Title from the 100 Themes. Basically, the flip side of Introduction.


Temperance Brennan didn't pay any attention to the electronic beep that indicated someone had come up on the platform--the medieval skeleton in front of her was far too absorbing, not to mention Dr. Goodman had indicated a certain amount of dispatch in making her assessment was required.

"Dr. Brennan," the man himself said, breaking her concentration. "This is Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. He's replacing Agent Dimitri. Agent Booth, Dr. Temperance Brennan, our forensic anthropologist."

She looked up; the agent held out his hand to her. "Dr. Brennan."

Idiot, she thought. Can't he see I'm wearing gloves? "Agent Booth," she replied, deciding it wasn't worth removing one just to replace it. He was just another coccygodynian from the Hoover, so far as she was concerned.

"Amicable, Dr. Brennan--remember?" Goodman reminded her with a long sigh. She gave him a long look, silently reminding him of his own wishes about the skeleton, but he kept looking at her. Stifling her own sigh, she nodded at the agent briefly before turning her attention back to the skeleton.

"So," he started. She ignored him for the moment, there was something unusual on the left ulna…

He cleared his throat in a sound reminiscent of illness. "Ahem."

"Yes, Agent Booth?" she asked, still engrossed with the anomaly she had found. I wonder if Zack saw it.. "If you're coming down with a cold, please step away from the remains before you compromise them." Hmmm. An indention; perhaps a weapon? A misericorde or perhaps a pavade? I suppose it could have even been a steel-tipped quarrel near the extreme end of its range. Whatever it was, it struck hard enough to leave this mark and crack the bone.

"I'm fine," he said hastily. "Um, so. May I call you--"

"'Dr. Brennan'? Yes, that would be acceptable."

"That's a little formal for two people working together," he said. "What do your friends call you?"

Of course, he would be the inquisitive one, she thought, resigned. Four other agents from the FBI and not one has the time to exchange pleasantries and this one has to know everything. Not that he'll be any more accommodating than the others. "Since we are unlikely to become friends, but merely collaborators, I would say it doesn't matter. Zack!"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

"Did you look at the ulna on this skeleton? What did you see?" She took her teaching responsibilities far more seriously than she did the forced links between the museum and law enforcement. And Zack had the potential to become a good forensic anthropologist--certainly equalling Dr. Stires and maybe even matching her. It would be a crime on her part to neglect that, to not help him develop his skill.

Zack bent over the skeleton with her and pointed out the same indention and crack she had seen, speculating on the causes. "It could have been a lesser blow than you postulated, Dr. Brennan," he said respectfully. "I noted there's significant bone marrow edema, indicating a long healing fracture, that potentially weakened the rest of the bone."

"Very good, Zack," she praised him at the end, smiling at him. And the agent was still there, watching them. Why doesn't he leave?

She was sure she had detected discomfort or some other negative reaction to Zack's speech, however. Continued exposure would send him packing. I think that's how Ange phrased it

Too, he was beginning to remind her of several males she had dealt with over her life--overbearing, chauvinistic, full of themselves. The kind who think they're irresistible to women. She flicked a glance at him as she introduced him to Zack. Admittedly, he was rather attractive in his way; symmetrical, apparently well-structured. Angela would probably be all over him.

And when he gave her that smarmy smile, she knew she had classified him correctly. "Zack, why don't you go get Hodgins and Angela so we can complete the social expectations. And tell Hodgins I want those reports for the NSA case. I want to get them out of here."

"And who are Hodgins and Angela?" Booth asked.

"The rest of my team," she replied, returning her attention to the skeleton. There were other aspects of it to analyze, such as how the age indicated by epiphyseal fusion did not match that of the cranial sutures. "It would be more efficient for them to come here rather than for me to escort you around. I'm quite busy this week."

"Dr. Brennan," he started to say in what she read as an annoyed voice, but was interrupted by the beep of the access reader.

"So, sweetie, what's the big news? Oh," Angela murmured. "I think I see. Dimwit no longer with us?"

"Something like that. I'll explain once Hodgins gets here." She lifted the radius and examined it closely, running her fingers along the surface, searching for anything deviating from the normal. The access reader beeped again and she carefully set the bone back down. Hodgins gave her a nod, brandishing a file.

"It just finished, Dr. Brennan."

"Good. I'll take a look at it as soon as I'm done here." She straightened up. "The FBI has sent us a new agent."

"What, again?" Hodgins said in disbelief. "They're going to run out at this rate."

She shrugged. "That would be their problem, and not ours. Agent Booth, this is Angela Montenegro, our forensic artist and facial reconstructionist, and Dr. Jack Hodgins, our particulates expert. Ange, Hodgins, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth. If you would explain to him our routine, I need to get this report done. And don't touch the bones, Agent Booth," she added, thoughts of that one agent--she couldn't remember his name--who had dared to handle the evidence with bare hands drifting through her mind. She stripped off her gloves, caught up the file, and headed for her office, relieved that she didn't have to waste time on Seeley Booth.

As she sat at her desk, she caught a glimpse of Angela leading Agent Booth off the platform, and absently wondered if he would hold out any longer than his predecessors.

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coccygodynian--from coccygodynia, a pain in the region of the tailbone (coccyx). Stole the word barefaced from Drums of Autumn, by Diana Gabaldon. But please don't ask me to say it!