Accidents Happen

The ideal man bears the accidents of life with dignity and grace, making the best of circumstances.

-Aristotle

Summary: Accidents can change the course of a life. Luckily for Booth and Brennan, sometimes they can have great affects.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, and anything I say about tropical fish should be ignored. The only things I own are the circuit drawings and the Snell's Law derivations I doodled in the margins.

I know it's been a bit since I've posted one of these, but I've been hard at work on "What's a Year," the other one-shot I wrote, and a story or two in the works.

I have a Twitter account now, "objectivemiss" is my name, and I am posting when stories update and such. Also a bit of stuff like what I'm working on.

Enjoy!

This one is dedicated to my ancestors yet to be buried. May your urns hidden somewhere in my house never some to life and kill me.

B&B

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat composed behind her desk, busily typing nothing in particular in order to retain an air of importance. On an afternoon in which a field investigation so very pertinent to the current case, the last place Brennan desired to be was inside the climate controlled Jeffersonian Institute, doing absolutely nothing helpful.

Ever since the unfortunate…incident, she was forbidden from doing any field work. The FBI's reasoning in the matter was highly illogical; the other involved party only sustained a flesh wound and a minor fracture to the radius. It wasn't her fault that he appeared behind her without announcing himself.

"Umm, Dr. Brennan?" Dr. Camille Saroyan, pathologist and Jeffersonian "Director" entered Brennan's office with a lost-looking summer intern in tow. "Booth called. They got their man during the warehouse raid. He's sure of conviction, and needs you to fill out the usual paperwork for Caroline, and begin preparing to testify."

"Why couldn't Booth call me himself?" Brennan shuffled through her desk.

"Are Dr. Brennan and Booth on poor terms?" the unsure intern half whispered to Cam.

"No, they engage in a sort of merry war," Cam smiled, trying to calm down the new intern.

Brennan looked up, disdain for Cam's comment evident.

"But not so merry judging by the look on her face…" the pathologist turned to the awkward intern. "Why don't you go check out the forensics platform?"

"Yes Dr. Saroyan."

"You didn't answer my question about Booth," the forensic anthropologist avoided eye contact by looking at her computer monitor.

Cam held her hands up in mock surrender, "Don't shoot the messenger; all I know is that he called me, and told me to tell you."

Brennan turned from the monitor, leering at her.

"Oh no…" Cam clapped her hands to her mouth. "No joke intended."

She nodded in contemplation. "I can only assume you refer to the botched search that resulted in the suspension of my field work privilege, which is entirely irrational as-"

"Dr. Brennan" Cam approached her desk. "You shot a FBI forensics agent bringing you a message-"

"It wasn't my fault in the slightest! The agent in question was no following the proper night investigation protocols!"

"Hey," the pathologist silenced the ranting doctor. "Give the FBI a few months to cool down-"

"That's unlikely as it is now summer."

"Hey," Hodgins walked in. "Booth wants to have the body released to the family."

Brennan scribbled her signature on a few documents, holding them up for him. "Both of you, tell Booth that if he wants anything from me to contact me himself. Going through others is unneeded and can pollute our channels of communication."

"Bren?" Angela stepped into the now crowded office. "Booth's on the phone," she handed over her cell phone.

"Is there any reason not to contact me directly?" Brennan fumed.

"Calm down Bones. Your cell phone is off."

"No it isn't."

"Check it, I dare you."

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Indeed, the device was off.

"See? Told ya. Now get your things, I'm pulling up to the back entrance to pick you up."

"Why? You don't have the right to take me wherever you please," she pushed her palm to the phone, looking at her audience. "I think you can leave now."

"Right, I have that intern-"

"And I have some bugs-"

"Will I ever get my cell phone back?"

All three walked out awkwardly.

"I'm taking you to the Hoover Building. We're going to talk to Hacker about you and field work."

"I'll be right there."

B&B

"Bones," Booth parked the SUV in his parking spot. "Hacker will say the same thing. You gotta shake it up a bit; work some charm."

"I'm not sure of what you mean."

"You know, give him a flirty smile, ask him to dinner."

"But Andrew and I are no longer romantically involved. And what you are suggesting sounds like bribery."

"It's not bribery. You just need to…"

"-Manipulate him?"

"I was going to say 'play' him. Try some eye sex or something."

"Eyes are unable to have sexual intercourse."

Booth climbed from the SUV, Brennan doing the same.

"Just give it a shot," he flashed his badge at security. They stepped into the elevator, going up to the administration floor.

"Get ready," Booth wiggled his eyebrows, opening the door to Director Hacker's office.

Hacker looked up from his paperwork to the pair. "Agent Booth, Temperance," his eyes lingered on her for a few moments. "Please, sit down."

The partners dropped to the two provided chairs wordlessly. Hacker's office was very nice; it had a nice view of Washington's streets due to its location on the corner of the building.

"I think I know why you're here," Hacker fiddled with a miniature Newton's cradle on his desk. "You want to discuss Temperance's field work. Am I right?"

"Yes sir," Booth nodded. "Without Bones in the field with me, as a team we can't perform as well as we can."

"I agree with you," the FBI administrator leaned back. "But it doesn't change the fact that she was involved in a friendly fire incident."

"Andrew please," Brennan spoke up. "The incident was not my fault," she flashed a warm smile. "All I want to do is assist the FBI in every way possible. This includes field work."

"Temperance, I'm just worried that-"

"-I am more of a liability than I am worth?"

"No, it's not that-"

"That you no longer want a partnership with the Jeffersonian?"

"It's not that either!"

But Brennan wasn't listening; she had to find some way to compliment him and soften his resolve. Her gaze caught a glint of water behind the talking FBI director's desk.

"Is that a fish tank?" she asked, ignoring the question's irrelevancy in their current conversation.

"Why yes," Hacker smiled, obviously touched that she noticed. He walked to his "fish" corner. "I'm sure you're wondering why it doesn't have a lid. Well, lidless is more like open water and better for my little fishy."

Brennan nodded, studying the tank. "I'm assuming, approximately 37.854 liters?"

"If you mean ten gallons, then yes," he chuckled.

Luckily for her, Booth understood the nature of her distraction. He stayed curiously quiet and watched the two with intense regard.

"Most people don't even notice the tank," he leaned a hand on the tank, obviously trying to impress.

"Well, it isn't exactly displayed prominently. In Chinese culture, the remains in an urn of passed loved ones are required to be displayed prominently."

"You know so much it scares me…" Hacker looked deeply into her eyes.

Suddenly, the flimsy tank stand gave way under the weight that Hacker had applied. The tank shuddered, water pouring on to Brennan as it fell into a shattered mess.

"No!" Hacker yelled. He swept the fish into his hands, dropping them hastily into a coffee mug field with tap water.

Meanwhile, Brennan stood soaked to the bone from the waist down.

"Temperance, I'm so sorry…I think I have a towel…"

She stepped backwards, a piece of algae under her food. With the low coefficient of friction, she easily lost her balance and landed with a heavy thud to the floor.

"Don't just sit there Booth," Hacker said through clenched teeth.

"Sure," the younger agent smiled. "But let's talk about field work first."

B&B

"So studly," Angela smiled. "What kind of dark magic did you work on Director Hacker to get him to sign a permanent field work permit for all of us squints?"

"Oh you know," Booth sipped his coffee. "Once you let one squint into the field, it's a slipper slope."

B&B

Short, but (hopefully) sweet! I couldn't resist a blundering Hacker. Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews = Awesomeness

Don't forget! I have a Twitter now - Objectivemiss