Author's Note: Hi everyone, this is my first Bones story and I would love and appreciate any feedback! I'll try to update as regularly as possible. And of course, I DO NOT own anything affiliated with Bones or really anything else.

The Case & The Cry

"Yo, Bones. Look alive," Seeley Booth strolled with a purpose into the office of his partner, who looked up at him from her desk with a confused look.

"Do I not appear to be living?" she asked seriously, causing Booth to sigh.

"It's a saying, Bones. Means get up, get going we got a case!"

"We have a case, Booth," she corrected with the hint of a grin as she stood and snatched her coat out of his arms. "What's going on?"

"Woman found in her apartment downtown. Nasty scene. Neighbor called it in when the smell began to infiltrate," he explained. "And we need you because she's been, uh, scalped."

"Scalped?" Brennan repeated.

"I know, right? Who scalps anymore? I thought we got rid of the whole practice when the west was won," Booth grinned.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know, cowboys and Indians? Scalping?" At Brennan's blank look, Booth gave up. "Nevermind, Bones."

"Actually, the ancient Mayans practiced scalping as a way of preserving their identities in the Heavens. It was very symbolic and even beautiful for them," she explained earnestly.

"Yeah, well, that's debatable. I'm driving."

"Female, 25-30. Scalp removed, with what appears to be some sort of jagged instrument. Markings indicate low level of skill by perpetrator," Brennan took in the body before her and made her observations while Booth stood behind her, looking at the corpse with thinly veiled disgust.

"How could someone do that?" he asked, and Brennan considered the question.

"A lot of care, attention to detail, and a great calm," she answered. "It's going to be hard to find whoever did this – he didn't leave many clues behind."

"Yeah well, maybe we'll get lucky and spot a guy walking down the street with a scalp belt," Booth muttered, causing Brennan to turn to him.

"Why on Earth would anyone be walking down the street with a belt made of scalps?" she asked in the tone of voice she had that implied he was daft. Even though she was the one who often didn't get the references, it was he who always ended up feeling stupid.

"Bones, you ever seen a Western movie?" he asked, already knowing the answer. But before she could reply, there was a shout from one of the detectives from the kitchen. Booth and Brennan ran towards the scene of the commotion.

"What the hell is going on?" Booth asked one of the investigators once they reached the doorway.

"God, this is terrible," the man replied. "We were just checking everything, you know, and then under the sink in the cupboard, we found her."

"Her?" Brennan questioned. The man rubbed his temples.

"Yeah," he said, turning aside so they could see into the kitchen. "Her."

Sitting in a tiny ball still in the cupboard was a very little girl. Her clothes were dirty and her face streaked with tears, her eyes open wide in fear. She looked to be no older than two, and she was clutching a brown stuffed bear.

"Oh Jesus," Booth murmured. "Well we need to get her out of there," he stated, and walked towards the little girl slowly. It was likely that she had witnessed or heard at least some of her mother's torture and death, and Booth's heart broke.

"Hi sweetie," he said, kneeling down so that he was at her level. The little girl trembled in fear, and recoiled when Booth reached out a hand to her. She began to cry, small shaking cries and Booth stood back up. "Bones, you try."

"What? Why? I told you Booth, children don't care for me," she said matter of factly.

"Just, try. Okay Bones? We need to get her out of there so we can make sure she is alright, and she isn't responding to me." Bones gave Booth a look, but made her way to the cupboard in which the little girl was motionless. She imitated Booth and crouched down.

"Hi sweetie," she said, a little awkwardly perhaps. "No need to cry." Her words of comfort were offered directly. The soothing aspect, Brennan assumed, was in the fact of the statement and not in the actual fluctuations of her voice. Amazingly enough, the little girl quieted and looked Brennan in the eyes, and Temperance Brennan's heart broke a little bit. Uncertain, she glanced at Booth, who nodded for her to continue. She held out her arms, and the little girl didn't recoil. Encouraged, Brennan reached into the cupboard and scooped the child out. Instantly, the little girl wrapped her arms around Brennan tightly and refused to be put down.

"What do we do now?" Brennan turned to Booth, who looked at her and the child in her arms.

"How would you feel about keeping her for the night?" Booth asked, and Brennan looked at him confused.

"Shouldn't we just call Child Services?" she asked, and Booth nodded.

"Yeah, and they'll probably put her in an emergency foster situation, but since you're already a foster parent, and considering we don't know if there is any evidence on her and that she looks like she's been through a very traumatic experience, and since she's clinging on to you for dear life, I think she should stay with you tonight. I'll stay with you too, to help, if you want."

"I mean – I don't have anything for her to wear, or play with, or eat really," she looked at the little girl. "But I suppose that she needs some stability right now. Call child services, tell them I'll keep her until relatives can be identified and found." Even though the child was so young, Brennan couldn't help but see herself reflected in the despair present in the girl's eyes – Brennan knew exactly what it felt like to feel lost and abandoned like this little girl was.

"Bones, you're doing a good thing for her," Booth commented as he placed his hand on the small of her back and let them out of the room.

"This isn't permanent, Booth. It's very late, she clearly needs some individual attention that cannot be provided by Child Services, and I am willing to do that for one night," Bones replied, and Booth nodded.

"Well, it's still a good thing, Bones. It's still a good thing."