Thank you for your reviews, 1Sherlockian, Decembra1998! Please read and review. No flames, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones (belonging to Fox), Criminal Minds (belonging to CBS), Reid's existentialist joke, or Brennan's Schrodinger's cat joke.

The Hoover Building in Washington D.C.

"Sweets, come on!" Booth pestered the psychologist/profiler to hurry up. "The BAU's going to arrive at the Jeffersonian, and we can't be late. Or else Cullen will come after me for making them wait!"

Dr. Lance Sweets rushed out of his office, pulling on his jacket over his dress shirt on the way. "Did you just say the BAU? They are, like, the elite profilers of the FBI! Why didn't you warn me earlier about the meeting?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm warning you now." Sweets sighed in exasperation. "Now, if you are done acting like an obsessed fangirl, let's get going!"

The Jeffersonian Institute

After sprinting from the parking lot to the lab, Booth and Sweets arrived, panting and out of breath, earning curious looks from lab technicians. Booth looked around, thanking God that they had arrived before the BAU.

Angela had been walking by at the moment, and did a double-take at the sight of two FBI agents looking somewhat disheveled. "What happened to you two?" she asked.

"We didn't want to be late for the meeting," Sweets explained, his erratic breathing slowing down before Booth's.

Just then, the doors to the lab slid open. Brennan, Hodgins, Zack, and Cam stopped examining the body on the platform table and joined the trio.

In walked seven of the FBI's top profilers. The tall, dark-haired man stepped forward and introduced himself. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, and these agents are SSAs Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi; Dr. Reid; our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

"Wait…you're a doctor?" Booth asked Reid. "You look even younger than Sweets and Jack here," he continued, gesturing to them respectively. He ignored the "Zack" muttered by the young doctor.

Tactfully ignoring the comment, Cam introduced the Jeffersonian team. "I am the head of the forensics division, Dr. Saroyan, and these are Dr. Addy, our assistant forensic anthropologist; Dr. Lance Sweets, our psychologist/profiler; Ms. Montenegro, our residential artist and technological expert; Dr. Hodgins, our forensic entomologist and expert trace evidence; Dr. Brennan, our head forensic anthropologist; and of course, Special Agent Booth."

Handshakes and nods were exchanged, but now was not the time to socialize. A burnt body missing an ear lay on the platform table (for some reason in a glass box), and a killer was still out there.

Cam told Hotch that the BAU team could use her office to set up, and led him, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, and J.J. there. Reid stayed behind, curious about Zack, who looked about the same age as he was, and hoping to watch Brennan in action. He was fascinated by the science of forensic anthropology. Booth and Sweets went along with Cam and the others to observe the BAU in action.

Angela turned to Garcia. "So you're the technical analyst? I have something that I think you'd like to see." Garcia decided to follow the kind woman to her office, curiosity flooding through her.

Hodgins retreated to his office to work on his analyses of the fibers and algae found on the victim, leaving Brennan, Zack, and Reid still on the platform with the body.

Brennan asked, "And why are you still here, Dr. Reid?"

Reid looked nervous. "I was hoping to observe you doing your job. If you don't mind me being here, I mean," he stammered.

Brennan thought it over, and shrugged. "Even if I don't believe in psychology, you are here to help us catch a killer, so logic would dictate that you should learn as much about the body as you can from an expert such as myself. So yes, you may stay."

"Um, thanks?" Reid said it more like a question, a little intimidated by her demanding persona. Zack caught his eye, smiling. He understood feeling inferior to Dr. Brennan, even when she wasn't try to make him feel that way.

"So what doctorates have you earned, Dr. Reid?" asked Brennan as Zack placed the flesh-eating insects into the glass box surrounding the body.

Fascinated by the insects doing their work, Reid distractedly replied, "Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BAS in psychology and a BAS in sociology."

"Really?" Brennan murmured as she examined the body as well. "Dr. Addy has doctorates in forensic anthropology and engineering. Despite those differences, you have similar IQs."

Despite the fact that I don't believe in quantifying intelligence, this Dr. Addy may be a genius too! Reid was excited by the prospect of making a new friend, one who would actually understand him intellectually. He tried a joke on him.

"Hey, Dr. Addy? How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Zack's lips twitched as he looked up, fighting back a smile, yet failing. He responded with humor. "Two. One to change the lightbulb, and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness."

Despite trying to concentrate on her work, Brennan found herself smiling as the two geniuses laughed.

Brennan shared a joke she had read. "So Erwin Schrodinger gets pulled over for speeding. The police officer says, 'What's in the trunk?' Schrodinger says, 'A cat.' The police officer says, 'Let me see,' and he opens the trunk and says, 'The cat is dead.' And Schrodinger says, 'Well, it is now.' "

One of the lab technicians passed by the platform, wondering why three respectable adults with doctorates were laughing next to a dead body.

Twenty minutes later, the teams regrouped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the platform.

"What else have you found out about the body?" asked Hotch, getting right down to business.

"Despite the obvious missing ear and the burnt body found in the lake, I found what appears to be a gunshot wound to the chest−the victim had fractures in ribs L5 and L6," started Brennan.

"Dr. Brennan and I couldn't find any other injuries in the bones," said Zack.

"That seems conclusive with the torn pericardium tissue outside the lung," nodded Cam. "I also found water and hemopneumothorax, which is−"

"−a mixture of blood and air in the lungs," finished Reid. "He was most likely still breathing when he was burned."

"So, we have what?" Morgan asked. "A body of a Dutchman, or a descendant of one, aged 37, with his ear missing and a gunshot to his chest, who was then burned alive and then dumped in the lake, where he drowned?"

"Wow. I bet not even van Gogh had this much bad luck in his lifetime," muttered Garcia. Angela and the others nodded in agreement.