Booth stood in the doorway of Brennan's office. "Hiya, Bones. Ready for lunch? Hey, what's wrong…."

Brennan wiped tears off her cheek. "Nothing's wrong, Booth. Yes, I'm ready for lunch. Can we go to that new Ethiopian place? I'm not really in the mood for the diner today."

"Only if you tell me what's bothering you." He stood in front of her desk, frowning slightly. "You know I can always tell if something's wrong. Besides, you're crying...you hardly ever cry."

"I know. I don't want to talk about it right now. I need to process some information I received first. I'll tell you about it soon." She sniffled a bit and gave her husband a faint smile. "Can we go? I'll need to get back at a reasonable time to complete some work this afternoon."

"So you promise you'll tell me, right? It's not good for you to keep things bottled up like that."

"Yes, I promise." Brennan picked up her purse and linked her arm through Booth's. "I'll tell you tonight.

oooooooooo

Brennan knew she often kept her emotions "bottled up" as Booth had put it. Even after all these years of loving him and trusting him, she still found herself falling into some of the communication habits she had learned while she was in foster care. One of the most important rules was to keep things to oneself. Don't say too much, and be careful who you share your true feelings with. Over the years she had grown emotionally, and she knew she could tell Booth anything, but occasionally a situation would arise that she normally wouldn't discuss. This was one such situation, but she decided that Booth needed to know the story. It was an important part of who she was.

It was the quiet part of their evening...the time for just the two of them. The kitchen had been cleaned up after dinner. They'd played games with the kids before reading them stories and getting them ready for bed. Now was the time they reconnected emotionally. With the stress of their jobs, Booth and Brennan both realized they had to be deliberate in making time for each other.

"So…" Booth brought Brennan a glass of wine and sat next to her on the sofa. "Do you feel like talking about what upset you today? If not, we can talk about it some other time."

Brennan sighed as she looked at her wine glass. "I had just received some very bad news when you arrived in my office, and I was trying to process it."

"Okay…." Booth waited for more details.

"I received an email." Her voice faltered a bit. "About someone I knew when I was young. He died."

"Oh, Bones….I'm so sorry." Booth put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "Was it a friend, or a colleague?" Booth was trying to figure out who it could possibly be. Bones hadn't mentioned a lot of people from her past….except for Michael Stires. "It wasn't Stires, was it? Or that guy Pete?"

"No...no one like that." Brennan turned to face him. "Do you remember when we first started working together? We had that case with the boys in foster care?"

Booth nodded. "Yeah...you got that little guy to talk to you because you knew what it was like to be him…."

"And you asked me about being in foster care, remember?"

"Yeah….I guess at that time it really wasn't any of my business, but you were so passionate about those boys being together and going back to that foster mom, and it made me curious." He chuckled a little bit. "Plus, I thought you were really hot, and I wanted to talk to you. I needed an excuse."

Brennan smiled. "Weren't you dating Tessa at that time?"

"Well, I was just covering all my bases…"

Rolling her eyes, Brennan continued. "I told you my grandfather got me out of the system."

"And I thought that was weird at the time, since I'd read your file and you didn't seem to have any relatives." Booth thought a few seconds. "Was it your grandfather who died?"

"He wasn't really my grandfather...just someone who cared about me."

ooooooooooo

Approximately twenty years in the past…..

"Temperance, come in. Please sit down." Matthew Hollister looked at the slight, pale young woman in front of him and cringed inside. How was it possible that anybody could treat this girl with such indifference? Her clothes were shabby and her shoes were almost worn out. At least she was clean…. "How are you?"

"Fine." Temperance looked at her guidance counselor with cool disdain. Just another do-gooder trying to get the gold star for helping a foster kid, she thought. They never learn...

"I looked over your transcripts from your last school, Temperance. Your grades are quite impressive, even in your pre AP classes."

"Thank you." Temperance remembered the rule: keep things to yourself. She avoided eye contact with the man across the desk from her.

Mr. Hollister watched Temperance closely. He knew the effects foster care could have on children. Some kids were lucky and got placed with people who cared. Other kids were not so fortunate…He wondered what category she was in.

He cleared his throat. "So I'm aware that you're here at our school now because of your new foster care placement. How are you adjusting to the change?"

Temperance looked at her hands. "Fine." She felt the man's eyes on her, but she wasn't uncomfortable….not like other times with other men. This one was just curious.

"I see." Mr. Hollister decided to try a different tactic. "What was your favorite subject at your last school?"

"Biochemistry." She wore an expression of studied indifference.

"I don't see that on your transcript….." He looked through her file...the previous high school hadn't offered that class…

"I know. I checked out books at the public library and taught a lot of it to myself. My chemistry teacher lent me her textbooks, and she gave me some extra work to do...but the school wouldn't give me a graduation credit for it. So I got an A+ in regular chemistry."

Mr. Hollister was amazed. "What else have you studied on your own?"

"Latin."

"Latin...your school didn't…"

"I know. I want to be a scientist. I need Latin. So I went to the library again."

"Anything else?" She could've said advanced thermodynamics or quantum mechanics, and he would've believed her.

"No. There wasn't time. I had to study for my other classes, and I could only go to the library four days a week."

"I understand." He nodded as he closed the file. "You're probably wondering why I asked to see you."

"No. It seems to be normal for counselors to talk to new students who are foster children."

"How many foster homes have you been in, Temperance?"

She eyed him cautiously. Mr. Hollister was probably in his fifties, short, a bit on the heavy side, and balding. He reminded her of the Winnie the Pooh cartoons she'd watched a long time ago. He didn't seem threatening, but it was better to be safe. "I don't remember."

"Okay. We'll talk about that some other time. What I wanted to talk to you about was the SAT exam. You'll need to take it to get into college...either that or the ACT, but you haven't signed up for either one. With your grades, I think you want to go to college, right?"

Temperance again stifled her emotions. "Yes, I want to go to college but I can't sign up for the tests."

Mr. Hollister was surprised. "Why on Earth not?"

"I can't afford it. Mrs. Martin, my foster parent, says the money she gets for me is for my room and board, and she can't afford any extras."

"But the tests aren't that expensive. Surely she can afford 26 dollars for the SAT…."

Temperance shook her head. "No, she really can't. May I go back to class, please?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry I've kept you so long. Perhaps I can find a way to help you to pay for the SAT….I'll look into it for you."

A flicker of a smile lit up Temperance's face. "Thanks...but you don't need to go to the trouble. I'm going to age out of the system in a few months anyway...and who knows where I'll be then…." She turned and left the office.

Mr. Hollister frowned as he watched Temperance leave. It was sad to think that all that talent might be wasted because of lack of funds. He was going to do something about it….