The drive to FBI headquarters was a dull one; neither Booth nor Elle bothered to speculate why the Deputy Director of the FBI was calling both of them in for a meeting at 9 a.m. sharp. What bothered Elle was the fact that the agency had located her at Booth's, spoke to him, not her, as if she was just an afterthought. She drummed her manicured fingernails along the door, as they passed by the Washington Monument.

"How'd they know I'd be at your place, Booth?" She turned her head to steal a glance at him, to see if he would flinch, balk, something that was unlike him, to lead her to suspect he had stirred trouble with the agency.

Instead, he jammed the turn signal, turned left into HQ, and parked in his designated parking spot. Elle instinctively reached for the "aw shit" handle, gripped tightly as the SUV skidded to a halt under the parking deck of The Federal Bureau of Investigation.

"What'd you do, Seeley?" She drew out his name, raising it an octave, as well as her hand.

"I did what I had to do," he made sure the windows were rolled up before he finished his thoughts. Almost clipping her fingers in the process, Elle cursed under her breath and pulled back her hand, bringing her fingers to her mouth.

"Damn it," he reached for her hand, but she brushed him away.

"Let it go, Seeley, please," she cautioned him with her eyes, her lips were barely moving, a technique they had learned in their twenties, conversing as if they weren't moving their lips at all. To anyone on the outside, they would appear to be having a stand off, a silent battle.

"You came to me, remember, Elle?" He leaned forward on his seat, throwing back his seatbelt, the automatic recoil, almost as biting as his tone.

Okay, so he was a bit hasty, which wasn't the agent she had known. He had overstepped her boundaries, called in a few favors, to find out where she was stationed, found out why she was pulled from the operative, but all the "red tape" that Elle had assumed he had cut through, wasn't enough. She was holding back from him and when she did that, he knew what she had gone though was nightmarish. That's why he wasn't his cocksure self this morning.

"You walked up my steps, into my home, leaving questions."

"And you, let me in, you got your answers," she hissed, her lips pursed tightly as his upper lip trembled in frustration.

"I got the blacked out version they had you write up for your file," he pulled the keys from the ignition and jangled them in his hand.

"You got all I could disclose," she sighed, "I want to tell you, all of it, but I can't."

"Can't," he raised an eyebrow, "or won't?"

She avoided his ultimatum, leaving it hanging like laundry out to dry; she flipped the lock to her door, pushed it open, and slammed it, leaving Seeley Booth to seethe in the driver's seat. She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and smoothed back her hair, which was starting to curl at the ends, no thanks to the humidity of D.C. Booth's door closed, his SUV gave off an attentive beep safeguarding it from intruders, and walked to the rear. Elle rounded to meet him and he held his hands, palms up, and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he reached for her, but she narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

"Not here, Seeley, okay," she tilted her head towards the security cameras, "not with Big Brother watching."

"Let me get through whatever Cullen has in store for me," Elle began to walk toward the elevator, Booth taking two strides to meet her pace, "then you can ask until you're blue in the face."

"And let me tell you, Seeley Booth," she pushed the round numbered button to the 12th floor and smirked, as the doors sealed them in, "blue's not your color."

If the drive to FBI Headquarters was dull, the tedious walk to the Deputy Director's office was just as eventful. Suits were either too busy in their paperwork to notice the two agents walking in slow motion or the random few, popped their heads up to pay a respective greeting to Seeley. Only one recognized Elle. She knew he had, by the obvious double take, as she passed his desk. She waved a hand over her shoulder,

"Yes, Smythe, I'm alive" she flippantly stated, "no, Smythe don't bother getting up."

The younger agent wavered between standing and sitting, causing the others around him to chuckle. Smythe had been on her team, assigned to work out coordinates, be her contact to the outside, but he was too green, the first dead body he witnessed, he was sent packing back to the States. That left his replacement, a bit angered at the reassignment, and as chills wrapped themselves around the coils of her spine, dead, like the rest of her team. Once she had made herself known, the other agents began their water cooler gossip. Elle could feel the heat rising up her neck to her earlobes. She wrung her fingers at the back of her neck and Seeley whispered,

"Breathe, Donovan," he knocked on the Deputy Director's door, "don't let them rattle you."

"Enter," came Deputy Director Cullen's strong voice, Booth opened the door and allowed Elle to walk in ahead of him. He closed the door behind him. Elle took a few lengthy strides to the Director's desk and stood at ease.

"Deputy Director," Elle voiced her presence, staring down at the shiny balding spot on the aging Director's scalp. He was a handsome man, with steel blue eyes, snow white hair, close cut, with an angular nose. He proceeded to finish reading what could have only been her file, slid a few papers back in, tapped the folder so that all was aligned, and set it aside. Removing his glasses, he set those aside as well, looked up at Agent Donovan, his facial expression serious. He glanced past her and eyed Special Agent Booth. He motioned for Booth to leave.

"Sir, with all due respect, I was told to be here," Booth stood with his hands behind his back, his posture tall and sturdy.

"With all due respect, Booth, you were requested to be here, by me," the Deputy Director reminded him, "now, please leave the two of us to chat, and come back in twenty minutes."

Booth wanted Elle to turn around, needed to make sure she was okay, but she never faltered, never moved an inch. The Director made a strangling noise from his throat and waved Booth out, again.

"That'd be all, Agent Booth."

"Yes Sir," Booth acquiesced and exited the office.

"Sir," Elle extended her hand, to which the Deputy Director did something uncharacteristic, that she thought she might have misinterpreted him. He relaxed his posture; he smiled, stood up, and extended his hand outright.

"Agent Donovan," he squeezed her hand and shook it once with force, "Welcome home."

"Thank you Sir," she returned to her previous stance, "it's good to be back on home soil."

"Please, Agent Donovan, have a seat." The Director rounded his desk and sat in one of the leather chairs that were situated in front of his desk. He pointed to the corner, where coffee and a carafe of chilled water were readily available. Elle declined.

"Sir, with all due respect," Elle wasn't one to beat around the bush, "I didn't come here to socialize, I came for my reassignment."

"With all due respect," he echoed her sentiment, "do you know how many times I hear that a day, Agent Donovan?" He chuckled to himself. Elle didn't know whether to laugh along with him or brace for a harsh reprimand.

"Sir?"

"Agent Donovan, while you are being reassigned, you are not being demoted or requested to leave your current position with the agency." He waited for her to absorb the information and while he assumed the wheels were turning in her head and before she could ask the next question, he answered it for her.

"You were ordered back home for another assignment, one that is more important than your previous operative."

"Am I going undercover, Sir?" Elle trained in Special Ops, she was a master of disguise, languages, cultures, but the idea of going back under the Taliban rule caused goose bumps to surface on her clammy skin.

"On the contrary, Agent Donovan, your assignment is to capture known insurgents that you identified in Afghanistan."

"Sir, with all," she stopped herself midsentence, "my mission was blown, anyone I identified and made contact with, are long gone."

"Sending me back would only lead to my death."

"There was no mention Agent Donovan that you were being sent back, on the contrary, you are to remain here, in D.C. working together with Agent Booth and the Jeffersonian, as well as working your own operations."

"Your assignment to the Jeffersonian is to be your cover, if I am not making myself clear, Agent."

"No, Sir, I understood."

"Good," he slapped his hands on his thighs, and commented with fatherly approval, "Your actions, Agent Donovan, while undercover, were commendable, in fact, tomorrow, you are to arrive at the Grand Hyatt, at 1600, to be the recipient of the FBI Star Medallion."

"Bring a guest of course," the director looked towards the glass doors that lead to the hall outside his office, just as Booth was making his way back to the Director's office.

"It appears our twenty minutes is coming to a head," he raised a finger to his temple, "let's settle this now, shall we, Agent Donovan?"

"Yes'Sir, just so I'm clear on the matter, you want me to work on operative here in D.C. overseeing my own team, as well as working with Agent Booth?"

"Yes, Agent Donovan," the director paused, "do you accept?"

"On two conditions," Elle regained her composure and listed her demands, she was to hand pick her own team, and she was to disclose all information to Agent Booth. The director, smiled, stood up, walked back to his desk, and handed her a bundle of manila envelopes. He informed her that she was to have handpicked her team within the next 48 hours and whether or not she wanted to disclose everything to Agent Booth was to be at her own discretion.

"Thank you Sir," Elle held out her hand, but the Director shook his head,

"Now that the formality is over, Elle, would you be offended if I welcomed you back as a friend?" He offered her his arms and wrapped her in a hug that lasted a few seconds.

A rapping at the door alerted the director that Booth was back and he called for Agent Booth to enter, while escorting Agent Donovan out.

"48 hours, Agent Donovan," he patted her on the shoulder, "and don't forget, tomorrow night, The Grand Hyatt at 8 p.m. sharp."

"Yes sir," she shook his hand, gave Booth a warm smile, and told him she'd wait for him outside.

The doors were closing, but Booth lingered, stealing a moment with Elle,

"How'd it…," Booth's inquiry was cut short by the Director's gravel like voice booming the agent's name,

"Booth!"