A/N: I'm hoping i'll actually get around to finishing this fic! Yay! Bringing in the other characters next chap. I plan on pretending her family doesn't exist, so no spoilers there. Other differences... minor spoilers up to season... 4? Spoilers for... this is hard to say when I don't know the exact seasons, but zach's gone and angela/hodgins is also gone. If that didn't reveal too much. No spoilers this chap. May turn into a pairing, maybe not. Who knows? Also, beta'd this myself, so if you see a mistake, click that new little review button, with the yellow speech bubble thing!
Disclaimer: I once wrote a letter to FOX asking if I could be given production rights. They didn't reply.
Temperance Brennan, PhD. A title; meaningless unless proven by sufficient data. Experience. Knowledge. These meant more than any title.
Dr. Temperance Brennan had all of these. Experience, knowledge, a title. A brain filled with facts and fiction, tied together and shielded within the four walls of her inner mind. Her imagination ran freely, unencumbered by logic. Logic held with the iron grip of sheer will, masking thought within.
Once impulsive- reckless, even- she had honed her skills into a sharp sword of misery, allowing no one inside. A persona worn down; but far from beaten. The imagination led to works of art; works of fiction that soothed her soul. Writing brought relief, and the chance to submerge herself in a world like her own, yet unlike all that she aspired to. The machinations of her characters lacked true depth, and all big events started with small reasons.
When her writing came to a standstill, her foremost passion came into play- Anthropology. Losing herself in a world where everything had a discernible reason alleviated the expressing of the one thing she despised more than Psychology- emotion.
Emotions hurt. This was a paradox to her, because emotion itself caused hurt, which caused her to despise emotion, which meant that she was feeling emotions about emotion, which caused more of an emotional response, which made her angry, which was another emotion, and.... that was when her head began spinning. It was unavoidable. She was unable to escape her very self. This scared her. Ah, yet another emotion! Fear!
Brennan was at the Jeffersonian, in her office. Sitting stiffly and staring with blank eyes at the paperwork in front of her, she thought about herself, and the paradox of emotion. This was precisely why she hated Psychology. The emotions... they hurt too much. The Anthropologist in her didn't want to think about this right now, but Temperance couldn't get it out of her head. It came back, in sparky flashes of pain.
A young, pale girl slumped as she watched her parents pull out of the driveway. They had a bunch of suitcases, and said that they were only going to be gone for a night- but her logical mind told her that there were too many suitcases for one night. Lies. The dread she felt was real, and Temperance knew they weren't coming back.
The girl, a few years older now, lay in her bed, sleeping lightly. She had just been transferred to a new foster home; the bruises all over her body attested to that. Temperance groaned in her sleep, and could tell that her wrist was broken.
Yet another home, and the girl was only a little older than she had been in the last. Hardened and distant, she still screamed when her foster brother held her down on his bed and...
Temperance screamed; aloud this time. Why had she thought of that now? It was buried; she had buried it; she was done with it; it wasn't there. Her chest burned, and every heartbeat felt like a blow. This actually hurt. It hurt so much she had screamed. The sensation was horrible, and she pulled her knees to her chest, holding her breath. Brennan's lungs began to spasm, and when the pain in her lungs was greater than the pain in her chest, she drew a shaky breath. Now they were both gone, and she felt a little lightheaded. A numb feeling began to spread, and she rejoiced. This was better. The walls went back up, and emotion was removed.
It wasn't there.
