Eight years later, Seeley Booth was working for the FBI when Jemma Arrington's mother came to see him. She wanted him to finally solve her daughter's case. The New York coroner was in town, and agreed to sign over the body.

"You know the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome," Cam said.

"Okay, but maybe I missed something?" Booth replied, not because he thought he had, but because he couldn't accept that they knew who the killer was, and couldn't prove it.

"How's about you get another point of view?"

"Partner up? No," Booth said firmly. "You know I don't do that."

"There's a forensic anthropologist at the jeffersonian who just solved the death of a Stone Age hunter."

"How does that help?"

"If she could do that, maybe she can give you some insight on Gemma's case."

"Forensics don't solve crimes, Cam. Cops do."

"Same activity, same results," she insisted as she walked away.

"Hey, hey, hey. Where can I find this scientist?"

Cam smiled, "She is teaching a class at American University. Lecture hall 120. She will be there til noon."

Booth made his way across town, still not sure if he was making the right choice. Scientist weren't exactly his type of people. The squints at the FBI always made him feel uncomfortable. Still, he owed it to Gemma and her mother to try to solve the case.

He heard her voice before he saw her. He was walking down the hall, and he couldn't quite believe it. It couldn't be her. After all these years, there was no way fate had brought them back together, but sure enough, he opened the door and saw the face that still haunted his dreams.

She was older, but it was her. He took a seat in the back, and watched her lecture. The sound of her voice, making him feel calm and at home for the first time in years. He thought she saw him a few times, but then she would shake her head and continue her lecture.

When she was finished, students flooded down to ask her questions, or simple fawn over her. It reminded him a bit of when he would see her tutoring in the library. Slowly, the students trickled out, and she was left to gather her notes.

He couldn't put this off any longer.

He stood, and walked toward her.

"I always knew you would make something of yourself, Bones," he said proudly.

Her back was turned and she shook her head again, and rolled her shoulders. "I must be more tired than I thought," she mumbled.

"You should take better care of yourself," he said. If he was honest, he expected her to have more of a reaction to his presence.

"And I will start by not talking to hallucinations," she said a little more firmly, though her back was still turned.

"I know I haven't seen or talked to you in a while, but that doesn't mean I am a hallucination," he said reaching out to turn her around.

Her face was an unreadable mask when she finally looked at him. "Booth?"

"Um, yeah, it's me. How've ya been?"

She pulled herself out of his grip and stepped back, knocking into the tank. "You're dead. I got a letter 8 years ago, that said you were dead," she said, almost to herself. As if trying to convince herself that the whole interaction as an elaborate hallucination.

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he joked, trying to lighten the mood, but she simple tilted her head and squinted at him. When he saw that she was still struggling, he became more serious. "I spent sometime as a POW over there. Who told you I was dead?"

"I got a letter from Teddy."

He couldn't hide the drop of his heart. "Teddy died during my rescue. When I got back, I was going to look you up, but…"

"But you decided to let me think you were dead," she said, a little of the old fire lighting in her eyes. "And what, pray tell, finally convinced you to track me down?"

"It wasn't like that, Bones…"

"Don't call me Bones!"

"I wasn't myself when I got home. I needed some time. I swear I didn't know about the letter. I thought, well I thought you would be off living your life, that you would have forgotten all about me by now."

"Sure, a snap to forget the best friend I have ever had," she snapped, trying to slip around him, but he grabbed her arm.

"I'm still your best friend?"

She glared, but he didn't let go. "Of course, you are Booth. Now, please, why are you here?"

"For the record, you are my best friend, too, but since you asked, I work for the FBI now, and we have a case."

Suddenly, the prospect of working with a partner was a lot more palatable. For another eight years, they chased each other through wars, and serial killers, and ghosts, and snakes and when they finally caught each other, they never let go.