Author's Note: I have been re-watching season 1 and there are some really great episodes in the mix. There are also some really nice, but small, moments of friendship between Booth and Angela. For example, in The Woman in the Garden and The Woman in the Tunnel, Angela confronts Brennan over her actions (whether striking a gang leader, or running unarmed into an unknown situation after a potential suspect). However, Angela only knows about these incidents because Booth told her – and so, this fic idea was born.

This is a B&B fic, but the focus is also on Angela and Booth's early friendship and how she helps him to see beyond the surface when it comes to Brennan. Initially, it was to be a 'five times' fic, but I could add more chapters as it's quite hard to narrow it down to just five episodes… if the demand is there for more, I'll certainly listen! :)

I also have to say a huge thank you to writingherhope for being a wonderful sounding board and beta for this chapter, and for providing Booth's 'target practice' comment. Any mistakes subsequently found within this fic, are mine.

Chapter 1: Pilot

Booth refused to look away as Bones leveled a glare at him from the far side of the Angelatron. He knew the forensic anthropologist wanted to retaliate; wanted to fight back and have another argument. He'd seen the fire flash in her eyes at his words, but he didn't necessarily care – even though he was still getting used to working with the doctor again, a part of him wanted her to disagree with him. He itched for another war of words with her; to get under her skin and determine what really made her tick. Why, exactly, this was, was a reason he decided could wait for another time to be explored and he quickly pushed the thought aside.

"Come on, we're done here," Brennan said.

Booth watched silently as Brennan, Hodgins and Zack left the room but he continued to hold his ground. He was not going to chase after them. He knew he was right: squints belonged in the lab, not the field. It was only when they left, that he let out a low whistle and pulled a poker chip from his pocket. He flipped it into the air and tried to act nonchalant as he thought about what he should do next.

"Wow," he muttered. "Touchy."

He heard Angela sigh. "You must know about her family."

He did, but he waited for her to continue.

"Both parents vanish when she's fifteen? Probably counts as the real world."

The muscle in Booth's jaw twitched. He felt slightly chastised and sighed.

"Yeah, I know the story. Read the file – cops never found out anything."

Angela nodded. "Yeah. Brennan figures that if maybe somebody like her had been there –"

"For someone who hates psychology," he quipped and he caught the artist's smile, "she sure has a lot of it."

"Brennan has quite a literal and –"

"– I'd say short-sighted –"

"– particular way of looking at things," Angela corrected. "I think it helps her – especially when it comes to her work."

Booth gestured for her to continue and she moved to stand behind her desk, while he leaned against its corner.

"Seeing the facts only and focusing on the details, rather than emotions, helps her to focus.

Brennan is good at her job; she's the best," she said as she folded her arms across her chest, "but then you already knew that – otherwise you wouldn't have sought her out again."

A pin drop could be heard following her assertion and Booth involuntarily straightened. However, before he could pretend to argue otherwise, she asked, "What really happened between you two?"

Reading people; interpreting body language; looking for tells; trusting his gut. This was his job. This is what Special Agent Seeley Booth did – and did well – and as he held Angela's gaze, he could immediately tell that while she probably didn't know the exact details of what had happened between him and Bones (he was pretty sure she would have mentioned it already otherwise), she was confident that something significant had taken place, rather than just a simple disagreement between the pair. As if she could read his thoughts, she smirked.

"Come on, you can feel the tension vibrating between you two."

"Let's just say we have a different approach to things," he sighed.

"And yet," Angela said as she gave him a knowing look, "here you are."

"If this is some kind of motivational speech?"

"Just an observation," she said lightly, then paused for a moment. "If you want my advice: talk to Brennan – and let her talk to you. Even if you think she's being dismissive or what she is saying isn't relevant, just listen. Listen to what she has to say."

"I don't think –"

"You listen to your gut, right? That's fine. It works for you and it's your job, but this," Angela stressed as she waved a hand toward where the hologram of Cleo Eller had been moments earlier, "this is Brennan's job and she trusts the facts. I haven't known her to be wrong yet."

He pushed away from the desk and turned to face the artist. "So, you're saying I'm wrong?"

She shook her head. "No – but I don't think Brennan is either."

"So, what should I do?"

Angela raised a brow. "An apology is probably a good place to start."

He sighed in resignation. "Yeah, okay." He shoved the poker chip back into his pocket, turned on his heel and headed for the door. "I'll find her and apologize."

"Whoa! Not so fast, G-Man."

He turned to face Angela. "What?"

"Do you even know where to start looking for Brennan around here?"

"I'm a Special Agent with the FBI," he reminded her as he rested his hands on his hips. "Special. I think I've got this covered."

"Okay –" The sing-song tone of Angela's answer irked him but he refused to let it show, so he turned back in the direction of the door. He'd only taken a step, however, when he heard her speak again, "but I don't think you'll get far without one of these."

He let his head fall to his chest and slowly counted to three before he turned once again and saw Angela holding her Jeffersonian pass in the air. He offered her a small, tight smile in return for her smug smirk.

"Let me guess," he countered, "you're not gonna give me yours."

"Not a chance, Studly." His eyebrows rose at her address. "I may not enjoy working with dead bodies, but I don't want to lose this job either."

He nodded in concession, then pursed his lips. "Any chance I can get one of those?"

"That's not my decision to make."

Booth tried not to let his frustration show but he realized he hadn't been very successful when Angela's stance suddenly shifted from highly amused to almost sympathetic. He watched as she clipped her badge onto her lab coat, before she met his gaze.

"But I might be able to help," she eventually admitted.

Booth silently followed as Angela led the way through the Medico-Legal Lab but he instinctively looked around to try and locate Bones. He observed a few of the lab technicians walking around in their blue lab coats before his attention fell to Zack and Hodgins on the raised platform in the center of the space. Zack was engrossed in his study of the skeleton on the table, while Booth chose to ignore the disapproving look Hodgins sent his way as he passed. It was only then that he noticed Angela had fallen back to walk beside him.

"You won't find her here," she offered quietly before she stopped outside of a room and slid her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. "Can I ask you something, Booth?"

"Sure."

"Do you know what Brennan actually does?"

He shrugged. "She looks at bones all day."

Angela rolled her eyes and waved for him to follow her into the room. Once he stepped inside, his sniper training automatically kicked in – even though there was no threat present – as he took in his surroundings: the bright lights, the sterile working environment, the drawers that looked like they all housed a selection of human bones, the skeleton that lay on the table. Booth met Angela's gaze as she stood at the other side of the examination table and gestured to the skeleton.

"This," she said quietly, "is Cleo Eller."

He swallowed hard as he forced himself to look at the bones.

"And this," Angela added as she moved to the head of the table, "is Cleo's skull."

Booth's gaze snapped to the artist's and she chuckled softly. "What? I know I'm good, but I still need something to work with for the Angelatron."

He returned his gaze to the skull and his brows furrowed as he leaned in and took another look. He could see the cracks and fissures and the areas that indicated blunt force trauma. But there was also an odd sense of perfection and delicacy to the skull in that it had been carefully and reverently, yet painstakingly put back together, piece by tiny piece. He shook his head in disbelief.

"I was there," he finally said, his gaze never wavering from the skull, "when they retrieved Cleo's remains. There's no way –"

"Brennan had been traveling for almost twenty-four hours to get home – and that was after having spent two months on a dig in Guatemala, when you set her up at the airport."

"Yeah, I know," he said and couldn't help but grin as he remembered Bones's outrage at his 'Hold for Questioning' order. When Angela crossed her arms in front of her chest and sighed, however, his amusement faded.

"Did you know that she also came straight here from the crime scene to start working on the case?"

Booth opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"She worked through the night, reconstructing Cleo's skull so that I – and you – could start to try and identify the victim. Zack found her sleeping at the table early this morning; Brennan had only been home for a few hours when I managed to put a reconstruction together."

"I – didn't know that," he admitted.

Angela studied him for a moment, then looked away. "Did Brennan tell you that she's the best in her field?"

"Ah, world, was the phrase I believed she used," he responded dryly. "Not to mention her three PhDs."

"There's a reason she's the best," Angela defended, seemingly choosing to ignore his biting tone, which Booth decided was probably for the best. "Yeah, she has three PhDs and a crazy high IQ but she cares. She doesn't do this for the praise or recognition," she argued as she waved a hand around the room, "she does it so she can give these victims a face, a name, a story. She wants to provide families with the closure she's never had."

Booth straightened and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad, G-Man," she said.

He smirked. "No?"

"I'm just letting you know that there's more to Brennan than meets the eye."

"I get it," he nodded.

"Good," she smiled, the moved towards the door. "Let's go."

"Right," he said slowly as he turned to follow. "So, where will we find the good doc?"

Angela glanced at him over her shoulder. "She'll be in one of two places."

"Bren, are you in here?"

Booth listened closely as he followed Angela, but aside from the echo of their footsteps on the stairs, her question was met with silence and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly unnerved by the situation.

"Brennan? Sweetie?"

Again, she received no answer and she whistled lowly. "She must be really mad at you, Studly," she muttered under her breath, but not quite quietly enough for Booth not to hear.

He decided to ignore her observation and instead did a slow 360-degree turn as he ventured further into the room.

"What the hell is this place?" he half-whispered.

"This," Angela answered softly, "is Limbo."

At his confused expression, she gestured towards the drawers that lined the shelves.

"These are the remains that are yet to be identified. When Brennan isn't teaching or on a dig or helping the FBI with a case," she added pointedly, "she's here."

"There must be hundreds of remains down here."

It was an observation more than anything else on Booth's part, but Angela responded regardless. "Yeah. Every single one of these remains has been personally catalogued by her."

At this revelation, he turned and studied her.

"Tell me something, Angela," he said quietly and waved a hand around in a vague gesture to their surroundings, "where do you fit into all of this?"

"Brennan's my best friend."

"Yeah," he said slowly, "but you're not exactly one of them."

Her eyebrow rose in warning. "One of them?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, "you know? A squint. You're more… human."

She snorted at his observation. "Gee, thanks Booth."

"I'm just saying," he said as he dug out the poker chip from his pocket and started to flip it between his fingers, "this doesn't seem like your kind of place."

"It's not – not really," she admitted.

"And yet, you stuck around."

She gave him a wry smile as he threw an amended version her earlier words back at her.

"I met Brennan at an art exhibition last year," she said as she led them out of Limbo. "Some of my work was on display. There were other artists also exhibiting but they were big players; they were the ones everyone was there to see. Then, there was little old me, stuck in the far corner," she continued wistfully as if she was replaying the day in her mind. "Brennan took the time to look at my work and show an interest – she really connected with what I was trying to achieve through my art."

Booth nodded, not quite sure what to say – or where her story was going.

"She bought three of my pieces that night," Angela beamed as she turned to look at him and Booth couldn't help but smile. "The next day, I received a phone call to say that an anonymous buyer wished to purchase the rest."

"Wow," he said, "that's – amazing, Angela."

She nodded. "Yeah. It was Brennan," she added after a beat.

"How do you know? I thought you said it was an anonymous buyer?" He frowned.

"She was the only person to take an interest in my work – and in me – that night. I don't have any proof, but I know it was her."

Booth contemplated her words and wondered if it sounded like something the anthropologist was likely to do – and he realized that it was. For all of Bones's quirks, he knew that she was fiercely loyal to the things and people in whom she believed. The thought unsettled him and he was curious as to what other surprising traits the good doctor was hiding away. Angela's voice pulled him from his musings.

"Last year, when you and Brennan started to work together on that first case, she got in touch with me. She wanted me to help with a reconstruction, even though it wasn't something I'd done before, but she offered me a job on her team. At the time, I thanked her because I wanted to go back to Paris one day and having a steady, paid job, would go a long way to helping that dream come true." She paused briefly, as if deciding how best to word her next sentence. "When your partnership ended, I'd prepared myself to going back to the park and drawing caricatures, but Brennan wouldn't hear it; she offered me a slightly different role – reconstructing ancient remains and tombs and digs."

Booth was unable to hide his surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah."

It was only then that he realized they were back in Angela's office and she was scribbling a note. She tore the page from the notepad and handed it to him.

He glanced at it, then to her. "What's this?"

"It's an address."

"Funny," he muttered, although he did have to chuckle at her sassy answer. "I also know where this address is for – but why are you giving it to me? You want me to pretend that the target is Bones every time we disagree? I'm going to go through a hell of a lot of supplies if that's the case."

However, instead of being reprimanded for his comment, Angela smirked.

"What?"

"What do you think Brennan is doing right now?"

Angela then gave Booth a look that made him question just how much of an FBI agent he really was and he wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

"She's at the firing range?" he asked incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Hey," Angela said lightly as she held her hands up, "you're the one who asked for help, so don't shoot the artist."

Booth pursed his lips and studied her for a moment. He liked Angela; he liked her heart and compassion and how she had been more open to him joining the Jeffersonian team through his role as FBI liaison. He could do with less of her overt flirting – not that he didn't find her pretty – but he didn't see her as anything other than a potential friend. So, while he didn't feel like she had an ulterior motive for suggesting he visit the firing range, he decided to trust her. Angela also seemed to know Bones in a way that Booth didn't but hoped he could because he was beginning to realize that he hadn't even started to scratch the surface where his new partner was concerned.

"Fine," he sighed, "but I'm driving."

"I don't think so. This is where I leave you, G-Man."

His eyes widened slightly. "Wha–"

"This is where Brennan will be."

He frowned. "You aren't coming? You know, maybe run interference?"

"An angry and armed Brennan? Oh, hell no," she laughed. "You're on your own with this one."

He cast one final look at the piece of paper in his hand and swallowed hard. He then looked back to find Angela walking away and towards the lab. "Hey, aren't you going to wish me luck?"

She smirked at him over her shoulder. "Sure. Good luck. You're going to need it."

"Great," he muttered.

Angela had started to walk away again when Booth called her name and she turned.

"Yeah?"

He slid his hands into his pockets. "Thanks," he said genuinely.

She returned his smile and nodded slightly. "See you around, Booth."