This story is strictly for entertainment purposes. I do not claim these characters as my own and any similarities between fictional characters and real people are purely coincidental. This story contains Mature Sexual Content and children under the age of 18 should not view. Parents need to monitor their children's internet use, not me.

Author's Note: I chose this title long before the episode The Bones on the Blue Line was aired and its use is also coincidental.

Bone of Contention

1. The Crime Scene

"Hey Bones, we got a case… I'll pick you up in thirty minutes." Booth dropped his cell phone into the pocket of his suit coat, nodded his departure to the other law enforcement on site and walked toward his FBI issued energy efficient, carbon neutral Ford Hybrid. Man, I miss the SUV he thought to himself and grimaced as he maneuvered his athletic frame into the cramped car. He started the engine and backed up onto the highway. In his rear view mirror he could see the mangled wreckage of a pick up truck and the markers where human remains were scattered about.

He took a mental inventory, sorting and filing the known from the unknown as he headed toward the interchange leading to the D.C. beltway. He tried to imagine the probable crime scene scenarios. He noted the skid marks from where the truck with Florida license plates had been forced off the road and crashed into an embankment. The vehicle had been completely stripped, the dash disassembled, the seats ripped open and the tires taken off. Shotgun casings had been found nearby. Mushroom pickers had found the wreckage, which had been pushed further into the trees and hidden from the road. It was likely the human remains were of the driver or passenger, but then nothing was obvious with a corpse that had decomposed beyond recognition. He was far from feeling squeamish at the gruesome sight, he'd seen more than his share of dead bodies, first in Kosovo, than Iraq and now in his current position with the FBI. What he did feel under his hard exterior was regret for the lives ruined by these deaths. So he reminded himself, these are people, not things, but human beings.

As he turned onto the highway and merged into traffic his thoughts shifted toward his partner, a brilliant, beautiful and quirky Forensic Anthropologist in her early thirties. They had worked together for several years and had an unusual partnership with a successful track record. From the very beginning he recognized Brennan's insights and expertise could help him solve difficult cases. The relationship they shared was strictly professional but highly intense and he found himself thinking of her often. The thoughtful expression she wore while explaining the technical aspects of physiology or the weird customs of a primitive culture. The way she would furrow her brow while examining and searching an x-ray for anomalies and the look in her eyes when she was amused by his comments. But it was the attempts to hide the hurt, remorse and isolation he knew she experienced and the sight of her bravely facing down danger and fear that squeezed at his heart and filled him with admiration. Bones was unlike any woman he had known and she simultaneously infuriated and enthralled him.

The image in his head changed again and instead of suppressing it, he allowed himself to remember the sight of her wearing a body hugging black dress that accentuated her curves and showed lots of skin. The thought involuntarily squeezed at other parts of him and caused him to groan. "Jesus Christ Booth, get a grip!" He took a deep breath and sighed as he drove toward the Jeffersonian Institute.

In a turn of the century conservatory, situated within sight of the Washington Memorial, the multi million-dollar archive and museum known as the Jeffersonian Institute was housed. This portion of the privately/publicly funded institution was a state of the art laboratory focusing on the science of forensic anthropology. They specialized in the identification of human remains and the context in which these humans had lived and had died.

Angela Montenegro leaned over the catwalk above the work platform and smiled to herself watching her colleague and best friend's face light up as the FBI agent greeted her. It was obvious to the computer whiz and gifted artist that Brennan and Booth had an interesting chemistry between them. She had to admit, the site of the scientist and the cop dancing around each other and refusing to recognize the sparks that flew between them, was entertaining if not extremely frustrating.

"Ahh, yes.. just another day in the neighborhood." Dr. Camille Saroyan commented as she joined Angela to look over the rail. Cam looked amused.

"Cam, you know Booth better than most and I know Brennan like the back of my hand, what is it with these two?" Angela asked.

"Booth's as honest and straightforward a man as I have ever met. When we were together, we both knew where we stood… friends with benefits as Michelle would say." Cam smiled thinking of the teenager she had become guardian to. "I'd say he feels threatened, not by her ability or intellect, but by how much it would hurt to loose the relationship if it didn't work out."

"Yeah? And Brennan has abandonment issues and an I.Q of 185." Angela looked as exasperated as she sounded. "It's really too bad, love's worth it."

Cam raised her eyebrows at her, "And you'll let them figure it out on their own. It can't be casual between them, involving yourself will only come back to haunt you." She said sternly.

"You're right." Angela sighed. "I'm just a sucker for potential hot sex." She gave her boss a weak smile as they watched Booth follow Bones out of the building.

Suited up in her field clothes, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, Bones knelt over what was left of the decomposed corpse and gently prodded at the remains with latex gloved hands.

"Female, Caucasian, approximately in her mid to late thirties, there was blunt trauma to the back of her head, and a gunshot to the sternum. She's been dead… maybe a month. It appears animals have scattered the remains."

"You think this is a murder?" Booth asked knowing the answer.

"This wasn't an accident. It appears the woman was run off the road, she was either thrown out, climbed out or pulled out of the cab, bludgeoned with that rock..." she pointed to a stone "... and shot with a large caliber rifle. The evidence is all here. Whoever did this destroyed the truck trying to find something, most likely something worth committing murder over." She knew he had to ask and at the same time it gave her a chance to validate her own findings.

"Let's see if we can get a print off that rock. We'll have the body and truck taken back to the Jeffersonian for I.D. You want anything else?"

"Samples of the surface beneath her. We might be able to find some evidence of what was in the truck by a thorough examination of the pieces, including anything that was tossed out. It might help establish motive."

Booth gave his agents the go ahead to pack up the remnants of the accident. He watched her snap a few more photos with her digital camera and still wondered how she could clearly see, what wasn't there, in a pile of human remains. Even after years of working together, he was still in awe of her and had complete faith in her crime scene prowess.

Walking back to the car, Bones opened the trunk and dropped her camera bag and supply satchel into it. She snapped off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket and pulled on the tie that held her ponytail back and shook her hair free. She looked up and saw Booth staring at her with his penetrating brown eyes. She blushed as she met his gaze, and as usual, one of them looked away awkwardly and the other followed.

As desirable as she found him, Bones wouldn't go there. She hid her feelings behind a scientific façade and even though she trusted and believed in him, there was an edge of vulnerability that clung to her. She never lacked for male companionship but none of them affected her like Booth did. Certainly, he was handsome, brave, competent and very kind but there was something else there. She tried to be rational about her attraction to him, but in this instance, her genius I.Q. failed her.

Like Cam had theorized with Angela, Booth was afraid of alienating her, losing her as a friend and as a partner. She meant something to him and he recognized that none of his past relationships had ever been this intimate. His relationship with Cam had been about mutual need, his timing was always off when it came to Tessa, and even though they shared the love of their son, Rebecca had ended up rejecting him and being a pain in the ass. The risks he was willing to take would be confined to his FBI work and the hockey rink, but that never stopped him from thinking about her in that black dress.

"So what do you think happened here? Give it your best shot." Booth teased as they drove back to the Jeffersonian.

She rolled her eyes at his choice of words. "A hypothesis without evidence to back it up will never solve a case or convict a murderer. You know that better than I."

They were back on the road, headed toward the Jeffersonian and neither would admit how much they enjoyed the banter between them.

"I'm not asking you to make up some fairy tale, I'm asking you for ideas… how about using some deductive reasoning to explain what we saw. Let's brainstorm, you know, two heads are better than one… Starsky and Hutch, Cagney and Lacey... Rocky and Bullwinkle…"

"I don't know who they are… I'd rather base my findings on irrefutable science not conjecture or the observations of cartoon characters." She said dismissively, but in the next breath she asked, "Booth, I need a favor…"

The hint of desperation in her voice threw him, "Anything Bones… I mean… sure, if I can." He stammered.

"Will you come to my book opening and cocktail party with me? My book publicist says I have to go and fraternize with the publishing company and this business media group. I can't bear the thought of having all these people approaching me, engaging me in superficial conversation… you know…"

"You mean hitting on you. You want me to be your bodyguard? I'll be happy to rough them up for you." Booth chuckled.

"Apparently threatening to break their arms isn't politically correct." Her smile wilted. "I'm told that I come off as being officious, I need to allow others to take the lead. I just don't like the feeling of being on display or that I'm a piece of fruit ready to be picked… I find it demeaning."

"Bones, you need to join the rest of the world. You're a beautiful woman, and men are taught to respond to that."

"That's not what I mean…" She paused a moment as if catching herself. "I mean, thank you."

"Your welcome."

He could be very gentle when he chose to be and this made her feel warm and cared for.

The moment was lost by the jangle of her cell phone. "Brennan" she answered. Her eyes grew wide. "Sully?"