Author's Note: Thanks for everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate that you guys are willing to give me feedback on my stuff. This chapter starts to introduce more of the idea that I had from the beginning, so I hope everyone likes it. Sorry for typos, I'm an absolutely terrible proofreader. Maybe I should get a beta...if anyone is interested in that, let me know :-) Anyway, hope this chapter isn't too terrible, go ahead and read it now.

Temperance leaned against Booth's SUV, surveying the road, waiting for Angela, as Booth looked around under the hood. Temperance heard him mumble a few things as he worked on sorting out what was wrong, but after a solid fifteen minutes of tinkering, Booth seemed to be no closer to figuring out what the problem was.

"Is there gas in it?" Temperance asked.

Booth let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course there's gas in it. Do you honestly think I'd still be messing around under the hood if there wasn't any gas in it?"

Temperance, slightly irritated by Booth's frustrated response, was about to reply when she Angela's car come into view. She let out a short sigh. "Okay, Angela's here."

Booth closed the car hood and gave Temperance a quick smile. "Well, the upside to the car breaking down is that I'm pretty sure we're about to make Angela's day."

Angela slowed the car to a stop behind Booth's SUV, allowing the engine to idle as Booth and Temperance climbed in. "Morning, guys," she said, a wide smile on her face. "Sleep well?"

Temperance surveyed Angela for a moment. Her friend's eyes were slightly sunken and her skin looked clammy and pale. Sensing an out, Temperance was quick to point out her observation. "Are you feeling alright, Ange?"

Angela's eyes met Temperance's quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. Her voice had a sharp quality about it, as if she were trying to answer too quickly.

Booth jumped in to help Temperance. "Yeah, Angela, you like kind of pale. Are you getting what the other squints had?"

"Don't call them squints," Temperance said, her eyes studying Angela's face.

Booth looked at Temperance. "Why not? That's what they are—squints. I don't get all offended when they call me a cop."

Temperance glanced back at him. "My team consists of a group of people with a great deal of education and expertise. The term 'cop' communicates the importance of your position. 'Squint' does not communicate the importance of theirs."

"But that's what they do. They squint," Booth pointed out.

"You squint sometimes, too, but we don't call you a squint," Temperance countered.

"Yeah, I squint sometimes, but they squint for a living," Booth said.

Angela sat quietly, an amused smile on her face, watching the interaction. "Okay, okay, I get it. You two don't want to talk about whatever happened last night. You don't want to discuss why Temperance's car never made it to her house, and you don't want to explain why Booth is wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday."

Temperance and Booth, who had for a moment forgotten that they were trying to avoid Angela's inquiry, stopped talking. They both looked at Angela who kept her eyes focused on the road, though a large smile played across her features.

"Nothing happened last night," Temperance said.

Angela lifted one hand from the steering wheel, waving it in a dismissive gesture. "Hey, you don't have to explain anything to me. What you do—or who you do—on your free time is your business."

"I feel asleep on Bones' couch, that's it," Booth said.

Angela waved her hand again. "Hey, I hear you. Totally innocent. Got it." Her smile made Temperance groan.

"Ange…" Temperance began.

She was cut off when Angela pulled into the lot of the Jeffersonian. "We're here!" Angela said, her voice chipper. She pulled into parking space and turned slightly so she could see Booth's face. "Am I supposed to drop you by your office?"

Booth and Temperance exchanged a quick look. "Don't worry about it," Temperance said, fishing her keys from her pocket. "He can just take my car."

Booth nodded and accepted the keys. "I'll be back to pick you up when we get a line on Ms. Stone."

"Great," Temperance said as she climbed out of the car.

Angela smiled mischievously at Booth. "Was it worth the wait?"

"Angela!" Booth said, frustrated.

Angela put her hands up again. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Innocent all the way." With a wink at Booth, she also climbed out of the car. Blowing out a quick sigh, Booth did the same. After waving a last goodbye to Angela and Temperance, he climbed into Temperance's car and sped away.

At11:00 that morning, Temperance was sitting in her office, working on her book. Okay, so maybe saying that she was working on her book was a bit of stretch. What she was actually doing was staring at the computer screen and occasionally typing things that had nothing to do with the novel she was supposed to be penning. So far she had written a to-do list for her week, a grocery list, and four emails to friends she hadn't seen since college. When Angela swept through the door, Temperance was completely engrossed with looking at her name in different fonts.

Angela dropped onto the couch. "Okay, tell me everything."

Temperance looked over at Angela, doing her best to look annoyed. However, the fact that Angela was in the room gave Temperance a legitimate distraction from her work, so she found that irritation with her friend was hard to conjure up. "Nothing happened."

Angela rolled her eyes high enough that she could gaze briefly at the ceiling. "Don't give me that. Your car was here this morning, which means you never drove it home last night. Since the rest of us left before you, that means that Booth came by at some point and got you. Then, for some reason, you didn't feel that it was necessary to take your car back to your place, so the two of you rode together." Angela put her finger on her chin and pretended to be thinking. "Hmm…now why would the two of you want to ride together? And why go hang out in an apartment?"

"It's not what you think, Ange. Seriously."

Angela cocked her eyebrow in Temperance's direction. "And need I point out that he was wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday?"

Temperance hesitated for a beat. "Yeah, that looks bad. But nothing happened. I found a possible connection between our case and a novel, he came by and gave me a lift to the bookstore, and then, after that, we were both so engrossed in the book that we forgot my car. He ended up falling asleep on my couch."

"Uh-huh," Angela said, leaning forward slightly. "Listen, Bren, sleeping with him isn't that big of a deal. You can tell me about it."

Temperance rolled her eyes. "We did NOT sleep together!" she proclaimed. But then her literal mind betrayed her. "Well, I guess technically we did sleep together, but we didn't have sex."

Angela eyed her curiously. "You swear?"

"I swear!"

Angela looked more frustrated than ever. "Well, why not?"

Temperance was momentarily taken aback. "Beg your pardon?"

Angela threw her hands in the air and stood up. "I give up! This is unbelievable!"

Temperance was still staring at Angela when her office door opened.

"Hey, Bones, I got a lead on Ophelia Stone, let's go." Booth looked at the pair in the office. "Uh…am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing happened. What could there be to interrupt?" Angela said as she walked out the office door.

Booth looked at Temperance who shrugged. "I don't know either. Come on, let's go find Ophelia."

Ophelia Stone's last known address was located in a small town a short distance outside of D.C. Despite its proximity to the city, the area was quiet and rural, seemingly passed over by world of progress and capitalism which resided in the city of Washington. The streets were quiet and most of the houses in the area were either cheaply made, abandoned, or both. As they drove, Booth filled Temperance in on everything he had learned about Ophelia.

"According the records I pulled up, Ophelia Stone was first published at age 19. At first she was just in magazines and things like that. Minor publications, most of which were ignored. She published her first novel when she was 25, titled Castles of Sand. Apparently, it was dubbed a beach read and then fell into obscurity. After that she published one other novel, which never got much critical acclaim. She was 28 when it came out, but then she dropped off the radar for a while. When she was 33 she published again, a mystery this time called A Time to Plant. The book was far more popular than her two earlier works, and she started churning out books fairly quickly after that. The pattern of the release of her books seems sporadic. There are lapses where it seems she had stopped writing, but she always seems to come back again. She's 42 now. I called a book dealer to find out how well known she is and I'm told she has a cult following. The dealer told me that she doesn't have many fans, but that the fans she has are loyal. Most people and most critics view her works as average or slightly better."

"The portion of the book we read seemed pretty good," Temperance stated.

Booth nodded. "That's what the dealer told me. Apparently she is known for her technically ability and her use of language. Her problem is her plots. Most people view them as too busy or jumbled. Apparently she doesn't write books that lend themselves to sporadic reading. And often at the end it seems people complain that they are unsure of what has happened."

Booth and Temperance pulled up at the address for Ophelia Stone a few minutes later. The house was small and had a slightly disheveled appearance. The yard was overgrown, the grass needed cutting, and the white siding on the house looked as though it could use a good power washing. The house was one story and square-ish in shape. A small car was parked in the driveway.

Temperance scanned the house with her eyes. "Apparently she doesn't make a great income from her books." Booth just nodded and the two climbed from the car and approached the door.

Seeing that there was no doorbell, Booth rapped his knuckled three times quickly on the pexi-glass panel of the storm door. Somewhere in the background, Temperance heard a dog barking. From the timbre of the yelp, she guessed that the dog was small.

Although the barking continued, no one appeared in the doorway. Booth rapped again, slightly louder this time, and Temperance shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Maybe she doesn't live here," Temperance said as they waited.

Booth shrugged. "Maybe not, but somebody does. Maybe they could at least tell us where we could find her."

Temperance and Booth waited a moment longer and then decided to give up. Just as they were turning to head back to Temperance's car, however, they heard a voice behind them at the door.

"Can I help you with something?" The voice was calm and pleasant but held the faint traces of hesitation that came with greeting someone at your home that you don't know.

Booth and Temperance turned at the sound of the voice and smiled at the figure in the doorway. The glint of the midday sun made the woman's features hard to see, causing her to look faintly like a talking shadow.

"Yes, ma'am," Booth said with a smile. "I'm agent Seeley Booth with the FBI, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. We were hoping to find a Ms. Ophelia Stone at this residence."

"You found her," the woman said. "What can I do for you?"

Booth smiled again. "We were hoping to talk to you about your books."

The storm door opened as the woman invited Temperance and Booth to come in. Booth and Temperance stepped forward as they accepted the woman's invitation to enter. But then, after they entered the house and could actually see the features of Ophelia Stone, they both paused.

Ophelia Stone bore a striking resemblance to Temperance Brennan.

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