A/N: Final chapter. I struggled with this one quite a bit, writing and re-writing sections until I finally decided to just post the damn thing. Hope you enjoy it even though I am certain now that I will never be a sci-fi author.


Disclaimer: I own nothing Bones related except my imagination. (10/22/2016)


Cam sat in her office, watching the minutes tick away on the clock, waiting until it was almost time for the interns to clock-out for the day. Luckily, Dr. Brennan had taken off a couple hours earlier that afternoon simply announcing that she was leaving early to spend the afternoon alone with her husband. That was Dr. Brennan for you. No artifice, no game playing, no excuses. She may not have specifically said the words, but her smile and her demeanor left little doubt that Booth and Brennan were hooking up for some bare-skinned afternoon loving. Generally speaking, Cam preferred not to know the nitty-gritty details of what went on in her colleague's lives outside the lab. But, at this specific moment in time when she was faced with an upcoming confrontation with one of her employees to try and ascertain why some of the brightest minds in the country believed him to be an alien from another world, Cam felt a certain appreciation for Brennan's unapologetic straightforwardness and wished she could depend on all her employees to be so honest and forthcoming.

Finally, the clock showed ten minutes until quitting time. The work day was almost officially over and many of the Jeffersonian employees would be fleeing their offices shortly. Taking a deep breath, Cam stood up and left her office to find Dr. Wells, who should still be in Exam Room number 2, with Daisy Wick for at least a little bit longer. However, Daisy Wick was conspicuously absent when Cam walked into the room.

"Where's Ms. Wick?"

Oliver snorted, barely acknowledging Dr. Saroyan's entrance as he kept his focus on the bones laid out before him. "She was a mess after lunch. Even more high strung than usual. All jittery and anxious, constantly on the verge of hyperventilating. She yelped and jumped at every sound or motion. It was like she ingested a bad dose of methamphetamine or something she was strung so tight." Oliver frowned and shook his head, still not bothering to look up and address Cam directly. "I told her she was making me totally crazy and that if she didn't calm down, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions. She ran out of the room and I haven't seen her since. You need her for something?"

"Ah, no." Cam positioned herself on the opposite side of the exam table from Dr. Wells, but still stayed as close to the door as possible. She knew Aubrey was waiting in the hallway right outside, in case he was needed, which gave her at least some level of comfort. Plus, she had a small .22 caliber pistol tucked into her waistband at the small of her back. Just a precaution, but the ex-cop in her wouldn't let her walk into a potentially messy confrontation completely unarmed. She'd had the gun hidden in her office for years and this wasn't the first time she'd tucked it somewhere accessible when things in the lab got a little tense, but no one else knew it existed, not even Seeley. Crossing her arms, she told Oliver she had come looking for him.

"Me?" That finally got his attention and he looked up from the skeleton, frowning at her. "That's a rarity. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." The response was automatic, but immediately followed by a negative shaking of her head. "No. No, everything is not okay."

"All right. You know that makes absolutely no sense though, right?"

It was his arrogant, slightly condescending response and the accompanying look that said she was wasting his time that helped to straighten her spine. She looked directly at him and despite the somewhat bored expression he wore that implied she was keeping him from more important pursuits, she spoke in her best I'm-the-boss tone. "Dr. Wells. It has come to my attention that there are some inconsistencies in your blo- . . . in your background." She changed her mind about what to say at the last moment, figuring it may not be the wisest move to start off this dialogue by challenging his core humanity. "Uh, specifically with respect to your transcripts from other universities."

Oliver stood up tall and lifted his chin, staring at her down his nose. "Inconsistencies? How so?"

"Oh, you know. The kind of inconsistencies that make it appear you don't really have a PhD and three master's degrees like you indicated on your original job application. That, maybe, you don't actually have any of those degrees you claimed to have earned."

"Are you doubting my intelligence and ability to perform my duties, Dr. Saroyan? Because, I assure you, my knowledge is vast, more so than you can comprehend, and my IQ is certainly higher than every human's that works here . . . well, with the possible exception of Dr. Brennan. Possible, I said. I'm not fully conceding that either. I believe that the Jeffersonian has benefited from the contributions of my work over the last few years so I don't understand the exact nature of your complaint. You should consider yourself lucky to have me."

Cam pursed her lips, nostrils flaring in annoyance with his superior attitude. "It's not solely a question of your intelligence and your capabilities. We looked into your background and you lied on your job application. That raises doubt and suspicion about every piece of evidence you've ever touched on any case this institution has allowed you to work on, potentially destroying the credibility of the Jeffersonian and jeopardizing the integrity of every investigation. Per Jeffersonian policy, that's a fire-able offense and unless you can provide me a reasonable explanation, then I'm going to have to ask you to collect whatever personal belongings you have here and take them with you when you leave this evening as you're no longer welcome to come back Dr. Wells, or whoever you are."

"Whoever I am?" Oliver stripped the examination gloves from his hands and tossed them angrily on the exam table, an unsanitary move that would have horrified Dr. Brennan had she been there to see it. "Just how much of a background check did you do, Cam?" He growled, moving towards the end of the exam table. A few more steps would put him on the same side as her and Cam instinctively stepped backwards, taking her further from the doorway.

"Enough. Enough to know that Oliver Wells does not really exist." She nervously stepped back again, placing one hand behind her like she was feeling for what might be at her back. "Enough to know that you are not what, er . . . I mean, who . . . who, you say you are."

"What I am?" Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and took another step in her direction. In the next instant, he brushed against the same tray of assorted items that he had upturned earlier in the day, the rattling sound of the tools causing him to freeze in place right as Cam whipped out a pistol from behind her and pointed it directly at him.

"Don't come any closer," she warned.

Hearing those words from out in the hallway was all the reason that Aubrey needed to make his presence known too, stepping into the doorway at Oliver's back, and brandishing his own weapon. "Let's just take it easy there, champ."

"Why?" Oliver asked. "Why start probing into my background now? What did I do?"

Cam opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, more than once. It was easy to challenge him on forging his transcripts, but she was finding it much more difficult to accuse him of being inhuman. She finally ended with a simple "It's complicated" as her eyes flickered to the tray of tools.

Following her eyes, Oliver gazed down at the tray and then opened and closed his fist – the fist of the hand he had wounded earlier that day as the pieces started to come together for him. "Daisy. It was Daisy, wasn't it?" He glanced at Aubrey briefly, then dismissed him and turned back to Cam. She didn't answer his question directly, but he could see the truth of it written on her face and he actually found himself chuckling softly. "Annoying, persistent Daisy Wick. It seems I underestimated her tenacity." He shook his head in amazement and stepped back to his side of the table, sitting down on the nearby stool with one foot planted on the ground and another casually raised up to rest on the rung of the chair and folded his hands loosely in his lap. "I bet she went to Hodgins, didn't she?" Sensing the tension had eased, both Aubrey and Cam lowered their weapons, but their eyes stayed locked on Oliver despite the fact that he no longer seemed threatening. "How much do you know?"

Cam shrugged her shoulders, bouncing her head slightly from side to side. "Mmm, probably somewhere between too much and not enough."

As ambiguous as that sounded, Oliver understood what she meant. They knew enough to understand he wasn't like them, but they didn't know exactly what he was. "So, what now?"

"Are you dangerous?" Aubrey asked pointedly.

Oliver frowned and shook his head. "I'm a scientist. Just a simple scientist. All I'm interested in is learning as many secrets of the universe as I can while I'm around to do so."

"Well, then." Cam stepped forward again, donning her administrative persona once more. "I think it's best if we simply just part ways. We'll spread the word that you had something personal that came up that required you to leave the program. Fewer unanswerable questions that way."

Oliver agreed. He knew as soon as he realized that they had become suspicious of his origins that his time here was over. He couldn't stay any longer even if they were willing to let him. He'd have to notify his earth-liaison tonight and, mostly likely, he'd be reassigned to a new post within a day or so. "Does Dr. Brennan know?"

"Good God, no," Cam exclaimed.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll gather my things and leave for the night, but I'd like to come by once more tomorrow and say farewell to her personally. Working with her these last couple years has been an unprecedented challenge and sparring with her has been surprisingly enjoyable, albeit a bit humbling at times."

"That should be fine, Dr. Wells. Just keep it brief, please."


It didn't take long for Oliver to collect his belongings. It's not like he had an office or any space like that which had accumulated stuff over the years. Like the other interns he worked with, he had been assigned a locker to place his things in while at the lab and his locker wasn't all that full. A change of clothes for those times when work got a bit too messy; a couple science fiction paperback novels about alien invasions that he'd found especially amusing to thumb through when he had some down time; a note from Angela Montenegro listing ten things he should try to improve about his personality. (Most people probably would've discarded the note for being offensive, but Oliver had kept it. It was, after all, the only note he'd ever actually received from a girl).

He placed these belongings in the duffel bag he used for carrying his extra outfits to and from work. Then, with a last look at the now empty locker, he swung the metal door closed and turned around to find a smiling Dr. Jack Hodgins sitting in his wheelchair, just a few feet away.

"So, Cam tossed you out, eh?"

Oliver snorted. "Yeah. You could say that."

"Is it true then?"

Oliver could read the nervous excitement on Hodgin's face as he battled between his desire and his fear to believe the unbelievable. Oliver couldn't simply confirm it though. He still didn't know exactly what they thought and he needed Hodgins to spell it out for him so he didn't unnecessarily give up additional information. "Is what true?"

Hodgins rolled his eyes at the evasive question. "You know, man. Is it true that you're a 'visitor'?" Hodgins used air quotes around the word. "Someone sent here from beyond our atmosphere? Even our galaxy? Or universe?"

"I'm not at liberty to say much, but it's true," Oliver confirmed, trusting that Hodgins' love for science and knowledge would prevent him from betraying Oliver's confidence. "I was not born or raised here on earth."

"Dude. That is so cool. Where are you from and why were you sent here?"

"It wouldn't do me any good to tell you where I'm from. It wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. But, I'm basically the equivalent of an anthropologist on my world too and I came here, as a scientist, to study and observe your culture. I was educated in the study of other species, their cultures, and their social behaviors. When I was offered the opportunity to come here and study with the most highly acclaimed anthropologist on the planet, it seemed like a perfect opportunity. Who better to learn from than someone with a similar field of expertise?" Oliver shrugged his shoulders and flung his duffle bag over one arm, preparing to leave. "You know, humans are very different than most species as you're much more driven by your emotional wants and desires than you are your physical demands and needs. It's been quite enlightening."

"Damn. I have so many questions, I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, save them, because I won't be able to answer most of them anyway."

"Will you be staying in D.C.?"

"Ha. I seriously doubt it. I'll have to get in touch with my handler when I get home tonight to decide what's next, but I don't expect I'll be allowed to stay on this planet, let alone this city."

"Right. That's too bad, but I get it, man." Hodgins spun his wheelchair around and started down the corridor, side by side with Oliver. "Hey, can you at least tell me one thing? It's been driving me crazy. Can you tell me whether I was hallucinating that day you shot me with the tranquilizer gun or is your back seriously different than mine?"

Oliver thought about it for a moment and figured it wouldn't hurt to reveal a little bit about the physiology of his species to Dr. Hodgins. It's not like he was leaving any proof behind and other than a small handful of their colleagues, no one would believe him anyway if he started trying to tell folks.

"Considering our two species literally evolved worlds apart, there are a lot of similarities between us and only a few differences. Physically, the biggest distinction seems to be that my species grows something similar to armor plated shingles on our backs for protection. The best way I can think of to describe it is to compare the shingles to human fingernails. They're larger in size, but similar in cell structure. Plus, they grow, fall out, and grow back again. As part of traveling to earth, I had to undergo a process where all my shingles were plucked, not unlike how a woman might pluck her eyebrows, then I've been taking a hormonal supplement daily to keep them from growing back. Once I leave earth and discontinue the supplement, my shingle-plating will grow back, although it will likely take several months to come back fully."

"Man, that is so awesome." Hodgins chuckled. "You know, it's lucky for you that I'm in this wheelchair or else I'd be sorely tempted to conk you on the head and drag you back to my lab so I could study everything about you." He said it as joke and he meant it as a joke, but both men knew that there was also a kernel of truth embedded in his comments too. "Any other significant physical differences?"

Oliver's mind flickered briefly to the differences in their reproductive organs. The males of his species were structured very similar to human males anatomically, but the females varied a bit more drastically. Those variations meant that there was no evolutionary requirement for the males of his society to be quite as well-endowed as the average human male. Oliver had learned quickly the import human men placed on penis size and the need for discretion at the men's urinals when someone had laughingly referred to him as being the wanker of Wee Willie Wonka. He decided Hodgins didn't really need to know about that difference though. "No. Nothing else significant."

Once the men reached the front doors of the lab, they shook hands and said their farewells.

Dr. Oliver Wells stood on the sidewalk, outside the doors to the Jeffersonian Institute, gazing back at the structure where he had spent many of his waking hours in the last few years thinking about all that had occurred since he'd arrived.

The most surprising part of his excursion here on earth was experiencing what people called humanity. Warmth, kindness, friendship and caring. His colleagues may have mocked and teased him for being unlikable, but they'd also welcomed him, encouraged him, laughed with him, and generally made him feel like he had a place of belonging with them. Especially Dr. Temperance Brennan. She might not seem to enjoy his company and she often appeared to find their continual rivalry tedious, but, nonetheless, she didn't stint on sharing her knowledge with him and she put forth just as much effort in mentoring him as she did any of her other interns. It was obvious to anyone who observed that she would protect, defend, and champion those individuals who she embraced as being part of "her team" and somewhere along the way, Oliver had felt that bubble of belonging extend to include him too. He knew that once he left, he would miss her the most. Now, however, it was time to say goodbye.


The next evening, Booth wandered out of the hallway at his home after double-checking on the kids to make sure they were still sleeping soundly and found his wife sitting silently on the couch, watching the wine swirl around gently in her glass. It was unusual to see her sitting so still, looking pensive. Usually, when she wasn't up and doing something, she'd be sitting with a book or magazine in her hands or working on her laptop. He sat down right beside her and plucked the glass from her hands, setting it aside on the coffee table before distracting her with a gentle kiss. Once he felt her start to relax, he pulled back. "What's troubling you tonight, Bones?"

"Dr. Wells came by my office this morning to tell me farewell. I don't think he's planning to come back."

"Oh yeah?" Booth twirled a lock of her auburn hair around his finger, watching the silky strand slide across his skin, a sight that he never tired of. "I would've thought that would make you happy and not have you frowning at your drink. The guy's a jerk and he irritates the hell out of you so we ought to be grabbing the tequila bottle and doing shots in celebration."

"He's not a very pleasant person, I admit, but he was one of my interns – a student studying under my direct influence. His leaving early, pulling out of the program . . ." she scrunched up her face in distaste, ". . . it feels as though somehow I've failed him."

"Nah, Bones. It's not you. Whatever his issues are, I guarantee it's not because of you. It does seem kinda sudden though."

"I agree. It doesn't make sense either. He's made significant progress towards obtaining his PhD in forensic anthropology, so why would he just up and abandon it? Even though he told me this morning that he thoroughly enjoyed his time working at the Jeffersonian and that he'd been intellectually challenged more than he had anticipated, I can't help the lingering sense that there's some key thing I've missed that led to his decision to leave without actually completing his dissertation."

Booth pulled her into his chest, draping an arm over her shoulder so she could snuggle up against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He reached for her glass of wine and drank a swallow before handing it back to her. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No." She paused. "Well, not really."

"What do you mean not really? Either he told you or he didn't."

Brennan huffed. "When I enquired where he was headed next, the answer he gave me was not credible. I believe he was just trying to hornswoggle me, one last time, before he left."

"Hornswoggle?" Booth chuckled. "Who the hell says hornswoggle anyway?"

Brennan jabbed him gently in the stomach with her elbow as a reprimand for teasing her. "You know what I mean, Booth. Ever since he started working at the Jeffersonian, he has constantly tried to make me question my beliefs and doubt my intelligence. His response to my question about his future intentions was just more of the same."

"Why do you think that?" Booth grinned. He actually found it kind of amusing the way Dr. Wells seemed to be able to needle his wife so effectively. "What did he say?"

Brennan studied her glass of wine for a moment, then took a sip before responding. "If you really must know," she sighed, "he told me he was being reassigned to work on an asteroid mining settlement."

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THE END

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A/N: Well, hope you all enjoyed this little challenge response. I debated pretty hard with myself just how to eliminate Oliver at the end and hope the approach I took wasn't too anti-climactic and provided at least a little humor. Turns out, I don't really like to write being mean and I'm not a hater of the character on the show. He's not my favorite intern and I find him annoying at times, but I like that he's colorful in his own way and I like that the showrunners aren't afraid to give us a character we're not intended to like. As always, reviews are welcomed.