AN: A brand new fic for y'all. This will be a multi-chapter fic that follows the episodes of seasons 1-3. The first five chapters will have scenes and dialogue from the pilot. I don't own anything related to Bones. Beta work by friendsidol5.

Chapter 1 Don't Call Me…

Temperance Brennan walked through the Dulles International Airport purposefully. The tepid air was refreshing after hours aboard the plane where the circulated air was stale and dry. Outside the day looked warm and she knew from experience it would be humid as well. She scanned the crowd until she found her friend and smiled, unsurprised by the site of Angela Montenegro flashing the ticket agent.

"Tell me you tried excuse me first?" she inquired, pleased to see a brief wave of guilt pass Angela's eyes before it was masked with a smile and hug.

Brennan grinned at Angela's response as the artist embraced her, top still open.

They walked to the car; chatting about flashing, mass graves and Brennan's ex-boyfriend Pete when Brennan had the distinct feeling she was being closely trailed. Dropping her bag and turning in one movement she addressed the tall African American man in the black suit behind her,

"Sir, why are you following us?" she managed to ask before bringing the man to his knees in a series of quick hits. Angela was in the midst of hitting the downed man with her purse whilst yelling 'kick his ass!' when the man announced he was with Homeland Security. Soon they were surrounded by men with guns in uniform. Brennan tried, unsuccessfully, to diffuse the situation when the agent recovered her shoulder bag and began searching its contents.

On the outside the auburn haired woman was calm and collected, knowing her rights as a citizen and momentarily savoring the guarantee of due process, something Guatemalans were not known for. Internally, Temperance seethed, wondering why Homeland Security had her pegged and why today, of all days when she just wanted to go home and sleep, they were set on detaining her. If they found…

Angela looked on, grinning widely as the agent was surprised to find himself staring at a human skull in the anthropologist's bag. Her smile faded as the pair was retained and questioned. Angela, to the artists' disappointment, was released immediately and went about securing the remainder of Brennan's luggage; the pieces without human remains, that is.

Brennan was exhausted, leaning tired on the table in the cool room she resisted the urge to shiver knowing it would give the illusion of fear. That was one thing her time in Guatemala had taught her. She addressed the agent questioning her credentials,

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, I've been in Guatemala for two months identifying victim of genocide… I'm an anthropologist who works at the Jeffersonian," she attempted to pacify the man she'd brought down while a second agent shifted through her belongings. They didn't seem to be buying it.

The door swung open and a tall, dark-haired man entered, tucking a file under the arm of his tailored suit. The original agent addressed her again, bitterness evident in his voice,

"Who works for the FBI, which I might maybe believe if you had an ID that did more than allowed you access to the cafeteria," the man leaned in, trying his hand at intimidation once again. "You are illegally transporting human remains, ma'am. And you assaulted a homeland security agent."

"Look, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends," her tone was condescending and anything but apologetic, "but next time you should identify yourself before attacking me. Who are you?" she turned to the silent man, challenging him.

"FBI, Special Agent Seeley Booth, Major Crime Investigation D.C. 'Bones' identifies bodies for us." Booth groaned internally wishing he could be somewhere else besides bailing out this squint.

"Don't call me Bones! And I do more than identify," she protested, unsure who this new agent was since she had certainly never identified bones for him personally. And who was he to call her 'Bones'? Just because she carried some around in her bag? She did recall hearing from Angela a new agent had started the week after she left for South America but assumed he would be gone before she returned.

"She also writes books," Booth interjected, sliding a copy of her fiction novel to the agent.

"Fine, she's all yours." Brennan knew, logically, there was something else going on, the agent had yet to finish searching her bag but would release her on the word of this stranger? But there was something else she couldn't place. Logically she knew that deja vu was an irrational belief; it held no scientific proof of recollection to a past event. But the way this man walked, held his shoulders, and his amiable smile, meant to make woman swoon, she was sure, triggered something in the scientist that she couldn't explain.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" She asked seriously with an air of superiority as they left the terminal. Who was he to walk in and announce he'd freed her from this moron?

"Special Agent Seeley Booth," he smiled again, as if she'd missed his previous introduction, "Deputy Director Sam Cullen has assigned me to liaise with the Jeffersonian on federal cases requiring the expertise of a forensic anthropologist, you," he motioned with the folder which no doubt described the skull from her bag and her abuse of the agent, "are an anthropologist." Brennan could tell by the way he grinned with cocky self-assurance that he was accustomed to this smile's persuasive powers. She remained silent, searching the archives of her memory for the time, a place, where she'd met him before. Eyebrows arched Booth continued,

"You are an anthropologist right? Dr…." he scanned the file, "Temperance Brennan?" His eyes now widened in recognition as he viewed her appreciably, taking in the auburn hair he remembered, those damn blue eyes. She'd definitely grown up and, from the looks of it, grown up well. "Froggy?"

If Booth was unsure before now, her reaction confirmed his suspicions as her face quickly flushed and her eyes flashed,

"Don't call me Froggy!" she insisted, knowing at once the only person who'd ever dared to nickname her and gotten away with it. "Seeley?"

"That's what the badge says," he confirmed as he led her to his waiting vehicle. This was not a discussion he wanted to have in the oppressive mid-day heat of Washington D.C.; this was a perfect conversation for the car, specifically his FBI issued black Suburban, with him behind the wheel and calling the shots.

"Let's go," he encouraged, when she balked at his grip.

"See-", no, she reminded herself, Seeley left a long time ago. This man is Booth, not Seeley. "Booth! What are you doing, where are we going?"

"We've got a case. And we need to catch up, let's go Froggy." Brennan resisted the urge to smack the back of his head.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

"Don't call me that!" the young girl insisted in a low whisper, arms crossed and sitting tall atop the lab stool, hoping no one else had heard the unflattering nickname.

"But you're dissecting a frog… and enjoying it." Seeley Booth explained to his lab partner, as if it would help his case.

"The only reason I'm dissecting is because someone has a fear of amphibians. An unnatural fear, I might add." Seeley simply grinned.

"Listen, Temperance," he emphasized her given name with a smile, "it's a profitable division of labor. You cut that thing and I write the reports. Simple. Easy. You don't get frog guts on the papers and I don't touch it." Temperance rolled her eyes.

"It is a Lithobates catesbeianus from the Rainidae family and it does not have 'guts' this," she held up her miniature forceps and pointed with a gloved finger, "is the posterior duodenal ileum which is held in place by the mesenteric membrane." She suppressed a grin as Seeley turned a light shade of green. He masked his discomfort with another smile.

"And all that mumbo jumbo is supposed to make it more fun to chop up?"

"Exactly, and in the Southern United States, it is more likely to be chopped up as a minor food source in gumbo or fried in batter."

"Good thing we're no where near the south." Seeley pointed out as he recorded the description of the intestines on his lab form.

Temperance sighed and returned to her work, the lab period would be over in a matter of minutes and she was intent on finishing the digestive system before the bell rang. Seeley continued to record her narrative while keeping his eyes carefully diverted from, as he called it, the corpse. Soon their science teacher had instructed the class to begin clean-up in preparation for the end of class. But as Seeley collected the jar to stuff the frog back in, jars he could handle, Temperance kept cutting, moving on defiantly to the circulatory system.

"Temperance, it's almost three. Let's get out of here." He encouraged, doing all but picking up the frog himself.

"I'm not finished," she looked up to find him waiting impatiently, "go, I can finish this myself."

"School's out, time to go…" Temperance wasn't listening again. "Who'll take notes on your ramblings? We'll finish this tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday." Seeley gulped, knowing if he didn't act fast he'd be spending the weekend staring at frog guts.

"Fine, Monday, we'll finish Monday. We're already ahead of the rest of the class."

"I'll finish it now. Dr. Klauson already gave me permission to stay late."

"What's the rush?" Temperance didn't expect him to understand but explained anyway.

"If I can finish the required dissections early Dr. Klauson might be able to arrange another specimen." Seeley was astonished at her eagerness to cut into another thing.

"You're a sophomore in Senior Honors Biology. And taking the AP track. You have the best average in the class. Why do you need the extra credit?"

Temperance shrugged as she dissected the cloacae, "I didn't say it was for extra credit," she sat up again, away from the specimen at hand, "and how, again, did you get into Honors Biology without ever dissecting yourself?" Seeley scowled, knowing few people understood his schedule and Temperance was one of them.

"The registrar screwed up my schedule. But, hey, they figured, it's only one semester so who cares?" Temperance considered the dilemma thoughtfully.

"They're probably right; you graduate in June either way. Which is why, you should probably learn the anatomy of this bullfrog or you'll fail the test next week." Seeley rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack, resigned to the fact she would not be leaving the laboratory anytime soon. He sat again on his stool, dangerously close to the smirking, budding scientist.

"My lab reports are high enough to save my grade. I'll pull out a 'C'." He predicted in confidence. Temperance scoffed and waved him away, wishing for quiet.

"Just go, I can finish here and work on the report this weekend. It'll be done by Monday and your grade will be safe."

"Nope, I can stay. Football season is over now and there's not much to rush home to." Temperance smiled and muttered to herself,

"Sounds familiar."

END Chapter

AN: Thanks for reading folks! I'm stuck at home in the middle of a huge storm-the rain is coming in and the wind has swept away the cats. Reviews make me happy!