"So, who's that with Zach?" I asked, finally indulging Angela in her desire for gossip. I sidled up between Angela and Hodgins, who were standing at the railing on the platform, and leaned over the metal railing beside both of them. It was two days after Farid Masruk had been uncovered and stopped, and since then, Booth hadn't really had to work with the Jeffersonian, mostly doing paperwork in his office. Doing me a favor and forgetting about the sentimental moment a couple of days ago, he'd been dropping me off in Brennan's care to hang out with the squints. Now I was awaiting Zach to finish his conversation so that I could heed Brennan's request and bring Zach and myself out to Booth's SUV. Much to my surprise (but it was a great surprise), Brennan and Booth were inviting me to work with the Jeffersonian once again on another case.

Hodgins and Angela were both quietly watching Zach talk to a relatively short girl with brunette hair to her shoulders. They were being quiet, but I could see Zach was confused and the girl was frustrated.

"Naomi, from paleontology," Hodgins explained quietly, so Zach and "Naomi from paleontology' didn't hear us talking about them. "Naomi and Zach slept together about a month ago. Since then, she hasn't returned a single call."

"Ooh," I winced. "That's not good for anyone."

Hodgins didn't direct the question at anyone in particular, so it was open for answering. "You working on anything interesting?"

"Me?" Angela shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. A three-dimensional model of an Etruscan burial crypt." I'm not even sure what that is, but it sounds kind of cool.

"As you both know, I work at a bar on the outskirts of the ghetto, and I'm not even allowed to go to work until the murder investigation finishes." I put in. "You?"

"Yeah!" Hodgins nodded, but his smile was halfhearted and so obviously fake it didn't even count. "Oh, God, yeah! Very, very exciting stuff. Some, uh, silt profiles!"

Angela threw her head back, groaning. "God! Etruscan burial crypts are so boring!"

"Oh, man, I know!" Hodgins agreed miserably, dropping the façade of happiness. "Silt profiles. You know what we need?"

"A murder investigation?" I supplied. "Brennan and Booth are out front right now. They're waiting for me, and I'm waiting for Zach."

Hodgins and Angela both snapped around to me. "What? There's a case?" Hodgins demanded, attention caught. "Why didn't you say so?" He turned back and leaned over the railing, interrupting Zach and Naomi. "Zach!" He shouted. "You've got to go!"

Naomi said a last few words to Zach before clutching her purse tightly and turning on her high-heeled shoes, speed-walking back to her own department down the hall and a level down.

Angela sighed. "Oh, she really bolted! It doesn't look good for Zach," she observed with pity as the three of us came down the platform steps and to the grad student.

Hodgins had little sympathy for his friend. He put his arm around Zach and messed up his hair, saying, "C'mon Zach, shake it off, okay? Be a man!"

"Are you okay, honey?" Angela asked the intern sweetly with more empathy.

Zach switched the bag with his crime scene equipment to his other hand, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to dazedly interpret Naomi's words. "She said 'take a hint,' but when I asked, 'what hint?' Naomi said that if she told me what hint, then it wouldn't be a hint anymore, it would be a statement."

Hodgins pulled Zach forcefully along with him. "You know what's good? Throwing yourself into your work!"

"You really do hate silt profiles," I said, shaking my head at the entomologist. "Where's your compassion?"

Zach frowned, casting his eyes to the tile as he walked and trusting us not to let him run into anything. "I understood the individual words, but I do not comprehend her meaning."

"Did you tell Naomi that?" Angela asked curiously.

"Yes," Zach confirmed. "She said to ask my friends, if I had any."

I rolled my eyes. Naomi seemed really rude! "Bitch," I muttered under my breath.

Angela put her hand to Zach's back and pushed him lightly through the doorway. I followed him, whistling slightly as Angela tried to hustle us away, desperate for an excuse not to keep doing the recreations of crypts. "You know, Hodgins is right!" Angela said with bright false enthusiasm. "Let's not keep Booth waiting. Somebody is decomposing as we speak!"

Hodgins fist-pumped encouragingly. "Get out there and bring us home a case, buddy!"

Although Zach was quietly mulling over his (ex-)girlfriend's words, he was keeping up with me as I hurried outside. On the staircase, I let Zach take the lead, and when he was halfway down the long steps leading up to the Jeffersonian entrance, I jumped up sideways onto the railing and spread my arms to keep a precarious balance as I slid down, whooping the whole way. I got an odd look from one of the scientists in another department, but I didn't particularly care.

I opened the door of the SUV and ushered Zach to get in. I took the crime scene equipment from him and lugged it into the trunk, obviously having more energy, and then piled in after the intern, smiling brightly mostly just for show. I was really starting to worry about paying rent this month, since I still wasn't able to return to work, but supposedly I owned the land I lived on and didn't have to pay rent, so I didn't want to raise suspicion by being obviously down in the dumps.

"We got a dead body at a prep school out in the sticks," Booth said, as soon as I started sliding the car door closed. Before I even got my seat belt to click, Booth pressed on the gas pedal and the car started moving.

"Good morning to you, too," I said sarcastically, letting the smile slip off of my face.

"Oh!" Brennan started like she'd just remembered something. "Good morning!"

Zach leaned forward in his seat, straining the seat belt around him. He looked towards Booth beseechingly. "You're successful with women, right? I mean, they like you?"

Booth shifted, obviously uncomfortable with that greeting. "Okay, look, it's a very prestigious prep school with a lot of rich kids."

Brennan also gave Booth a look, like she was scolding him. "I thought you said that it was good to start with 'good morning!'"

Zach didn't stop pushing, instead continuing with all the innocence of a kid with his hand in a cookie jar. "If a woman said to you, 'take a hint,' what would that mean?"

"Could we just concentrate on the job?" Booth barked, making it sound more like an order. I snickered; with how bossy he acts, you'd think he'd take the whole, 'being successful with women' thing as a compliment. Zach, dejected, leaned back in his seat. "Thank you," Booth sighed, relaxing. "Now, I know the sheriff out there. She's mostly okay, but the school's got a lot of pull with the county, and she's probably trying to scrape the whole case off on us. Look, what I'm trying to say is… it's not just a crime scene, but it's a political situation, too, so when we get out there, you follow my lead and you pay attention."

I scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because I care so much about politics – also known as idiots trying to get other idiots to take their favor so they can crush other idiots for their own amusement, and then **** up our country even more!" I finished with a bright tone and a sugary smile, looking directly at the rearview mirror so Booth could see.

It was quiet for a couple of minutes, as Booth didn't know how to respond to the (true to some extents) remark. Zach finally stopped fidgeting and leaned towards Booth again. "You call after every sexual encounter, right? Because that's the good thing to do."

"Oh, God," I half moaned, half laughed.

Booth twitched, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. "Look, this is a work mode. This is a work zone. Do not talk sex at work."

"Do not talk sex at all around me, please," I interjected.

Brennan shook her head in frustration, tossing her hands slightly. "First, you tell me I'm too task-oriented! Then, when I say 'good morning,' you say that I should concentrate on the job!"

Booth tensed at the barrage of unwelcome arguments coming at him, his jugular becoming more defined. "Alright, look! We've got about a forty-five minute drive. What do you say we pass it in quiet meditation?"

Five Minutes Later…

I sighed loudly, interrupting the contemplating silence of the SUV. Zach's attention was torn from his shoes and Brennan looked up slightly at the noise. "Okay, Booth," I said in distress. "I tried. I really, really, tried, but I cannot just sit in silence unless I'm depressed and being particularly self-loathing."

"It's been five minutes!" Booth protested, dismayed that I was opening the field to conversation again.

"And it's been five minutes of mental hell for me!" I retorted. "Would you like to be me and be left to my thoughts?"

Booth thought about this for a moment before admitting, "Judging from what reckless stunts you've pulled? Probably not…"

"Then please turn on the radio or something!"

"No. We are going to be quiet for the next forty minutes!"

Ten Minutes Later…

I hummed loudly and obnoxiously to the song that was currently stuck in my head. I thought the lyrics in my head while I hummed the tune, desperately trying to occupy myself and irritate Booth into giving in at the same time.

Hey, I just met you! And this is crazy! But here's my number, so call me maybe!

Booth's hand suddenly shot out towards the radio. He turned a few knobs. "Alright!" He yelled, thoroughly aggravated. "You win!"

"Thank you!" I said, satisfied.

Fifteen Minutes Later…

I sang along to the song blaring through the speakers. I don't think Zach or Brennan knew the lyrics, so they weren't singing, and Booth was kind of having a rough day, so he wasn't joining in the fun. "THERE AIN'T NO LOAD THAT I CAN'T HOLD! THE ROADS ARE ROUGH, THIS IS KNOW! I'LL BE THERE WHEN THE LIGHT COMES IN! TELL 'EM WE'RE SURVIVORS! LIFE IS A HIGHWAY! I WANNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LONG! IF YOU'RE GOIN' MY WAY, I WANNA DRIVE IT ALL NIGHT LONG!"

Fifteen Minutes Later…

Booth hit the button to turn off the stereo. "We're here," he said, his voice sounding horribly relieved. "Thank God," he added, closing his eyes for a second as he slowed down the automobile and drove through the school's wrought-iron gates.

"Can I talk now?" Zach beseeched wearily.

"No!" Booth sharply determined.

"That's not fair!" Brennan exclaimed, turning around slightly to Zach. "Okay, we're here now."

"My car, my rules!" Booth argued. "Period!"

"Our mouths, our decisions!" I retorted as the car drew up alongside the well-dressed security guards who definitely had guns at their sides.

Booth held up his badge at the officers before smoothly saying, "FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth and a forensic anthropologist."

Brennan leaned forward so that she could be seen around the cocky federal agent. "Dr. Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffersonian Institute," she introduced formally. She pulled her ID card from the Jeffersonian up from the lanyard around her neck and held it out so the security guards could compare the digital image to her person.

Zach strained against the seatbelt to lean forward and into side of the rolled-down driver's window. "Plus one crack assistant."

I joined Zach in the uncomfortable position, smirking. "And one badass consultant."

"I'll need to see some ID, please," the guard said gruffly, obviously talking to Zach and I.

As Booth passed Zach's identification card to the guard, he spoke about me quickly in justification. "She's a federal ward. She's clear."

"This doesn't remind me of where I went to school," Zach noted, looking up through his window at the large manor. Done in fancy red bricking, the school was a collection of buildings, with dorms built in opposing towers for the males and females. The school was enormous and probably had millions put into its construction.

"Yeah, people here don't get much further from the real world," I nodded to Zach. "I hear that the kids here are actually classified because they go here for protection. Their parents are important politicians or other people vital to society in varying countries."

The guard passed Brennan and Zach's ID cards back to Booth, who passed them to Brennan, who kept hers and passed Zach his. "Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, I'll lead you to Mr. Sanders, our head of security."

Booth smiled politely. "If you could just aim us in the right direction, we'll find it."

The guard didn't even change his expression. If possible, his face became even harder. "All outsiders are to be escorted, sir."

"See what I mean?" I murmured to Zach. "They're so obsessed with security that they only trust themselves, not even the federal government." Zach tilted his head slightly towards me to show he was listening. "Which is stupid, really. The feds have all of these background checks and they can pull files whenever, but this private organization here could be infiltrated over time."

The guard walked off to get another person as an escort for us. Booth looked around the property, bored, and trying to find something to catch his attention in the meantime. His eyes settled on a silver slab of stone mounted onto a pedestal with Latin writing scrawled across in italics. "Omnia Mea Mecum Porto," Booth read aloud. He scoffed. "What's that mean, huh? 'Regular people stay out?'"

Brennan, Zach, and I all gave Booth incredulous looks as we said in complete synchrony, "I carry with me all my things."

Booth just turned and gave us a really weird stare until finally a little jeep cruiser pulled up in front and honked. Booth shrugged his shoulders and brushed it off, slowly creeping along behind the sluggish jeep. The cruiser went into the woods, down a small pathway. A couple of blocks out from the school, I couldn't even see the intimidating towers anymore. My view of the near-castle was obscured by the enormous pine trees.

The jeep stopped suddenly and a woman got out. She had dark, wavy hair that was tied up in a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. She had fairly low cheekbones and a healthy red tint to her cheeks. She wore beige pants and a police ranger jacket, the sheriff's six-point star emblem fastened to the front. Her radio clip fastened at her waist, where she had an equipment belt that was home to her pistol and her walkie-talkie. The police can call it whatever they want, it's an enhanced children's toy, plain and simple. "Hey Seeley," she greeted with a slight twang from the suburban county. "How's it going?"

Hanover Preparatory School's headmaster and the officer in charge of security filed out of the car after the sheriff. Booth slammed his car door behind him as he got out, and the resounding noise echoed in the forest surroundings. Brennan paced up to his side confidently while I waited for Zach to get out, holding the door open, and then opening the trunk for him to get his equipment bag.

Booth apparently knew the sheriff, because he greeted her on a first-name basis. "Karen, congratulations on being elected full sheriff. Very impressive."

"Agent Booth," the second man said in a gruff voice. I could tell just by listening that it wasn't his natural tone – he was trying to sound like a bass. It didn't suit him well and sorta just made him look like an idiot. "I'm Leo Sanders, head of security at Hanover Prep. This is Headmaster Peter Ronson."

"Where are the human remains?" Brennan dived straight into the reasons for being here without stopping for chitchat.

Booth covered up his mild annoyance at her with a smile. He motioned to her, and then to Zach and I as we came up beside Brennan. "My federal ward, Holly Kirkland, and Dr. Temperance Brennan and her assistant Jack, uh, something."

I gave Booth a look of disgust, shaking my head. How could he work with someone for more than a week, and have known him beforehand, and still not even know his name? That's just… sad. "Zach Addy," Zach corrected, perturbed.

Brennan tapped her foot, not wanting to wait any longer to go through the social catch-up games. "Could you show me to the remains?" She asked again.

The sheriff started to lead the way through the underbrush, leaving the cars in the clearing as we passed into what could have been a little picnic area. It even had a bench built under the midmorning shade. "I don't know if you remember me, but we worked together on a case. A bunch of bones found in a culvert about a year ago?" The sheriff asked Brennan conversationally.

"I remember the bones in the culvert," Brennan assured her.

I face palmed. "Dr. Brennan, that wasn't the question…"

Booth sped up slightly and whispered to Brennan, irritation very obvious. "You know Bones, being nice to the locals by remembering their names and such wouldn't hurt."

The headmaster inclined his chin, demanding attention as he cleared his throat. Zach, Brennan, and I were the only people who didn't look to him. If someone wants my attention and I haven't deemed them worth bothering myself for, then they can address me instead of acting pompously. He's not the King of France… although I doubt I would care much if the King of France were being rude, either, I'd still probably disrespect him blatantly, and then possibly be executed. Uh… yeah. "Our two week term break ends tomorrow. I'd like to get this tidied up so the students never know what happened."

"It's amazing how you assume your students are all morons," I commented. "I mean, I hope they know how to operate a computer or read a newspaper. FBI vans and local police swarming an elite prep school? No media coverage whatsoever? Ha! Don't make me laugh. I would also hope that they notice if one of their peers suddenly disappears with no explanation."

"We don't know what happened yet," Brennan stayed more on topic than I was. "But that's why we're here. Did anyone touch the body?"

The sheriff shook her head. "I doubt it. It's pretty grisly."

"Not big on small talk, is she?" Sanders muttered to Booth just loud enough for me to overhear.

"Dr. Brennan is very focused."

Brennan looked around before looking back to the sheriff, shaking her head in disdain. "Where are the remains?"

Booth looked around curiously before his eyes traveled upwards in exasperation. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, slightly comical. He pointed up to a tree behind me. I turned back around and saw the corpse, dangling from what I guess is a crudely-made noose. "Is that a student?" Booth asked while I pointed out the cadaver to Brennan and Zach.

"It's a secure campus. It's got to be a student, staff, or faculty," Sanders said without pause. He sure is confident, isn't he?

Brennan stretched out a pair of light blue latex gloves, blowing air into them to loosen them before trying to stretch them around her hands and up to her wrists. "Zach, video first. I don't want your flash disturbing the crows."

Sanders puffed. "Yeah, that would be a shame. Disturb the human flesh-eating birds."

I rounded on the security officer, getting pissed off at him. "Yeah, it would, wouldn't it? Considering that, if it was foul play, then the 'human flesh-eating birds' could contain or be indicative to key evidence proving homicide or murder accessory. But, then again, who cares if someone was murdered, just so long as you get paid for doing your job and protecting the staff and students, even though you obviously didn't do so well." I glared. Being a smartass was something I'd always been good at and always will be good at.

"Do you want to increase the perimeter here?" Booth rushed to change the subject before a dispute could begin. "Gentlemen, give my forensic anthropologists some room."

Zach didn't look away as he started to record the crime scene on his CSI camera. "Your forensic anthropologists?" He repeated skeptically.

The sheriff motioned for the other officers present to do as asked before starting, "Agent Booth, if you decide that this becomes a suicide, it becomes my problem, correct?"

I growled lowly. "Actually, the nature of the death is up to us, the people actually finding out what happened instead of just standing around and waving badges, to determine."

The sheriff staggered backwards, taken aback by the show of hostility. "Let's give the bone people some room," she called, extending the perimeters.

Booth strolled up, rolling his eyes at me. "You know, I'm glad we had that little chat about being nice to the locals."

"I believe I made myself perfectly clear that I don't give a damn about the locals," I stated bluntly.

"I don't like sheriffs," Brennan denied. "They are elected into office, which means their goal is being re-elected, not finding the truth."

"I got the video, Dr. Brennan," Zach interrupted.

"Go to stills."

The headmaster approached, his expression grim and slightly queasy. "Can we just get him down from there?" He asked, clearly unnerved by the dangling corpse.

"There's a lot of work to do before we get to that," Brennan explained semi-patiently.

"You want to step back, please, sir?" Booth asked, holding out his arm and taking a step back, trying to peacefully coerce the man into doing as asked.

The headmaster took it as an insult. "I'm the headmaster here!"

I snapped around once more and started cracking my knuckles threateningly. "And this is a crime scene. Now unless you want to miraculously learn forensic science in about five minutes or less and then conclude COD, and if it was murder, the motive, weapon, and perpetrator, I suggest you take a step back and stop breathing down our necks. You called us here to do a job, so stop hindering our progress and maybe we'll actually be able to get it done!" I shouted.

A slight cracking noise startled me and I looked back to the tree. The dangling corpse remained in place, but a few ravens flew off, squawking. The head, slowly at first, started slipping, before rolling and falling down through the branches and into Brennan's reaching grasp. I blinked, not entirely sure how to react to that. Brennan didn't even make a face. "We're going to need an evidence bag," she declared.

Booth, who was still watching the corpse, flinched. "Heads up!"

Without the head to keep it in place via pressure on the noose, the body began to fall through the branches before landing on the ground with a sickening plop, several pines drifting down to the ground on top of it. I blinked again before calling to the CSI team, "I think we're going to need a larger bag."

"I make this a male, approximately five foot six, one hundred thirty pounds. From the looks of his sternum and skull, I would say mid-adolescence, say fourteen to seventeen… high cheek bones – You think maybe Asian?" Brennan stopped in her slow walk down the length of the exam table, looking up to Angela for a sign of agreement or contradiction.

Angela rocked her head. "I'm getting more of a Hispanic vibe."

"There is a significant crematogaster ant colony in the tree that fed on the body, as well as tabanid maggots. I'll give you a time of death estimate when I figure who ate what when," the resident bug and slime analyst declared.

"I love being around you people when I'm starting to get hungry," I shared sarcastically. "Whenever I start craving food, the appetite goes away and I don't have to worry about it anymore." Luckily for me, the Medico-Legal team didn't usually take lunch until a couple more hours from now.

"Check for insect pupa and larvae; see what kind of medications and/or drugs might have been in his system," Brennan ordered Hodgins.

Zach held up a pendant on a skinny necklace. "He was wearing this."

Angela looked at the pendant and sighed sadly. "Catholic boy."

"One by two forceps," Brennan continued, spotting something. She grabbed a surgical instrument from the table and nudged a disc-shaped, small item from behind the corpse's ear curiously.

"Oh my God," Angela gagged. "What is that?"

"Cochlear implant," I said, recognizing the design. "The birds sure weren't going to be very happy with their treasure. It's not edible."

Angela hit her sketchpad against her thighs, waiting for an assignment and something to do with her hands. "That would set a boy apart from the others – being deaf."

Brennan set the implant on a little metal tray and handed it over to Zach. "Get a serial number."

"I'll get x-rays and 3D imaging of the entire skeleton," Angela asserted.

Zach didn't immediately do as he was told, instead hovering for a moment. "I didn't talk to anyone in high school, but I didn't kill myself."

Hodgins laughed derisively. "That wasn't a high school. It was an experimental Eugenics program!"

I scowled, crossing my arms across my chest and leering down at the headmaster, who sat behind his desk collectedly. "How hard can it be to find out which one of your students is missing?" I demanded coldly.

"We can't just call parents and say, 'we found a rotting body. Do you know where your child is?'" Sanders returned the leering glare full-force, but there was no way he was going to out-bitch me.

"Why not?" I threw my arms up. "Seems to me like it'd be pretty effective!"

"We can do a full role call tomorrow," the headmaster said assertively. "All of our higher-risk students are accounted for."

I huffed. "Oh, well, that's okay then! Why don't Agent Booth and I just go to the mall arcade to pass the time until lunch? I mean, as long as the high-risk students are accounted for!"

"What are our options?" The headmaster asked me, clearly less interested in a bitch war than the head of Hanover Prep security. "Vis-à-vis, publicity, media?"

"That's really not my problem, and if that's what you're worried about, then you need to get your priorities straight, man," I corrected, nodding slowly.

Sanders shifted his weight to his other leg. "There are students here we really don't want the whole world to know about."

"It's obviously a suicide!" The headmaster laughed as though a homicide scenario was preposterous. "It's not as if we're asking you to forgo the glory of catching a murderer!"

"Reality check," I sneered. "Dr. Brennan, Mr. Addy, and I are the ones that decide whether or not it was a suicide, and right now you're not getting any cover-up favors from me!" The phone on the headmaster's desk started to ring and the headmaster looked from me to the phone, a very pointed message for me to leave. "Go ahead. Answer the call. I've got time to kill."

The headmaster picked up the phone warily, eyeing me nervously as I arched my eyebrows at the overly-cynical behavior. "Hanover Academy's headmaster speaking." He nodded after a moment and extended the phone to me. "It's your…" he paused for a moment before saying, "Colleague."

I took the phone, flopping down in a chair opposite the headmaster and twisting the wire of the telephone around my finger. "Holly Kirkland," I said boredly.

"We'll have the identity of the boy in the tree within an hour," Brennan replied, sounding slightly excited.

"That was fast," I noted. "So identification is possible through the serial number?"

"That's correct, but the interesting thing is that…"

"Ah," I interrupted, nodding, taking the opportunity to mess with the heads of the headmaster and Sanders. "You can fill me in later."

Brennan protested. "No, but the interesting thing is that it's-"

"That is correct," I said, nodding wisely and pretending that I was being asked something.

"What?"

"That is interesting!" I exclaimed.

Brennan paused. I heard her puff, exasperated. "Are you drunk or something?"

"We'll catch up later," I reassured her. "Thanks for calling. You, Booth, and I can all go grab some Chinese food and you can fill me in on all of the details." Without waiting for a response, I clicked down on the end call button on the receiver, setting the telephone back into position.

Sanders' lips pursed. "A death is very upsetting to a community as tight as ours."

"Right," I said with a false smile, nodding understandingly. "Famous for keeping your students safe, but then, you can't be held responsible if a tragically troubled student decides to kill himself."

"We all agree that suicide is the only feasible conclusion," Sanders pushed further.

"See, that's all good for you and your little gambling pool," I said, getting back into the bitch war. "But, oh, wait… that's not actually your decision to make!" I stood up from the chair, clapping my hands together. I'd have to say, my first questioning without Booth went pretty smoothly. "But in the meantime, I'm glad we understand each other. I'll need a complete enrollment list including teachers, staff, students, and excess faculty. And don't forget security," I added, clicking my tongue.

Sanders smiled condescendingly like I was a funny joke to laugh at. "That's extremely confidential information."

"Luckily for you, I'm good at keeping secrets."