Hey there! Yes, my name has changed, and I explained why on my profile. This story has taken me longer than anticipated. Real life has been a pain in the ass lately, but I'm hanging in there. This story is pretty different in comparison to what I've already published. It's completely AU, contains original characters, and is set well before the canon timeline. PLEASE NOTE that Brennan's backstory has been changed slightly. All will be revealed in due time, but this Brennan has a little more tact and a lot more nerve. Booth's history is the same, but I did have to play with the timeline a little to get them in the same place at the same time.

Hope you enjoy!

One time disclaimer - I don't own Booth or Brennan, obviously. But every other character in this story is my own creation.

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Pasto, Colombia

1998

Chapter 1

Dr. Temperance Brennan gazed with interest through the tiny airplane window next to her seat. Her flight from Chiclayo, Peru had been fairly short, and she had spent the majority of it chatting with the Peruvian man who was seated next to her. Her Spanish fluency eliminated any language barrier, but while the man had asked the reason for her travels, Brennan suspected that he hadn't been truly interested in her answer. His eyes had glazed over a bit as she'd explained her work in the ancient tombs of Sipán. Perhaps it had been his lack of genuine interest that had discouraged him from asking the obvious follow-up question: why was she traveling to Colombia?

The city of Pasto was moderate in size and somewhat lackluster in appearance. The surrounding natural beauty, however, was another story entirely. The city was nestled in the shadow of Galeras, the most active volcano in Colombia. Its last eruption five years ago had taken the lives of nine people. The peak was hidden in cloud cover, but that didn't make the sight any less majestic.

The plane landed with a bump and eventually came to a stop at the small terminal. Brennan pulled her bag from the overhead compartment before following her flight companions from the jet. The terminal bustled with activity, and Brennan's eyes scanned the crowd for a sign of the military escort she'd been promised. To her surprise, the man who approached her was of South American descent, and he was dressed in civilian clothing.

"Dr. Brennan?" the stranger asked cautiously. He hadn't been expecting someone so young.

"Yes," she replied, extending her hand. He shook it politely, and they each took a brief moment to scrutinize the other. If she hadn't heard him speak, Brennan would have assumed he was native to the area. "I assume they sent you because your Brazilian heritage helps you to blend in. Would you prefer to converse in Spanish?"

"Uh," he blinked in surprise at her formal speech as well as her accuracy. "English is fine, ma'am. I'm Staff Sergeant Alejandro Santana, but you can just call me Santana."

"Dr. Temperance Brennan. You may address me by my surname as well." She typically insisted upon the use of her title, but since she was entrusting her safety to this man and his comrades, she thought encouraging a bit of familiarity might be beneficial.

Santana nodded and gestured toward the exit. She followed him from the terminal to the parking lot, doing her best to look as inconspicuous as he did. Brennan had never really been one to 'blend in,' however, and today was no exception. She was obviously of a different race than the majority of the people around her, and she was a physically attractive young woman as well. Brennan turned heads whether she wanted to or not.

They climbed into a car that looked as ordinary as the rest of the vehicles in the lot, and Brennan wondered idly how the soldier had come by it. The interior had an odd smell, but it dissipated when the windows were rolled down. She watched the small city of Pasto glide by as they drove through it. Most of the buildings looked neglected but still warm somehow with the afternoon sun hitting the rooftops.

Santana drove southwest, skirting Galeras and leaving the heavier traffic behind them. Brennan watched him for a few minutes, studying his movements in a way that had become something of a ritual for her. He seemed to sense her scrutiny and glanced at her curiously.

"Is something wrong?" he asked awkwardly.

"No…?" The word sounded more like a question than an answer, and Brennan seemed genuinely confused as to why he'd asked her that. Santana felt even more wrong-footed and tried to come up with something to fill the silence.

"How did you know I'm Brazilian?" He was truly interested in hearing her answer; most Americans tended to use 'Hispanic' and 'Mexican' interchangeably.

"Your bone structure," Brennan replied simply, shrugging as though it should have been obvious. "I'm surprised the Army let you stay active with a sniper unit after your fingers were broken so badly," she added.

Santana's head snapped toward her in shock, before his eyes went to the place where his hands curved around the steering wheel. He flexed his fingers a little, looking at them critically. The fractures had healed, and his fingers didn't appear misshapen, at least in his opinion. He still had decent range of motion, even if it had taken him a lot of physical therapy to get it back.

"I mostly act as a spotter now, but I can still shoot," Santana replied, a little uncomfortable. "How can you tell?"

"Your movements are those of someone who has adapted to chronic pain, particularly in your distal phalanges and metacarpals. For that many of the bones in both hands to have been injured at the same time, I would deduce that you were either in a very bad accident which crushed both of your hands… or you were tortured." The tone of her voice was methodical and pedantic until the last few words. Brennan glanced at his face apologetically, but he was avoiding her eyes.

After a few moments, it became clear that Santana wasn't going to reply, and Brennan sighed inwardly at her seemingly involuntary tendency to offend people. She'd never been much good in social situations. She could read skeletal structure, spot kinetic markers, and see far more than the average person when she looked at another human being. When it came to body language and facial expressions, however, she was lost.

Brennan turned her attention back to their surroundings. They had moved out of the city limits, and the scenery had changed from quaint sun-lit buildings to the deep greens and browns of a jungle that seemed to grow more wild with every mile. She knew that the Nariño region was made up primarily of thick, uninhabited jungle, and they had long since passed any landmark she might have recognized.

This would be her first visit to Colombia, and although Brennan was familiar with its anthropological history, she didn't know much about the current state of things. She'd researched a little when the Army had approached her with their request, but the history of the current conflict went back to the 1940s. She hadn't had time to delve into it too deeply, but the potential danger was clear to her. That, in itself, was part of the reason she'd agreed to come.

At first, Brennan had been irritated by the appearance of an Army intelligence officer at the site of the Peruvian dig she'd been working. Apparently, the CIA had given her a glowing recommendation, and now the Army wanted her help. Ever since Brennan had identified some remains for the State Department, various government agencies had been seeking her expertise. She liked to help whenever possible, but it would be a lie to say that her motives were completely selfless.

The car came to a rough and sudden stop, effectively pulling Brennan from her thoughts. They had been traveling a fairly deserted highway, but at some point, Santana had pulled onto a dirt road. The narrow lane ended abruptly in the forest, and there were no signs of civilization in sight.

"We'll be walking the rest of the way," Santana told her as he climbed out of the car. "It's a mile or so into the jungle. Hope that's okay?"

Doesn't look like there's much choice, she thought with a sardonic smile. She kept her sarcasm to herself, however, and grabbed her bag from the floorboard. Santana camouflaged the car with a few fallen branches before pulling a handheld GPS from his backpack.

"We shouldn't run into any trouble in this area, but I'd rather keep conversation to a minimum just to be safe."

Brennan nodded and fell into step behind him. As they moved through the trees and undergrowth, Santana glanced back at her frequently to make sure she was keeping up. He was initially surprised to see that she moved through the jungle with relative ease, but then he admonished himself slightly. It was already quite clear that Dr. Temperance Brennan was nothing but surprising.

Santana's eyes panned wide in each direction as they trekked through the foliage, but his mind was on the woman who accompanied him. He was absolutely certain that the men in his unit, particularly the CO, were expecting someone completely different than this… girl. He didn't know her actual age, nor was he brave enough to ask, but he guessed that she was in her early twenties at most. She supposedly had three doctorates though, so perhaps he was wrong in his assessment. Either way, the girl had to be a genius, and she was good looking too. If he were interested in women, he was sure that he'd have spent most of the drive flirting rather than in awkward silence. His unit was in for a shock, and the thought brought a smirk to Santana's face.

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As Brennan and Santana neared the unit's small campsite, the various noises of jungle wildlife quieted gradually. The camp consisted of four two-man tents, a larger tent used for briefings and communication, and a makeshift latrine area. Santana skipped the tour, however, and led her straight to the largest tent.

When they stepped inside the canvas structure, Brennan realized that they had probably interrupted a conversation between its occupants. The two men stood simultaneously to greet her, but it was clear from their expressions that they had indeed been expecting someone quite different. The taller of the two soldiers extended his hand toward Brennan.

"Major Samuel Jackson, ma'am. You're Dr. Brennan?" he asked, not even attempting to mask his incredulity. Jackson was a black man who looked to be in his late thirties. His features were fairly attractive, but his demeanor and expression made him seem a bit austere. He had a pleasant smile, but it was rarely seen by anyone other than his wife and children.

"Yes," Brennan nodded, shaking the man's hand. "Staff Sergeant Santana seemed skeptical of my identity as well." Her brow wrinkled slightly in consternation.

"That's because they only gave us your name, darlin'," the second man said genially as he stepped forward to shake her hand as well. He had sandy blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, and although he was not particularly handsome, his generous smile and warm personality made Brennan feel welcome. "Captain Pete Walker. We were expecting someone older and… well, male."

"You thought I'd be a man?" she asked, torn between annoyance and amusement. It certainly wasn't the first time that she'd received this kind of reaction over her age, but the implied misogyny irritated her a little.

"Yes," Jackson frowned. "I can't imagine what the colonel was thinking sending a woman into a place like this. It's very dangerous for any civilian, but-"

"I assure you that I can take care of myself perfectly well, Major. And it's certainly not my first experience with a hostile territory." Jackson gazed back at her speculatively for a moment before glancing behind her to Santana.

"Go check in with Booth," he ordered. When Santana had disappeared, Jackson turned his attention back to her. "Do you understand what's going on and why you're here? Were you informed of the risks?"

Walker returned to his seat and observed them quietly, watching the young woman cross her arms somewhat indignantly.

"I don't make a habit of doing things without understanding the motives as well as the consequences."

"What information were you given?" Jackson persisted.

"I was told that a terrorist is believed to have fabricated his own demise several years ago and that it's possible he has changed his appearance with plastic surgery. My expertise was requested for the purpose of confirming the man's true identity." Jackson had rolled his eyes and was now scowling at the ground in disapproval, but she ignored his response for the moment. "Where are we exactly?"

"We're in the Nariño region," Jackson replied, confirming her earlier assumption. "The nearest settlement is Barbacaos, but the guy we're tracking moves his operation frequently. Where we are isn't what's important right now, though. I need to know that you truly understand what you've walked into here, Dr. Brennan. Calling Diego Ramirez a terrorist is accurate, but not necessarily in the way people usually think of terrorism. But first thing's first. Do you think you can recognize him even if he has a different face?"

"That will depend on a few things," Brennan smirked, recognizing his skepticism.

"Like what?"

"Like what I have to work with. The officer who approached me in Peru had old photographs of Ramirez and asked me to compare them to more recent images of a man known as Juan Luis Moreno. The image quality was poor, and I couldn't be completely certain that it was the same man. He mentioned that you might have new video footage…?"

"We're working on that," Jackson nodded. "We have video of Ramirez from about four years ago, but no new footage of Moreno to use as comparison."

"Which is why they sent me here to observe the man in person," she replied with a slight shrug. "What makes the US government, or the Colombian one for that matter, believe that Ramirez and Moreno are actually the same man?"

"We have our reasons. Your clearance level only gets you so far, Doctor," Jackson hedged. Brennan huffed a little and crossed her arms again.

"If you want my help, then there are things I need to know."

"Such as?"

"Such as what this man did to get the attention of the US government in the first place. It's obvious what you intend to do with the information I provide, and if I'm going to have a hand in a man's death, then I'd like to know what he did to deserve it."

As she spoke, the irritation in her voice gradually increased, and Jackson looked at Brennan as though he didn't quite know what to make of her. Her pale blue eyes were narrowed in frustration, and her stance reminded him of an angry kitten. Walker chuckled under his breath at her feistiness, and the sound distracted her momentarily.

"What's funny?" she asked irritably. Walker was smiling as he shook his head.

"Your scruples are admirable, Dr. Brennan, but they're somewhat out of place here. How much do you know about the current state of affairs in Colombia?"

"I have a general idea, but there wasn't time to research the situation in detail. I was informed that my assistance was required as soon as possible."

"That's certainly the truth," Walker nodded. "Colombia has been entrenched in civil warfare for the past five decades. It began as a matter of political differences for the most part, and the US became involved as part of the fight against communism. Now, however, our motives have more to do with the drug war…"

Brennan listened attentively as Captain Walker described the fighting between the conservative Colombian government, the various paramilitaristic groups, and the liberal guerrillas. The guerrillas had risen up in opposition to conservative government politics, and the government had responded by forming right-wing paramilitaristic groups to neutralize the violence of the guerrillas. Things had gotten out of hand rather quickly. The right-wing groups were soon responsible for the majority of the political murders and human rights violations in Colombia, and the government eventually outlawed them.

"Four years ago," Jackson interjected, "the Colombian government authorized the creation of legal paramilitary groups, and most of the illegal ones converted, so to speak, agreeing to follow the government's rules. The biggest of these is the AUC. They primarily fight the bigger liberal guerrillas: the FARC and the ELN."

"The problem, of course, is that there are no 'good guys' or 'bad guys' in this mess," Walker added. "No one's tactics are clean and humane. The liberals may have started the trouble, but the conservatives have fought just as dirty, whether legally or illegally. Both sides have engaged in terrorism, drug production and trafficking, murder, kidnapping, extortion, use of landmines, human trafficking… Everyone makes passive attempts at peace, but nothing real ever comes of it. No one can agree on anything, and everyone plays dirty."

"And Ramirez?" Brennan pressed, well aware that they weren't telling her anything she couldn't have learned for herself. Jackson hesitated, seeming to choose his next words carefully.

"He's a drug lord with ties to the AUC. He's terrorized Colombian citizens, kidnapped numerous people and either ransomed them or sold them… There's nothing 'good' about him, but he keeps his illegal activities well under the radar, which means the Colombian government has its hands tied. Ramirez has made threats on the lives of certain high-profile Americans, so we were asked to step in."

"Ramirez has been responsible for the deaths of hundreds of civilians, Doc," Walker said seriously. "Not to mention those who die from the drugs he exports to the US and other countries. If you can help us take him out, you'll be doing the world a favor."

Brennan sighed, digesting the information they'd given her for a few moments. She realized that Jackson had probably told her a little more than she was actually permitted to know, and she appreciated his trust and his effort. She did feel less guilty about potentially contributing to the death of another human being. It was something she'd been struggling with a little, especially since her work had always involved identifying those who were already dead.

Before she could think of what to say to Walker in response, however, the canvas tent flap was pushed aside once more, and two men entered the tent. One was Santana, and the other was a tall, dark-haired man. He had broad shoulders that were emphasized by his fatigues, and his jaw bore two days worth of growth.

Brennan felt her insides clench as she got a good look at his face. In her field of expertise, she spent a lot of time studying bone structure and drawing conclusion from various physical features. At the moment, however, she couldn't recall ever being so captivated by a man's face. The angle of his mandible was strong, and his zygomatic bones protruded just enough to create dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. His dark brown eyes were fixed upon her, and his startled expression seemed to indicate that he might also have been under the impression that she was supposed to be something other than a twenty-two year old woman.

"Dr. Brennan, this is Master Sergeant Seeley Booth," Jackson explained. "Booth, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. She's here to confirm the ID on Ramirez." Booth and Brennan shook hands a bit longer than really necessary, and their eyes remained locked on one another.

Booth felt a ridiculous urge to shake his head as though that might clear the haze that had settled upon him. He'd been startled to see a woman in the camp at all. Like the others, he'd been under the mistaken impression that 'Dr. Brennan' would be a man, and probably an older man at that. The beautiful woman still gazing back at him looked far too young and innocent to be in a place like this.

His body had responded immediately to her presence. Her brown hair was swept up into a messy bun at the back of her head, and he wondered how long it would be if she let it down. Booth liked that it was out of the way for the moment, however, because it meant that his view of her face was completely unobstructed.

Her features were delicate and classically beautiful, but there was something in the set of her chin that made him wonder if she were truly as fragile as she seemed. Her eyes were the most compelling shade of blue he'd ever seen, and although he knew he'd been staring at her for longer than he should, he couldn't seem to look away. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that the spell was broken, and they both looked away simultaneously.

"It's nice to meet you," Brennan said a little breathlessly, stepping backward to increase the distance between them. She felt the heat flood her cheeks and inwardly cursed her pale skin.

"Likewise," Booth grinned. Her blush was so charming that he immediately wanted to see more of it. "So you really think you can do this?" His tone was a bit more sarcastic than he'd intended, but the playful gleam in her eye told him that she wasn't offended by it.

"If we have pictures and video of sufficient quality, then it should be a simple matter of matching kinetic markers and underlying bone structure. Even if the facial bones were altered, there are certain things that a person can't hide."

"What sorts of 'things?'" Booth asked, still smirking.

Brennan allowed her eyes to move slowly down his body and back up again before calmly beckoning him toward her. She watched as he stepped closer, doing her best to ignore her body's reaction to his proximity. She felt nervous in a giddy sort of way, and when he'd come to a stop less than a foot away, her skin tingled a bit. Booth quirked an eyebrow, still awaiting her response.

"Things such as… Repetitive injuries to the shoulders, like strains. Possibly from childhood. A left knee injury, probably in adolescence… And much more recent trauma to bones in the feet, probably occurring within the past year or so and still causing chronic pain." As she spoke, her eyes moved to each part of his body, and her features softened when her gaze reached his feet. The age of the trauma made her wonder if Booth and Santana had been injured in the same incident.

Booth was flummoxed, and the two officers wore matching expressions of amazement. Only Santana seemed unfazed by Brennan's pronouncement, and he shrugged when Booth glanced at him.

"Sarge, she watched me drive for only a couple minutes and could tell which parts of my fingers had been broken and how long ago," Santana chuckled. Booth looked back at her with a new kind of respect in his eyes.

"Beautiful and a genius," he decreed. His mood fell slightly as he realized that Brennan was so far out of his league, but that didn't stop his patented charm smile from making an appearance. It grew wider when he saw the blush color her cheeks once again.

Brennan opened her mouth to thank him for the compliment, but she was interrupted by the sound of a long, low whistle from the tent entrance. Another soldier strutted into the tent and eyed Brennan appreciatively. He was tall and lanky, with auburn hair and dark green eyes.

"I didn't know we could order call girls in the jungle," the man grinned. Brennan's expression tightened, and Booth scowled at the newcomer.

"Show some respect, Lieutenant," Jackson commanded sternly. "Dr. Brennan, this is Lieutenant Morris, and he will remember his manners in the future." Brennan nodded at Morris curtly and did not offer to shake his hand.

Morris didn't look even remotely apologetic, and his eyes continued to wander over her body as the introductions were made. Booth instinctively moved to stand between them, effectively blocking her from his gaze.

"Where's Leeds?" Walker asked.

"Scouting the perimeter, Sir," Morris replied. "He should be back soon."

"That'll be all for now then," Jackson announced. "You're all dismissed."

"Sir, I'd be happy to show the good doctor to her tent," Morris volunteered, sending a wolfish smile toward Brennan. Jackson glowered at him.

"I'll handle it, Morris. You're dismissed."

As the men filed out, Brennan's eyes gravitated toward Booth again. He gave her another panty-dropping smile before disappearing from sight. She was alone with Major Jackson now, and when she turned to face him, his expression was a little contrite.

"I apologize for Lieutenant Morris' lack of respect, Dr. Brennan. If you have any trouble with him or any of my men, please don't hesitate to come to me. Your safety is top priority while you're here with us," he assured her. "As such, I'll be requiring at least one of my men to be with you at all times."

"Major, that's truly unnecessary," Brennan insisted. Arguing her own self-sufficiency was a knee-jerk reaction, but she also didn't like the idea of being alone with Lieutenant Morris. "I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own safety."

"Have you been to Colombia before?"

"No, but as I stated previously, I have been in hostile territories before. I'm a good shot, and I know how to defend myself in hand-to-hand combat."

"Nevertheless, you will obey my orders, Dr. Brennan," Jackson replied sharply. "I know we need you, but if you don't follow the rules, you could put my men in danger." His words brought her up short and took the heat out of her stubbornness.

"Alright," she nodded reluctantly. Brennan had mixed feelings about the arrangement. On the one hand, she preferred that Morris keep his distance; on the other, she couldn't help but look forward to spending some time with Booth.

Jackson led her out of the command tent and gave her a quick tour of the campsite. The men were doubled up in the sleeping arrangements, but she had a tent of her own. Jackson explained that they were using a sheltered portion of a nearby stream for bathing and washing. There was no campfire because the smell might alert someone to their position, and since they couldn't cook, they were living off MREs. Brennan grimaced at the mention of the foul-tasting food rations. When they reached the tent that had been reserved for her, she thanked him for his help. He began to walk away, but paused as he remembered something from their earlier conversation.

"Dr. Brennan," Jackson said. She turned back toward him. "You said that your ability to confirm the ID would depend on a few things. The images we have and…?" She inclined her head, and her expression tensed slightly.

"How close you can get me to the target."

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Well? :) Do you want more? I haven't decided on an update schedule for this yet, but I'm currently writing the final chapter. Reviews might persuade me to update faster... ;)