New idea :D I hope you like it :)

Sometimes a simple gesture was enough. A touch, a hug, a word. Something simple. The time in the cemetery, she had known when enough was enough. But did he? Today was the worst day of her life, the worst day she could think of; worse even than her parents disappearing and her brother leaving her for the foster system. Her father was ill; her brother was married and leaving her all over again. Her mother was dead. Sometimes you just needed something simple to make you feel better. So she sat in the middle of the floor, the letter clutched tightly in one sweaty palm as she read and re-read it, unable to let the news sink in. Her father's death sentence passed, not by the prison, but by the hospital. Terminal, stage four, colon cancer. She was losing both parents, and her brother was away on some island with no means of contact available until he got back.

She knew that this would draw attention to herself, and that somewhere, buried deep in her subconscious, she wanted someone to know this. Even Angela didn't know. Her eyes stung with the tears she'd been unable to shed, at least at work. Behind closed doors, it was a different matter. She would cry, cry until her head ached and it was hard to breathe. This was how it had been since she found out what was going on. He hadn't wanted to tell her, of course he hadn't. No one wants to tell their child that they're going to be an orphan. And even at over thirty, that was what she felt like – an orphan. She's lost her parents, found one and solved the murder of the other. But now she was going to lose them all over again, and the pain was too real, too raw. Russ had done his best to be a good brother, do the right thing, but what do you say to your sister when you know that your father's going to die? "It'll be okay, don't worry."? Of course not; you say nothing at all because you don't know what to say. She recalled an earlier conversation, something that had jolted her and left her here, just before Russ had left for wherever he was going.

'Russ? You know about dad right?'

'I do Tempe, but what can I say? Whatever I can say will not make it better, I'm sorry Tempe. I know this is hard on you and it's hard on me too, but we can do this.' He had smiled through tears that were threatening to fall, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

'I don't know if I can do this. Russ, I've only just found dad again, and after solving mom's murder case, I don't know what to do. I can't lose him, even though I know I will.' Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she let on fall, diamond-like onto her sleeve.

'You just have to come to terms with it.' Then she had begun to get angry, angry at how blasé and collected he was about this.

'I can't Russ, I love him. He's my dad, and if you gave a damn about anyone but yourself, you'd realise you loved him too and you wouldn't be like this.'

'Tempe! That's not fair! I love dad, you know I do!'

'So start acting like it! I love him Russ, and he's going to die slowly and painfully in hospital whilst you swan off and live it up with your wife. Are you ever coming back by the way?'

'That's not fair! And yes, I am. I'll be back in two weeks.'

'Dad could be dead in two weeks!'

'You wont be able to get hold of me, but Tempe, I promise that when I get back I'll call you when I get back for an update.'

'You selfish twat.' Her words were full of venom and she turned away, tears still twinkling in her eyes.

'Tempe wait!' She ignored him and kept walking, putting as much distance between herself and him as possible.

She was still sat on the floor when Booth came in, clutching a case file in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other. He dropped the coffee and case files when he saw her, tears slowly streaming down her face as she read the crumpled letter in her hand. The coffee splashed, unheeded, to the floor, the puddle of steaming brown liquid spreading rapidly and filling the doorway. The sharp tang of coffee was rising through the air, and somehow, miraculously, nobody noticed. He dropped to his knees beside her and just sat in silence with her, not even touching her. After a while of silence, she leaned sideways and rested her heavy head on his shoulder, his reliable steadiness keeping the tears from falling again. The simple gesture was enough to give him the courage to snake an arm gently around her shoulders and hold her to him, a loose embrace. That simple gesture made her want to pour her heart out to him, but she stayed quiet until the bustle of the corridor had faded and everyone was doing various tasks elsewhere.

'What happened?' Two words with so much meaning behind them, two words that simultaneously made her and broke her.

'Max, my dad…' She started, but couldn't make herself finish. She fell into a deep silence and just rested her head against his shoulder, taking comfort in the familiar solidness of him. Booth said nothing to her, just stayed beside her, kneeling uncomfortably on the carpet-tiled floor. The coffee was drying now, the dark liquid becoming tacky, like blood as it dried.

'Your dad?' He prompted after a long silence filled with false starts and unfinished sentences.

'My dad he… he has cancer. Incurable, untreatable, horrific cancer. He's going to die and there's nothing I can do, for all the science in the world there's nothing I can do for him and I feel so helpless. I know this is, ridiculous, but after more than thirty years, when he dies, I'm going to feel like an orphan.' She swallowed down the choking tears and began again, unable to stop. 'He's my dad Booth; there's no one left to turn to after he dies. Russ is married, you're moving on and my mother's dead. I love him so much, and now he's never going to see me married (if that ever happens) or his grandchildren. And there's nothing I can do about it.' She finished with a deep breath and re-read the letter, crumpling it more in her hands. Booth didn't speak for a long time, he didn't need to anymore, and he didn't need to say anything to her. Instead, he leaned across her and kissed her softly, wiping the tears away with his fingertips.

'It'll be okay.' He whispered as he stood up and left, resting his hand on her for fractionally longer than he would have. The simplest gestures mean the most.

A touch.

An embrace.

A kiss.

Love.

Maybe she would finally be able to let go. And simple gestures lead up to complex gestures.

What did you think? Please tell me :D