Hey! So this is going to be a fic mainly between Angela and Brennan. In fact, basically all between Angela and Brennan. Likely little snap shots between all the seasons, in between, etc. I'm not totally sure where I'm going with this, but I really wanted to try a fic like this. Thanks to everyone, please read and review!
The first time Angela had met Brennan, Angela was doing an art show. Fresh, bright eyed, almost totally unaware of the harshness of the world around her. Her father had been a rock star, her mother had died at a young age. Not quite old enough to be considered a starving artist, but not quite fresh enough to be considered a newbie.
Brennan had just recently been hired at the Jeffersonian institute. New to the DC area, the Anthropologist had put in her application six months back and had almost immediately obtained the job. This not so bright eyed, weary woman was out in the world, looking after herself. Just as she'd always looked after herself. She was scared, sure, but it wasn't so much the fear that broke into her bones. She was good at sloughing feelings off. She was good at pretending.
You couldn't really say WHY she'd been to the art exhibit. She found most art relatively intriguing, but found the constant attention to art, music and television to be a declining feature in society. She believed that science should be adored, not emotions. Science should be glorified. Not the arts.
None the less, Dr. Temperance Brennan made her way to the art exhibit and looked around, judging any inaccuracies. A painting, however, did catch her eye.
It was human, slouching on a chair. Obviously an old man. The skulls architecture was perfect, structured perfectly. It was this awe that held her there for the longest time. She found it amazing that no one seemed to be paying attention to this piece of art. In her personal opinion, it was the best thing she had seen in a long time. Accurate. No shallow emotions. Simply what was there.
She turned around to see a woman also looking at the painting, and pointed at the picture.
"Do you know who painted this?" she asked, not at all timidly. The women looked at Brennan and her brows furrowed, before she smiled happily.
"That'd be me! My names Angela Montenegro. And you are…" she asked. She hadn't seen this woman around and was pleasantly surprised to see her in front of her work.
"Dr. Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffersonian institute. That's very impressive. Have you studied human anatomy?" she asked. Angela's brows furrowed and she chuckled.
"No, not really. That isn't even my best piece. I have more over there. That one…I couldn't capture the emotion quite like I'd wanted to," she admitted, almost sadly, as she looked over to the piece. Brennan felt her heart drop, but she kept a clear face.
"It's fantastic. It really is. I'd be willing to buy it from you, if you're willing to sell," she offered. Eyes wide, Angela stared over at the piece and gulped in.
"Um…Sure! Of course. I'll call you when this exhibit is done!" she stated, almost shakily, as Brennan smiled, a rare feature now a days, and started to walk away.
Angela stood there, almost in shell shock, as she turned around and looked back at the painting.
She couldn't point out exactly why this woman wanted this piece, but she knew something.
If she could just capture that look in the woman's eyes when she'd seen it, Angela would know more about the world then she'd ever be able to tell through painting alone.