Disclaimer: These characters are the property of FOX--but they have escaped to have a little fun with me.

Summary: Dual-pairing story featuring Angela/Hodgins and Brennan/Booth (because you begged nicely BonesDBchippie!). This is what happens when Brennan and Booth end up snowed-in with Hodgins and Angela on New Year's Eve. Graphic as usual, so mature readers only!

"New Beginnings"

December 29th, 2006--West Virginia

"SNOW CHAINS REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT"

Angela read the sign up ahead and turned to poke the man at the steering wheel next to her. "See Jack, aren't you glad now that I own a big-ass SUV?"

"Yeah, and this is about the only time you might be justified," Jack replied, steering the Jeep off the road and into the pull-out area to prepare it for the snow-covered road ahead.

Parking the car, Jack unsnapped his seat belt and leaned over to kiss Angela. "You know, we're going to get to the cabin and that storm they're predicting is going to hit. With any luck, they'll close the road and we won't be able to make it back down for work on Tuesday. Think Brennan will be pissed?"

"That's quite an optimistic prediction, Sweetie, and yeah, Brennan would be pissed if our four day weekend turned into five or six days. However, you won't see me complaining," Angela smiled, opening her mouth for the lingering kiss that would begin to fog up the windshield.

"We're going to need that extra day or two just to get the skiing in," Jack teased, giving her one last peck and squeezing her leg affectionately. "I'd better get started on those snow chains."

Back At The Jeffersonian

"So Bones, got any big plans for New Year's Eve?" Booth asked, attempting to make small-talk while waiting for Brennan to finish examining the piece of leg bone he had sent over that morning. He picked up a petrie dish containing something gray and spongy looking, and then set it back down quickly.

"Don't touch that," she commanded without looking up from her microscope. "The fine, straight marks of overlapping teeth indicate that the angle of attack changed during manual sawing. I'd say this is classic hacksaw dismemberment."

"Gotta love the classics," quipped Booth.

"And no, I don't have big plans for New Year's Eve," continued Brennan, straightening up and removing her gloves. She tucked a stray wisp of honey-brown hair behind her ear. "I find the whole concept of a New Year problematic. Any random date can represent the beginning of the Earth's orbital path around the sun. In fact, many countries celebrate the New Year in April or early spring, while those who use a lunar calendar have no fixed date at all."

"C'mon Bones, what's not to love about New Year's Eve? This is one of the only holidays where you get to drink too much, stay up too late, kiss whoever is standing closest to you, and not be required to give gifts. It's the perfect holiday!" Booth reasoned, moving closer to Brennan.

"Okay, so it does sound like fun when you put it that way," Brennan relented. "What are you doing on New Year's Eve?"

"We're going to be in Times Square watching the ball drop," chimed a voice from below them. Camille Saroyan was climbing the stairs to the platform while shrugging on her lab coat. She smiled widely, her dimples a dead give-away that she was delighted. "He owes me a trip to New York."

"Oh, well that sounds nice for you," Brennan said, attempting to reply appropriately.

Booth was looking at his shoes, hands in his pockets. "Us and about a million other people," he mumbled under his breath, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh, c'mon, don't be such a sour-puss," Cam scolded. "Times Square is the only place to be on New Year's Eve. Being part of the crowd just adds to the excitement."

"Cam's right," began Brennan, "The Emergent-Norm Theory states that the combination of like-minded individuals, anonymity, and shared emotion contribute to the appeal of being part of a crowd."

"Thank you, Doctor Brennan," Cam said, turning to her briefly, and then turning back to Booth: "Seeley, don't forget to pack early—and make sure you pick me up by nine o'clock sharp Sunday morning. We are not going to miss this flight."

"Yeah, sure," Booth answered obediently, his jaw tightening. "Just let me know when you get more info on the bone, okay?" he said to both women, changing the subject.

"No problem," Brennan said slowly, curious at Booth's sudden lack of enthusiasm for the holiday he had tried so hard to promote. She just couldn't understand why he continued to be so moody when he was around Doctor Saroyan.

December 30th, 2006—The Allegheny Mountains, West Virginia

"Jack, tell me again why you own this tiny cabin… and did your grandfather really shoot this bear we're lying on?" Angela asked again in disbelief, her head tucked up under his chin while her hand played beneath his rumpled, grey sweatshirt.

Jack closed his eyes, content to just lie quietly by the fire with Angela in his arms. He sighed and resigned himself to her questions. "I needed a base-camp while collecting soil samples from this region, specifically spodosols that occur in isolated pockets at the highest elevations. Also, it's conveniently located near the ski slopes—but far enough away from the crowds at the resort. And yes, my grandfather shot this very bear we're lying on. It was a brutally anti-conservationist world back then."

"Well, it's sexy in a horrible kind of way," Angela smirked, running a hand along the slightly moth-eaten fringes of the rug. "Do we get to make love on it? That would be so… retro."

"Only if I can figure out how you get a bear skin rug dry-cleaned," Jack replied. "I have a feeling that bear-skin sex is overrated. However," he began, rolling over in a dominant position, "I could be persuaded…"

"You could, could you?" answered Angela coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Well, get on board then for the 'Ursidae Express'…"

"Oooh, you're getting scientific on me Baby—you know how that turns me on…" Jack whispered, nipping at the soft skin at the base of her neck. He shifted until he was lying cradled between her thighs.

Things would have continued to heat up between them if they weren't suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

"Who the hell could that be?" Jack jerked his head up, irritated and surprised that someone could be interrupting them this far from civilization.

December 31st, 2006—Washington, D.C.

"Okay, okay, I'm on my way," insisted Booth, trying to appease someone on the other end of his cell phone while throwing a couple of pairs of socks into a small suitcase. "It's only 8:35. I'll be there in plenty of time. No, I'm not still packing," he lied, walking over to his closet and scrutinizing his collection of ties. He chose a wildly striped green and red one and set it next to his garment bag.

Booth paused, switching his cell phone to his other ear. He heard the tell-tale click of another call coming through. "Hang on, Cam, I've got another call--" Booth glanced briefly at the screen, but long enough to see that it was Brennan who was calling.

Disconnecting Cam and knowing that there'd be hell to pay later, Booth answered: "Hey Bones, what's up? This isn't exactly a good time… What? You're kidding, right? Okay, you're not kidding. No, just wait right there--I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

Oddly elated, Booth threw the rest of his clothes into the suitcase, leaving the suit in the garment bag on his bed, and headed out the door. Was Cam going to be pissed…

December 31st, 2006—Westbound on Interstate 50

Eyes focused on the road, Booth listened as Brennan gave further directions to the person she was speaking to on her cell phone.

"Hodgins, make sure you don't compromise the remains any further—yes, I know I don't need to remind you how to do your job… good, I'm glad you replaced the lid—make sure the seal is tight. It's just that Booth thinks it may be that senator who went missing over a year ago. He was staying at the resort at the time…" Brennan made a face, "That's not funny Jack… Okay, we should arrive there a little after noon. Snow chains?" Brennan turned to Booth, "Do we have snow chains?"

Booth shrugged, and then nodded, "I think so—yeah, I used them last spring and they should still be in the back."

"Jack," continued Brennan, "Just keep the remains at the same temperature as they were found. What? No, tell Angela that I didn't secretly pray for a disembodied head to ruin her weekend—oh, that was a joke? I'm hanging up now, Jack."

Booth was grinning.

"What's so funny?" Brennan asked, suddenly feeling like she was the butt of the joke.

"Oh, nothing," Booth continued to smile. "Senator Gorewich is a case I've been working on since the beginning, when he went missing. There was some speculation that he was having a tryst with some high-class call girl at the resort in Canaan Valley. His wife claims that he was meeting about a land deal, but we never found any evidence that a business associate was involved. He was last seen by the valet when he picked up his car after checking out of the hotel. The guy said all he remembered about the senator is that he tipped badly. Where did you say Hodgins found the head?"

"Hodgins didn't find the head," Brennan explained, "His neighbor up the road a few miles was collecting firewood out of his shed and found this suspicious looking paint can."

"Why would paint look suspicious?" Booth wondered aloud, glancing at her briefly and then thinking to himself: God this is better than jostling for position in Times Square…

"I suppose because he didn't usually store his paint in the woodpile," Brennan answered matter-of-factly. "Once he opened the can and saw that there was a head inside—"

"Why would he open the can?" Booth persisted, "Who opens a can of paint unless they're going to use it?"

"As I was saying," Brennan continued, looking at him sharply, "He headed down the hill to get help, noticed that there was a vehicle parked in front of Jack's place, and decided to get his help in the matter." Brennan looked away from him out the window as she added, "I don't know, maybe he wanted to see what color the paint was. Jack said the label was disintegrated. Why do you have to ask so many questions, anyway?"

"Because that's what I do, Bones," Booth replied, growing impatient. "That's what I do."