A/N: So this is going to be an epic author's note, please bear with me. I'm writing this story because I absolutely hated the 100th episode, and much of the 5th season. I don't particularly care how they explained the whole Booth and Brennan's first case thing. I care about how many things they just got plain old wrong. I guess I should explain that first season is probably my favorite Bones, with the pilot being my favorite episode overall. I hate how the 100th got so many things wrong. For starters, Booth explains to Cullen that "On the last case we worked on, she gave me a description of the murder weapon and the murderer, but I didn't give it much credence." Cullen asks, "Why not?" and Booth replies "Because she did it by looking at the autopsy x-rays." This to me has always said that they worked more than one case together before everything blew up, plus, well, they left out the whole x-ray thing in the 100th. Anyway, This story is about writing those wrongs, and explaining how Booth and Brennan got to the point they got to in the pilot. It won't be about them being in love or getting together (though honestly, if season six doesn't have them at least start seeing each other, I'm going to stop watching the show). There won't be spoilers. I am going to make a point of explaining away inconsistencies I've picked up.

I should also explain that I'm a scientist. I hate it when scientists are portrayed as basically being either sociopaths or autistic. I'm sticking to the first season characterizations, so things might seem a bit OOC for season five. I'm not a forensic anthropologist, I'm a physicist. So any forensics mistakes will be my own and I will leave things intentionally vague so as to not be completely idiotic. If I get physics stuff wrong, well, then I'm just stupid. But Brennan was dating a physicist before she ran off to Guatemala, so I might break out some physics. Anyway, feel free to kvetch via reviews about what the Bones writers got wrong or just missed the boat on (besides getting Booth and Brennan to make sweet, sweet love), and maybe it'll make its way into this story.

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen. With a sigh she stretched, then opened a new word document.

She should have gone home a few hours ago, she'd finished her reports for the CIA at around 4:30, and sent them off with a courier. She had finished the initial analysis on a new skeleton out of bone storage and had typed up her initial analysis. The lab was empty, quiet, and she liked being here on her own, with no distractions.

So, rather than go home to her equally silent apartment, or call Peter and see if he wanted to get dinner and maybe come home with her for a bit of recreation, she started writing. It was an old habit, one she'd taken up when she'd only had herself as entertainment, and something she'd clung to desperately throughout her time in foster care.

She stared at the words as they appeared on the screen, smiling to herself as she wrote. Maybe she did need to call Peter for some recreation. Of course the man she was writing about was nothing like Peter. He wasn't like anyone Tempe knew.

She'd been working on this story in fits and starts for a few months now, and had nearly two hundred pages completed. She was working on the personal side of the story now, since she'd finished the actual plot. That had been the easy part, the science, the case. She struggled with the personal interactions, since social interactions never came easily for her. Of course, Kathy was everything she wasn't, gregarious, funny, easy going. Andy too, was everything she wanted in a partner, and nothing like the arrogant imbeciles she was forced to work with at the FBI. Andy accepted Kathy as an intelligent, capable woman. He was her partner, something Tempe was never seen as by whichever FBI agent she was managing to piss off at the moment.

The cases for the CIA were easier to deal with, since they always involved bodies from abroad. She accepted that she couldn't be involved in the field work when the body came from a covert mission that, according to the government "hadn't happened." Bodies from DC were another story. It was incredibly irritating to have some improperly trained forensic tech drop a body on her table after butchering the collection process. Usually she only got to even see the remains after they'd been over the body already and it was impossible for her to know what evidence had been ruined or how they'd mishandled the bones. Of course, none of the agents assigned to these cases would even think of letting her out of the lab, usually not even wanting her or her team at the crime scene.

Dr. Goodman, of course, was only too happy for the Medico-Legal lab to be involved in any government investigation. He wanted to take every opportunity to remind the government why the Jeffersonian received so much in government funding. She sighed and saved her file. Maybe she'd show the story, well, book if she was honest with herself, to Angela once she put the whole thing together.

She stretched again and sifted through her email inbox. She had a request from Dr. Martin Timmerman, from NYU. He'd just gotten back from a dig in the Amazon basin and wanted her to take a look at some remains. His initial carbon dating put the skeletons at about 4500 years old, among the oldest found in the region. She typed out a quick reply, telling him to send things along to the Jeffersonian and that she'd get to them as quickly as possible.

Her coffee had gotten cold, but she slugged the last of it down before she shut off her computer and pulled out her cell phone. She was feeling frustrated and she knew exactly what she needed. "Hello, Peter? Any interest in meeting up for dinner?"

Tempe's day was not going well. She'd already decided she was going straight to the shooting range after work, and if she had the opportunity, she was going to blow up a picture of the asshole from the FBI for target practice. This was just too much.

"Dr. Goodman, I can't work like this. If they want my input, they need to afford me at least a modicum of respect."

The older man sighed and looked up from his paperwork, glancing between Tempe and the FBI agent standing next to her with his arms folded. Most of the agents the FBI foisted off on her were arrogant, but this many really gave the word new meaning. He even wore a belt buckle that said "cocky" with a picture of a rooster on it. Plus he was an idiot.

"Dr. Brennan, the FBI has asked for your expertise. As a staff member of a government institution, it is part of your job description to consult on cases when requested."

The man standing next to her snorted. "I am standing right here, you know."

Tempe ignored him. "They're not even allowing me access to the remains." Goodman arched an eyebrow at her and waved to explain further. "I've only been given the autopsy x-rays. They won't allow our lab any physical evidence to examine, and frankly I don't trust the lab reports from the FBI forensics lab."

Goodman sighed, making Tempe struggle to not roll her eyes. "Dr. Brennan, please. Just examine the x-rays and give the man a report. If he wants anything further, he can give you more to work with." She nodded curtly. It was no good trying to get Goodman to get her out of working with the FBI. He was the one who had delivered her into their clutches in the first place. "Agent Booth, I have to say I understand Dr. Brennan's reluctance in this case. She isn't a magician and is much more likely to give you accurate information if you give her the physical remains."

The agent shifted slightly and shrugged. "Look, she can have the body when my techs are done with it. I appreciate the Jeffersonian's help here, but you guys are consulting with the FBI on this case, you're not the lead investigators. I need to give my people a chance to go through the evidence first before handing it off to a load of ivory tower scientists who don't know how criminal forensics works."

She frowned at the expression. She'd certainly heard of ivory tower academics and knew what it meant, but she couldn't see how the idea of academic shut-ins locked away from the real world could apply to her team, who were well trained in all the latest forensic techniques. "I don't know what that means." She could see the man roll his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'll get you your report. Dr. Goodman." She nodded to her boss and turned on her heel and marched out of his office.

A few seconds later, as she was walking towards the stairs to head back to her lab, she felt an arm grab her wrist and reacted instinctually. She knew Krav Maga fairly well, but it was the newest of the three martial arts she trained in and she instinctually fell back on the one she'd learned first and knew best, judo. She rocked her hip back into her attacker, grabbed the hand that held her wrist and flipped the man over her thigh. He grunted as he landed on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs. She felt guilty for a second, as agent Booth stared wide-eyed up at her, but then she shook herself and dropped her defensive stance. She reached out a hand to help him up, and every shred of guilt she felt evaporated when he just glared at her before heaving himself to his feet. "Geez, lady, overreact much?"

She frowned slightly. "I don't like to be touched." She especially didn't like being grabbed. It brought back far too many memories. She smoothed out her face. "I'm sorry. If you need to get my attention, use your voice, not your hands."

He nodded and fell into step beside her when she continued towards the stairs, following her back to her lab. "So, did you even get to look at my x-rays before you went running to your boss to complain?"

She glared at him through the corner of her eye. "Of course I looked at them. I would know more if I had an actual body to examine." She knew he was fishing for her preliminary findings, but she refused to give in to his prodding unless he asked directly.

"Well, what do you know?"

She swiped her id card, annoyed when he followed her up the stairs to the forensic platform. Zack and Hodgins were both bent over their tasks, neither bothering to look up. Hodgins probably didn't even hear them, since he had headphones in. She pulled them out of his ears as she passed. "Dr. Hodgins, you know how I feel about music on the forensics platform. Zack, progress please." She heard the tell-tale snap of the rubber band on Dr. Hodgins' wrist and ignored it.

Her assistant hopped up and met her at one of the high tables, which had a skeleton laid out upon it. "Hello Dr. Brennan. What did Dr. Goodman say?"

She sighed. "We have to work with the FBI. Report please."

He gestured to the bones in front of him. "I got the crispy critter cleaned and laid out. My preliminary examination implies cause of death to be head trauma, some kind of penetrating blow."

She saw Booth frown. "What the heck is a crispy critter?"

Brennan frowned at Zack. "It is an incredibly disrespectful term for the remains of someone who has been through a fire. Mr. Addy knows that no one in my lab uses terms like that. The only people who use those terms are med students who have no respect for human remains." Zack ducked his head, slightly embarrassed at being rebuked by Tempe. Booth still looked slightly confused. The man was an idiot. "The Arlington PD had a burned body turned up. Initially they believed it to be a suicide, but their medical examiner determined that the man had been dead when he was set on fire. Their investigation hit a dead horse, so they called us."

Now he was frowning at her, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. "Wait, do mean hit a dead end?"

She shrugged. She hated colloquialisms. She looked at Hodgins, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin. "What's the dead horse one?"

"Beat a dead horse. Try to do something impossible, or with no expectation of the desired result." Maybe she should watch more TV. Peter had insisted on bringing over his spare, since they spent so much more time in her apartment. It made sense that way, since she lived alone and he lived with another associate professor. Plus her place was nicer. She broke away from her thoughts when Hodgins continued speaking. "I finished particulate analysis. There was tungsten carbide in the head wound, probably from some kind of machine tool. I'm checking industrial registers to see if I can get a more exact match."

"Good work Jack. Let me know what you find out. Zack, let's take a look at the head wound." She and her student leaned in close to the cranium on the table, both snapping on gloves. "Do you see the marks on C2?" She pointed to the second cervical vertebra. Zack nodded, and even Booth leaned in to look at what she was pointing out. "It looks almost like a hesitation strike, before the main blow. Tell me about hesitation strikes."

Zack replied promptly. "Usually a term that applies to flesh wounds, hesitation strikes are seen in suicides or suicide attempts. The wounds usually follow a downward direction, since this follows the natural sweep of the arm. They can also be seen in attacks, or in wounds inflicted post mortem. When seen in post mortem wounds, it is usually an indication of hesitation before dismemberment, indicating that the attacker may have known the victim."

A textbook response, practically read from the page. She pushed him to analyze the words coming out of his mouth. "And what does that say about the victim in this case?"

"His attacker knew him, was going to dismember him but couldn't, so he set him on fire?" Zack made the statement into a question.

She nodded slightly. "It's a reasonable hypothesis. Now, let's look at the head wound." She picked up the skull and slowly rotated it in her fingers. "This looks like it was made by a drill. I want to work with Angela and see if you can work on recreating a possible drill bit." She replaced the scull on the table, slapping away Booth's hand when he reached out to touch it. "Now, Zack, did you look at those x-rays?"

He nodded, moving away to turn on the light box. He flicked it on and she stood next to him, looking over the x-rays yet again. She took up the explanation, for Booth's benefit. "The victim was male, probably between twenty-five and thirty. He was approximately 180 centimeters tall and was killed by having his neck severed, from above. Zack, what does that lead us to believe?"

"The attacker was taller than the victim, by at least ten centimeters." She nodded.

Booth chose that moment to interrupt. "Wait, what's that in American?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. The majority of the world, and all of the scientific community, used the metric system. The American public needed to start understanding it or be outstripped by their more enlightened cousins.

"180 centimeters is about 5'10. 190 centimeters is about 6'1. I would put a maximum height of the assailant at 6'3, judging by the angle of the blow. He was also likely heavier than the victim, probably about 220 to 230 pounds in 'American'." Put in the air-quotes and rolled her eyes for good measure. "Zack, what are your thoughts on occupational markers."

Her assistant took a few moments to study the x-rays. "This would be easier if we had physical remains to examine." She glared at the FBI agent. I can see the beginnings of osteoarthritis in the spine, knees and elbows, indicating someone who did frequent manual labor." He fell silent, then shook his head. "I'm sorry Dr. Brennan, without a physical skeleton, I'm not comfortable making any other observations."

She glared at the FBI agent again. "This, Agent Booth, is why we need the physical remains. X-rays are very limiting." She pointed to the knee joints. "Now Zack, you noticed the beginnings of osteoarthritis here. Now look at the shins. Do you see the stress fractures?" Zack nodded, seemingly irritated with his failure to observe something that he had missed. "There's a pattern of healing and injury. That is something typical of long distance runners, especially," she pointed at the heels, which were slightly more worn than would have been expected in someone in their mid-twenties, "someone who favors a heel-strike. You wouldn't see this injury if a person had good form and was running with a mid-foot strike, which allows the natural arch of the foot to act as a shock absorber for the knees and shins." Zack nodded, closely studying the x-rays. "So, Agent Booth, you're looking for a person, likely male, between 6'1 and 6'3 and 200 to 230 pounds who killed a twenty-five to thirty year old man, about 5'10 and 190 pounds, who was most likely a long distance runner. Because of the markers in the shoulders and spice, I would also say he was a kayaker, and a frequent one. His job probably had him at a desk." She pointed to the wearing of the lower spine. "I'll be sure to include all of this in my report."

With that she turned back to the skeleton that Arlington PD had asked her to examine and began her meticulous study of the bones. A hand darted into her vision and touched one of the tibia, making her reach out and smack it away. "Don't touch my bones!"

She glared up at Agent Booth, who shrugged but didn't apologize. "Geez you sure are touchy about bones."

She gritted her teeth. "I have a name, Agent Booth, and I would appreciate it if you would use it. I am Dr. Temperance Brennan."

She turned her back on him again, though she caught him rolling his eyes. "Sure, Dr. Brennan. I'll expect your report before five." She didn't answer or offer to escort him out. She just went back to unwrapping the mysteries of the bones that had made up a man, laying on the table before her.

A/N: Please review! I live on the things!