A/N: I first thought about doing this story in the Summer, when my family and I visited D.C. I automatically went into super-fangirl mode. I wondered how Brennan had become THE Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute. This is what I came up with. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Brennan. Anything I say herein on after is pure guess work. I have used several episodes as references, but it still is guess work.
The Beginning of Dr. Temperance Brennan
Ch. 1
Temperance Brennan checked her watch for nearly the fifteenth time in as many minutes. She counted the paintings in the room; she observed them carefully, memorising every small detail. The rich, dark backgrounds, the staunch expressions of the people in the portraits. There were five bald men, four with long, wispy silver hairs sticking every which way. There were only two women: both sporting fancy up-do's and looking on severely. Almost condescendingly. These, she knew were the heads of the Cantilever Group. The owners of the single largest private corporation anywhere. They were the single largest donors to the Jeffersonian Institute. She suppressed the urge to pace, and instead decided to go over what she was supposed to say in her final interview with Dr. Goodman.
She looked over her notes carefully. This was an opportunity she could not mess with, after all she was the youngest applicant for the position; she was also the brightest. She went over her thesis once more. Her thesis supervisor at Northwestern had thought it was brilliant, in fact, all of her professors had. As a result she had graduated top of her class, having completed three doctorates at the same time. The clickety-clacketty of high-heeled shoes shook her out of her reverie. She looked up, waiting for her name to be called.
"Dr. Temperance Brennan?" the woman asked, not quite sure of what to make of the skinny twenty-something in front of her.
"That's me." she replied confidently. The older woman smiled kindly, and motioned for the young doctor to follow her into the office suite. She then made her way over to the secretary's desk and picked up the phone.
"Dr. Goodman," the woman said quietly, "Dr. Brennan is here." she paused to listen to the man on the other end of th line. "Very well, sir. Yes, I'll escort Dr. Stires outside. Very well, Dr. Goodman. I'll tell her to go in." she hung up the handset, and looked at the young woman standing near the desk somewhat awkwardly. "You can go right in, doctor. Good luck."
Brennan merely nodded her head distractedly and walked down a short hallway, where she nearly ran into a man coming out. She snuck a look in his direction, but hastily lowered her head when he showed no signs of recognition. She shifted to the side and allowed him to pass through, before fully entering the spacious office of the Director of the Jeffersonian Institute.
"Hello, Dr. Goodman," Temperance said with more confidence that she felt. "I trust you had a pleasant summer." she shook his extended hand.
"Ah, yes, pleasure meeting you, Dr. Brennan" Goodman said pleasantly. "Yes, indeed, my summer was quite exciting. I was able to leave D.C. for a couple of weeks to go on a dig in the Alps. Wonderful, I must say. Simply wonderful. And I hope your summer wasn't too bad! I heard you went to Guatemala to help with the identification of genocide victims."
Temperance nodded, noting Dr. Goodman's sincere interest in her volunteer work. "Uh, yes sir. This was my second time working in Guatemala; however, I have spent several weeks in India, Norway, China and Japan identifying remains of different natures."
Dr. Goodman chuckled. "Yes, Dr. Brennan, I have heard a lot about you. I want you as the head of my Anthropology Department here at the Jeffersonian. I have spoken to the Board, and they too agree you would be an extremely valuable asset to our team."
The young doctor was rendered momentarily speechless.
She had just been asked to head the Department of Anthropology.
Her. Temperance Brennan. Morticia. The girl who had been in more foster homes that she cared to count. The one who had been through hell as a teen because of her family. The one who had been saved by her "grandfather". The one who had been kidnapped by Guatemalan rebels. The one who had survived each and every ordeal through sheer force of will. Her, Dr. Temperance Brennan, Ph.D.
She was brought out of her reverie by a curious set of brown eyes. She cleared her throat. "I-I I would, um," she couldn't form the words. She took a deep breath, and looked Goodman straight in the eyes. "It would be my honor to work here, at the Jeffersonian."
"And it would be our honor to work with you." he replied, shaking her hand vigorously. "If you please, doctor, I think it would be only logical that I show you where you are to be working." He led her to the west wing of the main building. The one she knew wasn't a museum, but where all the Administrative Offices, and all the laboratories and storages were located. They arrived at a large set of glass doors. They bore a decal, announcing they had arrived at the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal/ Anthropology Department's Lab.
-TB-
She sat on a bench near a coffee cart by the Reflecting Pool. She looked down at the many folders in her hands. They were grey, with two stripes running down it's front. One red, one blue. The center was marked with the same logo she had seen on the lab coats technicians wore. She smiled to herself. Finally, her work was paying off. She was Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute. She liked the way it sounded.
Sighing, she stood up. She should start looking for a place to live. She was staying in a tiny hotel room. She should find an apartment. She looked at her tiny little car. It wasn't new. Far from it, actually, but she liked it. She'd keep this car, at least until she was able to afford a new one. With what she was getting paid, it would be no problem in a few months.
That night, she dreamt of her family. She saw her parents, she saw her brother, and she saw Russ. The last thing she remembered, before falling into the first restful sleep she'd had in days was her brother calling out to her the way he had done a thousand times. "Marco!"
A/N: I hope you liked it. If you didn't, sorry. Leave a review either way. Or let me know through twitter (queenofthelab96) . In any case, thanks for reading this. More to come!