Author's notes: This is my first ever fic, of any sort, so please be kind. It doesn't really break new ground, but the idea was buzzing around my head for a few days. Thanks for reading!
I know people wonder sometimes if I even have a heart at all. They think I don't feel, because I don't cry and I don't hug and when I want to say something, I do. Maybe that makes me different, but I do feel-- everything. I think I feel even more deeply than they do. I just don't show it. Compartmentalizing, they say, makes me not human, but if I let those memories and feelings run free, I wouldn't be able to do anything at all.
I learned early that showing my emotions didn't get me anywhere. When I was little and the other girls hit me or called me names, if I cried or yelled at them, it got worse. But when I shut my eyes, kept my face calm and still, like a mask, and thought of something else, they always left me alone. And alone was all I wanted to be.
When my foster parents locked me in the trunk of the car, I held everything inside me. I was terrified, and angry, and I missed my parents more than ever. When they let me out, and my pants were damp, I was embarrassed, even though I knew intellectually it wasn't my fault. But I knew showing my feelings made nothing better, Holding my feelings back made me strong, letting them have free reign left me weak and limp. Easier to hurt than ever.
It was hard to stay composed when the men in El Salvador captured me. When I thought I was going to die, slowly, painfully, and disappear. When I thought I would be forgotten, and turn into dust. It made me wish I could believe in an afterlife. Staying logical kept me from noticing how much I wanted to cry or beg. My pride was the only thing I had left, and if I was so close to dying, it seemed pointless to give it away.
I always thought the difference between me and other people was that my emotions were the setting to my story, while their emotions were the whole plot. I prided myself on that, in fact. But now Booth, seeing you like this? Knowing that you've forgotten me? This is too much for my logic, too much for the dams I've built around my emotions. This, finally, is enough to make me cry.