Temperance could only stare at the picture of the little girl standing the park. Tears pricked her eyes as she touched the photo and wondered: who was she? Was she Temperance Christine Brennan, destined to become a forensic anthropologist? Or was she Joy Ruth Keenan, the girl no one ever got to know?
Temperance rubbed a tear away. She felt like she was being ripped in two. Some small long dormant part of her wanted to be that little girl again, part of her wanted to know who that girl was. The larger part of her argued that this girl had no right to invade her life. Joy Keenan was dead. Dead and gone. She had been that way for thirty years. She should stay that way. Temperance let out a sob.
Someone knocked on her door. Temperance stood on shaking legs and wobbled to the door. She pulled it open and there stood Booth, enough Chinese food to feed the Jeffersonian employees for a week. "Booth, what did I saw about Chinese food in the middle of the night?" She complained as he made his way to her couch.
"That we were going to get fat. You never said I couldn't come over with food. And, technically, it's morning." Booth pointed out, handing Bones a container of chicken. She took a seat beside him.
"It's one a.m.!" She exclaimed.
"Exactly!" Booth crowed, settling to the couch cushions.
Temperance rolled her eyes but said nothing. Booth picked up the picture she had been studying. "More memories?" He asked.
"Mmm." Temperance agreed. Then she sighed. "Booth, who is she?"
Booth looked at Bones, then at the photo. "She's you."
"Is she? Is she really? Is she Temperance Brennan or is she Joy Keenan?" Bones erupted into tears. Booth sat down his food and the picture before gathering her in his arms.
"Shh, Bones. No matter what people called her that girl in the photo is you." Bones glanced up at him, eyes asking him to explain. "It's like how . . . how I call you 'Bones' and that doesn't change the fact that your name is Temperance Brennan. Angela calls you 'Bren' but that doesn't make you a different person. How is this any different?"
"How is it the same? People define themselves by their names, it's their identity, but I have two!" Bones pulled away from Booth and curled up on the other end of the couch.
"Joy is part of the past. She's different from the Temperance of today, just like Temperance of sixteen was different from Temperance of twenty-six and so on. That girl in the photo has evolved into you, and the you of today will evolve into the you of fifty. You are constantly changing. You won't be the same person next week. Do you understand what I'm saying Bones?"
"That your experiences shape your person, character, that sort of thing." Brennan picked up the photo. Frowning she noticed a date. "This is Joy Keenan. She died thirty years ago." She told Booth.
"Gone but not forgotten," Booth said.
Temperance could only nod and let him hug her.
I do not own Bones but I do own the plot.
~DI4MGZ~