Two years later.

A pen flowed smoothly over the bottom of the paper, signing the name Temperance Brennan. She handed the form back to the lady across the counter, allowing herself to smile in self satisfaction.

"Well, Temperance, this is goodbye then," Beth said with a sad smile. "I've enjoyed getting to know you, and I'm certain you will have great success. Will you keep in touch?"

"Sure," she lied easily. She had no intention of ever associating herself with the foster care system ever again. She hated practically everything about it, although the wounds of her past had healed and the memories had been locked up tight. Now she was looking forwards, looking towards only what lay ahead and in her life of newly acquired freedom.

She'd gotten the scholarship she'd been trying for, and soon she'd be starting college and learning to be what she'd decided on years ago: a forensic anthropologist.

She'd been to two more high school's since David and Claire. She hadn't chosen to leave them, they'd just wanted to have a kid of their own, and she'd told them she understood. She'd made the call to Beth herself, and carefully kept her emotions in check for the next week while arrangements were made. She was sad to be leaving them, and they were clearly sad to say farewell to her as well; after all she'd been staying with them for over a year, a record for her.

But she wasn't the most emotionally attached person, and she knew that they had been saddened by how she never had friends over and spent most of her time during school up at her desk, writing essays and doing all her other homework.

With their own kid, she knew that they'd have a very normal, very happy, American family. Their child would grow up to be a typical rebellious teenager that hated homework and insisted on partying with their friends late at night. She was happy for them.

Her next home she only spent a few months at, just the summer and the first few weeks of school. It was an even smaller school than the one with David and Claire, and the students there had been all close-knit. Not one person spoke to her unless it was a cruel comment or an insult. Classroom doors were slammed in her face, feet tripped her purposefully in the halls, and a group of snobby popular blonde girls liked to try to shove her into puddles.

This started on her first day.

She was in a new home two weeks later. Beth hadn't complained; for once Temperance had been honest with her about the situation.

After that she was with the Burtons for the duration of her senior year of high school. They were a couple in their fifties who's kids were grown up and out of college, living in different parts of the country. They were relatively quiet and not at all nosy, so she'd gotten along quite well with them.

She'd continued martial arts and karate throughout her time at those homes, and she'd improved immensely. She hadn't been great at it for the first year, and so hadn't done anything about those kids who had tripped her and such during her first week at a new school, but now... now she would knock anyone who tried it senseless. She'd only had to use her skills once or twice, and it actually went over quite well. No one had bothered her after she'd stepped over the grimacing body of Tommy Newton, who lay on the floor of the hallway clutching his stomach and his crotch at the same time. A few had congratulated her. The boy was a real jerk.

She'd made a few brief acquaintances, some students who were interested in science, like her, and who she was able to converse with without the usually awkwardness she'd always experienced.

Never had she come across anyone that even slightly resembled what Angela had meant to her as a friend, though. She thought of her tall, dark-haired and loud personalitied friend still every now and again, especially when she looked at the painting that was her most prized possession. She really hoped that Ange had found new friends and continued with her art over in Europe. Ange must be in college now... hopefully she'd gotten to follow her dreams and was honing her artistic abilities even further.

Her own first days at college were unlike anything she'd experienced before. All the teachers took a special interest in her, knowing she was the one who had earned the full-ride scholarship to study forensic anthropology. The other students, especially the guys, seemed to pay attention to her as well. She didn't quite understand it, but it wasn't terrifying the way it would have been for her a few years ago. She socialized with the more intelligent of them quite amicably, and politely helped the students who were struggling and eyeing her 100's on tests with annoyance and frustration.

One professor in particular, Michael Styers, who was a forensic anthropologist himself, paid a particularly close interest in her. They conversed frequently over scientific ideas and debated about different theories.

College was like a whole new world, one that she found, quite proudly, that she fit into very easily. She was more relaxed than she had been since before her parents left and since she'd seen Angela last. The months seemed to fly past. She had a few dates with relatively intelligent guys, although none kept her interest for two long. Forensic anthropology was her one and only true passion and love.

After she turned twenty-one she was surprised at how Professor Styers changed his attitude towards her. Before being merely student and teacher, arguing over theories and such, now they were headed down the much different road of emotionally attachment.

They were very compatible, both intellectually and physically. She enjoyed his company more than she thought she would.

As she began working more with bodies and learning everything she could about causes of death and anthropology, on the side enjoying her free time with Michael, she began to distance herself more from everyone else once again. It had become clear to her that she couldn't be caring about everyone and everything, not that she ever had been, when her future job involved looking at the faces and stating the horrific ways the victims might have died. Michael taught her techniques for distancing herself without sacrificing relationships with less-intellectual members of society, but he was far better at it than she was.

It was easier to just focus only on work. And more enjoyable that way, too, she found.

Nearing the end of college, she searched out places to work. It wasn't challenging. She got offers from dozens of locations, all pleading her to come work with them and offering fairly nice paychecks.

But it wasn't the money, but the work itself, that interested her.

When she graduated, officially becoming Dr. Temperance Brennan, she broke off her relationship with Michael. He understood; they'd talked about her life after college more than once and he knew that she would want to move on and immerse herself completely in the field and nothing else. That didn't mean she didn't catch his disappointed glance as she walked away on that last day.

She accepted the offer given to her by a Dr. Goodman of the Jeffersonian Institute. She was to help identify the remains in their bone storage, a task she quickly put all her heart into. It was easy to say that her new colleagues were impressed, although she didn't pay them much mind other than to get information or give information regarding the remains they were working on at a given time.

After a while she saw their impressed looks turn to irritation as she didn't return their greetings in the morning and didn't join them after work for drinks. The entomologist, a tall dark haired man named Dr. Richard Thomson, was particularly annoyed when she refused to date him. Their facial reconstruction expert, Jason Sanders, met this same frustration.

Dr. Thomson quit the job after Dr. Goodman refused to fire Temperance. Not long after so did Jason. The Jeffersonian tried several replacements for Dr. Thomson, forgetting about a facial reconstruction expert entirely for the time being. The first few didn't last more than a few weeks, and Goodman pulled Temperance aside one day before she could leave the building.

"Dr. Brennan, the institute is very pleased with your work; we've never had so many of the bodies in our storage identified in such a short period of time... but I'm afraid you must stop driving away anyone else who tries to work here. Please, just try to be polite and understanding of others. Do you we understand each other?"

She sighed and nodded. At least he hadn't threatened to fire her.

The following week an unprofessional looking man with curly hair that stuck up on his head as well as a beard was already in the lab when she arrived. He didn't look up from his microscope when she joined him on the platform, a surprise for her since all the other entomologists had greeted her eagerly the minute she'd walked in the door.

He looked up a moment later, an excited grin on his face.

"This is fascinating," he told her, gesturing towards the microscope. He prattled on about some rare micro-organism he'd discovered in the particulates from the clothing of their latest set of remains.

She was impressed, and he didn't annoy her like the others. He had an interesting sense of humor, sure, and a strange affliction with conspiracy theories, she would later learn, but she found that she rather liked this strange man.

"Dr. Jack Hodgins," he introduced himself, holding out his hand with a grin. "You must be the great Dr. Brennan."

She nodded and shook his hand. "Welcome to the Jeffersonian Institute."

Yay, Hodgins has arrived!!

And... if you ask really nicely, I might just put up the next (very short) chapter, today as well. :)