Disclaimer: I dunno why I even have to write this… But yea. Bones is not mine… yet… ):

It's a quiet and silent release of frustration… It's okay… No one has to know, because if they did they would be forced to care and she doesn't want them to… Because if they knew, they would be forced to pretend to care, then it'd hurt even more, and she wouldn't be able to stop. Their pretending made her feel worthless, pathetic, abject… She couldn't do anything; she couldn't even take care of herself…

Those times were mostly over; she is stronger now, she knows how to face to world. But some moments still shake her down to her core and she'd go back into hiding, back to when she was just 16, confused, lost, alone. She'd cry, lower her shield of logic, lower her shield of rationality and raise up her arms in surrender.

When the tears stopped, anger would begin to consume her. She would be angry, angry at herself, angry at her weakness, angry at her irrationality. She'd rummage in the bathroom cabinet, find the razor blades and sink back into the tub – a quiet and silent release of frustration and no one has to know.

Come next morning, the inside of her wrist would be aching. She'd regret the seconds in which she lost control, the seconds in which she had been vulnerable – she'd promise herself that that'd never happen again, but she knows better, she knows better.

She'd drag herself out of bed; run her pulsing wrist under a spray of cold water. It stung – painful comfort, the contradiction almost made her laugh. She'd shower, pull on a dress, straighten out her hair and slip on a thin cardigan – no one had to know.

She entered the office, put on her game face and wished the team good morning before going into her office and sitting behind her desk – her desk of logic and rational thoughts. There would be no cases today, they'd just wrapped one up the day before. Today it was just paperwork, as long as she looked busy enough, no one would come in. So she took the risk and took the cardigan off.

She began typing out the reports, she felt safe here, safe with logic. The words came to her easily – 'fractured mandible' 'crushed sternum' 'visible head trauma' 'defensive fractures'… A voice shook her out of her thoughts.

"Bones?"

She tried her best to remain her composure, put on her game face and smiled back at the man leaning against her doorframe. "Hey Booth."

"You've not eaten right?" His voice was strong, encouraging, yet it forced her to push up her defenses higher.

"No I haven't."

"Well, diner? I need some help with finishing the forensic part of my report." He gave her that charm smile again.

"Well…" She forced her brain into overdrive – no one has to know. "You could just ask Cam. I'm sure that her analytic skills are most profound and she will be able to provide you with full details of the forensics of the case."

"Aw. Come on Bones. I'll buy you fries and a milkshake, and I won't pester you about eating pie."

She caved, lunch could be quick. She could live with that, plus, if she rejected his offer he'd know that something was up, he had the gift of intuition and no matter how many times she tried to disregard it in her logic; evidence constantly seemed to point toward intuition as a variable in the judgment process.

She was going to pull on the cardigan, but he spoke again "Bones, it's 86 degrees out there. Let's go, the FBI isn't that nice about long lunch breaks."

She could come up with nothing to rebut his statement with. There was no other choice than to follow him. He reached out to grab her wrist and he knew. He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of concern and worry. He turned her wrist around and she pulled back from him, her mind whirring with thoughts, 'He'd have to pretend to care' 'He'll have to talk to me about it.' 'He'll tell me how this was a bad idea, how it doesn't solve anything'…

"Bones… why?"

She forced another smile on "No one needs to know."

A/N: I haven't written in a VERY long time and I think that is why this is the worst of my writing since… forever. I might rewrite something similar to this later on… Which I hope will sound a lot better… because this is really CRAP. FML. .