Uneven Parallels
A/N: The idea behind this story was to explore the paths that brought Brennan and Booth together, by focusing on key points in their lives. The plan is to have paired chapters from her life and then his. For clarification, the paired chapters are not meant to be concurrent, but from the same general point on their individual timelines.
Knew What That Meant: Her Story
The girl heard the thunk of the car door closing and flinched. She was familiar with the sound and knew what it meant. It meant she was on her own again.
With a heavy sigh, she reached down and wrapped her hand around the knot at the top of the black plastic garbage bag. It didn't take a lot of effort to lift it from the warped wooden slats of the porch. There wasn't much in there to weigh it down.
She looked over at the slab-faced woman standing next to her, but knew better than to say anything. That was a lesson she'd learned pretty quickly about the new ones. The woman waited until the social worker's car disappeared around the corner before turning colorless eyes to her newest charge.
"I'm only gonna say this once, missy. Don't even think about givin' me any of the trouble that state lady just warned me about."
The woman moved closer, bringing her face with inches of the girl's. "Understand me?"
Struggling not to gag at the foul mixture of coffee, cigarettes and onions on the woman's breath, the girl could only nod. She wasn't surprised when she felt the sting of a slap against her arm. It was the way some of them taught you the new rules.
"You speak when I ask you somethin', got it?"
The woman eyes traveled the girl's face, almost eager to see some spark of rebellion.
Working to get just the right balance of respect and submission in her voice, the girl finally replied.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Hmmphh. Well, come on then. I'll introduce you to the mister and then we can get you set up with some chores. You're gonna work for your keep 'round here."
"Yes, ma'am."
The woman seemed both satisfied and disappointed by how quickly this one seemed to be falling into line. She walked heavy-footed past the open screen door and into the house, never bothering to look back at the girl. If she knew what was good for her, missy would be hot-footing it right behind her.
"What kinda name is that anyway? Temper-ance. Sounds kinda uppity to me. You ain't uppity are you, young'n?"
"No, ma'am."
Temperance turned on the thin mattress, wincing as the slight movement caused her aching muscles to protest. The woman hadn't been lying about making her earn her keep. She'd worked enough in one day to earn room and board for herself and the other three fosters in the house. Feeling herself getting angry, she closed her eyes and quickly tamped down the emotion.
Anger was an indulgence that wouldn't help her in this place.
Later, that night, she kept her eyes closed when she felt the weight pulling down the mattress at her side and the cloying scent of his cheap aftershave invaded her sinuses. She'd known that this was inevitable after seeing the way his oily eyes had examined her.
She could only hope that this one would be like the last one and only touch.
"Now there's no need to tell the missus about this, right sweetheart?"
As he talked, she tried not to shudder at the touch of his warm breath against the skin of her neck.
But she didn't forget the rules either.
"No, sir."
