Disclaimer: I wish I owned Bones, if only to make more romantic moments. But sadly, I don't, and this is my way of compensating.

Chapter One: The Parts In The Sum Of The Whole

The room is crowded as people rush everywhere and three figures follow behind another. Dr Temperance Brennan is in the lead, eyes covered in sunglasses and trench coat covering her other clothing. She is the leader of this small group, but this is not her story. This is the story of two of the people following behind her.

'Hey!' one of them says. Her name is Angela Montenegro. 'Oh, hey. We have to tell you something.'

'Zack told me how bad you felt about boiling all the particulates out of the skull-' This speaker is Jack Hodgins.

'I need some coffee,' Brennan interrupts.

'This is coffee,' the last member of their small group speaks up, handing her a cup. This is Zack Addy, Brennan's grad student.

'Oh, thank you.'

'Despite the boiling,' Hodgins continues. 'I was able to get microscopic samples from the bones.' He turns to Angela, a flirty glint in his eye. 'Hey, have I mentioned how excited I am to be working with you?'

'Yeah, yeah,' she says, with a smirk, clearly unimpressed by his mop of curly hair and bright blue eyes. 'You mentioned it.'

'Dr Hodgins found microscopic fragments of steel and traces of lubricating oil,' Zack speaks up.

'Zack and I compared manufacturers specs for the Judges trunk to the victims gaping head wound,' Angela adds.

'One of them matched.'

This time, it's Brennan's turn to speak. She turns around to face them. 'We got fired.'

'A '56 Bel Air,' Hodgins continues.

'What?' asks Brennan.

'What?' This time it's Angela.

'What?' Finally, Jack interprets her words.

'We got fired? Wha- is this because you slept with Booth?'

'What? I didn't sleep with Booth. Why- why did you say that?'

'Tequila vapors,' Hodgins comments.

'What is happening?' Zack asks.

'I got us fired because I punched a judge in the schnoz.'

'Now I'm never going to make it to Paris,' Angela mopes.

'Angela, I can offer you steady employment reconstructing ancient remains and tombs and digs.'

'Really?'

'You know,' Hodgins says. 'I've always wanted to go to Paris with an artist.'

'Zack, take all of the evidence to Booth at the FBI and we all can go back to our normal jobs.' Brennan resettles her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and heads into her office.

'Do you feel like you saw something great that almost happened, then it didn't?' Jack asks. He receives no answer.

Angela sat at home that night, thinking about her day. And what a day it had been. Compared to her normal life of drawing caricatures on the streets of D.C, this had been something interesting. Horrific, sure. But also, interesting. And even the flirtatious advances towards her by the short entomologist were worth mentioning. He may be short, and most definitely not the kind of guy that Angela was usually interested in, but he had a quality to him that she hadn't seen in many men in her time. He had almost longed for a chance to prove himself to her. It almost made her feel guilty that she had turned him down.

She stood up, walking across to her fridge and pulling from it a small bottle of spirits before heading back to the sofa. She popped the lid and took a sip, flipping on the television. It had been the first night in a long while in which she spent the night alone. She wasn't quite sure why, but she just didn't feel like calling up any of the numerous guys whose numbers she had in her phonebook for a night of something meaningless. She wasn't sure why, but for the first time in her life, she felt as if she wanted something more than just meaningless sex.

It was an odd feeling, but she knew it would pass. These odd moments she had always passed. But what Jack had said - 'Do you feel like you saw something great that almost happened, then it didn't?' - something about that phrase hit her. As with a lot of things that night, she wasn't sure what it was, but she desperately hoped she would find out soon, if only to abate her curiosity.

Jack placed his keys down on the small table beside his front door. Flinging his shoulder bag into the living room, he continued on into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of scotch from his liquor cabinet. Her poured a small amount into a glass and drank it back.

His brain was swirling around, images popping up again and again on repeat. And all of them seemed to be of the beautiful artist Dr Brennan had hired. Her long legs, her smooth exotic skin, the dark curls of her hair. He liked her. To him, it was an automatic attraction, a sudden gasp when she first walked into the room, taking his attention and his legs out from under him.

But, as happened with most of the girls that he actually liked, she had turned him down. Maybe he needed to show her his money, and then she'd agree to spend time with him. He could take her to Paris and they could do some real sight-seeing if you get the drift.

No. He couldn't do that. That was the complete opposite of actually liking someone.

He took another sip of his scotch, sitting down at the breakfast bar. His head slumped in defeat, and he knew he looked to the world like a drunk in a bar. And he might have been just a little bit drunk.

But man, she was beautiful. If he never saw another woman in his life, he could live with just her. And he never thought he'd grow tired of her either. She had those wits of hers that kept him on his toes. She was quick on the uptake, maybe even a little too quick, and she had that distinct knack of getting the best of him. She made him want her, pine for her, but he knew he had to bury it down. If he was going to work with her, like Brennan had said, he'd need to be able to keep his libido in check and his mind out of the gutter. He knew it was unlikely to happen, but he hoped he wouldn't slip up and make a fool of himself. If only so her beautiful legs wouldn't trip him over next time he laid eyes on her.

A third sip of scotch burned his throat and he placed the glass on the sink, rinsing the last of the alcohol down the drain. Then he climbed the stairs to his one of many bathrooms and looked at himself in the mirror. The stubble on his face was longer than he usually allowed it get, but he couldn't be bothered shaving. Maybe he'd let it grow, try something different. Maybe she preferred her men with beards.

This is my first story on . It's definitely not my first ever, but hopefully you enjoy. This is actually the chapter I'm happiest with at the moment and I've written a lot more than just this one (not necessarily in the posting order). I hope you kind of understanding where it's headed. Each chapter is based off an episode that I felt could have included more thoughts or more romantic moments. Some chapters will be longer than others depending on what's going on. For example, these first chapters will be short, mainly because it's Jack and Angie's thoughts rather than conversations between them. But later on, it will be getting longer. I've just finished a chapter a lot further down the track and it is really long. Anyway, I'd love hear what you have to say, so feel free to review and tell me how bad it is.

Thanks, Wynnie.