As promised, here is your second chapter for today :) It's super short, but I think you'll all be happy with it anyways.


A tall dark haired woman flipped through the newspaper. She'd moved to DC on a recent whim, and now started the familiar process of job hunting. She'd lived so many places that this was just routine.

Her interview the day before for an artist's job at a design company had not gone well. She was fairly certain she'd scared the man interviewing her with her over enthusiasm and her stories of her past jobs and experiences. She frowned, not liking the idea that maybe she'd have to tone it down a little here in the capitol.

On the plus side, there was certainly plenty of inspiration all around her; there were lots of interesting sites and buildings that she could incorporate into her latest art theme, which was of course why she'd come here in the first place. Architectural structure was her most recent fascination in art, although she did plenty of abstract on the side when she needed to relax.

Lately she'd had a bit of artist's block though, which put a large cramp in her style. She needed something new to work with... a new concept. There were plenty of humans everywhere, she mused, she could do something people related. But she hadn't drawn a face since years ago, back in high school, and after that particular bit of art she hadn't been able to do anything like it again. Best to stick to her recent theme. Focus, Ange, she told herself, and pulled all her attention back to the newspaper.

She sighed and set it down after another fruitless minute of reading, going back to the stand to get a different paper and try that one instead. Maybe she'd find an add for a cheap apartment while she was at it; that hotel room was way too tiny.

The man at the stand was reading a book, and she tried 'excuse me' a few times to no avail. People in this city were so annoying... never bothering to pay attention, even when they had a customer...

Finally he glared at her after she practically shouted in his ear, and rammed a piece of paper in the book to mark his page. "What do you want? Can't y'tell when a guy's tryin' to do some reading?"

She raised an eyebrow incredulously. Even stranger, a fat old guy who worked at a newspaper stand and had a high interest in literature.

She pointed to the paper she wanted on the rack and he groaned as he lifted himself out of his seat and turned to snatch a copy for her. She gagged as his fat wobbled and his pants slipped down a little.

She froze with her hand held out in front of her with the money for the paper, staring at the book he'd been reading.

"Could I see that?" she asked, her eyes wide.

He snorted. "You run with it and I'll kill you," he said warningly as he passed her the hard cover book, titled Bred in the Bone. She stared at the title, her eyes sliding down to stare in disbelief at the author's name. There was just no way... no way at all. It couldn't be her; but how many other people could have that exact name?

She took a deep breath before flipping it over to the author's picture and gasping.

Bren. The single thought echoed in her mind. Sweetie.

"Thank you," she told him breathlessly, handing back the book and not even bothering to take the paper that she'd paid for before hurrying away.

Back at the hotel she hopped straight to Google on her laptop, typing in Dr. Temperance Brennan. She was amazed with how many results she got. Jeez, Tempe, you're famous...

She found an autobiography with no trouble at all and quickly read through it, finding that her friend for two weeks had graduated high school, at the top of her class, in a different part of the state they'd lived in and then gone to a very high-ranking college on a full ride scholarship.

Her face broke into a wide, proud, grin as she saw that Bren had become exactly what she'd told her she would, a forensic anthropologist, and that she was now renowned in her field and was starting to be widely recognized for the recent release of the same book Ange had seen earlier. She worked at the Jeffersonian Institute, here in DC.

Ange smiled wider. Sometimes she wondered if her whims were really whims, or if she was just psychic.

She zoomed expertly across the world wide web, finding the Jeffersonian Institute's website and immediately finding exactly what she needed. Psychic and incredibly lucky, she thought in disbelief as she stared at the job openings page. Or maybe it was just fate, she mused, and then grinned widely, thinking who really cares what it is? as she flipped open her cell phone and dialed the number on the screen.

"This is Dr. Goodman," a man with an African accent answered on the other line.

"Hello, sir, I'm Angela Montenegro, and I think I might be just what you're looking for."


ANGELA!! See, aren't you all happy now??

Oh, and in my fic's world, Tempe's book comes out much earlier than it does on the show. I just couldn't resist making it be how Angela found her again.