My first fic for the 55 Word Challenge. As always, these characters do not belong to me. All comments and feedback and greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

INTERN

Temperance Brennan stared at the stack of files on her desk, a sense of hopelessness washing over her. The good doctor had been sifting through the dossiers for over three hours, but had made very little headway; checking and rechecking test results, reading letters of recommendation, glancing over thesis work, and browsing through her own notation. Words began to blend together and she caught herself reading the same page over and over again without actually gleaning anything from the text. She put the folder back on her desk with a sigh. Choosing an intern was proving to be a nearly impossible task.

At the time of her appointment as Forensic Anthropologist for the Jeffersonian Institute, she had been unaware that teaching would be one of her job requirements, and once she had been made aware, had protested the idea thoroughly. Her work was time consuming enough as it was, without having to take the time to teach and supervise someone else. Logically, she knew that the Board of Directors was justified in insisting on an Internist. It would be highly beneficial for a graduate student to have a mentor as qualified as she, and Bone Storage offered almost endless possibilities to gain experience; not to mention further improving the Jeffersonian's reputation. However, the prospect of teaching still made her cringe. Educating had never been her strong suit, as she had learned during an unsuccessful tenure as a teaching assistant in college. So she had put it off for as long as possible; but now her superiors were adamant that she take
on an intern, and thus the selection process had begun.

Realistically, she knew it was unfair to compare the candidates to herself, as very few people would be able to match her intellect, let alone her skill in Forensic Anthropology. Yet, she was still very dissatisfied with a majority of the applicants. Many of their portfolios were hastily put together, lacked quality, or were incomplete; and the interview and practical exam had been a disaster for the most part. Out of four hundred applicants, only twenty five were deemed qualified enough to be interviewed, and of those twenty five: two arrived late, one of which was hung over, three misarranged the carpal bones, four had a nervous breakdown on the platform, one knocked over a tray of chemicals which set off the bio hazard alarm, and one admitted to plagiarizing their application. Brennan went home each night with a throbbing headache, and the whole process had left her worn out and extremely behind in her own work.

Now the deadline was finally here and she was no closer to making a decision. Frustrated, she shoved the stack of files away, then cursed as they toppled off her desk, spilling across the office floor. Squashing the irrational urge to cry, she rose from her chair and proceeded to clean up the mess, quickly sorting the folders into two piles: "Maybe" and "Definitely Not". After dumping the "definitely not" pile into the bin to be shredded, she placed the remaining ten files on her desk. Another twenty minutes later, she had finished with all but one applicant. Opening the final dossier, she found herself immediately impressed with the credentials within; remarkably high intelligence, glowing recommendations, an interesting thesis about the evolution of the coronal suture, and excellent marks during the practical exam. Booting up her computer and opening a blank correspondence template, she read over the file one last time before nodding in satisfaction. Yes, this was the one. Smiling slightly, she began to type; "Dear Mr. Addy. It is my pleasure to offer you the post of my intern in Forensic Anthropology…"