Title: This is Life

Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.

Rating: T

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing. This is just some Brennan/Goodman interaction, here. I hope I have stayed true to the characters. Let me know if you liked. Oh, and this is officially my longest story ever! I'm past the thirty six thousand word mark of A Dangerous Aficionado! Yay me! Haha!

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"Sweetie!" Angela screeched, engulfing her best friend in a hug that sucked the air from her lungs. Brennan winced, her own embrace weak compared to that of the hyper-active artist. "How are you?"

Brennan dropped her bag to the floor, straightening her spine. "Growing increasingly frustrated with that question," she admitted. Angela arched an eyebrow skyward, and smirked a little.

"You look a little pale, honey…" she said, pulling a chair away from the work bench and insisting that Brennan sit. "Are you sick?" Brennan clicked her tongue.

"No. I had a little too much to drink on the plane last night. Apparently vodka and high altitudes don't mix well together." She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing loudly before rubbing tight circles around her temples. "When will I learn? Has anything exciting happened here?" Angela half shrugged.

"We got the package you FedEx-ed over. Nice. Zach's been working on it religiously. Otherwise…" she paused, glancing down at her feet. "I need to talk to you…" she said. Brennan stopped massaging her temples, her curiosity aroused. "Do you have time for coffee?" She glanced down at her watch and winced.

"Not exactly. Goodman wants me in his office in ten minutes. How about lunch?" Angela nodded, her face brightening. "Well, I'll see you at twelve thirty, then," Brennan said, slipping off the chair, slinging her bag over her shoulder again. "Is… everything okay, though?" Her best friend waved her hand, rocking on her toes.

"Everything's cool, sweetie. Go work. I'll be in my office if you need me." Brennan swiped her card, descending the steps and striding across the lab to where she knew Daniel Goodman would be waiting, ready to tackle her for a detailed report of her trip. The Celtic warrior and his artefacts would no doubt have provoked his archaeological nature.

Sitting behind his desk, Goodman looked imposing and commanding, with penetrating dark eyes and an almost ominous expression. When he smiled, however, he looked like the kindest man Brennan had ever met.

"Dr Brennan," he said, rising off his chair and gesturing to the one opposite his desk. "How are you?" She bit down on her tongue, her smile tight. It took all of her resolve to respond in her politest manner.

"I'm fine," she said, crossing her legs. "A little tired." Goodman nodded slowly.

"I got a call from Seamus O'Rourke yesterday morning…" he said. "It seems you didn't deem the work valuable enough to stay…" Brennan dropped her eyes to her hands, her fingers knotted. "Has something happened? Something that required you to come home?" Goodman pressed, and she shook her head.

"No, sir," she said. "I just wanted to come home." Her boss laughed, the sound devoid of mirth. In fact, he seemed almost pissed, now.

"Bosnia, Temperance. You've been to Bosnia, Guatemala, war-torn countries, and you except me to believe that you were, what? Homesick?" She sighed, her breath shuddering. Privacy, it seemed, was something that wouldn't be afforded to her, now that she'd tossed aside a case that would have been quite invaluable to the Jeffersonian as an institute.

"I ditched my physiotherapy to go to Ireland," she said expecting Goodman to look even half contrite. His steely glare didn't waver.

"Why was Booth out there?" The question hit her like a sledgehammer, and she felt her eyes widen. "A little extra curricular work?" She heaved a deep sigh, releasing her fingers and closing her eyes. How had Goodman found out? Angela wouldn't have told. Hodgins was keen to keep everything a secret from their boss and Zach… it didn't figure. "O'Rourke told me about the guy who was staying with you. I'm not stupid, Temperance. It wasn't difficult to work it out. So…"

"I can do the work here," she said, ignoring the unspoken question. "Zach is working on the warrior and once I get out of this meeting, I will be joining him in the verification process. All my equipment is here. This laboratory will give us double the avenues of investigation. I was useless out there." Goodman reclined in his chair, his black eyes unblinking.

"You're almost convincing me," he said at last. "Booth…?" She moaned aloud, her headache had intensified tenfold, and she wished she'd foregone alcohol the previous night. It wasn't the first time that morning she'd swore never to touch Smirnoff again.

"When I was shot I was pregnant," she said, lifting her eyes to gauge the surprise in her boss's eyes. She was somewhat satisfied to see that he looked, not only surprised, but dumbfounded. "I miscarried as a result of that and when the opportunity arose to go to Ireland, I took it because I wanted to be away from here. I feel better now…" Goodman, never nervous, suddenly was.

"The Jeffersonian cannot be used as an excuse to run away, Temperance," he said quietly. Brennan swiped her hand angrily.

"We all use our careers to escape sometimes…"

"Not with the same hefty price tag as you!" Goodman snapped, then softened. "Look, I am very sorry for your loss but understand it from my point of view. How do I explain to the board that you wasted thousands of dollars while running off to find yourself? How do I explain that you up and left with barely any warning?"

Brennan shrugged. "I'll pay for it. Is there anything else?" She rose, her chest tight. Goodman opened his mouth as if to speak but instead, just shook his head.

"No, Dr Brennan, that'll be all."

"Good. I'll be in my office, doing work, ensuring that the Jeffersonian's resources aren't going to waste." She spoke with a biting tone that Goodman wasn't familiar with, especially in the always literal Dr Brennan. But her sarcastic edge told him that she was frustrated by his inquiries and a little hurt by his lack of sympathy. Or maybe not. She hated sympathy anyway. Maybe she just resented that he hadn't been a little more understanding.

She pulled the door open. "Temperance… I'm sorry." He said. She froze, her back to him.

"Yeah. Thanks," she replied shortly, easing the door shut behind her. She felt both ashamed at her actions and satisfied with her determination to keep her private life as private as possible. Goodman did not need to know that she and Booth were lovers. He would no doubt put two and two together, but as long as she didn't confirm anything, her privacy as still her own.

The morning passed without event, and Brennan found herself eating flame grilled chicken salad drenched in French vinaigrette while Angela chewed nervously on her lip in between bites of her sandwich. After a long few moments, Brennan dropped her fork into her bowl and sighed.

"What's the matter, Angela?" She asked, and her friend jumped, as though startled. "I've never seen you so… out of it." Ange nodded slowly.

"I've never felt so out of it. I don't know what's going on with me." Brennan frowned, and the expression was enough to prompt her friend into continuing. "I was working late two nights ago. One of the limbo guys needed a face and I had nothing to do. Monday nights are a bitch, you know? Nothing on TV… and even I'm not sad enough to go partying on Monday's…" she tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. "So, there I was, sketching away, not really thinking about anything, when…" she paused again. "Jack came in…"

"Oh God…" Brennan said, no longer hungry. "Angela…"

"No! Wait…" she drained her glass of Diet Coke. "So, he comes into my office and starts poking around my art stuff, talking about something he found on the victim which helps to identify where he was killed blah, blah, I don't really listen. Then the next thing I know, he's asking me questions about well… me." Brennan blinked. "And instead of drawing John Doe 896's nose I am thinking about why Jack is asking about me. And I find that I quite like it. But before I can analyse this, because I'm not as quick at analysing as you…"

"Gee, thanks…"

"he's kissing me. And I mean… Hodgins? Hello? But… fuck… Bren… I liked it. And I didn't want it to end. And now I've been avoiding him like the plague." Her cheeks were flushed and her hand trembled around her sandwich.

"Why? Because you're afraid to face him?" Brennan sipped her Coke. Angela shook her head, her black eyes demented.

"No! Because I'm afraid I'll not stop at kissing this time. Oh… fuck…" she said again. "I actually feel attracted to Jack Hodgins the 'slime guy'. I…" Brennan laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Then… don't stop…" she said as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Just like that?" Angela said, incredulous. Brennan smiled.

"Just like that," she said.

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Hodgins and Angela would make such a nice couple, and I think Hodgins is adorable, actually. He's got the nicest blue eyes. Of course, Booth wins hands down on the 'who I'd drag to bed' poll… but I can imagine Ange and Jack together. Can you? Oh, and I needed a little break from the BB for a bit. Next chapter will very much so feature my favourite duo.

Now go review!