This takes place during season 3, episode 6- The Intern in the Incinerator
Brennan twirls a small white and yellow flower in her fingers. The blossom spins back and forth as the anthropologist twists the stem between her fingers.
"I know your password too. It's daffodil."
"Wha- I never told you that!"
He had grinned at her, obviously proud of himself. Sure, she isn't as careful as she could be, but did he really know that from just watching her type it in? Or did he…
No. Her records were sealed. She made sure of that.
Brennan sighs softly, still spinning the flower. She knows she should get back to work, but just can't bring herself to put the flower down. As she twirls the flower, a rush of memories overwhelms her, and she lies down on the couch, trying to escape her mind. The spinning yellow and white is a comforting visual, and Brennan quickly finds her eyelids drooping. Clutching the flower tightly, she rolls over and lets her body drift into sleep.
A middle aged woman lies helplessly on a hospital bed. Machines beep around her, signaling the slipping life of the patient. A young girl stands by the bed, holding the woman's hand. Tears slip down her face, and years seem to add to her looks.
"Daffy. You can't die."
The woman smiles sadly.
"Temperance, you saw the X-rays. Trauma. And it's too much for an old bat like me."
The 16 year old sniffles and squeezes her foster mother's hand harder.
"You saved me. I can't go back to another home like his."
The woman knew exactly what the girl meant.
"You have to stay strong sweetie. Don't show weakness or emotion to those kinds of people. Wrap yourself up in logic and study. If you don't show them a reaction, they'll get bored."
Temperance nods, taking the advice and tucking it away in her mind. She would need it later.
Daffy gasps, and the machines around her fire rapidly. The woman is bleeding internally, and she is slipping away. Reaching out, she takes her daughter's hand.
"You always wanted to know my real name."
Temperance laughs slightly. "Daffy…"
The woman places a finger against her lips, silencing the young girl. She reaches over and takes a flower out of the large vase on the night stand.
"Daffodils. They begin to grow during the height of winter. Bearing snow, ice, and freezing temperatures, they poke through the frozen soil and show their beauty to the world before any other flower can. Be a daffodil my dear. Prove how resilient you are and show your beauty to the world."
Handing the blossom to Temperance, she smiles tiredly.
"Don't forget me my dear. Don't forget yourself."
The teenager, who had already experienced so much, watches her one savior slip away and exhale her last breath. Clutching the Daffodil, Temperance backs away from the bed, shutting herself down and putting walls around her heart. She had to hide her emotion so that she could grow through the winter storm.
Brennan wakes with a start, completely disoriented. Angela sits on the armrest, watching her friend carefully. Brennan sits up, rubbing her eyes and wiping away tears.
"Honey." Angela's voice is soft and concerned.
Brennan swings her legs over and doesn't meet her friend's eye.
Angela reaches forward and tips up her friend's chin.
"What's wrong?"
Brennan jerks her chin from Angela's fingers and stands up, walking over to her desk.
"I'm fine Ange. I'm going to the Bone Room. Let me know if you discover anything about the artifacts the victim was working on."
Angela jumps up off the couch and grabs Brennan's hand.
"Stop. I know you. Now what's wrong? You were tossing and turning and whimpering. Did you have a nightmare?"
The anthropologist looks down. Maybe it's time for her to share that story. Perhaps it would stop haunting her future if she talked about the past.
Angela leans over and picks the flower off the floor. Handing it to Brennan, she places a comforting hand on the scientist's back as tears pricked at her eyes. Brennan clutches the blossom, trying to steady her breathing and control the tears.
She couldn't share that story. Daffy is hers, she had been Daffy's first and only child. Foster or otherwise. Brennan looks away, trying to tell Angela to leave.
"It's a part of my past. And the past should stay in the past. Goodbye Angela."
Brennan leaves her office, tucking the story back into her mind. She would change her password later. Booth could know it, she doesn't care. But it was going to be Daffodil. She couldn't erase that part of her history.
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