Author's Note: Again, apologies for the lack of updates! School has been getting in the way, and then with Christmas and everything, plus I was working on another one-shot...I still have a few days left in winter break, so I should be able to get another chapter up before school starts again. Thank you for the patience and all of the wonderful reviews, favorites, and alerts! If I don't post again before New Year's, I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year's!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and never will. Fox, and Hart Hanson, do.

Four hours later, she walked into her office with an ID on the victim. Angela was angry with her over the whole 'not telling her anything' and 'working too much' issue, and it had taken her a good fifteen minutes and Cam intervening to get the information on the victim.

Sighing, she switched her lab coat for her light jacket, and looked over at the mess piled next to her couch. Leaving the organization of her field equipment until now hadn't been a good idea, she thought, walking over and staring down at it. It took a good half-hour to put the stuff away, and Agent Douglass needed the identification.

Then again, it was already six, and there probably wasn't that much that could be done now. He was probably already home, and she wasn't going to bother him there. He probably had a wife, and kids, and a nice house in the suburbs, and she wasn't going to disturb his dinner with her info about the remains. The bones had been down there for a long time, and one more day wasn't going to hurt, right?

This wasn't the way she usually worked, putting things off until the next day, but it seemed like a good idea now as she began to organize her equipment. Most of it wasn't stored in her office, and as she made her way back, the phone on her desk rang.

She frowned. No one, save Goodman, called her on that phone, and he only did when he was extremely angry over something she'd done, which hadn't happened since she started working with Booth. Perhaps the way she had treated Douglass had gotten back to him.

Sinking into her desk chair, she leaned forward and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bones, it's me." The connection wasn't good, and the line was full of static, but she could still make out his familiar voice.

"Booth? I thought you couldn't call." She replied, pressing the receiver to her ear as though that could bring her closer to him.

"Bones, I never said I couldn't call, I just said that I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to."

"Oh. Right." She could feel herself smiling like an idiot, and was glad that Angela had already left, so she wouldn't witness this.

"I can't talk too long, but I wanted you to know that I was all right. How are things going with Douglass?"

"Not too well."

"Bones, didn't I tell you to behave yourself?"

"Booth, I am not a child. I don't need to be admonished over this."

"Look, I know Douglass would never do anything to piss you off for real, so you must have been the one to start it." His tone hardened, and the smile that had taken its place so easily on her face fell into a frown.

"It's just—I miss you."

"I know, Bones, but that doesn't mean that you can just—can you promise me that you'll try and be a little nicer to him? I miss you, too, but that doesn't mean I'm acting all pissed off."

"Fine. I promise I'll be nice to him." She said, wondering how a simple conversation could turn south so fast.

"Thanks." He sighed, and a moment of silence stretched across the line. "I have to go now, all right? I'll try to call again as soon I can."

"You're not…angry, are you?" Hating how vulnerable her voice sounded, she cringed inwardly.

"No, Bones. You know that I-I love you, right?"

"Of course. I…I love you, too." He hung up, and for a moment, she sat frozen, the receiver dangling from one hand.

Placing the receiver back onto the phone, she stood, reaching for her coat. Shrugging it on, she grabbed the case file off of her desk and walked out of her office.

She paused before she left, one finger poised to flick off the lights. Her gaze drifted back to the silent telephone on her desk, but she quickly pulled her eyes away, letting the office go dark.

"He's still here?" She asked the information tech as he led her down to Douglass's office.

"Yes. Does that surprise you?" Her guide replied. "He probably works harder than all of us combined."

"I just figured he'd be the type to leave by five." She said, wondering just how much farther they would have to go. She wasn't exactly good at this small-talk stuff.

"He's a good guy. Really cares. I mean, we just sit around doing stuff on computers all day. He actually has to go out there and chase down the criminals. That takes a lot of guts." They turned down yet another hallway, while she tried not to think about how this was the second person to tell her today that Douglass was a good guy.

"Well, here we are." The tech gestured inside to the empty office. "Um, I know he didn't leave, so I guess you can just wait here."

"Thanks." She stepped into the office, surprised to find that it was about as bare and impersonal as they come. Sure, there was the large desk, desk chair, two chairs in front of it, computer monitor on top. But there were no pictures to suggest he had any type of family, no awards, not even anything other than a few case files and a coffee mug filled with pencils and other assorted writing utensils. It was nothing like what she had expected.

"Dr. Brennan?" She spun around to find him framed in the doorway, coffee mug in one hand, case file in the other. "To what do I owe this meeting?" He gave her a little half smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. "I thought you hated me."

"We, uh, ID'd the victim." She held out the file before she realized his hands were full.

He chuckled, and moved past her into his office, setting the case file and mug down before sinking down into the desk chair. "I can see it now."

Cheeks burning, she handed it to him.

"You can sit down, if you'd like. I know it's late." His head was bent, skimming the information in the case file. She remained standing.

"Her name is Melissa Stevenson, age 21. She was a student at American University…" Her voice trailed off at the amused look on his face. "What?"

"I can read, Dr. Brennan." He said, raising his eyebrows. "But if you'd like to continue, I'll listen."

She rolled her eyes and sighed when he smiled at her. "She majored in astronomy, minored in psychology. Seems like a strange choice—why would she study two things that are almost opposite in their fields? One is a recognized science while the other is purely conjecture."

"Maybe she appreciated the difference." He stood, pulling his suit coat off of the back of his desk chair.

"Cam's checking dental records now to confirm, but it's her. Angela's good."

"I'm sure she is. Do you have something else to do, or do you want to come see the victim's family with me?"

"Isn't it kind of late?" She asked, watching as he pulled on his jacket. "I mean, won't we be disturbing them?"

"Wouldn't you want someone to tell you if your daughter had been found after two years?"

"Yes."

"Then that's why we're going now. We are going, aren't we?"

"Yes." She pushed past him into the hall. "But I'm taking my own car."

"Fine. Now can we go?"

"Are you sure that it's Melissa?" The woman sitting on the couch in front of them reached out towards the coffee table, plucking a tissue from the box sitting on it. She wasn't crying, but she began twisting it around in her hands, little flakes coming off as it shredded under her distress.

"Yes, Ms. Stevenson. We're very sorry for your loss." He shifted in the armchair, leaning forward. "I know this isn't a good time, but I'm going to have to ask you some questions."

"Of course. Anything that will help with your investigation."

"When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

"It's been two years now, but…it was in the morning. She left for school as usual. There was no indication that anything was wrong."

"She lived with you, then?"

"Yes. She paid me $200 every month for rent—I wanted the transition to her own apartment sometime in the future to be as painless as possible—and it was much cheaper than living in those dorms."

"Did she have a boyfriend, or anyone special in her life at the moment?"

"Not that I know of. There was one boy she talked about constantly, but she never told me that she had begun any relationship with him."

"What do you mean?"

"He was in her organic chem. class-"

"Why was she taking organic chem. if her major was astronomy, Ms. Stevenson?" Brennan interjected. "You don't need that credit for that major."

"She loved chemistry. I thought that a better choice would be astronomy, as she could get a job at NASA or something, but she did love chemistry."

"Then why didn't she decide to go into that field?"

"I'm paying for her college education, Dr. Brennan. I told her that if she wanted to study chemistry, she could pay for her own college education."

"Now, about that boy in her class? Do you remember his name?" Douglass prodded, steering the conversation back to that line of inquiry.

"Yes. It was Jacob Darion."

"Thank you, Ms. Stevenson. That will be all for now. But if you happen to remember anything else, don't hesitate to call." He held out a business card, which she took, sliding it into her pocket. "Dr. Brennan? What are you doing?"

"Is this your son in this picture?" Brennan pulled a framed photo off of the fireplace mantle.

"No. Melissa was my only child. That's Derek, my boyfriend."

"What happened to your husband?"

"He died about ten years ago. He had...lung cancer."

"Isn't Derek kind of young for you? You look to be about forty-five, while this boy can't be more than twenty-five." Douglass came up to her then, plucking the picture from her hands and setting it back on the mantle.

"What are you doing?" He hissed. "We're done here."

"It's fine, Agent Douglass. You can't help who you fall in love with, right?"

"We're going to have to talk to him." Brennan said before Douglass could stop her.

"Why do you have to talk to him? He didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, Ms. Stevenson, I'm sure that's true. But, with Derek's young age near that of your daughter's, you can see how we need to talk to him." Douglass replied, attempting to salvage the situation.

"You think that he could have killed her? He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Right, but we still need to pursue that line of questioning. If I could have his contact information, that would be very helpful."

"What were you doing in there? With that photo and everything?" Douglass asked her as they exited the Stevenson's house. "You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?"

"You weren't pursuing a line questioning that could potentially be fruitful. You don't know what they could have been doing. It has obviously been a long time since you conducted a murder investigation."

"I know how to do my job, all right? I just missed the picture." They reached his SUV and he leaned against the passenger side door.

"There is also the possibility that Derek could have been sexually assaulting the victim." She shifted on her feet and looked down at the sidewalk.

"Whoa. How did you get from them possibly dating behind the mother's back to sexual assault?"

"I would just appreciate it if you would look into him." She walked over to her car, sliding the key into the lock to unlock it.

"I can do that. You can get home all right?"

"Douglass, it's eight-thirty at night. I can drive myself home. I'm perfectly capable." She rolled her eyes and opened the car door.

"It's just Booth--"

"I know. I'll see you tomorrow." She slid into the driver's seat, started the car and drove off.