The afternoon sun had the medico-legal lab's skylight glowing while figures worked on the platform below. The regular team maneuvered awkwardly around the interns and extra exam tables that had been brought in. Slowly, bones began crystallizing into human shapes, like some grim jigsaw puzzle. Only one figure remained still, hovering.

"Seriously, Bones, you've gotta eat something." Booth twirled his floaty pen and tapped on a stack of papers he carried. "We're gonna be drowning in government officials soon and you won't have a chance to take a break til judgement day."

"That's ridiculous, Booth. And I had cereal this morning." Brennan strode to the center table on the platform, carrying a piece of bone with her, and began sorting through another pile. "I really don't understand why you are always so concerned with my eating habits."

"Because you ate cornflakes two thousand miles away, hopped on a flight after a ninety-hour recovery under the hot New Mexico sun, and followed the remains straight up onto this platform." A pen click punctuated his sentence.

"I don't see what distance has to do with my breakfast." She spoke slowly, distracted.

"Come on, Bones. You've got the whole cast in on this one. Half an hour at the diner won't set you back."

"That," she raised another piece of bone in front of her face, "is not what I'm concerned about." Focusing steadily, she fit the second piece of bone like a puzzle piece in with the one she'd carried with her. "Dr. Edison?" she called out.

The pen in Booth's hand began clicking steadily.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan." Clark made his way from the table he'd been hunched over. Scattered about the platform, the rest of the interns ceased their conversations, keeping one eye on the pair while they continued their work.

Click-ck. Click-ck. Click-ck.

Brennan shot a look at Booth, who rolled his eyes and deposited the pen back in his pocket.

"What do you make of this?" she asked, passing the pair of fragments to the young anthropologist.

"15 minutes, Bones." Forcible inhale, exhale. "You can have tabouleh..."

She ignored him and looked to Clark for his interpretation of what she'd presented him.

"It appears to be a piece of a human skull, but not like anything I've ever seen before." He turned it around, placed it under magnification and furrowed his brow at the screen. "Are these... canine markers?"

Brennan nodded. "That was my impression as well." Stepping to the edge, she searched with her eyes for a moment before calling out. By the time the loud echo had died out, Dr. Saroyan had assured her that she would call for a zoologist, patiently reminded her of the institution's telephone system, and ordered dinner to be brought in.

Before her partner could speak, Brennan said firmly, "See? There you go, Booth. We're getting dinner here."

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about before. You know, with Sweets..."

"I'm really quite busy right now. I don't think there's anything to discuss, but if you must, we can talk later. This is important, Booth."

Lips tightened, the papers flapped to the side of his leg. "Fine then. Call me when you've got something." As he left, he desperately wished he could slam the glass doors of the medico-legal lab in his wake rather than letting them glide indifferently shut.

Angela sidled up to Brennan as she worked. "A little snippy, sweetie?"

"I'm not snippy, I'm just too busy to have Booth trying to force pie on me." She tilted her head. "He's been cranky lately, too."

"Well, you seem to understand him better than the rest of us. So what's going on in that head of his?"

"I'm not certain. Perhaps he is sexually frustrated. He mentioned in a meeting with Sweets that it's 'been a while,' which i assume means that he hasn't had any sexual release in some time."

"Is that what he meant about the thing with Sweets?"

"No."

"Dr. Brennan, excuse me," Clark spoke up. "Is this strictly necessary? I doubt that Agent Booth's sexual exploits, or lack thereof, are pertinent to the investigation."

The scientist straightened her back. "Of course. We can discuss this later, Ange. I did assure Clark a more professional workplace."

Eyeing her friend suspiciously, Angela shifted to the other foot. "Mmhmm. We're not done," she stated and left for her office.

--

Several hours later, a dozen nearly-completed skeletons lay on a dozen tables and the team had mostly scattered, attending to business elsewhere in the lab. Brennan had just sent the last of a long line of emissaries on his way with what she suspected was the very last of her patience, when two strangers in suits walked into the lab. One was tall and lanky with shaggy dark hair, the other was sturdier, with short blond spikes and what struck Brennan as very symmetrical features.

"Homeland Security, Health Affairs," said the taller of the two men. Both pulled out badges and held them for inspection. "I'm Agent Sam Vincent, this is my partner Agent Dean Neil."

"What the..." Brennan bit back a retort and forced her voice to a strained calm. "What can we do for you?"

"We're here about the Albuquerque remains," replied Dean. "Any ideas yet about what happened to those poor bastards?"