A/N: Hope you like this one!

She sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, completely and utterly irritated. "You do understand that it is ridiculous to drive to your office. It's a five minute walk, and we're going to spend fifteen minutes sitting in traffic at this time of the day."

She noticed the glare he shot her, but ignored it, continuing to stare straight ahead. "Well, unlike you, I need to dress professionally for my work." She glanced down at her flowing skirt and the Grecian style sandals she wore, ran her fingers over the hem of her cotton tank top while her other hand clutched her light, short-sleeved cardigan and her purse. "It's August in DC, and about a million degrees. I'm in a suit. I'm not spending any more time than physically necessary out of air conditioning."

She did agree that the heat and humidity would be intense, even with a summer weight suit. She never understood the necessity of clothing that completely ignored the reality of the climate they lived in. The heat and humidity of DC in the summer could be quite oppressive. Still, this was a ridiculous waste of time. "I still don't understand why your techs didn't just send me the body."

He chuckled, though she really didn't see what was funny. "You're complaining about a fifteen minute drive wasting fuel and you want them to pack up and transport a body? You've got serious priority issues, bone lady."

She grimaced. "I have a name. Dr. Temperance Brennan. Transporting the body makes some kind of sense, as I've got state of the art equipment at my lab. Us driving to your office, and thereby making the trip take three times as long as it does by foot, makes no sense. Though I understand your concern about the heat."

He grumbled slightly but didn't say anything for a few minutes. Finally he sighed, looking out at the traffic. "So how long have you been working at the Jeffersonian?"

She glanced up at the man, studying him. She hated talking about her life, but figured the question was innocuous enough. "I've been there since 1998." It was hard to believe it had been nearly six years already. "When I started there, we were mostly doing authentications of archeological digs and organizing exhibits and lectures at the Museum. I did a lot of work identifying victims of the Rwandan genocide while I was working on my doctorate, so we began getting requests in that area once I started here. Of course, the last couple years I've been occasionally working with law enforcement."

Booth nodded, and she was glad he seemed happy to keep the focus professional. "Did you send that burn victim back to the local LEOs?" He caught the frown she gave him and explained. "Local law enforcement officers. The Arlington PD."

"Oh, yes. I gave them a full profile of the victim, and a few details of the likely murderer, but I don't know what will come of it. Hodgins will be sending them a detailed particulate report when he completes it. I'll find out if they want me to testify at trial, if it comes to that." She unclenched her fist. "So how long have you been an FBI agent?"

"I'm a Special Agent, actually. I got promoted three months ago, but I was an agent for three years. I started after I got out of the army. So, the Rwandan genocide, huh? That must have been intense."

The memories flooded back, uncovering mass graves, guarded by soldiers who had most likely been doing the killing. She'd been there for months, sifting through remains, trying to give names to the dead. For so many it had been impossible. That had probably been one of the worst things she'd witnessed, though she'd seen many instances of genocide since then. The scale of the Rwandan tragedy simply made it unique. She pushed the memories away. "It certainly wasn't a vacation."

They finally arrived at the Hoover building, and she hopped out as soon as he parked, striding quickly towards the main entrance. Booth caught up quickly, looking annoyed. She ignored him. Of course, once she got inside, she couldn't ignore him anymore. She needed someone to sign her in as a visitor, since she only had an id that identified her as a "consultant", with no unaccompanied access past the public areas.

She wanted to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face, but let him sign her in. It wasn't like she had a choice. Of course she frowned at him when he accompanied her down to the FBI forensics lab. She hated this lab, the way it was hidden away in the basement as if the work they did wasn't even worth seeing sunlight. She paused at the door and raised her hand to knock, when he grabbed her wrist and made to brush past her.

In an instant, she had his arm wrenched behind him and pressed him up against the wall. He grunted slightly and she let him go, feeling heat in her cheeks as she blushed. "I'm sorry. Please don't grab me. I don't do well with people invading my personal space."

"Geez, bone lady, you need to calm down. How often do you have people jumping you?" He massaged his wrist, scowling at her."

"I'm sure it's in my file." If Hodgins could be believed, the government had files on all of them, beyond the basic investigation that had been conducted to allow them security clearance when they'd first started taking on CIA cases. She certainly wasn't going to tell him about the time she'd spent three days locked in the darkness, wondering if she was going to be raped, or killed or raped and then killed. It had felt like weeks. Even nearly two years later, she was still jumpy. It was going to be a while before she felt comfortable going back to El Salvador, and she frequently found herself wishing she'd gone to Italy with Angela. Without another word, she brushed past him and into the lab.

She'd met several of the techs before, but she didn't bother saying hello. She knew they didn't like her, and since she didn't like their work, she didn't particularly make an effort to get them to change their opinions. Instead, she walked straight to one of the bodies laid out on the table. The flesh had been partially excised, though the remaining flesh was badly decomposed. She snagged a pair of gloves from a nearby box and snapped them on before she examined the lower extremities.

"You should have used a different method for flesh removal if you scalpel work is so sloppy." The main tech, Brian, she thought, came up next to her. He knew her well enough to give her some space. She pointed to three different marks. "These are scalpel strikes. You need to be more careful." She looked at the arms, still carrying the vestiges of decomposing flesh. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Booth approach, with the obvious sheen of Vicks under his nose. She probably should have thought to grab some for herself, but by this point she was mostly inured to the smell of decaying flesh. Carefully she pulled back some of the flesh from the palm. "Look here. These are defensive wounds. You need to be especially careful when you're removing the flesh from the hands or these are going to be obscured. If you'd like, we can take care of it in my lab. Our equipment and techniques are much more sophisticated than yours." She began examining the severed cervical spine, shifting the scull so she could get a better look at the injury. "You know, I do a lecture series at American University on flesh removal techniques. I'm sure I could arrange for you to audit the course, if you're interested."

By the way Brian was standing, her offer offended him. She could understand that, even if he wasn't right. She shouldn't have been so blunt about calling his skills into question, but the lack of care they'd taken with the bones was frankly shocking. Her lecture series always filled quickly, so she would actually be doing the man a favor, even if he didn't see it that way. His voice was angry when he spoke and she forced herself to suppress a sigh. She wasn't good with people. "I do alright on my own. I don't particularly care about your opinion on flesh removal techniques. I needed you to explain your assessment that the attacker was taller than the victim."

This was what she'd been dragged to the Hoover for? This could have discussed this over the phone. "Well, look at the angle of the cut. It's slight, but greater than would be accounted for by the simple downward sweep of an attacker of equal height. The height difference shouldn't be more than ten centimeters, which is too small to account for the attacker being raised up on a step. Also, the attack cut deep into the bone, slicing through the carotid artery and the windpipe and biting into the spine. To deliver this blow the attacker would have been very strong, and right handed. The strength required makes the attacker likely male, also supporting the theory that the attacker was physically taller, rather than perhaps wearing high heels. If you have no other questions, I have work to get back to."

She moved the skull back to its original position and stripped off her gloves. She turned to go but paused when Brian told her to wait. She gestured for him to explain. "You got the occupational markers spot on. We were able to match the victim to an IT guy from Alexandria who runs marathons and whitewater kayaks. My supervisor was impressed and wanted to see if you could get more out of the bones themselves."

She turned back to the autopsy table. "Are you sending the remains to the Jeffersonian?"

Brian threw up his hands in anger. "No way! This is my body. I'm calling you in as a consultant. That's it! This is an FBI case, and we're taking the lead on forensics."

She sighed and picked up her purse from where she'd dropped it on the floor. "Let me know when you're done butchering the flesh removal then." Without another word, she stormed out of the subterranean lab.

She was always happy working with ancient remains. She could look at them and see the lives the people led without the further complications of thinking of the family left behind by the death. Thousands, and in the cases of some hominid remains even millions, of years separated her from the pain of loss suffered by whoever was left behind. She could be fascinated by the years spent walking, or the marks left on the spine from working the land. She could see into the lives of the ancestors of the human race, see what made us the species we are today, and it was always fascinating.

So she was even more annoyed that usual when that irritating voice rang out through her lab. "Hey, bone lady!" She refused to look up from the skeleton she examined, one of four sent to her by Dr. Timmerman at NYU. She didn't want to be disturbed by some idiotic FBI agent who refused to call her by her name. "Bone lady! Bones! Hey, I'm talking to you, Bones!"

If she'd had anything besides the bones of one of the oldest humans to be found in the Amazon basin close to hand, she would have thrown it at him. "Don't call me Bones!" It was a ridiculous nickname and every anthropologist who specialized in forensics had heard it at least once, and she despised it.

"At least you're not pretending I don't exist anymore. Brian wants you back in the lab and he says you're not taking his calls." Hodgins was walking up to the forensic platform. He glanced sideways at the agent, but swiped in his identity card and Booth followed close on his heels. "Come on, chop, chop! Put down the… whatever the heck that is and let's go. I need leads to chase down."

She glanced at her watch. It was 5:35. Normally she wouldn't have a problem working outside of work hours, but she had plans and this guy pissed her off. "I sent him an email and said that I would come by first thing Monday morning. I believe my assistant, Mr. Addy, told him the same thing when he called here. Hodgins, do have an initial report on the soil samples for NYU?"

Hodgins looked slightly uncomfortable standing between Brennan and the agent, but he flipped through a few pages. "I'm working up a silt profile from the site. So far it seems consistent with the region. Zack wanted me to tell you he's doing the carbon dating now and will have the results written up by Monday morning. Also," he glanced to the agent, "the, uh, project I've been running on the back burner is ready. Pete said he was planning on checking it out."

She nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I was just getting my initial analysis out of the way before wrapping things up for the evening."

Booth sidled his way close to the main autopsy table. He leaned over the skeleton and reached out to poke it, which made her extend a hand to smack him away. "Don't touch my bones. Look, why are you still here? I told you I won't have time to look at your body until Monday."

Booth snatched his hand back, rubbing the place her fingers had connected with. "Didn't your mother teach you not to hit?" Brennan flinched, and by the way he frowned, he noticed, but she didn't reply. Her family was none of his business. "Anyway, you're making time for this guy, so you've got time for my body."

"No Agent Booth, I really don't." She saw Pete walk into the lab, carrying a box full of takeout. "Pete," she waved to him and walked over to the stairs to swipe him onto the platform. Technically he shouldn't bring food up here, but everything was staying in the large cardboard box, so she didn't worry about it. She kissed both his cheeks before taking the box and popping it on a desk. "I'm almost done here. Your day went well?"

He nodded slightly. "Got everything wrapped up that I needed to." He looked at the other people on the platform. "Hey Jack. I got you Pad Kee Mao."

Hodgins smiled. "Excellent, man, thanks. An appropriate choice for the evening." It took Brennan a moment to remember that Pad Kee Mao meant 'drunken noodles'.

She made herself rotate back towards the other two men. She didn't like Agent Booth, but Pete always felt unappreciated when she failed to introduce him. "Pete, this is Agent Booth, from the FBI. Agent Booth, this is my boyfriend Peter St. James." Peter had an arm draped around her shoulder when he reached out to offer his hand to Booth. She hated that kind of alpha male posturing, the visible demonstration that she belonged to him. She knew it was instinctual and at least mostly subconscious but it still irked her.

Pete was making an effort to be polite. "Nice to meet you, Agent Booth. Tempe was telling me you're expecting her to magic results out of x-rays." Alright, maybe he wasn't making an effort to be polite. At least both of them laughed. "Are you coming out tonight?"

Brennan forced her face to stillness when Booth looked at her, but she desperately hoped he wouldn't accept the invitation. The man was irritating her enough during office hours. She didn't need to see him after work as well. "Nah, maybe some other time." She made herself not sigh in relief.

Of course, the next thing Pete said made any chance of relief much less likely. "Do you want to stay for some food? I've got way more Thai food than we can possibly eat." Brennan wondered if she could discretely elbow Pete in the ribs. She decided against it; she never managed to be quite subtle enough.

Booth looked at her, as if for permission, which made her feel slightly guilty. Maybe she should make an effort with these FBI people if Dr. Goodman was going to keep forcing her to work with them. "I'm sure there's more than enough food, Agent Booth. Plus, Hodgins is going to unveil his homebrew."

The agent glanced at the entomologist, seemingly surprised. "Well, if you guys don't mind, I could eat. I'm going out with some friends later, but not for a few hours."

Brennan disentangled herself from Pete and moved back to the autopsy table. "Well, you guys go set the food up and find Angela. Zack is probably still in one of the back labs doing the carbon dating. I need to get this put away for the weekend." Her hands ran over the bones slowly. If she'd known these skeletons would arrive so quickly, or she probably wouldn't have agreed to go out tonight. She already knew she'd be back in the lab in the morning.

Apparently, Pete recognized the look in her eyes. "Tempe, if you're not upstairs in half an hour, I'm eating all the Mi Krop."

She frowned at him. He knew it was her favorite. "Fine, I'll be there in a bit." With reluctance she slowly started putting the bones back into their storage case.

A/N: Something that really bugged me about the 100th episode was that Brennan had just met Angela. In "The Woman in the Garden", Brennan says she had been in El Salvador three years before, identifying victims of death squads. Later she asks Angela if she remembers Brennan going on the trip to El Salvador, and Angela says, "Yeah, I remember. I tried to get you to go to Italy with me." So, they knew each other at least two years before the 100th episode. Grrrrr! Also, I used the last name Pete is given on IMDB.