Dulles International Airport, Washington D.C.
"Oof. Stupid luggage, stupidly delayed flight..." muttered the teenage girl wrestling a carry-on tote bag onto her shoulder while holding a piece of luggage at the same time. Her features contorted in frustration, she finally dumped her stuff on the shiny airport floor and pulled out the earbuds nestled in her ears. Methodically, she organized herself, finally (after much struggle) looking presentable enough to be working at a renowned research institution.
Rubbing her sore knee fondly, she walked towards the Information counter with a slight limp. Her knee had been twisted three weeks ago in a basketball competition that she had always thought she had no place in -- she, the school's top AP student, on a ball court in the finals? Very, very irregular. But she had made it even if she had to be helped off court at the end of it all, suspecting divine intervention. Score one for the nerds, she thought triumphantly. That, now was something someone she knew had better find out about. Then again... where was he?
As she looked outside at an ascending plane, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and heard a voice address her. "Susanna?" Weighing the options of who it might be who knew her name -- schizo, psycho, homeless, deranged and FBI agent -- she finally turned around to meet a terribly familiar face.
"Uncle Seeley?"
Jeffersonian Institute, Washington D.C.
"You have to be kidding me. Susanna's not a squint, she's a teenager! She's not one of your soulless, super-genius scientists, she's a kid!"
Brennan shot him an offended glance. "That was rude, and uncalled for. Especially when there is no problem apparent, Booth. Why does Susanna's position bother you so much?" She slipped another Ziploc bag into her kit, muttering dully something that sounded like 'egoistic maleness'.
Booth threw up his arms in frustration. Maybe he was overreacting, but... "It's not that, it just -- it's family, alright, Bones? It's about family, and when family change that much, it bothers me, okay?"
"Why should it? It's not like you, as her biological uncle, have the moral and legal right to control her summer activities. She has a choice where she wants to apply her genius, you know," pointed out Brennan rather condescendingly.
Booth sunk into a chair, tired of explaining family to his partner. "She's not a genius. She's just a normal kid, so what is she doing here?" He rose to his feet, suddenly realising what a long drive the crime scene in the middle of nowhere was from Washington D.C. "Anyway, c'mon. We gotta go." He walked out through the door, narrowly missing Susanna, whom he gave a 'We'll-take-care-of-you-later-young-lady' look.
Brennan followed him out. "Bones ahoy!" She just couldn't help her evolving sense of humour.
"So. I'm Susanna. You're Zack, that's HodginsandAngela, so named because they're perpetually glued to each other--" Cam snickered while Hodgins looked affronted -- "and you're my boss, Cam. Or should I just call you all by your professional titles? Would it be more proper or just bad or... should I?"
Cam answered, "No. You'll just feed their egos to the point that everyone will make you get the coffee. Bet you have experience with that. Just call everyone by their names. You're a part of the team now."
Susanna frowned. Too bad it was only for seven weeks. "Thanks."
Cam nodded, seemingly distracted by the fleshy body waiting for her in the autopsy room. "Get acquainted." She turned on her heel and walked away briskly, leaving Zack and Susanna staring at each other indecisively and Jack and Angela making the most of their free time. In a relatively chaste way.
Thankfully, Zack broke the silence. "You're fourteen?"
"Yep. The age where novelists find their characters involved in various bestseller-worthy adventures." The silence flickered back into focus, and a bored Susanna traced the titles of her favourite books onto the gleaming steel table.
"Keep the environment sterile. Rule number one," interjected Zack, viewing the teenager rather unhappily.
Susanna froze. "Oops. I'll get the disinfectant." Just as she passed by the large monitor placed near the entrance to the platform, the computers chirped with data transfer alerts. Immediately, the platform buzzed into attention. "Press 'OK', Sue."
After a short argument of "Who let you call me, 'Sue', Mr Curls-and-Goatee?", the document sent over by Brennan and Booth finally finished downloading, and Brennan's face appeared in a vid conference window.