A/N: Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter. I'm happy that most of you were happily surprised by Hannah's reappearance. Hope you like this new installment as much.

Angela stared at the frozen image in front of her. Helena Moscovitch stood before a man, arms raised in hopes of protecting herself. The man held a butcher knife in his hand, ready to stab his victim. She knew before she pressed 'play' that the cut marks wouldn't match. She had been at it for an hour, trying every possible scenario she could think of, yet none of what she programmed into the computer reflected the cuts found on the bones.

Sighing, she set her pad on the table and walked over to her desk. She needed a break, a break from all of it: death, disappearances, victims, murderers… More than once, she had tried to explain to her colleagues that she wasn't cut out to work in that kind of environment. Today was one of those days where she wished she was just a regular artist, living through her art.

A file lay closed on her desk. Slowly, she slipped a finger underneath the cover and flipped it open. Designs glanced back at her; unfamiliar shapes reproduced on a white sheet of paper. She'd put the folder aside after Cam had ordered her to. She knew her boss had been right, yet she couldn't help the feeling of betrayal she felt towards her best friend whenever she thought of them. Helena Moscovitch deserved to have her murdered arrested, but Temperance Brennan deserved her innocent proven as well.

Her thoughts shifted to Christine. She had been incredibly honoured when she'd heard the baby's full name: Christine Angela. Somewhat, the angel face was growing up away from almost everyone who loved her. She knew Brennan was keeping as safe as she could. She inevitably thought of Booth, who's mood had been like a rollercoaster for weeks. Again, a wave of guilt washed over her. By not deciphering the codes, she was indirectly contributing on keeping the family apart.

She'd been about to resume examination of the symbols when a knock at her door made her look up.

"Hey," Angela said, softly. "I'm taking a little break. I'm still trying to found out what kind of weapon was used."

Booth nodded.

"So you haven't found anything?"

Angela shook her head.

"Sorry. Whenever I change the weapon, the marking on the bones change as well."

"So we're sure that she died from her stab wounds?" Booth asked as he circled the simulator, his eyes fixed on the replica of his now-older-classmate.

"Finn thinks so, and Wendell seems to agree with him."

"What does Cam say about this?"

Angela chuckled.

"Well, you know Cam! She claimed once again that bones weren't her specialty, but she did agree with the boys."

Grabbing her keypad, she typed in something. The frozen image began to move. They looked in silence as Helena Moscovitch was murdered for the twentieth time that day. Again, the markings on the bones didn't correspond.

"I heard you got a visit from Hannah."

Booth rolled his eyes.

"Sweets…" he replied, irritated.

"Hey, I think it's great she wants to help out! I just find it… odd, that she pops out of nowhere. Don't you think?"

Booth shrugged. He had given the question a lot of thought but he had given up on trying to find a rational reason as to why Hannah wanted to help. Maybe she had been honest when she'd told him that it was her way of paying him back for the hurt and rejection he'd felt when she had said no to his wedding proposal; maybe she truly cared about his partner. After all, they had been sort of friends in the past.

"How do you think she's managing this, though? Brennan, I mean… Her pictures are on every television newscasts, every newspaper, and on the Internet. The entire country is looking for her."

Booth felt his stomach churn at the thought.

"She's with her father," he replied, disdainfully. "He has experience in that area."

Angela frowned. Of all the things Max had done, Booth had never held a grudge against him in the past. It seemed the ex-con had finally managed in truly angering his son-in-law.

"Do you think he's the one who convinced her to leave? I have a hard time believing she would have taken that decision on her own."

This time, the bile rose a little higher.

"I don't know, okay? I don't know how she made that decision! I don't care if it was Max's idea! Why don't people stop questioning her motives and start actually trying to prove that she is innocent!"

Angela stood motionless, too shocked to react. She had never seen that side of her friend before. She watched him pace her tiny office, fist clenched, red colouring his cheeks. She watched silently as he abruptly stopped pacing and turned his gaze to Helena Moscovitch, lying on her back in the simulator. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.

"Call me when you find something."

Angela let out a long sigh as Booth walked out of the room.

Slowly, he walked the short distance between his artist's office and his girlfriend's. He could feel dozens of eyes on him, but he ignored them. He knew everyone in the lab had probably heard his outburst yet he didn't care. For now, what he needed was to be somewhere that belonged to his girlfriend, to be away from prying eyes. Her office would provide just that.

He tried the knob but found it locked. Rummaging through his pockets, he took out his keychain and unlocked the door.

The room was dark and quiet. A soft smell of humidity hung in the air, telling him no one had opened this door in a long time. He felt a hint of relief inside of him. As he turned on the lights, the room was bathed in a soft glow.

For the first time in month, he took in the state of the office. Nothing seemed to have moved in the last couple of weeks. The jacket she had left behind was still hung on the back of her chair. Papers were still scattered across her desk; probably notes and forms from her last autopsies. Christine's picture still rested beside her computer screen.

Soon, memories came flooding back to him.

He saw himself here, seven years earlier, trying to get her to talk to him after he'd used her in court. A quick charming smile and the words "We have a case" had been all he'd needed to get her out with him. He then remembered the day they had found Christine Brennan's remains in the Jeffersonian, how his partner had been devastated by the answers to her questions. He had been the one to send her home and she had listened to him. Even back then he had felt something for her. He'd grown to deeply care about her, had put his trust in her just like she had done in him. He'd been one of the firsts to see the sensitive and caring person under the cold façade she showed to the outside world.

So much water had run under the bridge since the day he'd had her detained at the airport on her way back from Guatemala. Never would he have thought that they would one day be in this situation: her gone, him longing for her and his daughter's safe return.

He remembered the echography, the first time he had seen his little girl had been in this office. He could still picture the grainy image on the TV screen. He had felt grateful towards his partner for understanding his need of being part of the pregnancy. He had missed out so much on Parker, he didn't want to miss out on his daughter's life.

Feeling the need to see his daughter's face, Booth made his way to the desk. Taking a seat, he grabbed the small picture frame. Christine couldn't have been more than two months old on the picture. Her eyes, wide opened, twinkled and her large smile revealed her toothless gums. Slowly, he traced the contour of his daughter's face. Had her first teeth already come out? Had she grown or gained any weight? Would she recognize him when he would see her again? And when would that be? They weren't even close to linking Pelant to any of the murders and the FBI was more than antsy about getting their hands on his girlfriend. Would Christine eventually grow up without her mother? Would history repeat itself?

He knew asking himself these questions wouldn't get him any answers. Putting the picture frame back on her desk exactly where he had found it, he turned his thoughts to his girlfriend's computer. Had it been searched? If it had been, no evidence had turn up on it. With no apparent reason, Booth turned it on. His eyes rested on the beautiful face of his daughter, his heart thumping hard inside his chest, as he waited for the computer to boot up.

He typed in the password. He chuckled as he remembered her indignant reaction when she had found out he knew her well enough to guess what her password was. Nevertheless she hadn't changed it after all these years.

A soft melody accompanied the launching of Windows 7. Slowly, icons began to appear one by one. The usual ones appeared at the top – Microsoft Internet Explorer, Microsoft Excel, and Microsoft Word – quickly followed by folders with various names – Forms, Students, Cases…

An icon stood in the middle of the screen. Bearing the dark blue and white logo of Microsoft Word, the file had been baptized "The Woman in the River". Confused, but his curiosity piqued, Booth double-clicked on the icon. It was unlikely that his girlfriend had been working on a new book without him knowing about it. It was all the more improbable that the icon would appear so far away from the others.

A document appeared in front of his eyes. Within ten seconds of reading his heart had caught in his throat.