I'm back, baby! First and foremost, I have to give a shout to my wonderfully awesome friend chosenname. She's been proofing for me, helping me iron out the kinks in my plot, and providing some really great insight. She's also responsible for the title of the next installment after this, which I like even better than the two that I chose myself. :) Thanks, lady - you're the best!

So, let's see... This one picks up with the season 2 opener, which takes place in early September. The last story ended around mid-June, so we have a bit of a time jump. I know a lot of people are really looking forward to this story, so please, pretty please review and let me know if the first chapter lived up to your expectations. :) Also, if you're just stumbling upon my writing, you should really start with the first installment of this series: Right from the Start. Otherwise, you'll be pretty lost.

Oh, and I opted for faster updates and chapters in the 6K word range. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

As much as his girlfriend might like to call him a Luddite, Special Agent Seeley Booth was as dependent on his cell phone as anyone else in the digital age. Though it had been his idea to turn off their phones for the duration of their stay in North Carolina, he had to admit that it had made him feel a little cut off from the world. He'd been eternally thankful that Russ Brennan didn't seem to share his sister's aversion to possessing a television; at least Booth was still up to date on his sports teams.

They'd provided Rebecca and Angela with Russ's number for emergencies, but thankfully none had come up. Booth had a feeling it would most likely be the last time they'd get away with a nearly complete disconnect from their jobs. Not long before they'd left DC, he'd been informed of a promotion coming his way thanks to his work in the Devon Marshall case. Apparently, exposing a multi-level military conspiracy was enough to draw the attention of more than one person up the food chain at the FBI. He was now Seeley Booth, Special Agent in Charge, and he was to head up the Major Crimes division in the DC field office. It meant a significant pay increase and, if he'd wanted it, a bigger office. He'd turned that part of the offer down, however, electing to remain in close proximity with the agents who worked under him.

He and Brennan had had a busy summer. Almost immediately after they'd agreed to move in together officially, Brennan had gotten in touch with a real estate agent, and after a surprisingly small amount of bickering over the financial details, the couple had agreed on a price range. Booth had wanted to split everything fifty-fifty, but there were things on Brennan's wish list that came at a higher price than Booth could afford. In the end, they'd settled for proportionate contributions: each of them would put thirty percent of their income and savings toward their new home. Booth had grumbled a little, but in the end he'd decided that it was more important to him that she was as happy as possible with their new home-and that she felt safe there.

Brennan's kidnapping had taken its toll on her psychologically, and if Booth were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he was still having some difficulty as well. It had taken her a solid month to stop having regular nightmares about her experience; Booth was still having them. Brennan had wanted to go back to work after a week, but Booth had been able to talk her into waiting two weeks instead. He'd also insisted on driving her to the lab and walking her in and out each day. Booth had been surprised when she hadn't argued with him on that point, until he'd realized that parking garages were sending her anxiety levels through the roof.

Their new home was an actual house with a private garage and a security system, and that had been something on which neither of them had been willing to negotiate. As much as they both might wish to move on from her kidnapping, it had still played a factor in their house hunting. When Booth had realized the price range she was using to find their house, he had been a little worried that they might end up in something far too large and grandiose for his tastes. However, she had surprised him by falling in love with a 1920's era house with a great deal of character and charm. Their new home was located in an older but very safe neighborhood near Rock Creek Park, and the lot was surrounded by mature trees that offered a great deal of privacy. The yard was fenced and boasted a moderately-sized swimming pool, which Parker had been particularly excited about. There were four bedrooms, an office for Brennan, a 'man-cave' for Booth, and even an additional rec room in the basement that could serve as small gym.

They'd closed on the house right after Parker's fifth birthday in mid-July, but it had taken them several weeks to complete the move, even with help from their friends. Brennan's second book, Cross Bones, had been published in July as well, and her publicity schedule had been very full for the few weeks that followed. Booth had insisted on coming with her to each signing, and he'd watched with pride as she seemed to handle each successive interview a little better than the last.

Once they'd finally gotten settled in their new home, Brennan had agreed to take her brother up on his invitation to spend a couple of weeks with him in North Carolina. Her kidnapping, along with everything else that had come up during the summer months, had necessitated a delay in their plans until late August, after Parker had started kindergarten. Booth had hoped that Brennan would use the time to simply relax, recover more fully from her ordeal, and enjoy the beach with him. Though she did her best to accomplish those things, Brennan managed to complete her third novel as well. Red Tape, White Bones was tentatively scheduled to be released in March of the following year.

The plan to turn off their cell phones for two weeks had been part of Booth's efforts to get his girlfriend to rest and finally take a real vacation. He was pleased that it seemed to have worked for the most part. She had reconnected with her brother, gotten to know his girlfriend and her daughters, and was looking more at peace with herself than she had in months.

The drive home from North Carolina had been long, and his back had ached a little as he'd pulled the SUV into the garage. Brennan had slept for the first half of the trip and had spent the rest of it doing her best to torment him with her wandering hands. Although they'd shared the guest room at Russ's place, there hadn't been the kind of privacy Booth had hoped for-particularly when he'd gotten an eyeful of the skimpy bikini Brennan had packed. She'd been frustrated with the need to keep their voices down, and by the time they'd walked through their front door, she'd been so eager to release her pent up energy that she'd begun to strip her clothes off before Booth had even closed the door behind them.

They'd made love with an almost desperate passion, each of them taking full advantage of the freedom to be as vocal as they liked. Their clothing had been scattered around the main level as they moved through each room, stopping at one wall or another, then a bare space of kitchen countertop, until they'd finally collapsed on the living room sofa. By the time Booth had coaxed her upstairs to get some sleep, they'd been home for over an hour.

As he watched Brennan get ready for bed, he noted the tan lines her bathing suit had left behind and was happy to note that her bruises had healed. Booth was still struggling a bit with his guilt, but he was dealing with it as well as he could. Brennan did her best to soothe him with logic, but while he appreciated her efforts, it didn't always work.

Booth blamed the multiple distractions for his belated realization that their phones were still turned off, and although it was late, he powered his back on to check his messages. It was a good idea to know what he'd be walking into the next morning at work. Less than sixty seconds after he'd turned the thing back on, it was ringing loudly, and he scowled at the caller ID. Seriously?

"Booth," he answered cautiously. Brennan watched his expression shift to chagrin as he listened to the voice on the other end. She raised her brows questioningly, and Booth's answer was to throw off the blankets and locate some clean clothes. Crime scene, she thought, copying his movements. She watched him shrug into a dark t-shirt and his green canvas jacket, and she had to admit that the ensemble was pleasing, even if she did tend to prefer him naked.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan is with me. Her phone is turned off; sorry about that. I'll bring her." Their relationship was common knowledge at the Hoover as well as the Jeffersonian, and their colleagues knew that one could always be reached via the other. At his words, Brennan's eyes widened in surprise that she'd forgotten about her phone. Returning what would undoubtedly be dozens, if not hundreds, of emails and messages was a daunting prospect, and as soon as she had redressed, she grabbed her blackberry and pressed the power key.

Booth finished his phone call and followed Brennan back downstairs to locate his shoes. He grumbled a little as he pulled them back on, having been very happy to have taken them off not long ago. He watched as she searched the living room and kitchen floors for her jacket, admiring the low-cut crimson top she'd chosen. Booth was glad they'd 'satisfied their biological urges' before turning their phones back on, or else this could have been a really long night.

"Where is it?" Brennan asked, checking the contents of her bag quickly and heading toward the garage.

"Not far, but let's hurry. I don't know how long they'd been trying to get a hold of us."

"I can't believe we forgot to turn our phones on till now… What if the FBI techs have compromised evidence?" They slammed their doors shut, and Brennan buckled her seatbelt as he pulled the SUV out of the garage and backed down the driveway.

"I'm hurrying, Bones," he assured her as he flipped on the lights and siren. "You know, we might have remembered the phones earlier if someone hadn't been so keen to have her way with me the second we walked through the door," he teased her.

"Those sounds you were making didn't sound like complaints," she replied smugly. He chuckled back, not disagreeing. Brennan scrolled through her unread emails until one of them caught her attention rather abruptly.

"I have a new boss?" she said, shocked.

"Really? I didn't hear anything. What happened to Goodman?" Booth watched her scowl grow more pronounced as she read the email.

"I knew he was considering a reorganization, particularly to set up forensics as its own department, but I had no idea it was happening so soon. I've got a new boss I've never even heard of, and since I don't even recognize her name, I highly doubt she's qualified. Why didn't Goodman ask me to take over forensics?"

"Well…" he hesitated, having a pretty good idea why Goodman hadn't offered her the job and valuing his life too greatly to say it out loud. "Who's the new person?"

"A Dr. Camille Saroyan. I've never heard of her…"

Booth looked at her sharply, surprise altering his handsome features.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"Yeah, that's Cam. I told you about her."

Brennan thought back to that conversation. They'd been together for over eight months now, and they had shared many details of their pasts with one another. She recalled that Booth had met 'Cam' in college, and they had been what Angela would call 'friends with occasional benefits' for a time. Although they were nothing more than friends now, Brennan was a little uncertain at the prospect of having this woman as a supervisor.

"You never told me her last name," she remarked distractedly. Booth could read the anxiety in her expression and sought to reassure her.

"It'll be okay, Bones. You'll like her." At least I hope you will.

"Really?"

"Well… no, probably not. But she'll grow on you."

"That's unlikely; women's bones stop growing around age twenty-"

"It's a figure of speech, Bones. I meant that you'll like her eventually." He glanced at her, noting that she didn't look at all reassured. "You know, I don't know if I mentioned it before, but Cam was actually the one who suggested that I consult with you on the Gemma Arrington case."

"No, you didn't mention it." Brennan was now even more ambivalent. As much as she disliked the idea of having to work with someone new who wouldn't know how things worked in the lab, she also didn't want to imagine her life without Booth in it. She supposed she should be grateful to this unknown woman, but Brennan was still offended that she wasn't approached about the position.

Booth was silent as they drove nearer to the crime scene. He was surprised that Cam hadn't told him she would be coming to work with them. They didn't speak often these days, but he knew that she was aware of his position as liaison to the Medico-Legal lab. He'd have thought that something like this would have at least warranted an email. Although it was possible that she had emailed him while they'd been on vacation.

"Everything will be fine, Bones. Cam is very competent, and I'm sure she'll be up to the job." Brennan pursed her lips doubtfully but didn't reply.

Oh boy, he thought nervously. She's got her game face on.

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They arrived at the scene of a derailed passenger train, and Brennan pulled her hair into a ponytail as they walked toward the wreckage. The fire department was still working to extinguish the flames that engulfed one of the passenger cars, and emergency personnel scurried about, recovering injured passengers as well as dead bodies.

A thin, attractive woman emerged from a piece of wreckage holding a severed arm and shouting to an EMT that the owner of the arm would bleed out in ten minutes if they didn't locate him. She addressed the paramedic by his first name and set the timer on the watch still strapped around the wrist of the arm.

"Seeley," she greeted him with a smile. Her warm tone made Brennan's eyes narrow.

"Camille," Booth replied staunchly

"Don't call me Camille."

"Don't call me Seeley. This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bones, this is Dr. Camille Saroyan."

"Cam," she corrected. "Or Dr. Saroyan is fine too." The two women sized each other up briefly, and Booth felt the tension level rise another few degrees. Uh-oh. "Dr. Brennan, I'd like you to check out the automobile this train hit. It's probably what caused the derailment."

"Accidental?" Booth asked as Brennan watched her new boss wrap gauze around the bloody portion of the arm she was still holding.

"NTSB guy says the train struck the car at least two hundred yards from the nearest access."

"Deliberate," Booth surmised.

"Probably suicide," Cam suggested, calling over her shoulder again to the EMT whom she'd charged with finding the owner of the severed arm. "Why are you still here, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan bristled at her presumptive tone and replied coolly, "Because I'm not a coroner."

"The remains in the vehicle are badly burned," Cam explained. As she began to walk away, she glanced back at Booth and said, "You look good out of your suit, Seeley. But then, you always did."

Brennan's eyes widened at her forwardness, and Booth shifted uncomfortably beside her.

"Yeah, that's…great to have you back in DC, Camille." He brushed a hand over the back of his neck and eyed Brennan's irritated expression.

"One minute she's holding a severed arm, the next, she's hitting on you." Brennan tried to maintain an apathetic tone, but Booth was undeceived and tried to soothe her.

"No, she wasn't hitting on me. Come on, let's go make sure no one's compromised your remains…"

Brennan scowled but followed him to the charred vehicle that had been struck by the train. She had become accustomed to the fact that their relationship was out in the open, and as such, most of the women they encountered at work no longer stared hungrily after her boyfriend. This was not to say that she didn't still notice him being checked out now and then-he was exceptionally well-structured, after all. It was to be expected. But the sight of her new boss eyeing him with such appreciation and speaking to him so brazenly had taken her by surprise. It was not a pleasant sensation.

"May I approach?" she asked a firefighter who was examining the vehicle.

"All yours, Dr. Brandon."

"Brennan. Dr. Brennan."

"You want to guess my name?"

"No, but there are thousands of you in DC and only one of me," she replied, leaning into the car with her flashlight. Booth winced at her lack of tact and watched the firefighter shake his head derisively as he walked away. He pulled his note cards and pen from his pocket and waited patiently while she began her preliminary exam. Her frustration seemed to radiate from her body in waves, and Booth sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long case.

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"Come on, Bones, let's go back home and get a few hours' sleep. The techs will get everything to the lab, and you can start fresh in the morning."

"No, I need to go in for a while. You can always drop me off and go back home if you want," she offered. She'd heard Cam say that she was headed back to the lab with the bodies of several victims, one of whom had been a senator. There was no way Brennan was going home yet.

"I'll think about it," he hedged. "Probably just crash in your office." Brennan had slept for a good portion of their drive back from North Carolina, but the fatigue from driving as well as their exertions when they'd gotten home had left Booth exhausted.

Brennan made for the platform immediately, and Booth had been on his way to her office couch when Cam intercepted him. She wanted to catch up. Great.

"I'm surprised you didn't tell me you were coming to work here, Cam."

"Well, I did try, actually. I emailed you, but I got your out-of-office reply. Your phone went straight to voicemail too, so I figured I'd just surprise you," she replied with a twinkling smile. Booth felt a little guilty for assuming she'd been intentionally deceitful, but he stiffened slightly when she touched his arm.

"Yeah, I was on vacation and turned my phone off," he answered, inching away from her. "When I turned it back on earlier, I got the call for the crime scene before I could get through my messages."

"For someone who just got back from vacation, you look pretty tired, Seeley."

"It was a long drive. Look, can we catch up later?" Booth could see Brennan eyeing them speculatively from the platform, and he didn't want Cam's demeanor toward him to add to her present irritation.

"Sure," Cam replied easily. They joined the others on the platform, and Brennan did her best to keep her eyes on the remains. She wondered irritably if this Dr. Saroyan was completely dense. Even Brennan had been able to read Booth's discomfort with her familiarity, and he'd been a good twenty feet away.

The entire team was present despite the lateness of the hour, and as much as Booth wanted to close his eyes for a while, he figured that if the squints were burning the midnight oil, he probably should as well.

"Okay, what have we got?" Booth asked in his usual manner, tucking his access card back into his pocket. Zack spoke up first.

"Male. Forties. Approximately six-foot-seven, right handed."

"Six-foot-seven?" He turned a monitor toward himself to have a look, but Brennan swatted at him gently and moved it back.

"Athlete in his youth; worn shoulders from repetitive motion," she added.

"Baseball pitcher maybe?"

"More like a-" she made an upward arc with her hands.

"Basketball," Zack and Booth said in unison.

"At six-foot-seven, it makes sense," Angela agreed.

"Every bone in his body is broken," Zack commented.

"Dude, he got hit by a train." Hodgins joined the conversation and indicated the partially melted ID bracelet they'd removed from the victim. Three letters, W-A-R, and a romantic inscription from a woman named Brianna were all he needed to make a presumptive ID. "This is Warren Lynch."

"Who's Warren Lynch?" Zack and Brennan echoed the name together in confusion.

"No way," Booth answered in disbelief. Damn, he thought, losing track of the conversation for a moment. This would be a high profile case. A headache, potentially a media nightmare. Please be a suicide, please be a suicide.

"It wasn't a suicide," Brennan announced. Zack supported her finding.

"The jagged edges to the breaks, small fragments, lack of circular or radiating fractures or adherent spurs…"

"What does that mean?" Cam asked. Brennan tried not to smirk at the woman's ignorance as she answered.

"This man was dead for several hours before the train hit him."

Cam gazed at the remains with pursed lips for a moment and left to make a few phone calls. Brennan's eyes followed her momentarily before coming back to rest upon Booth, and she sighed ruefully. Everything about him screamed exhausted. She gave him a sad little smile and jerked her chin slightly in the direction of her office. He nodded and returned her smile with warm affection before ambling back down the steps.

Her office couch was more comfortable than the one she'd had at her old apartment: something that had always bothered Booth a little. It was as though she had intentionally selected furniture in opposition to the norm. Wasn't the more comfortable sofa supposed to be at home? Not long after they'd become partners, he realized that she'd done exactly that. She had felt more at home here in the lab than she had in her own apartment.

At least that's how it used to be, Booth thought with a confident grin as he stretched out across the cushions. Sleep found him quickly, and it was several hours before the silence of her office was interrupted.

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Brennan's mood had not improved as the night wore on. After a few more hours of analysis, Cam had instructed them all to go home and sleep but to return by ten a.m. the following morning. Technically it was already morning, and Brennan's own exhaustion was wearing on her. Hodgins followed her as she made her way toward her office.

"You should be okay with Dr. Saroyan getting the Head of Forensics job," he announced once they were inside. Booth's eyes remained closed, though he was certainly no longer asleep, and he listened curiously to what the man had to say.

"Why is that?" Brennan replied.

"Because you are a strictly rubber-to-the-road, hardball scientist. Not a flesh-pressing, ink-stained, policy-making...wanktard." Brennan features twisted in confusion at the word, and she kept her eyes on her desk as she shuffled a few files around.

"What are her qualifications?"

"Chief Coroner of New York for two years, Assistant Federal Coroner before that. How am I doing?" Cam replied from the open doorway. Brennan gritted her teeth a little at Cam's appearance, but she masked her dislike with skill that she hadn't long possessed.

"Very well. Impressive."

Booth's phone rang suddenly from the other end of the room, and three pairs of eyes turned toward the sound. Though Brennan had known he was there and even known he was listening, Cam and Hodgins had not. Cam was surprised to see him so at ease in Brennan's office, and her brows rose slightly as she watched him answer the call.

"Booth." His gaze met Brennan's, communicating silently that they wouldn't be going home just yet. She sighed and shrugged out of her lab coat. "Yeah, we'll be there in fifteen minutes." He ended the call and got up from the couch, helping Brennan into her jacket and inclining his head briefly toward their audience.

With a distracted wave and a hand to the small of her back, they were gone.

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"Does Cam know that we're together?" Brennan asked him from the passenger seat of the SUV. She wanted to know exactly how offended she should be by her new boss's behavior. Booth eyed her cautiously and didn't immediately recognize the expression on her face. It was...possessive. He fought to keep the satisfied grin from his face and answered her honestly.

"Well, if she does, she didn't hear it from me. I haven't talked to her more than once or twice since we became partners, and even that was before we got together. I'd think Goodman would've told her, but maybe he didn't."

"Hmm," she grunted back, keeping her eyes on the road in front of them.

"You know, you're pretty hot when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," she denied.

"Maybe just a little?" he teased. "Bones, you don't have anything to worry about. You know that, right? Anything Cam and I may have had that went beyond friendship is long since over. I've only got eyes for you, baby. No need to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous." Her words were insistent, but her features had relaxed a bit. Brennan knew she was being silly. She knew Booth was committed to their relationship and wasn't interested in anyone else, but damn it if her palms didn't itch to smack that sultry look right off Cam's face…

Booth reached across to take her hand and brought it to his lips. He did that a lot while driving, and she knew it was his way of comforting her as safely as he could from behind the wheel. If they'd been anywhere else, he would've pulled her into an embrace.

"Don't worry, Bones," he said with a gentle smile. "I'm all yours."

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Charlie approached them almost immediately after they stepped out of the elevator, and he handed Booth a file before exchanging a few quiet words. Booth thanked him and guided Brennan down the familiar hallway.

Assistant US Attorney Lisa Supek was waiting for them in the conference room at the Hoover, flanked by two men whom she introduced as Mr. Hobbs from the National Transportation and Safety Board and Mr. Burrows from the Securities Exchange Commission. Ms. Supek looked distinctly unhappy, though whether that was due to the lateness of the hour or their current case was unclear.

They listened as Hobbs summarized the circumstances of the train crash, and Ms. Supek directed her first question to Brennan, asking if the Jeffersonian had been able to confirm that the driver of the car was Warren Lynch.

Brennan replied in the affirmative, citing matching dental records and physical characteristics, and Booth added that the vehicle involved in the crash was registered to Lynch. The jewelry found on the body also belonged to him, and if more proof were needed, he quickly showed the group a traffic cam photo of Lynch driving his car illegally in the carpool lane. Brennan confirmed that the car in the picture was definitely the one on the tracks.

"You can't honestly expect someone to believe that Warren Lynch committed suicide by driving into a train," Ms. Supek challenged. Before Brennan could do more than shake her head, Mr. Burrows spoke up from her left.

"We were about to lay charges against Mr. Lynch that would not only wipe him out financially but send him to prison for several years."

"I'd heard rumors, but for a man like Lynch to kill himself…" Ms. Supek shook her head incredulously.

"Mr. Lynch did not commit suicide," Brennan announced.

"Dr. Brennan's examination shows that he was dead for at least six hours before the train struck the car," Booth added.

"Dead how?"

"I don't know that yet," Brennan answered the woman.

"But can we assume that it was foul play?" she pressed. Burrows interjected that Lynchpin International stock would have plummeted with the announcement of Lynch's death, and anyone betting that the share price would fall would stand to collect a massive amount of money when it actually happened.

"How much are we talking?" Ms. Supek asked.

"Tens, maybe hundreds, of millions."

Brennan had to agree with Booth that it certainly appeared to be a justifiable motive for murder, but they had one more person to talk to before they could finally go home. The victim's wife, Brianna, was waiting for them in Booth's office with her attorney.

The woman admitted that she and her husband had both been unfaithful in their marriage, and Warren Lynch had even gone so far as to hire a private investigator to look into his wife's misdeeds. Booth asked for the name of the PI and ground his teeth a little when he heard the answer.

Rick Turco was a scummy kind of guy who took care of the dirty dealings for a number of wealthy clients. Booth had come across him a handful of times in past investigations, and even his reputation as a slimy bastard didn't do him justice. He wasn't looking forward to crossing paths with him again.

Once the two women had left his office, he turned to Brennan and pulled her against him with a deep sigh. Their lips brushed together softly, and both could read the exhaustion in each other's eyes.

"Let's go home, Booth. We can get a few hours' sleep before I have to be back at the lab." He agreed with a nod and pressed one more kiss to her full lips before ushering her out the door.

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Ten a.m. came too quickly for both partners, but Brennan would never intentionally neglect to show up for work on time, no matter how much she might dislike her boss.

"You can park inside, Booth," she told him quietly. He looked at her in surprise. She hadn't been in the parking structure since her kidnapping.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Brennan replied simply. She noticed his solicitous gaze and added, "I can't avoid it forever, Booth. This is where I work. And you're with me… I know it's safe." There was an odd tension in her voice, but Booth decided follow her lead. He squeezed the hand he'd been holding a little tighter and pulled into the garage.

Brennan's pulse accelerated predictably, but she was able to slow it with a few deep breaths. She actually waited for Booth to circle round and open her door for her, clutching his hand firmly until they were past the first security checkpoint. He leaned his head toward her to kiss her temple as they walked.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered. She aimed a hesitant but appreciative smile up at him and relaxed her grip to a normal level. It may have been a small step, but her progress reassured him. The last few months had been a careful balance between healing and hurting, between comfort and compartmentalization. Booth sincerely hoped that they could both continue to move forward from the experience.

As they walked into the lab, Hodgins reported the presence of two types of glass on their victim. One was an automotive safety glass, and the other was most likely from a glass jar of some sort. Zack had been squinting at the bones for quite a while already that morning, and Brennan suspected he might not have gone home the previous evening.

"The victim's left elbow and shoulder were badly dislocated post-mortem," he announced when Booth and Brennan entered his 'Ookey Room.'

"You mean between the time he died and the time he got hit by the train," Booth surmised. Brennan examined the scan briefly to confirm Zack's finding.

"Blood flow was nonexistent when the dislocation occurred," she agreed.

"Okay. You guys do this stuff, and I'll start on Turco."

"What's that?" Zack asked.

"Private investigator."

"Turco's an affliction," Booth added in disgust. "I'll set up a meeting and pick you up later, Bones."

She nodded and returned his peck on the lips before he left the room and strode out of the lab, swinging his arms rhythmically as he went.

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Brennan was grateful that Cam seemed intent on cloistering herself in her newly refurbished autopsy room for the majority of the day. This meant that Brennan could focus on her remains and make some real progress on the analysis without her new boss looking over her shoulder. It didn't necessarily guarantee her privacy however; Angela had taken up residence on the platform and was diligently mining for every nugget of information Brennan was willing to give her regarding her vacation.

Yes, Booth liked the bikini she'd helped Brennan pick out. No, they didn't have sex on the beach. Because she preferred to keep sand out of certain areas, thank-you-very-much. Yes, she and Russ got along fine. So did Booth. Yes, they talked about finding her father…

However, when Angela brought the conversation around to Goodman's personnel decisions, Brennan schooled her features into an unaffected expression.

"You didn't actually want the job, did you?"

"I don't even know what the job is," Brennan replied neutrally, studying the scan she was creating of the superior portion of the victim's right femur.

"Well, Goodman won't explain his decision." Not that Angela hadn't tried to wheedle it out of him. Brennan huffed a sarcastic laugh and shook her head.

"Goodman appointed Dr. Saroyan while I was on vacation, then took a two month sabbatical to avoid me. That explains a lot."

Angela winced sympathetically. She'd been surprised at Goodman's decision as well, though she had to admit that Cam seemed like a reasonably good fit for the job thus far.

"Okay, well I think it's because you're very task-oriented," she said, trying to remain upbeat.

"Task-oriented is a euphemism for lacking overall perspective," Brennan replied.

"No, no… Well, yeah. A little bit. I mean don't me wrong, Sweetie, you have a better grasp on perspective than you used to…"

"Before Booth, you mean."

"Well… yeah," she said a little weakly. She quickly latched on to the other thing she'd wanted to ask Brennan about. "Hey, speaking of Booth," she lowered her voice and leaned toward her friend. "What was going on with you two last night?"

"I don't know what you mean," Brennan replied blankly.

"I mean, Cam was getting all flirty with Booth, and you looked like you wanted to scratch her eyes out. What was that all about?"

Brennan rolled her eyes for effect and sighed. Angela wasn't far from the truth.

"You're being hyperbolic; I wasn't looking at her any such way. I assume you're asking how Booth and Cam know each other already when he was as clueless about her new position as I was. The answer is that they've been friends since college but haven't been in contact much over the past year."

"Honey, there was more than a friend vibe coming off Cam," Angela persisted. "And 'hyperbolic,' my ass. Subtlety is not your strong suit." Brennan ignored that and responded only to her first comment.

"They were intimate for short time, but Booth says that part of their relationship has been over for a many years." Brennan motioned Zack to join them and instructed him to analyze the scan.

"So you talked to Booth about it?" Angela pressed, not paying attention to the bone scan.

"Of course." She was distracted by the image on the screen and posited that the most likely culprit for the damage they were seeing was opiates. Warren Lynch had been a heroin addict.

Angela followed Brennan into her office, not at all ready to be done talking about Booth and Cam. Brennan sighed quietly at the determination on Angela's face; her friend was obviously not going to let it go.

"So how serious were they? You know, back then."

Brennan hesitated, unsure of the boundaries. Booth had told her about Cam in a private conversation, but it was bound to come out eventually. They were a tightly knit group, and no one had secrets for long, especially with Angela around.

"They weren't. They had a 'friends with benefits' arrangement," she explained. Angela's eyes widened at the salacious gossip. She had really only ever seen Booth pay attention to one woman, and his devotion to her and only her had been constant. After watching him with Brennan, it was hard to imagine him as the kind of guy who would have casual relationships.

"Wow… So, does she know about the two of you?"

"I don't know. Booth says he didn't tell her because it's been so long since they last spoke, but we both agree that Goodman should've mentioned it."

"I agree with that too, but I don't think he told her. So you should."

"There's no reason to bring it up, Angela. It doesn't affect our work or her position as my boss."

"Well you should at least tell her to keep her paws off your man," she replied smartly.

"I think it's Booth's place to have that conversation rather than mine," Brennan answered with a small frown. Angela smirked in satisfaction, noticing her friend's lack of argument at the phrasing she'd chosen. Holy crap, Temperance Brennan is jealous…

Angela had watched Brennan navigate from one man's bed to another over the years, and though there hadn't been all that many, she had never seen Brennan behave jealously with any of them. Now, however, it was as plain as the nose on her face.

As fun as it is to watch, things are awkward enough around here already, Angela thought uneasily. Booth had better clear the air with Cam sooner rather than later.

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