A/N: I've been wanting to do a little one-shot on the meanings of Temperance's name in relationship to her personality, and this is what I came up with. It could take place any time after the end of season 1. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones; FOX does; but I do like coffee.
. . .
"Temperance Brennan, you are the most intemperate person I've ever known," Booth shouted from inside the closed door of her office.
"What?" she spat in response. "You can't seriously think you're the first person to use my name back at me in that way, can you?"
Seeley Booth paused. Her response had nothing to do with their current argument, about the best method for questioning a particular subject. Usually Brennan would have deferred to her partner on such matters, but in this case, the suspect was a scientist and atheist like Brennan herself, and she felt that her "personal insight"—those were indeed the words she'd used—ought to guide the interrogation more than usual. Booth disagreed, and the argument had attracted more than a few curious stares from the platform as the sound of raised voices floated through the open space.
He couldn't help but feel he had a point—besides the one he'd been making in the original argument. Temperance was anything but moderate in the expression of her opinions, despite the implications of her name. Temperance: neither too hot nor too cold, an even keel. A lack of overindulgence. When Temperance wanted to speak her mind, the word 'intemperance' came more readily to mind than its opposite.
"I thought we were talking—arguing—about the suspect," he said. "I'm not going to respond to that jibe, Bones."
He could have sworn she pouted then. Maybe it really did bother her. "You want to talk about your name, we can do it later, okay?" he added.
"I still think I should interrogate the suspect," she replied.
. . .
Brennan won the original argument, and as it turned out, her rational mind was indeed able to cut through the suspect's defenses, leading the partners closer to solving the case. In thanks, Booth suggested they grab coffee at the diner. When they were seated at "their" table by the window, he returned to the subject of her name. "That really bothered you, my calling you intemperate, didn't it?" he asked after they'd received their mugs.
"I'll say it again: you're not the first person to make that observation." She didn't tell him that most of the previous individuals to hurl her name back at her had been men she was dating, and her father in her early stages of teenage rebellion. That was before he'd abandoned her, and long after he'd given her the name to replace the one she was born with.
"You have to admit that I and these others have a point, Temperance," he said. This time his use of the name was gentle.
"I'll agree with you that I can be quite... strident... in my opinions. But I think that my logical way of thinking is its own form of temperance, don't you?" Booth knew better than to interrupt quite yet. "To be logical is to let the facts guide your thoughts, not emotions, which can be quite strong. You should know this, Booth."
Booth opened his mouth to respond, but Brennan continued. "Logic is the heart of temperance: to be logical and rational means to show restraint in the face of the facts."
This time Booth got a word in between hers. "Bones, I can see what you're after, but don't you think that to rely so heavily on one approach, yours being logic, shows a certain lack of moderation? That it's actually quite intemperate?"
"When used correctly, logic will always take the side of moderation, Booth." Booth thought privately that he didn't agree with her, but he kept listening as she spoke. "Did you know that in the nineteenth century, the word 'temperance' used to mean only 'moderation,' but once it was attached to the crusade against the use of alcohol, such as in the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, it came to take on the connotation of total abstinence? That's not very temperate either." she said.
"Yes, Bones, and I'm familiar with the movement's use of alcohol abuse as a way for WASPs to criticize the practices of Catholic immigrants to America."
"Insects were concerned about religion? I don't understand."
"WASPs, Bones. White Anglo-Saxon Protestants." As he said each word, his index finger highlighted the use of the first letters of the words to make the acrostic.
"Oh. … But, I'm not a WASP. I'm a foster kid and a child of felons. And I'm not a Protestant, either!"
"But you, Bones, as you like to point out, are a best-selling author – and you enjoy ravioli drizzled with truffle oil." He sounded genuinely incredulous at that one. "If that doesn't make you a member of the establishment, I don't know what does. I, however, am not…"
"But you are, Booth! You have an actual FBI badge and gun. That's not establishment?"
"We're talking WASP, here, Bones, not 'G-men.' Hodgins, then. He's a WASP. … Um, let's not tell him I said that. It wouldn't go over well."
"I won't breathe a word."
"Bones, I really do want to know if it bothered you, or why."
"It bothers me that it's not even my real name, Booth, my original name. I mean, my parents must have known by then that I can have... a strong personality... when they changed my name from 'Joy' to 'Temperance,' right? Why couldn't they have picked a name that suits me?"
Across the table, Booth nodded understandingly. He remembered how hard it had been for Bones to find out that her name wasn't even her own. He debated coming up with a name that might have fit the quite stubborn aspect of her personality she was currently choosing to emphasize, but instead said, "Maybe they felt temperance was a virtue you could work on, you know, to try to develop. Mind and heart. Stubbornness and flexibility – once in a while."
She smiled a bit and sipped her coffee. "It doesn't make sense, Booth. Russ got a perfectly normal name, and mine is hardly a name. Even my dad doesn't use it, only it's shortened form, 'Tempe.'"
"You have a point there, Bones."
"My birth name, Joy, doesn't suit me either. Not that I know any Joys, but when I think of a 'Joy,' I don't exactly picture someone like myself." She laughed at the irony.
Booth chuckled too. "You can't blame your parents for giving a squalling infant a name that may or may not suit their adult personality. I mean, what kind of a name is 'Seeley'?"
"Now that, my friend, is an excellent question," her partner responded. "Your name certainly is unique."
"But not as unique as 'Bones,'" he said, flashing her his widest grin as he drained the last of his coffee. "If it's uniqueness you're after, no one calls you 'Bones' but me."
Brennan actually laughed, a brilliant, almost joyful sound. She'd hated the nickname at first, but now she couldn't imagine Booth calling her anything else, unless a quieter or louder moment demanded the seriousness of 'Temperance.' With time, 'Bones' had become a name that fit her, her relationship with him, and their partnership perfectly.
Her eyes met his and he thought she looked almost grateful. "Booth, I think that just might be a name that suits me."
"Well, then, my dear Bones, let's go finish this case!" Booth placed money for their coffees on the table and ushered Bones out of the diner, his hand at the small of her back. From the way she shook her head back and forth, he knew she was laughing, pretending to be annoyed one more time at the name that put her in her element.
. . .
(Thanks for reading and please review!)