Bones: The Beginning

What a landmark week this was for Bones: the one hundredth episode chronicling how Booth and Bones first met. Directed by David Boreanaz, it’s the key episode of the season, the origin story fans have been yearning for incessantly. With the potential to be more exciting than the latest superhero saga, it’s the origin story of maybe the most complex, emotionally resonant relationship currently on network television. And, except for a stupid framing device (courtesy of Sweets) and some cloying narration early on, the episode doesn’t disappoint. It’s full of crackling sparks, emotional urgency, humor, and heartbreaking vulnerability—the very qualities that made me fall in love in the first place with the show, these two characters, and the ever-evolving relationship between them.

For the first time, Booth and Bones don’t have a new murder to solve this week. Their big concern is talking to Sweets about his soon-to-be-published work that details their relationship and concludes that they are in love with each other. Booth and Bones have now read the material for the first time—even though Sweets has been touting it almost since he came into the show (for better or for worse) in season three. Never mind that the FBI would never let him publish something like this anyway, Bones is adamant about going over to Sweets’ office and pointing out the errors in his work.

Booth assumes she takes issue with Sweets’ conclusion—you know, the whole love thing. But to his surprise, that doesn’t bother her. What does bother her is that Sweets refers to the Cleo Eller case as being the first case that Booth and Bones worked together. This was of course the case in the pilot, but for those who remember the pilot (and everyone should, because it was amazing), it was very clearly stated that Booth and Bones had met and had worked a case before. They also hated each other. This is the story that finally tells us why.

Booth—much earlier in his FBI career—is still working through his gambling issues (issues I repeatedly keep wishing would be explored more throughout the series) and is having trouble closing a case. Someone murdered a beautiful and talented young singer/musician. Booth knows who did it; it’s a judge (a corrupt authority figure similar to the senator from the pilot). He just can’t prove it. So Cam—even though she’s supposed to be a coroner in New York—is on hand and encourages Booth to seek out Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian, because she has been making headlines lately. She is, after all, the greatest in her field in all the world (she points this out to Booth casually during their first encounter).

Booth resists because he distrusts scientists. They see the world through cold, objective eyes. They make the personal impersonal. He espouses the belief that squints don’t solve murders but cops do. Because good cops can see through the lies, they can extract the truth by looking into someone’s eyes and following their gut instinct. He carries this belief over into the pilot, but knowing that he’s at a dead end, he takes a gamble and seeks Brennan out.

She’s lecturing at American University, and as soon as he meets her, he’s hooked. He interrupts her disinterested class, and when he gets her one on one he asks her if she believes in fate. She looks at him with that bemused skepticism—somehow both condescending and charming at the same time, a combination that only Emily Deschanel could pull off—and tells him that fate is absurd. But she does agree to examine Booth’s murder victim, if for no other reason than to test her skills and to adapt her scientific model to a recent set of remains. The attraction between these two characters is palpable, and what makes it so enjoyable to watch is that we already know exactly who these people are and what they will become to each other. We know more than the characters do, and that makes us giddy. The writers know this of course; that’s why they designed this whole scenario.

The murder case is satisfactory, but in all honesty it wouldn’t have even mattered if it were terrible. This episode is all about Booth and Bones, as it should be. It’s wonderful to see aspects of the characters that have been toned down in recent seasons come back to the forefront, like Booth’s gambling and Brennan’s penchant for beating the piss out of sleazebags (and looking amazing doing it). We even get to see Hodgins’ contempt for authority manifest itself more blatantly. Eric Millegan returns as intern Zack (you know, before he became a murderous freak), but it’s disappointing not to see the return of Goodman. Seriously, what the hell happened to that guy? He went on a short sabbatical at the end of season one and has never been heard from again. And the only other thing I’ve seen that actor on since is a McDonald’s commercial.

Angela is also a welcome presence here, and I don’t think I’ve ever said that before in the history of the show. We get a great revelation about the origin of Booth’s Cocky belt buckle and goofy socks, and there are at least three moments designed to leave every Bones fan alive gasping (I know, I was one of them). The way the episode ends is immensely satisfying because Booth and Bones finally stop being passive, but it’s also tragic.

I’m so encouraged by this episode. I wish they had just done it as a straight flashback without having narration and Sweets, but that’s a minor complaint. I think it’s safe to say that after this episode, things between Booth and Brennan will never be the same. And that’s fantastic. That’s what I’ve been pushing for for the last two seasons. Things can only be the same for so long before it becomes monotonous and boring and even tedious to watch. But now Booth and Bones have been shaken up, and I can’t wait to see where they go from here.

Season 5, Episode 16: The Parts in the Sum of the Whole (originally aired April 8, 2010)

For more on Bones, click here.

Thursdays at 8/7c on Fox

Photographs courtesy of Fox and IMDbPro