departure.

The sound of a door opening and closing reached her ears. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slid her feet in her slippers and stood up. Still drowsy, she made her way down the hallway and to the kitchen just as Jack set down a few grocery bags on the kitchen table.

Angela raised her eyebrow quizzically and watched Jack's expression turn sheepish.

"I just thought I'd buy you some food to apologize for eating everything you had for the past week."

A smile tugged at Angela's lips.

"Thanks, Jack. It's really sweet."

"I dropped by the hospital this morning too." Hodgins went on as he began putting away the groceries. "Kyle is doing great. He's done a lot of progress over the last week."

Angela nodded, barely listening to what her boyfriend was saying. She watched him move about the kitchen, already at ease in an apartment he had only been living in for a week. The thought that he was leaving in less than three hours had been washed away. A smile slowly spread across her face. Maybe this time, she dared to hope, things would turn out okay for them.

"He's gained a bit of weight and they think he might be able to start breathing on his own soon. We might even be able to bring him home sooner than they thought."

"Jack, he's not even seven months old."

"I didn't say we'd bring him home tomorrow. But maybe he won't be spending six months there like they expected him to."

"Why do you say we?"

Jack stopped in mid-action and spun around to face the artist.

"What?"

"You keep saying we, like you're forgetting that you're leaving in a couple of hours."

"Well you didn't think I'd stay in South America forever, did you?"

Setting down the box of soup he had been holding, Jack grabbed Angela's hand and led her to the living room. Sitting down on the couch, he pulled her down beside him.

"I have to go back today because I still have some work to do." Jack began, his hand never letting go of hers. "But I will be back, that I can promise you. Now that I've met Kyle and that I've seen you again, I can't stay away from you. I'm hooked."

Angela chuckled. Jack smiled tenderly at her.

"I love you, Angela. I'm sorry I even left in the first place. As soon as I'm done in Peru, I'm coming straight back here."

"When?"

"I don't know. It could be a couple of weeks like it could be a couple of days."

"You never told me what you were doing down there."

"I'll explain everything when I come back, I promise."

Tears formed at the back of Angela's eyes.

"How do I know that you're not lying? How do I know you're really going to come back? You promised you wouldn't leave me after we lost our first child but then you took off after I told you I was pregnant again."

A few tears managed to fall. Jack swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"I already explained all of that." He replied, his voice cracking.

"How do I know you're telling the truth this time?"

The movement caught her attention. Angela looked down to see Jack's hand disappear in his right pocket. She felt her throat momentarily close up, knocking the breath out of her, and her heart began to pound hard inside her chest.

Time seemed to stand still as Angela watched in slow motion her boyfriend's movements. After what seemed like an eternity, Jack pulled out something out of his pocket. His fist closed up around the object. Angela looked up at him and both gaze locked.

"I should have done this a long time ago." Jack said, clenching his fist harder around the tiny object. "But I was scared. I was scared I wasn't good enough for you. You're an amazing woman, an extraordinary artist and I just work with bugs all week. I wear jumpsuits and crawl into swamps. I squint down microscopes and look at creepy insects that make you squeal in disgust when you see them. I was afraid that my love for you wasn't going to be enough to keep you with me."

A tear slid down his cheek as he slowly unclenched his fist. Letting go of her other hand, Jack slowly unwrapped the dark purple velvet cover. Angela sobbed happily as she set eyes on the beautiful ring Jack held shakily in his hand.

"Will you?"

Angela sighed happily through her tears.

"Yes." She whispered.

Temperance stepped inside the lab, Booth following closely behind her.

"Pharatt seemed happy."

Temperance's eyes instinctively went to the catwalk above her head.

"What are you looking at?" Her husband asked, following her gaze.

Seeing no spectres or no alive children sitting up high in the lab, Temperance involuntarily let out a sigh of relief.

"Nothing." She replied before walking off towards her office, leaving a confused partner behind her.

"Last call for flight 325, Peru."

Jack turned to his girlfriend and kissed her tenderly.

"I really have to go." He said, resting his forehead against hers.

"Then go."

"Promise you'll wait for me."

Angela smiled.

"I think I already did."

The images flashed before her eyes so quickly, Veronica barely had the chance to make out any of the faces. She liked that moment. The moment where she knew a drawing she had done could change someone's life forever, could give answers to questions for the moment unanswered. Her drawing could help save future lives and make sure a person never hurt another human being. She always got this rush whenever she finished a sketch and gazed down upon it, wondering who the mystery person she had drawn was. Never had she thought that after leaving college, she would have been working for the Jeffersonian, yet she didn't regret it. She loved everybody here, even Temperance who could be so cold and distant at times. Everyone was special to her. She was the youngest one in the team but she felt accepted by all of them.

She wondered how big the FBI database was. She stared at the man on the sketch. His short hair, his piercing almond eyes, his chunky cheeks. He wasn't Asian, that she was willing to swear on her sister's grave.

The pictures stopped flashing abruptly and Veronica stared wide-eyed at the picture the computer had stopped on. Everything, down to the haircut, matched. With her heart racing inside her chest, Veronica clicked on the picture. A second window opened and a file popped up.

Her heart skipped a beat.

That's not right.