Chapter One

The Tree in the Lab

The wind was blowing dead leaves across the lawn of the Jeffersonian Institute. All the rose bushes were dry and bare. As Dr. Temperance Brennan passed through the middle of the lawn, the wind picked up just enough to spray her with the fountain's mist. She let out a discreet expletive. Why would they leave the fountain running in the middle of winter? Probably for some irrational, aesthetic reason.

She had her eyes lowered to the ground in front of her, trying to compress herself to conserve warmth. She was walking very rapidly; maybe she could reach the door before her fingers were numb. Head lowered, walking fast; she hoped no one would run into her.

She never saw Booth coming. She wasn't sure which she noticed first, their bodies colliding or the flurry of papers which the wind blew away.

"Come on, Bones!" Booth said impatiently, rushing to retrieve his papers.

Brennan stood watching him. She was equally irritated.

"Well, I was obviously not paying attention," she said. "Why didn't you call attention to yourself?"

"Don't make this my fault!" he said. "I was reading important Bureau papers, what were you doing? Huh?"

"Conserving warmth," she said plainly.

"Well, there you go," he said.

"My comfort outweighs yours because I'm more indispensable."

"Whatever, why don't you just help me pick these up?" he asked.

"I figured an old-fashioned gentleman wouldn't want a lady to help him," she said.

"You know, sometimes you're a real-"

Something occurred to her. "What were you doing in the Jeffersonian, anyway?" she asked.

"Well, for your information, I came to tell you you're on your own for the holidays," he said, stuffing the last of his papers back in a leather folder.

"Why? Family time?"

"No, Bones, I have a normal case to deal with. A good, old-fashioned serial killer."

"How is that normal?" she asked as Booth walked back toward her.

"Because the victims aren't burned, rotten, or partially eaten," he said, stopping about a foot away. "I can finally stay in the same building as the corpse."

"I'm happy for you," she said unconvincingly.

"Well, I'm not looking forward to it, to be honest. They've got me put with some weird agent I've never even heard of. Guy's a fruitcake."

"A squint?"

"A squint without credentials."

"Poor Booth," she said. "At least you have all the people skills." Maybe that would cheer him up. She'd say something kind to make up for her wisecracks.

"Ha ha, very funny," he said. While he was rearranging his papers, he missed the momentary, hurt look on Brennan's face. "Well, no time to waste. I have to get this finished before Christmas Day. Big plans."

"With Parker?"

"Yup. Mom's caught some of the Christmas spirit, she feels like sharing." He smiled sardonically.

"That's great," she said, trying to sound more earnest this time.

"Thanks, Bones," he said. "But I really should go, this guy is waiting for me." His cell phone rang. "There he is again."

Booth pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked off. Brennan watched him go for a minute, then turned back to the steps leading to the doorway. She sighed. Booth was usually a staunch defender of Christmas frivolities. Evidently, something had upset his composure. Such was the magical spirit of Christmas: it deserted its most loyal supporters when they needed it most. It occurred to Brennan that this was strong support for her more rational assessment of this commercial nightmare. Booth's attitude had actually undermined his own position. Reflecting on that, she felt a little better.

"What do you think?" Angela asked, stepping back and crossing her arms to admire her efforts. She looked over at Hodgins. His eyebrows were raised in what looked like disbelief.

"Um…" he said, pursing his lips. "It's a skillful assemblage, but…"

"What?" she asked.

"Dr. Brennan's going to freak," he said, laughing.

"All part of the plan," said Angela.

At that moment, they heard footsteps approach. Dr. Brennan's voice asked, "What is that? Angela!"

"Hey, sweetie!" Angela smiled her most manipulative smile. This would be tricky.

"That thing has no place in our lab," said Temperance. "You know that. This is a delicate, nearly sterile environment, and foliage-"

"It's not foliage, it's a Christmas tree," said Angela slowly, "it's artificial, and it's not like I put it on top of a microscope. It's just in the corner."

"Angela…" said Brennan.

"Hodgins liked it. He called it a skillful assemblage," she said, flashing a smile at the bug man.

Hodgins smiled nervously. "I'll be at the party," he said weakly. He retreated with rather undignified haste.

"That thing has to go," said Brennan. Her voice was tight with righteous indignation.

"But look at it," said Angela. "The assemblage is so skillful."

"That's not-" Brennan spared the tree a glance. "It is admirably balanced, if not perfectly symmetrical," she admitted.

"There! See?"

"But who knows how much dust, how many contaminants-"

"Well, I'm not moving it. It took forever to decorate."

"It has to go!" "Well, looks like you'll have to do it yourself," said Angela sweetly. "Maybe you can put it in the party room. Where everyone else is."

Brennan let out a cough of incredulity. "That's what this is about? A ploy to force me to attend the Christmas party?"

"Come on, sweetie, you'd really enjoy it this year. Zack baked a cake."

"Zack?" she asked, impressed in spite of herself.

"With help from me. And it's in the shape of a skull."

"As tempting as that it, I have work to do. Christmas is still a week away. The holiday is irrational enough without celebrating it in the wrong week."

"We're doing it now because Zack is visiting his family Christmas week. I told you that."

"Well, I'm not going."

"Not even for the skull cake?" "No!"

"Well, I guess the Christmas tree is going to keep you company," she said, and marched from the lab with Brennan's protests following her. She would come around.