Jaded Elysium, a bones fanfic

Author's Note: This was originally posted in fourteen chapters starting in August 2006. I took down virtually all my Bones fics several months ago but have been asked to reupload this one, so here it is. It's virtually the same as the original posting, save some grammatical tweaks and formatting and therefore is just as incredibly historically inaccurate as it was five years ago. That said, thanks to everyone who reviewed it the first time around and thanks to Allison who conveyed the upload request and whose friendship has outlasted my time in this fandom, a fact for which I remain ever grateful.

Jaded Elysium

Chapter One - In from the Cold

New York, 1923

"Again, sir?" Tess made no attempt to hide her disapproval.

"Grab me a couple of coffees, would you?"

She pouted, but rose from her desk, drawing the attention of a group of nearby officers as a pair of long, bare legs emerged from beneath the dull wood of her desk. Rolling his eyes, but not entirely unaffected by a now smirking Tess, he went into his office and closed the door behind him.

"So, Detective Booth, are you going to charge me with anything, or are you going to let me go?" True, he already knew who was in his office – he put her there himself not five minutes ago – but he would have known that voice anywhere. He seated himself comfortably in his worn chair before meeting her gaze. As always, he felt that familiar shiver when he looked into those pale blue eyes. And then he would inevitably wonder what slimy bastard would look into those eyes tonight, and he would shudder, and his resolve to save her from the nightmare that was the street, no matter how many times he had to arrest her, strengthened.

"Temperance, you know why you're here." Temperance. Not the kind of name one would expect a girl like her to have, but it suited her. The person, not the…job she was forced to do. Sometimes he wondered why she did it, only to rebuke himself the next moment. He knew full well why she did it. She was alone, with no family, no money, no connections, and no qualifications. Although he knew she was working on that last part. Whatever money was left over after paying the rent on her dump of a place went towards paying for whatever education she could get. Sometimes, being a cop was an asset.

And she was smart; probably smarter than most of the guys on his team. With the right opportunities, probably even smarter than him.

"No, I know why I should be here. I should be here because once again, you should be charging me with prostitution. And yet, you're not." She spoke bluntly of her profession, but he'd heard her strident tone often enough to detect the shame that hid behind her tough façade.

"Let me help you." There. He said it. Again.

"I don't need your help," she scoffed, but she wrapped the blanket he'd given her tighter around herself, covering every inch of exposed flesh she could. He couldn't blame her; he had the urge to wrap her up in a soft blanket and carry her away to somewhere safe the first time he'd laid eyes on her.

The thought brought gut-twisting emotions to the surface, reminding him of how he'd found her one night, slipping out of a dilapidated boarding house, tugging her thin coat around her equally thin frame, with that look of barely disguised loathing. For both the inhabitant and herself. He'd offered his help for the first time then, startling himself with how easily he lost the hardened edge he had worked for years to build and earn, how easily he saw her as more than a common whore.

At first she'd been wary, cautious and tentative. She had a right to be, especially when she discovered his profession later. Strangely enough, she had opened a little of herself to him. Maybe it was because of his apparent weakness, his inability to do anything but try to help her, even if involved arresting her. Maybe it was because he was the only man with whom she knew where she stood. Well, not quite, he reflected, but she knew he wouldn't be like the others. He'd promised her that much.

There were some cops, you know, she'd once told him, they…they did terrible things. Abused their power. Used people.

People like you, he'd asked.

Yes.

When he expressed his anger, she only laughed. How strange it would be, she said, for a cop to antagonize his fellow officers over a whore.

You're not, he'd started, but faltered.

Not what? Not a whore?

He saw the anger in her eyes, in her whole form, tingeing her pale cheeks a faint pink, from both shame and anger. He'd reached for her then, and for the first time, she let him hold her to him, let herself lean against his warmth that would chase away the deep cold that had settled in her bones.

You're not, he'd whispered. You're better than this.

She'd laughed again, wondering at how he'd managed to pull that forgotten sound from her twice, more times than she could remember laughing in the last year. You don't know that, she'd replied.

I know that you're strong, and I know that you're smart and beautiful.

She'd looked away, out onto the street, and ran a finger down the long scar that crossed her left cheek and curled down her neck. He knew there were more bruises and scars that marked her fair skin.

I know that you're good.

She'd stiffened, but he'd continued. I know that you're a fighter, that you don't back down and you never give up. I know that you're alone, and I know that you don't want to be, and I know that I – he paused, and she took his hesitation as an opening and bolted, leaving him with nothing but a glimpse of her turning the corner and a rapidly cooling blanket.

He hadn't seen her since, which was why he'd finally gone out there, hunted her down, and arrested her. Again. She still had that touch smirk on her face, but he could see that the last two weeks had not been kind to her. If possible, she had gotten thinner, paler, so her bruises looked even darker, even more mottled against her skin.

He decided to play it nonchalant, "You okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"No. You don't. You look like hell." Normally, he wasn't the kind of guy who would tell a woman she looked 'like hell', but with Tempe, he felt like he could always tell her the truth, that he couldn't lie.

She shrugged, a hint of contrition flickering over her frozen features. "I haven't seen you in a while." She said it as if she had never run away from him, disappearing into a sinister darkness for two weeks. "Did you have fun with Parker on the weekend?"

If anyone could hear them, it would have sounded like two friends making friendly conversation. It was funny, but he felt like that's exactly what they were, even if he had to threaten her with handcuffs to get her here. She always knew what was going on with him, but he was never quite sure about her. Regardless, in most ways, she was his best friend, and for all he knew, he was her only friend.

He almost laughed out loud at the idea. A cop's best friend was a prostitute. And yet, it didn't seem ridiculous at all. He was more than just a cop, more than his job, and she was far, far more than what she did to get by. He knew it, and he would make the world know it. Deep in his heart, he knew that was his secret wish, to be able to lift off the heavy cloak of dark shame and stigma from her and make her the person she should have been. Could still be.

"Yeah," he answered finally, "And now Drew owes me one."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy holding that one over him," she rolled her eyes.

"Prerogative of the older brother. Listen, Tempe, it's cold out tonight-"

"Trust me, I know."

"I don't like the idea of you out there."

"I know you don't. And neither do I."

"Come stay with me. For more than just a week this time." He'd finally asked her, and frankly, he was relieved he had finally gotten it out there.

"I couldn't," she protested, but he could see the way her body begged for rest, the weakening resolve in her eyes.

"Yes, you could. Easily."

She lowered her voice, glancing at the closed door, "What will they think, Booth? Their boss – and potential future Chief of Police - living with someone like me?"

"I don't care," he said simply. "I don't know if you've realized it, but I've spent the last year trying to help you Tempe. Not because I feel bad for you, or because I pity you, but because I want to, because I care about what happens to you."

A slight smile blossomed on her lips, and something tugged at his chest to see it; it came so rarely. "You know, you're supposed to be arresting me and tossing me in the can for the night."

"Is that a yes?"

She hesitated, "You won't make me stay? I can leave when I want?"

"Yes." He couldn't understand why she might want to, at least, not in the immediate future, but agreed nonetheless.

"Okay," she nodded, to both him and herself, "Okay."

Chapter Two - Just for a Second

He whistled softly as he strolled down the dark street, hands in his pockets, his shoes reflecting the dim light dully.

"Hey mister, you're looking a little lonely." He forced the charming smile to his face, one that had seen far too many nights like this one.

"You know anything that might help?" The woman's lips flickered into a strange smirk, one he had come to associate with women like her, women frozen inside because they had to be, with smiles full of far more sorrow that joy. After all, he often wondered, what did they have to be happy about?

He watched as she walked back to a group of younger girls that seemed to look up to her like some kind of mother hen. Some mother…

If he strained, he could just make out her whispered instructions.

Go with him Kitty…

…Tempe, that man…coming back tonight…if I don't…

…he hurt you Kitty, nearly killed you, and I'm not letting that happen again…

…Tempe, he'll…

…I'll be fine, now go…

He couldn't believe it. Was this woman actually trying to protect these young girls? As a small girl he presumed was "Kitty" approached him, he watched as a big, burly, rough looking man came up to the remaining girls.

Tempe came forward, keeping her girls behind her. From where he was, Booth could hear nothing of their conversation, but he saw the man's grip on her thin arm, the thick fingers digging into pale skin...

In a few seconds, he had crossed the corner and grabbed the larger man's arm, effectively separating him from Tempe. With a flash of a badge, Booth snapped a pair of handcuffs on the surprised man, "Sir, you are under arrest for soliciting a prostitute."

Turning his head to gape, the man protested, "Shouldn't you be arresting her? She's the skirt!"

"I suggest you hold your tongue, sir."

Leading the man away, Booth spared himself one last glance back, back to a pair of remarkable eyes that followed his departure with surprise.

"Remember that first night?"

"You mean the first time you arrested a source of income?" she asked sardonically.

"Tempe, he could have killed you, you said it yourself."

She blazed with indignation, hardly paying attention as he ushered her out the back door of the police station. "You heard what I said?"

He tried to change the subject as he moved to walk on the far side of the sidewalk, subconsciously protecting her from the water that would splash up from the street as cars passed, and from any curious eyes. "How are your girls?"

"Mina's dead," she said dully.

Instantly, the image of a small brown-haired girl appeared in his mind. "Dead?"

"Yes, dead," she bit harshly, "I failed to protect her, and now she's dead. Stabbed and left in an alley. I didn't even find her until it had been a few days."

"I could-"

"No." She refused his offer of help before he could even make it. "You're supposed to be arresting us, remember? Not chasing down our murderers." Glancing up at him speculatively, she waited at his front door as he took out the key to unlock it. "Sometimes, I wonder why you're doing all this."

His hands stilled, "What?"

"Trying to help me," she said matter-of-factly, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not as if you're some kind of advocate for pro skirts. I mean, you still think of us the same way you did when we first met."

"Not you. Not Kitty. Not any of your girls."

"Why?"

He sighed, jiggling the key in the lock impatiently, "Because you're not like them. I've met a lot of girls in your line of work, and while most of them are most decidedly deserving of pity-"

"Then why not help them?" she interrupted

"You're different," he said simply, pushing the door open.

"To you."

"Yes. To me." A hint of a smile appeared on her frozen features, and then it was gone as she stepped into the warmth of his home.

"I'm going to assume you want a bath." Booth hung his coat on a peg by the door, watching her as she wandered around, perpetually awed by his home.

She didn't bother answering, and Booth wondered why he'd said anything. She always wanted a bath.

"I'll just run that for you then." It was better if he did it. The last time he'd entrusted her with running her own bath, she'd forgotten all about it, resulting in an inch of water on the bathroom floor. She had, she explained later, been distracted by her book.

He paused at the foot of the staircase, watching as she drifted inevitably to his bookcase, a wealth of treasures she probably had never had a chance of touching before him. "Sometimes I think you come here just for my books," he commented.

Tempe turned, looking over her shoulder at him. "No," she replied mildly, "I quite like the company most of the time too."

Her quiet honesty had never failed to bring a smile to his lips and it certainly did not waver now, as he trudged up the stairs to the bathroom.

The little money Mrs. Vanhall from the orphanage had given her just before turning her out was gone more than a week ago. And now she was starving, cold, and desperate.

There was no hope for a job with her appearance and lack of…everything. Begging wasn't working; she wasn't emaciated enough yet to evoke the pity needed for a hand out. That, and she hated it.

But night had fallen again, and unless she found a way to feed and house herself, she'd be close to death within a fortnight.

The solution did not come in a flash, a sudden moment of revelation and glory. No. It had occurred to her the previous night, as much as her stubborn mind refused to acknowledge it. It occurred now, as she saw the girls on the corner.

The looks they gave her…not pitying, and certainly not happy. But they were surviving, and their brief glances told her that it was this or do what she was doing now, slowly dying in darkened alleys.

Tempe got her feet unsteadily, trying her best to smooth her hair and clothes while wondering why. The others said nothing, would say nothing until she was a threat to their own ability to draw income.

Until then…she shivered.

She joined him in the study an hour later, clean and wearing clothes he'd bought her, insisting she have a least one clean outfit. Booth imagined she appreciated it, even if she never took it with her when she left.

He eyed her as she took a seat across from him; her long sleeved blouse buttoned up her neck, her skirt belted tightly, the hem skimming her toes. She was the picture of conservatism, but that was not what surprised him. Every time he managed to convince her to stay a while, she dressed like this, but rarely did she seek him out.

Booth peered at the title of the book she clutched as discreetly as he could, recognizing it as one of his brother's old texts. Human Anatomy. Typical. She always went for the weird stuff.

"You look better," he said, smirking a little as they went through the steps they were both familiar with.

"Thank you. I feel better."

"How long are you staying?"

Tempe shrugged, her shoulders slightly damp from the water that dripped from the loose bits of hair that escaped its tight bun. "I don't know."

Booth nodded. It was an improvement, at least. The last time he had asked her that, she had stayed for a week. The time before that, two days. "Okay."

"Okay." She made no move to open her book, just stared at him in that way that unnerved him.

Well, he knew just how to wipe that impenetrable look right off her face. "Did you want supper?"

Like lighting a match, her face blossomed with the simplest kind of happiness he could imagine, animating her whole form, and just for a second, she looked beautiful.

"You're a cop?"

She was furious, and ironically, it was the most emotion he'd ever seen from her. Strangely, it scared him just a little bit.

"Yeah, so?"

Her face twisted into something closely resembling rage. "So? You're a goddamn copper! What do you think you're doing here? Trying to be all friendly, hoping…hoping for what? Free sex?"

And on her face, did he detect…was that…just a little…hurt?

He gaped in surprise, the moment's hesitation enough to have her storming away in a disgusted huff. Another second to recover, and… "Tempe, wait!"

Chapter Three - Tarnished

"Do you believe in God?"

"No. Do you?"

Booth looked pensive as he answered. "I was raised a Catholic, but right now…I don't know. Sometimes, I think of the things I've seen, and I think that if there is a God –"

"How can he let all these things happen," she finished for him. "I used to be the same way. But if there's one thing I know, it's that unless I can feel it, experience it, I can't believe in it. I'm an empiricist, through and through."

He laughed. "You know, I think I should see to getting some different books in that library for you."

"Why? They educate me. Don't you want me to be smart?"

"You are smart, Temperance. Almost too smart."

"There's no such thing as being too smart, Booth."

As always, he spent the entire meal watching her, amazed by the enthusiasm with which she ate. It wasn't that she was messy, or lacked manners, but she didn't worry about getting a little sauce on her chin, or whether she was holding her knife and fork in the right hands. And there was a joy there, a true appreciation of food. As much as he liked watching her, her obvious hunger made him wonder how many nights she went to sleep with an empty stomach.

This time, however, he was startled to see her looking right back at him over the dining table, her cool eyes watching him with intensity comparable to that of his own.

The telephone in the hall rang before either of them could break the silence, it's hard jangle insistent and demanding. Booth excused himself, and she responded with a nod; her mouth was too full to speak.

Lifting the conical speaker to his ear, he spoke clearly into the telephone's receiver mounted on the wall. "Booth."

The voice of his caller came through clearly, if a bit warbled. "Sir, there's been a bust at the docks."

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Hanging the earpiece in it's cradle, Booth returned to the dining room. "I have to go."

Tempe paused, her hands in the act of tearing into her bread. "Okay."

"You can leave the dishes –"

"No," she said immediately, the way he knew she would. "I'll do them."

"Right. Make sure the doors are locked before you go to bed, then," he instructed, even though they both knew she wouldn't forget. "Good night."

Tempe nodded, and he moved to go. "Booth."

His hand slowed as it took his hat from the stand by the door. Part of him was in a rush, a mad hurry to get to the docks. Another, completely opposite, part wanted to tell someone else to deal with it, so he could stay home and continue his year long struggle in unraveling the elaborate puzzle that was Temperance. Her voice froze him in that state of limbo.

"If you see the girls, tell them to be careful, okay?" Her body was tense, her forehead creased with worry, with guilt. There was another question in there, too, he suspected, and he wished she wouldn't tonight. Not tonight. But there would be no stopping her.

"I'll tell them," he assured her, pulling on his coat. She would say no more, he knew. There would be no words of worry or concern for him or his safety from her. Booth paused once more, glancing back as he held the door open. "The basket's by the pantry. And Temperance…be careful."

Tempe did not flush, did not do anything but give the slightest nod of acknowledgement. He knew that by the time he came home, the basket would be sitting by the pantry, which would be a little emptier than when he left.

Tempe hefted the full basket into her arms, locking the front door with the key he left out for her. She'd wrapped a dark scarf around her head, tucking the ends into her coat, both threadbare and dirty enough to keep from getting questioned once she'd entered her own neighbourhood. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized, and bothered tonight. Tonight, in her clean conservative clothes hidden beneath dark cloth, she felt like a real person, who deserved respect.

She found them, lying close together for warmth in the small room they rented. Kitty sat in a corner, watching over them in the dark. The younger girl's eyes caught her arrival immediately, hard and sharp until they softened in recognition. She rose slowly, careful not to wake the others, and came to her.

"Nellie and Ruth are out," Kitty whispered. "The rest are here. We've managed to get enough for this month's rent."

Tempe took the thin wad of cash from her, stuffing the money into her belt. She would deal with their landlord later. Kitty was visibly relieved once the money left her hands. Tempe would take care of them, she knew, and she would protect them from having to deal with the landlord themselves.

Kitty was tired, but she managed a sly smile. "I hear your detective friend paid you another visit tonight."

Tempe rolled her eyes. "Arrested me is more like it."

Even in the dark, Kitty could see the change in Tempe's clothing. "Are you staying again, then?"

"For a while." Tempe turned to her, taking her by her hands. "You know I don't want to leave you girls here on your own."

"You're lucky enough to have someone who wants to give you a home without asking for anything," Kitty said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "We live a shitty life, Tempe, and you know that better'n any of us. Why throw away a chance to be happy, to just get away from all of this?"

"I won't leave you," she answered fiercely. "I can't live in some clean house, without a care in the world, knowing that you girls were out here. Besides, it's just an occasional thing."

"I don't know, Tempe. He seems pretty insistent."

"He just likes the idea of helping someone like us," Tempe said dismissively. "It won't last, but it'll help feed us while it does."

Kitty took the proffered basket happily. "We should wake them. They haven't eaten all day."

Nodding, Tempe got to her knees, gently waking the sleeping youths. They woke quickly, alert despite their fatigue, happy to see her. Kitty distributed a small portion of the bread and meat Tempe had brought to the ravenous girls before taking a share for herself.

Tempe watched them eat, the pleasure of seeing them fed tainted by the knowledge of what the next hour could bring. She was at least a few years older than most of them, and they looked up to her, trusting her. As she sat on her haunches, leaning against the wall, she remembered a much earlier time, when she was alone, with no one to protect her from the sharper blade of the double-edged sword they lived by.

To be honest, she had gathered girls to her for protection; strength in numbers. As they grew closer, however, she had begun to care for them in a way she hesitantly identified as motherly. Some kind of twisted mother, sending her family out to be used, to be treated like garbage, for money…

A year ago, she sighed, an offer like Booth's would have had her jumping. A home, a real home, with no ulterior motives on his part? And Booth…a man who seemed to care about her, for some reason she couldn't fathom. A cop, for God's sake. But now…the thought of abandoning these girls, even if it meant her escape, made her sick.

But it wouldn't be much longer, she consoled herself. If her plans did not fail her, the girls would be provided for, wouldn't have to do what they did every night…even Booth would benefit, and she…well, it was a small price to pay.

Inevitably, the time came for her to go. She hugged them all in turn.

"Lorraine."

"Bye, Tempe." Her gaze was steady, brave. The closest to Tempe in age with the exception of Kitty, Lorraine was usually silent. The two words were probably the most she'd said all day.

"Janie."

"Tempe," she said, playfully mocking her. Tempe bit her lip as she released Janie, the only one of them who could still jest in earnest, despite everything they endured together.

"Elsa."

The girl's lip trembled. "I don't want you to go."

"I'll be back, sweetie," Tempe dropped to her knees, hugging her youngest to her. "I promise."

Letting go of the sixteen-year-old, Tempe helped cover them with the thick blanket she'd taken from her room at Booth's as they settled back down to sleep.

Once they were quiet, she turned back to Kitty. "I'll be back tomorrow. Be careful until then. Lock the door behind me, and don't open it until Nellie and Ruth come back."

"I know, Tempe," Kitty said gently.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. I really am."

"I'm not. You being there is what's best for you. No one can begrudge you that."

With a flicker of a smile, Kitty hugged her tightly before shoving her out the door again, a whispered goodbye as the lock slid into place.

Shivering in the cold corridor, Tempe made her way to the last door on the right, knocking swiftly, and dreading the moment the door would open.

"Whaddya want? Oh," the man's angry countenance melted into sickly lasciviousness. "If it isn't my Lola."

"The rent." Tempe held out the cash Kitty had given her, before turning away to leave as quickly as she could.

His hand grabbed her wrist before she could make her escape, however, dragging her back. "Why so fast? Don't you want to talk to your ol' pal?"

Tempe struggled against his grip, but he pulled her closer, his breath hot and foul on her face. "Now don't make a fuss. You don't want me to make things tough for your gals down the hall, do ya?"

She set her jaw, tensing as he dragged her inside. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, she thought bitterly as his hands pawed at the clothes that covered her. She had gotten through it before, and she would get through it now.

And still…as she squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lips to keep from crying out, tried to separate her mind from her battered body, she wished with all of her tarnished soul for salvation.

Chapter Four - Damnation

The creak of the front door signalled her arrival. Booth stepped out of the study where he'd been waiting, wondering if she'd decided not to stay, gasping when he saw her. She shuffled in, her hair mussed, her clothes torn and stained, and he suspected she bore a few new bruises as well.

"Temperance…"

Her glare was cold, a stony blue that threatened to crumble if only he pressed hard enough. "Don't look at me."

"What happened?" As soon as the words left him, he felt stupid for asking.

"Nothing."

"Tempe," he reached for her, touching her back lightly, freezing when she flinched. "Tempe, let me help you."

"How?" her gaze was fiery, burning with indignation. "By paying the rent for me? By dealing with my monster of a landlord for me? By handling the slime balls that come pick us up from the streets? How exactly are you going to help me? No, here's a better question. Why do you want to help me? What could possibly make you want to take me into your home?"

She peered at him, with inquisitive eyes, and the thin, bruised, woman actually frightened him, making him feel as if she could see every one of his nasty little flaws with those crystalline eyes.

Again, he reached out for her, sensing that she was trying to pull away. "Don't touch me!"

Instantly, he stopped, feeling like a beast as he saw the panicked, defensive look in her eyes.

"I want to help you because I like you," he said, deciding honesty was probably the best way to go with an angry Tempe. "Not because I want sex, or something like that. I like you, I really do. You're my friend, Tempe, and I'd do anything to keep a friend off the streets."

Tempe backed away, tightening her shawl around her. "And what about my girls?" she asked dully, "You might want to help me get off the street, but what am I supposed to do about them? Just leave them to the mercy of the mobs, to the men that roam the streets at night? That's death, and you know it. I can't abandon them, Booth. No matter how much I might want a life like this."

She bit her lip and nodded grimly at his silence, withdrawing a few bills she'd kept for herself. "Here," she said shortly, thrusting the money in his direction.

"Tempe, you know I don't want your dough."

"Then you should know that I want to support myself," she held the money out, insistently. "I know it's not enough, but –"

Booth took the money hesitantly, accepting it as her sign of independence. "It's enough."

With a curt nod, she strode past him, slipping up the stairs quietly. He closed his eyes, expecting it. A second later, the sound of running water echoed down to his ears. Another bath. Turning down the lamps, he followed her a few minutes later, knowing that by morning, there would be a little dent in his stores of soap.

His breathing was heavy, and Booth was afraid they would find him based on the harsh sound alone. Like the brazen idiot he sometimes was, he'd heard of a transfer being made that night, a hurried affair. Calling in back-up would be impossible; Cugini's men – and he was sure they were Cugini's – would be long gone by then.

So, he made what he thought was a good decision. He went alone. The mobster, it turned out, liked to have his investments protected well; Booth was overwhelmingly outnumbered. Which was why he was pressed against a filthy wall, his heart pounding, his head racing to devise some kind of escape. Deep voices bounced off the high walls, a maze of abandoned buildings, old distilleries gone kaput after the Prohibition started.

They were getting closer. He had six shots. Eight men. In the pitch dark. He might have been a decorated sniper in the Great War, but he was older now, and to be frank, he wasn't that good…

A hand gripped his front as he peered around the corner, dragging him back into the alley forcefully, shoving him towards a dark, ominous hole in the ground. To his credit, Booth did not scream. Instead he whirled, striking out with a fist. His assailant hit the wall hard, muffling a grunt of pain with a free hand.

It wasn't until then that he realized his so-called assailant was a woman. A very familiar woman.

"Tempe?" he hissed.

Gasping, she nodded, taking the arm he offered her in apology. "What in damnation are you doing here?"

"Saving you, you dumb lug," she shot back. "Now get into that hole. Now!"

If there was one thing he'd learnt in the six or so months he'd known her, it was that when she had her hands on her hips like that, she meant business. The voices grew louder, closer, and he saw her eyes widen in fear. If he was found, he'd probably be beaten, maybe killed. If they found her...

Hesitating no longer, he stepped down into the dark hole, his foot landing solidly on the metal rung of a ladder. Looking up, he saw her follow him closely, the hem of her skirt brushing the top of his head, and even in the dark, he could…Booth looked down, embarrassed.

In a few seconds, they hit the rank bottom of…wherever they were.

Her smile was triumphant, if a bit grim, when she joined him. "Welcome to the New York sewer system, Booth."

Smirking at his bewilderment, she took his hand, leading him along the grimy edges. "C'mon, I'll bring you home."

"How did you know where I was?"

"Heard some crazy cop was down there, wanting to get his head shot off, so I figured it was you," she called back to him.

Somehow, he didn't think that was quite the truth, but he didn't question her. "Well, thank you."

She paused at the bottom of a rusty ladder. "You're welcome." She nodded upwards, "This opens up about at the end of your street."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Hey, Tempe."

"Yeah?"

"You busy?"

"Not yet."

"Do you want to come up? For tea, or something?"

The look on his face reminded her of a puppy she once saw on the street, its round eyes begging for whatever it could get. Tempe gestured down at herself, "I'm not really dressed to be going into anybody's house."

"You could have a bath."

Her eyes lit up involuntarily, as she tried to hide her smile at his offer.

"That might be okay."

"Tempe, I think Lorraine might be…sick." Kitty's quiet voice drew her attention sharply.

The tense silence they shared said more than enough. The best they could do was hope it was nothing. But these days…

Tempe had lost four girls in the last two years, three to the consumption that ravaged girls like them. And Lorraine…

"Do you know what it is?" she asked tersely.

Kitty understood, the worry bright in her eyes. "No."

She wasn't sure if that was worse. If Lorraine was with child…her body would not stand another abortion, nor could its broken system carry a child to term…either way, she would die.

"Keep her in at all times," she instructed, not letting her voice waver for a second.

Turning her concerned gaze on the drawn-looking Lorraine, Tempe said softly, "I'll try to get her to a doctor soon."

"I forgot to ask about your bust last night."

He waited for her to finish gulping down her morning tea before answering. "Ship's cargo was almost entirely crates of bourbon. Decent take, but we can't tie anything to Cugini, so that went nowhere."

Tempe put her cup down with a clatter. "Are you sure you don't want me to ask around?"

Booth shook his head vehemently. "Don't get mixed up with those people, Tempe. It's not safe."

She eyed him over the little floral arrangement in the middle of the table. "I am those people, Booth."

"No, you're not. You might do some unsavoury things to get by, but you're not a killer."

"You don't know that," she pointed out. "You're right, but how do you know I don't do a little moonshining on the side?"

"I just know."

Raising her eyebrows at his certainty, she poured herself another cup of tea. "I went to the girls again today."

"And?"

"Lorraine… Lorraine's sick."

A quick glance at him told her he did not quite understand the severity of the situation. "What's wrong with her?"

This time, she would not lie about their welfare to him; Lorraine was worth more than her pride, life was worth more. "She could be with child, or she could have contracted something. Consumption, maybe."

"Well," he said carefully, "It would be better if it was the former, wouldn't it?"

"She'll die either way," Tempe replied dully, the steely detachment he'd seen often sliding into place, holding in the pain he knew she was feeling.

"And yet she still works."

The accusation, intended or otherwise, cut her, and she hated it. "We don't have a choice, Booth," she spat, "We work, or we die."

"She's just a girl, Tempe."

"Yes, she is. And so was I! Don't pretend to understand what we go through, Booth. We live in constant threat of disease, or pregnancy, or death…it's all death, don't you get that?"

He was silent, but she saw his thoughts clearly. "You think I'm a monster. You think I'm some kind of beast, putting those girls out on the street every night. But you know what? When some bastard knocks them up, or infects them with the diseases that kill, that force us to abandon them to save the rest…I do that. I take care of them."

"You kill unborn children." Then she knew what it was that was bothering him. And laughed.

"What do you think we do, Booth? Keep them?" He flinched, and she drew conviction from it.

"Lorraine can't live through another abortion, nor can she carry it to term," she said bitterly, "None of us can. The younger girls…Elsa, Janie…Ruth, maybe…they're young. But the rest…we are incapable of bearing children, whether we want them or not."

"And do you want them?" He couldn't even understand why he was asking, the horror of her confession numbing all sensibility.

A bitter tug at her lips. "I used to. A long time ago…yes, I did."

There was nothing he could say to make it okay, and they both knew it. Instead, he offered the only thing he could: his help. "I'll take Lorraine to a physician tomorrow."

Booth could see that she wanted to protest, wanted to refuse his offer, but knew with certainty that she would do anything if it meant helping her girls.

A slight nod signified her gratitude.

"How is she?" Booth asked the moment Tempe emerged from the examination room, wringing her hands nervously.

"The doctor says it's a congestion or something, in her lungs," she said, her eyes darting between him and the closed door. "She isn't coughing up blood, but it's a possibility…"

"But she's okay for now?"

Tempe nodded, "For now."

"That's what matters," he said, gently taking her elbow. "If she gets worse, we'll bring her back."

"We can't afford –"

"This is the part where you don't protest and just say thank you and look pretty," he teased lightly.

She graced him with the tiniest of smiles. "Thank you."

The opening of the door drew her attention away once more, Lorraine emerging, Tempe hurrying to her side, her arm supportive around the younger girl's shoulders.

Booth followed them out, and thought back to her confession that she couldn't have children, saw the protective way she held her girls to her. Part of him mourned for the mother she could have been, and another rejoiced for the mother she was.

Chapter Five - Look at Me

"Tempe-girl," Booth started.

"I swear I told you not to call me that," she scowled.

"You know you like it," he teased, catching her scoffing smile.

"I'm meeting a couple of my friends for dinner today," he watched her carefully, gauging her reserved reaction. "Do you want to come?"

"Cop friends?" she asked warily.

"Yeah."

"I'm not meeting no cops," she said decidedly, crossing her arms.

"They're good guys, Tempe. It'll be fine. I want them to meet you."

"You want them to meet the pro skirt living in your house," she said slowly, trying to understand where the sense was in that.

"No," he replied firmly, "I want them to meet my friend."

"You know, Booth, the world might be all modern and all that, but I don't think people are going to think real well of you for living with a lady friend."

"A close friend," he amended.

"That doesn't change my gender, Booth."

"Do you really care what they think?" he asked softly.

"Not particularly," she said bluntly.

"Good. So we'll go."

Her look turned desperate, like a cat forced into a corner. "Will their wives be there?"

"Maybe. Why does it matter?"

"They'll be able to tell," she hissed, "All fine and dressed up…they'll know what kind of dame I am right off."

"They won't," he assured her, a little part of him amused by her panic. "I promise they won't."

"Booth!" she huffed from her side of the table, going pink in the face, "Look at me!"

He couldn't help but grin. "I am."

"Heard about your case."

He joined her in the shadows of the alley. "I guess that means you heard about how badly it's going."

"Something like that." The dim light from the streetlamp illuminated her features enough for him to see the tugging of lips that constituted a smirk for her.

"Yeah, well, as long as we can't find McLeod, we can't press a charge, which means this case is pretty much at a dead end."

"You sure he's in New York?"

"Guy like that won't leave his businesses for someone else to snatch up."

"Interesting." She slipped past him quietly, glancing up the street to go.

"Where are you going?"

She didn't look back. "Get some sleep, Booth. You look like hell."

A week later, his precinct was tipped off with the whereabouts of one Sidney McLeod.

"Rebecca, this is Temperance. She's…a friend of mine from the country." Over Rebecca's head, Booth sent Tempe an apologetic look.

"Lovely to meet you, Temperance," Rebecca greeted with an authoritative smile. "I assume you have a last name, and that Seeley was merely being idiotic again."

"Brennan," Tempe offered haltingly. "Temperance Brennan."

"Hmm," Rebecca's cool eyes appraised her quickly as they flicked up and down her form. "Rather conservative in taste, are we?"

Managing a semblance of a smile, Tempe choked out, "Could I possibly speak to Booth…er, Seeley, for a moment?"

Rebecca nodded briskly. "I will be in your dressing room. I assume Seeley has given you the guest bedroom."

"Ah, yes, Rebecca," Booth nodded as she ascended.

"Booth," Tempe spat in a whisper, "What is she doing here?"

"I thought you said you wanted to fit in with the others for dinner," he said with a smile that infuriated her, right to the bone.

"Your sister-in-law? You're setting your sister-in-law on me?" Her angry whisper might as well have been a scream, in intensity at least.

"We get along all right," he shrugged, "And this way I get a couple hours with my favourite nephew."

"A couple hours?" Tempe asked in dismay.

Rebecca appeared again at the top of the stairs, her eyebrows raised impatiently. "Miss Brennan?"

Shooting the waiting woman a half-smile, half-grimace, she turned back to Booth angrily. "And just how do you suggest she does her magic act without seeing the marks all over the place?"

"Ah." Pursing his lips, Booth called up to Rebecca. "Don't worry about clothes, Rebecca. I'll have her handle that on her own. Just those other things."

Rebecca rolled her eyes as she came back down. "Like you would know about those 'other things'" she gestured in the air, rolling her eyes at him. Taking Tempe by the wrist, Rebecca dragged her upstairs.

Booth called up to the departing pair once more, his eyes on a long length of dark hair. "Rebecca. Don't cut her hair."

"What?" she asked indignantly, her free hand flapping in outrage. "Not cut her hair? Look at it, Seeley! It's the most old-fashioned thing I've ever seen! We have to bob her hair."

"No," he said firmly. Fashion be damned, he refused to see Tempe's hair cut and slicked into those short wavy 'do's all the women seemed to be sporting. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked her hair long, liked to imagine what it would feel like if he buried his hand into it's dark mass…

"Just don't cut it," he warned his peeved sister-in-law.

"Fine!" she huffed, tugging Tempe along.

Tempe said nothing more, only mouthed five words back at him as before Rebecca shoved her into her room. I'm going to kill you.

"Uncle Seeley?" Parker looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, playing with his new fire truck.

"Yeah, Parks?"

"Who's that lady upstairs with Mommy?"

"She's a friend of mine." Booth stiffened, holding his breath as he hoped the boy wouldn't ask any more questions. To his relief, his answer seemed to satisfy the four-year-old.

In any case, Rebecca's re-appearance into the front hall signalled the end of their wait.

"So?" Booth asked eagerly.

Rebecca laughed at the anxiousness on her brother-in-law's face, scooping Parker up in her arms. "Don't worry, I didn't bob her hair…exactly. But she refuses to come out."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Parker, say goodbye to your Uncle Seeley."

Parker waved as his mother carried him to the door Booth held open for them. "Bye, Uncle Seeley!"

"Bye, Parker."

Rebecca gave him a knowing look just before they stepped outside, "Good luck with her, Seeley."

Resisting the urge to tell his sister-in-law to shut her gob, Booth shut the door instead, turning his eyes to the closed bedroom door, at the top of the staircase. Good luck to me, indeed.

"Tempe?" The door opened silently. The sight that greeted him was…surprising.

She sat on the edge of her bed, playing with a loose thread on the cuff of her blouse. Just like she'd promised, Rebecca hadn't bobbed her hair…exactly. Her hair was fashionably styled, the tight waves shiny, but not quite as short as a bob; the cut ended just before her chin. He supposed this was what she meant by 'not cutting it'.

And Rebecca hadn't stopped there. Tempe's face was painted a neutral peachy tone, the powder hiding the thin scar well, her eyes lined with black, and lips painted a dark red.

In short, she looked completely different. Booth took a deep breath. "I told her not to cut your hair."

Looking up at him from the bed, he thought he saw shyness in her, a quality he'd never thought of associating with her before. "Don't you like it?" she asked.

"I-I…it's different," he finally managed to sputter out.

"It'll reach my shoulders once it's washed," she said softly, a little shocked at her own appearance. That, and the fact that she cared what he thought of it. She brushed the latter thought away and focused on the startling image in the mirror. Sure, she'd seen girls everywhere who looked like this, but seeing it on herself was a little jarring.

Booth seemed to snap out of it. "I have to admit I like the old-fashioned style, myself, but…you look beautiful."

For the first time ever, he saw her blush.

"Can I ask you something?"

The corner of her mouth twitched, amused by his hesitant manner. "Something tells me you're going to ask whether I like it or not, so ask."

"How'd you end up here?"

"In New York?"

"No…on the street."

Any open camaraderie she might have been feeling for him vanished from her face. "How'd you end up a cop?"

"I was a sniper in the war," he spoke softly, almost as if he was afraid the night breeze would carry his words to ears other than hers. "I did a lot of terrible things. Killed dozens of men who never saw me coming, never stood a chance."

To his surprise, her voice was gentle, the hand she touched his shoulder with light. "You protected your country."

"That may be so, but it doesn't stop the dreams at night, doesn't keep me from seeing the blood, and the mud, and the stench of death everywhere…" He looked into her eyes and saw comfort, even as he wondered why he was telling her this, things he'd never told anyone before.

"I became a cop to save the lives I took." He laughed cynically, "Guess I didn't realize what a bunch of corrupt bastards we are."

She didn't dispute it, and he didn't expect her to. They both knew what went on when no one was looking, the pay offs between bootleggers and the cops who were supposed to be catching them, the ruthless way some would take what they wanted from the streets.

"My parents disappeared five years ago. I was fifteen," she said, so quietly he could barely hear her. "The coppers didn't do anything, too busy, I guess, handling the new prohibition laws."

Her mouth formed a twisted smile, "The Temperance Movement and all that, right? Can't think why my parents would name me that."

"I like it."

She shrugged. "They pretty much assumed our parents abandoned us, or got caught up with the wrong crowd. Either way, we were alone."

"We?"

"Yeah." He saw a distant smile, a whisper on her lips. "I had a brother. Russ. He was nineteen when it happened. He moved out west, and I was stuck into an orphanage. No one wanted me, so I was put out onto the street when I was eighteen, and the rest…well, you know the rest."

The information, so easily given, floored him. Well, it sure explained a lot, he thought, how she knew to read, write, speak well…until five years ago, she'd been a normal person of a normal family. A young woman who should have had a future in front of her, and now all she had was…this.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, it's tough, but I got by. All my girls came from orphanages, just like me." She shrugged as if it didn't matter, but he saw the tremble in her skinny shoulders.

"You know where your brother is now?"

She snorted in disgust. "I haven't got a brother. Haven't had one in five years. Russ left me, Booth, and while I'm not going to complain about what could've been, or might've been, all I know is that out here, I haven't got any family except for the girls."

Booth saw the hardened look in her eyes, and knew she meant it. As far as she was concerned, her brother was dead.

Tempe sighed, and gave him the closest thing to a sympathetic look he'd ever gotten from her. "I'm sorry about what you did."

"Me, too."

"Must've been hard."

He smiled as he took her hand. "It's getting easier."

She returned it as best she could, managing a half-smile before her chattering teeth took over. "It is, isn't it."

Chapter Six - Save Me

"Temperance, this is Jack Hodgins, Zach Addy, and Angela Montenegro. Hodgins and Addy work with me."

Forcing her lips to turn upwards, Tempe faltered as Booth pulled a seat out for her, sure she saw a flicker of recognition in Hodgins' eyes.

Angela's bright smile, however, put her at ease immediately. Still, she tugged at the ends of her now shorter hair, at the long sleeves of her blouse, so different from Angela's clothes.

"So, Temperance, how do you know Seeley?"

The question was perfectly innocent, but Tempe tensed, glancing at the three men who seemed to be discussing something work-related, judging by the stern look on their faces. To her relief, Booth seemed to sense her discomfort, as he turned to them with a smile.

"She's an old friend of mine," his tone making it clear he would not elaborate, although the arm slung over the back of Tempe's chair had Angela's eyebrows raised.

Angela took it well, taking a menu from the pile the waiter left them, leaning over to examine the tiny script with Tempe.

Booth turned back to his colleagues, watching the laughing pair to his right out of the corner of his eye. His distraction did not go unnoticed by an observant Hodgins.

"This your new squeeze, Booth?"

His comment was met by a glare. "Don't even think about it, Hodgins."

"Think about what?" Zach asked curiously. Then he saw the direction of his superior's gaze. "Miss…Temperance?"

"Yeah, Booth's smitten," Hodgins laughed.

"Watch it," Booth barked.

"Aw, c'mon, Booth. You've never introduced a girl to us before. So when's she meeting your ma?"

"Hodgins."

"I have to say, wouldn't it be logical for Detective Booth to ascertain whether his feelings are reciprocated before introducing her to his family?"

Zach piped up.

"Addy, I've told you a thousand times, you don't have to address me by my rank."

Hodgins jumped in with a wide grin. "So you're not denying that you have feelings for our Miss Temperance here."

Booth let out a growl of frustration, startling other patrons nearby, but neither of the two women they sat with seemed to be surprised. They merely glanced at him, giving him what was referred to as the Look.

"You okay, Booth?" Tempe asked, her fingers brushing his sleeve, a gesture noted by the rest of their dinner party. Nor did they fail to notice the way the ire that tensed the detective's body seemed to dissipate almost immediately.

"I'm fine."

Satisfied, she turned back to Angela, leaving him with the knowing looks on Zach and Hodgins' faces.

"Don't say anything," he ground out.

Both men immediately assumed an air of innocence. Hodgins spoke for both of them, "Not a word."

"Have you ever been in love before?"

She snorted. "I was fifteen when my parents disappeared, Booth. I spent most of my childhood wrapped up in books, hardly noticing the people around me. And from then until now…well, there's not much opportunity for love."

She said love like it was a fairy tale, a story for children, enchanting in premise, but ultimately, false. "Why? Have you?" she asked curiously.

"Once before. When I…when I went to the war, I left a girl behind. Rebecca."

"Not your sister-in-law."

"One and the same." In a twisted way, he enjoyed seeing the shock on her face. "My brother Drew wasn't drafted on account of his bad knee, and by the time I came home, they were engaged."

"How horrible," she sympathized, although he was sure the next words out of her mouth would be… "What did you do?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "What could I do?"

Tempe contemplated that for a moment. "Well, if I had been you, I might have given them a good beating."

"Beat my brother?"

"And Rebecca," she said earnestly, her pure conviction in her words making him laugh.

"No way, Tempe."

Shrugging, she kicked at some loose pebbles. "It would have made you feel better."

"Only for a while," he admitted. "But now that I think about it…I don't even know if I was really in love with her. I was a boy, not even seventeen. Lied to get into the army to do some of the most stupid things I've ever done. It hurt at the time, but in the end, it doesn't really matter."

They lapsed into silence for a time, even though Tempe knew there was something else he wanted to ask her. Finally…

"Do you believe in second chances?"

"What kind of second chances?"

"At love."

She burst out laughing; she couldn't help it. Here, this big tough cop, asking her about love. Oh, the world was an odd place.

"I'm serious! Do you think I'll get another shot at it?"

Once the laughter had left her, Tempe contemplated the question carefully, surprising herself with her answer. "Yes."

"It was really nice to meet you, Temperance," Angela hugged her goodbye, noticing the way the other woman tensed immediately at the contact, and ignored it for now. Her sharp eyes had picked out a few disturbing details about Tempe, a sneaking suspicion wafting around in her mind, but frankly, she didn't really care. Booth seemed to like her, and she liked her, so as far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.

"It was nice to meet you too."

"We should get together sometime. I'll call you to set something up," she promised.

"That would be nice," Tempe answered vaguely, distracted by the exchange not far from her.

"I'm glad for you," Hodgins clapped Booth on the back, "She seems like a nice girl. Can hold her own against you, anyway. I can see why you like her."

Before Booth could say anything, Angela was dragging his colleague away, waving a goodbye as Zach followed them, hands in his pockets.

To his surprise, he felt Tempe's hand take his arm. He said nothing, even as a strange feeling began to possess him, spreading from the light touch as she led him forward, down the sidewalk towards his car.

Without a word, she let him hand him into her seat. Despite her new 'do, he suspected she was secretly as old-fashioned as he was. Either that, or she liked it.

"Your friends are very nice," she said once they were going down the street. "I like Angela especially."

"I'm glad."

"I heard what Hodgins said." Well that came out of nowhere.

"Oh?" he asked, trying his best to feign nonchalance.

Glancing at her, Booth saw that she was giving him that infuriating smile, one he was sure he'd never seen before on anyone but her. "Are you attracted to me?"

Honesty, he figured, was the best policy. "Yes."

It clearly wasn't the answer she was expecting. Well what did she expect? He thought irritably, did she expect him to play along with her teasing question? Actually…yeah, she probably did, judging by her silence now.

Tempe waited another two left turns before speaking again. "Do you mean that?"

"Yeah, I do. I don't want to alarm you, but I'm pretty sure you're aware of the fact that I like you. A lot. And yes, I do find you attractive. But that doesn't mean I'm going to…try anything. You're safe with me, you know that right?"

Silence. At least, Booth consoled himself, it was out there. After more than a year, it was finally out there.

"I know," she said finally. "But…you know you're not safe with me, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a cop, Booth. A good cop. I hear they might make you the next Chief, seeing how Cullen's retiring in a few months. Think about how people will think of you if they find out you're living with someone like me."

She gave him a long look, her eyes expressing something he wanted to stop in the middle of the road to try to understand. At best, he was glancing at her every few seconds, just managing to keep them from veering into oncoming traffic. Then she looked away, and whatever precious secret those eyes might have held flittered away.

"I could ruin you, Booth."

The worst thing was…she was right.

"Where's Vera?"

"What?" She shivered against the cold metal of the park bench, but refused his coat.

"I haven't seen Vera around. Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Tempe said guardedly.

"Tempe, she's the third of your girls to just disappear. If someone's after you –"

She laughed, the release of air rattling something awful in her lungs. "Who'd bother with us? Vera's fine. So are the other two."

"Where are they?"

"They're safe."

Seeing she would say no more in this thread of conversation, Booth changed tactic. "You know, I thought I saw a girl who looked just like Katy the other day."

"Oh?"

"In a shop. A salesgirl."

"Mmm," she said vaguely, eyeing a couple far down the path.

"You did that."

"Did what?"

"You know what I mean. And I want to know about it."

"What, are you writing a book or something?" she scoffed.

"No." He used his firm tone, one that worked on her maybe once, twice before?

"We save what money we can," she explained quietly, "I try to get the girls as educated as I can. It gives them a chance, at least."

Booth didn't ask what kind of chance. He already knew. For girls in their position, there was only one kind of chance that mattered.

"When we have enough, I buy them some new clothes, pay the right people and they've got a job. Most of the time, they make enough to get a decent place to live. The rest of the girls are really good, you know? Do all they can to help until it's their turn."

For the first time, Booth saw a true glow of triumph light her face. She was proud of her achievements, proud of the girls she'd helped. But he couldn't help but wonder…

"What about you? When is it your turn?"

Her face crumpled for just a second. "They need me. I can help them, Booth."

"Don't you ever want to leave? Help yourself?"

"Of course I want to leave! There isn't a day I don't wish I could just…do you think I'm happy like this? Living like this? Some days I'm so tired, so sick of it, I'd give anything for it all to be over. But who's going to help me, Booth? Who's going to save me?"

"Where are you going?"

Then he caught sight of what she was wearing, and something inside him hurt. She hadn't gone out all week, and some part of him had hoped she'd stopped. "Tempe, no."

The expression on her face seemed to mirror his feelings. "I have a client I can't afford to lose."

"You don't have to do this," he said, and realized he was bordering on begging her not to go out. "I can –"

"He's valuable," she said bluntly, "And he doesn't hit me."

"Temperance."

She stepped towards him, and kissed his cheek lightly. "I'll take the back door."

Before he could say anything, she was gone.

Chapter Seven - Dance, and Don't Worry About Your Legs

He wanted to tell her to stop, wanted to tell her to act her age, but he stilled his tongue. She'd lost her innocence a long time ago, so who was he to deny her a few minutes of careless happiness?

Besides, he chuckled, watching her run around the private park, chasing pigeons that would flutter up, only to settle back down somewhere else, the smile on her face released a warm feeling in him for having brought her here.

He watched as two small children joined her, as she ran with them, laughing, really laughing. A vision came to him, of a different Temperance, the woman she could have been, should have been…

"Happy, Tempe-girl?"

Smiling, she collapsed on the grass beside him, her cheeks flushed naturally from the exertion. "I haven't felt like this in years."

"Like what?"

Tempe threw her arms out, like a bird, "Free."

This time, Booth did laugh at her. There seemed to be something about the open air, the sunlight, which changed her. Looking at her now, it was almost as if she had never gone out last night, as if she spent all her evenings happy and warm and safe. He wanted her like this always, wanted to give her the life she'd lost.

Why? He could almost hear her ask.

He knew the answer. Somewhere in between the death of night and the birth of dawn, somewhere in between the lonely creature who protected the people she loved from the terrors she herself was frightened of and the radiant woman who found the simplest happiness in the sunlight…he loved.

With that filling his heart, he swore for what must have been the thousandth time that he would be the one to save her. He would give her everything she wanted, give her a life where she could be like this always, and he would never have to see that frozen look on her face, the purple bruises on pale skin, the emptiness in blue eyes.

He was a fool.

Her breath came in rattling gasps, shaking her thin form as she coughed. A warm hand came to rest on her back, the heat barely penetrating the cold that seemed to surround her endlessly. Always, always, cold.

"You're sick."

"Elsa was ill when we found her," she rasped out, by way of explanation.

"You should be somewhere warm."

"Well thank you, doc," she snapped, the fatigue and illness making her irritable. And there was still the rent to be paid…

"I live not far from here," he said gently, wrapping an arm around her waist, noting that she had gotten thinner. "Come on."

She did not protest as he led her away, although he seriously doubted whether she had the strength to resist.

He sat by her bedside that night, until her fever broke, until she fell into much needed sleep.

By morning, she was gone, a fiver missing from his wallet, another familiar girl working in the comfort of a corner shop.

"How're you feeling?" Tempe asked, feeling the younger girl's forehead experimentally, relieved to find it at a normal temperature.

"Better." Lorraine's voice was a little hoarse, her thin frame a little weak, but she would live. She saw Tempe's appraising look, comforted by the concern in her eyes and the protection she knew was provided. This woman…this woman was all the mother she had ever known, and for that, she loved her with every feeling her little heart could still squeeze out.

Tempe's fingers brushed at her temples, soothing and familiar, and everything was okay. "We never have to work again," Lorraine mumbled sleepily, "Never have to-"

The fingers stilled. "What?"

Lorraine's eyes flew open, realizing that Tempe didn't know. "We don't have to work, Tempe! This place has been bought over, and Kitty says she thinks she can find a job, and then when I'm all better, I can find one too, and-"

"Who bought it?" Tempe's voice held no hint of happiness, or relief. It was low, and it was bordering on dangerous.

She understood immediately what Tempe meant, knew that she was afraid that someone had bought this place to control its inhabitants, and laughed. The sound shocked all of the girls. Lorraine was laughing.

Having stunned Tempe into silence, Lorraine explained, with a smile Tempe had never seen before. "Your detective friend paid us a visit today…"

"No luck?"

Booth shook his head tiredly, kicking off his shoes at the door. "Sometimes I think we're never going to find anything to nail this guy."

Tempe set her book down. "What kind of thing are you looking for?"

"Anything. Anything that would link Cugini with his bootlegging operations."

Booth took the seat across from her, loosening his tie. "Did you go see your girls tonight?"

"I did," she said. "Kitty says they only need to work a night or two a week now, until she can find a job. They tell me our landlord has decided to move out."

"Really?" he asked, his curious look not fooling her for a second.

"Apparently someone bought the place we're living in."

"The entire place?"

"No, that's the odd part," she said, eyeing him. "Just the section we live in."

"Hmm," he said, taking a sip of her tea on the table.

"Booth!"

"What?"

She couldn't believe he could just sit there and stir more sugar into her tea after…

"It was you!"

"What was me?"

"You bought it!" Tempe launched herself out of her chair and onto the longer sofa he occupied. "How could you do that?"

Booth looked dumbfounded. "I thought that's what you wanted. For them to be safe."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You did all that...for me?"

"Well I sure didn't do it for your landlord. Nasty number, I can see why you –"

To his surprise, he saw tears in her eyes in the brief moment before she flung her arms around his neck, shaking as his arms closed around her slowly. "Temperance –"

"Thank you," she pulled away, embarrassed. Booth sure wasn't embarrassed; it was the most affection she'd ever shown him, with the possible exception of the kiss she'd left on his cheek the other night, and he was damn well going to enjoy it.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying not to feel hurt when she flinched and moved away.

"Thank you," she said again, straightening herself. He could actually see her changing her mind as she leaned towards him again, trembling fingers reaching for him.

Booth stilled, trying not to let her see how he trembled inside as her fingertips touched his cheek, sliding down to rest on his shoulder, as she moved closer, sliding into his lap as her lips brushed his.

She was extraordinary, he thought, as his hand came around to cup her jaw, his lips meeting hers insistently. He felt her shiver under his touch, and revelled in the feeling of her until he felt her shake with what he felt sure was a sob.

He pulled away immediately, finding her cheeks wet with tears.

Tempe's chin shook as she asked, "What's wrong? Don't you want this?"

Part of Booth wanted to dismiss her tears as a fear he didn't want her, the same part that wanted to just keep kissing her. The rest of him said something was seriously wrong. "I do want this. Believe me, I definitely want you, but something's telling me you don't. So why are you doing this if you don't want to?"

"You've helped me so much. Me and the girls," she said simply, as if that should have explained it.

He understood in an instant. "Tempe, no. You don't ever have to repay me, not for anything, you understand? And especially not like this."

She froze, unsure of what to do. "I didn't mean to –"

"I know you didn't. But Temperance, you should never have to do that because you think I want to. You do it for yourself, okay? Because you want to."

She nodded, surprising him as she hugged him again, this time her whispered thanks for much more than a square grey room.

He patted her back awkwardly, unsure of how to deal with a suddenly emotional Tempe. Then again…

"Does this mean you'll stop?"

Tempe stiffened apprehensively. "I don't –"

"The girls are taken care of. You don't have to do this anymore."

The hope she saw in him was almost unbearable. He truly believed it was over. Wasn't it? A part of her asked, Isn't it over? Can't you…get a real job, a real life? Why not?

She thought of the plans she'd laid so carefully in the months before coming here, the pains she had taken, the costs she had paid to get this far…should she abandon all of that? All those midnight meetings, bribes to the right people, the time she'd spent immersing herself in the darker, hidden side of the street? Was that all for nothing?

She was so close, she agonized, so very close. It was just once a week. And he wasn't even that bad, really; most of the time she was there for show. Most of the time. And in the end, it would be worth it. He would understand.

"Promise to stop?" he asked, wondering at her hesitation.

"I promise." Even as the words left her, a tiny voice hissed. Liar.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, glancing down at her stocking-clad, but otherwise bare legs for the hundredth time.

"You'll see. Now stop fussing about your legs. They look fine. No one can see…anything."

Tempe opened her mouth to retort when he stopped before the doors of what looked to be a club. The second they stepped in, she could smell the cloying scent of makeup, perfume, and cigarettes. And the music.

The sound of laughter, footfalls on wooden floors, and jazz. She'd heard of places like this, had passed them in the street, listened to the enthralling music, watched the carefree dancing through open windows until she was shooed away. And now, she was in the midst of it.

"Like it?" he asked, guiding her to a seat.

"It's amazing," she breathed, her eyes on the throng of dancing couples.

Her focus did not go unnoticed by him. Booth let her watch for a few minutes before grabbing her hand, and pulling her up there with him.

Tempe's protests lasted only a second before one hand grasped hers, and another settled at her waist. To his surprise, she moved easily to the music, her ankles twisting in time with his, the rest of her swinging with ease in his arms.

She was by no means the best dancer in the room, nor the most graceful. No, not even the most beautiful, but with that smile on her face, that happiness that shone through bright eyes, he was captivated.

"Booth, why aren't you married?"

He nearly spat out the soda they'd been sharing all over her. "What?"

"Why aren't you married?"

"Well, why aren't you?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," she said huffily. "We both know why I'm not married, but why aren't you?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Didn't meet the right girl, I guess."

Tempe pondered that for a minute, taking a sip of the sugary soda he offered her before asking, "Do you think you'd like to be married?"

"I think so," he answered seriously, even as he wondered at the odd turns her mind could take. "I like kids, and I like the idea of spending the rest of my life with someone. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Would you like to be married?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it before, but I guess it might be nice to have someone who'd stick around."

"And kids?" he asked curiously.

"I like kids," she answered simply, and they said no more about it.

Chapter Eight - No Matter What You See

"Your girl doing okay?"

"Temperance is fine."

Hodgins followed his friend's gaze to the woman on the other side of his sizable living room, chatting animatedly with Angela. "So where are things going, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

Fine. If he was going to play it that way. "Are you going to marry her?"

"What?"

"C'mon, Booth. The girl's been living with you for nearly a month after coming out of nowhere with no connection to you before this except for your 'old friend' line. You buy her clothes, go out with her, bring her to every public event Cullen forces you to attend, and I heard you calling her Tempe-girl the other day. There's even been some speculation in the papers about you."

"What?"

"Please. You're practically the unofficial next Chief-in-line, Cullen's Golden Boy; you think people aren't going to start talking if you start showing up places with an unknown dame on your arm?"

"Temperance isn't –"

"Look, I know who she is. What she is." Well, that certainly got his attention. Booth was giving him a look both fierce and defensive. "Whoa, man. I don't care where she came from, or what she used to do. If you love her, then it's none of my business, but people are going to start talking, Booth. Just keep that in mind. If I could recognize her, there's sure to be someone else out there who will too."

Booth thought of the way Tempe worried every time they went out in public, the way she tensed every time a man looked her way, as if she were afraid. No, not as if. She was afraid, and he was starting to think she had every reason to be.

"You know, I worry about you."

"Why?"

"It isn't safe out here."

She gave him a look that immediately alerted him to what she would say next. "I'd be safer if I had a piece."

"Not again, Tempe. We've been over this. You can't have a gun."

"I can too; you just won't give one to me."

"And seeing how you can't afford to get one any other way, I'd say that's a good thing."

"I'd be safer with one," she said stubbornly.

"You already sleep with a shiv under your pillow. Somehow, I don't think giving you a gun would be safer."

"An intruder would be in more danger if I had a piece."

"I meant safer for you, Tempe. Not for the person you want to shoot."

"Does Seeley know you're still going out there?"

Tempe spat her tea back into her cup. "What?"

"Jack told me," Angela explained, as they settled on a bench for what was now a weekly meeting in the park, the time spent sketching and talking. Well, she would draw, and Tempe would talk and get distracted watching the various people around them. "And judging by your reaction, I'm assuming the answer is no."

"Definitely a no."

Seeing the concerned look in the other woman's eyes, Angela patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. I understand why you're doing it. I do. I'm not sure I could be strong enough to do what you are, but I think it's brave. What you're doing is…it's good, even if the method of getting there leaves something to be desired."

"Thanks, Ange."

"Don't thank me, sweetie. I just hope your Booth is understanding enough to thank you, once it's all over."

Tempe managed a smile before changing the subject. "So I guess you and Jack are kind of close then."

Angela snorted, but she saw the smile her friend tried to suppress hidden in her scorn. "Yeah, kind of, I guess."

"Mmhmm."

"Oh, please," Angela swatted her arm playfully. "Like you're not the same."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Look at you! You're putting yourself through hell, even though you could just as easily back away, get away from all of that. All for him."

"Part of it's for me too," she protested, "The money –"

"You could easily get a job. You're smart, and I know you've been thinking about the university, but instead you…God, Tempe."

"It should be over soon," she said quietly, "It's…close. Tell Jack that."

"Shouldn't you be telling Seeley that?" Angela asked softly.

"No. He wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?"

"I don't know. Why I'm doing this. I'm not even sure why I'm doing this."

"I do," Angela said matter-of-factly.

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

"You're doing it because you know it'll help him. And don't tell me it's for you, because we both know it's not. And as twisted as this sounds, I hope it works out, what you're planning. Oh, and just for the record –"

"What record?"

"He likes you too."

A whistle pierced the night air. It meant nothing to Booth, but Tempe obviously recognized it. She shoved him further into the alley, into the shadows.

"Temperance, what are you doing?"

"Just get back, Booth," she pleaded in a whisper. "There isn't time. I just need you to stay quiet. Don't do anything, no matter what you see, okay?"

There was no room for argument or question as she pushed him to the back of the dead end, before returning to the street opening.

Booth watched as a man joined her, shoved her against the wall roughly, and fought the urge to disobey her.

"Please, no."

"You don't want this?" a deep voice asked. "Maybe you'd rather I went for one of those girls I see you with instead?"

Silence.

"I didn't think so." He watched as the shadow reached down, and knew without seeing it, that buttons were being undone. He saw a hand grip a thigh, a pause, then heard a cry wrench itself from her throat.

"Shut up!" The sharp slap, followed by the crack of a skull hitting brick. "Just shut up, you filthy bitch."

He was drawing blood from his palms, shaking with the effort of keeping himself from taking the few steps it would take to get to her, to rip that scumbag from her, to hit him until the anger was appeased.

He stood there, hidden by darkness, silent, the man's grunts, the sound…God, the sound.

Then, it was over. As fast as he had appeared, the man slipped from the mouth of the alley, and disappeared.

He was there before she could collapse against the ground, holding her shaking form. A touch to the side of her head had her wincing, his hand withdrawing stained with blood. A curse exploded from him, hating what he'd seen, what she'd done, what he hadn't done.

In a few minutes, her breathing calmed, and he felt the weight against him lessen as she pulled away. He glanced both ways before leading her out onto the sidewalk.

Tempe felt the questions fairly bursting out of him, felt the concern and pity he felt for her, and hated it. "Let's-let's not talk about it, okay?"

"I should have done something." His tone was low, intense…and dangerous.

"No. I told you not to do anything. It would have been bad if you did." She took his hand in hers, "I know you're upset –"

"I wanted to kill him." His eyes met hers, flashing darkly. "Why didn't you stop him? You didn't have to –"

"Yes, I did," she interrupted. "Men like him have power here, power they abuse. Saying no wouldn't have stopped him, and it would have only made things worse for me, and the girls."

"Who was he?"

She gave him a long look before answering. "He was a cop."

"Don't I know you?"

Booth's arm tightened around her as she pressed herself instinctively into his side. She shook her head, "I don't think so."

"You know, you look mighty familiar," the man scrutinized her face. "I can't quite place you…"

"Simmons," Booth barked, "Don't you think you're being rude?"

"Hmm? Ah, right you are, sir." The man drifted off, but Tempe was sure he would remember who she was before the night was over. Why had she agreed to some to this stupid party at his precinct to begin with?

As soon as they were out of earshot, Tempe took his hand and tried to drag him towards the exit, hissing when he protested, "We have to leave."

"Why?"

"Didn't you hear that guy back there?" she asked angrily, even as he pulled her into a corner. "He recognized me! How long is it going to take before someone else does? Or before he tells someone?"

"You don't know that he recognized you. You don't know that he even knows you," Booth reasoned, to no avail.

"He looked pretty familiar to me too, Booth, and he's not the only one around here who does!"

The panic in her eyes softened as she asked, "Do we really have to be here?"

It was a question he'd heard countless times in the last few months, her discomfort with attending public events ever-present.

Booth couldn't blame her; she'd made several social faux-pas in public, blushing when he corrected her. He hated seeing her unsure of herself, the constant worry that she would do something else to embarrass him clear in her eyes. He hated it, but didn't know what to say.

"Tonight they're announcing the next Chief," he answered shortly, his inability to meet her gaze betraying his indecision.

One quick glance at her told him everything he needed to know. She understood, would be there, holding his hand just the way she was now when the announcement was made, no matter what it cost her. The set of her jaw, the deep breath she took, the focus of her eyes, told him all of that. And he loved her for that as much as he hated his moment of weakness.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked, her voice calm and even.

"They should do it any minute now."

Heaven seemed to decide to grace him once more, as Cullen called for attention.

"As you all know, I'm retiring," the older man said bluntly. "And as Police Chief, someone must obviously replace me. After a considerable amount of deliberation, the board and I have decided on the man who will succeed me. Over the years, he's proven to be resourceful, ingenious, and most importantly, he's not afraid of telling some of you idiots to shut up and do your jobs. I give you the new Police Chief…Seeley Booth."

The next second his lips were on hers, a kiss of victory amongst riotous hoots.

The next few minutes were a flurry of sound, laughter and cheers, smiles from happy friends, and the flash of cameras Tempe tried desperately to avoid. Booth didn't seem to notice her discomfort as he pulled her to the front of the room with him, an arm around her waist as he made his acceptance, as he thanked Cullen who eyed her curiously. After another minute or two of celebration, she tried to break away from the crowd quietly, but as always, he noticed.

Worming their way through the crowd, Booth shook his last hand, accepted his last congratulations before escaping out the door.

He sighed happily, taking her hand as they walked the short distance home. Tempe smiled at the contentment that he seemed to glow with, that lit up the face she had long ago admitted was handsome.

"I'm happy for you," she said, and realized that despite her misgivings about the evening, she was.

Chapter Nine - For Herself

This was her, Booth decided. The clean-faced woman in plain clothes that were normally off-set by the unusual jewellery he'd discovered she had a penchant for, hair loose and curling, free from product and styling, and half-dry after yet another bath. Not the made-up doll with waved hair, dark lips, who smiled because she felt it her duty by him to do so.

This was her, curled up in an armchair, looking up at him with that quirk at the corner of her mouth that made him want to keep her forever.

"What are you looking at?"

"You," he stated plainly, as if it should have been obvious.

"Booth," she started.

"I thought we were going to try referring to each other by our given names."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes at him. "Seeley…why did you kiss me tonight?"

"I wanted to."

Tempe seemed to contemplate his answer before asking hesitantly, "Do you still want to?"

"Kiss you?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

Times like this when he felt like he was explaining things to a fourteen year old. "Because I'm attracted to you? Because I enjoy doing it?"

"Even though I'm not…clean?"

"What?"

"I'm not clean. I'm…all used." She shook as the words left her, as she wondered what she was doing. But every time she looked at him, in his clean suits, all pressed and good and pure…and she, so worn and used and filthy…and she would wonder if he could ever want her.

He approached her, cupping her face in his hands. "Temperance, we've all done things we wish we didn't have to. I've killed people, taken lives I had no right to take. You might have had to do a lot of things to get by, but that doesn't mean you're not clean, or that you're used. You're a good person, whatever you're done in the past doesn't change that. You're good…no matter what other people might think of you, because what they think doesn't matter."

"Oh." She looked almost confused as she contemplated this, stunned into silence as he released her.

The set of her jaw told him she'd come a decision…about what, he wasn't too sure. Then her hand slipped around his neck, as she rose, and she was kissing him. This time, for herself.

Booth's arms pulled her closer, the warm fuzzy feeling intensifying until he cupped her breast, and he felt her flinch. Trying to ignore his pounding heart, he pulled back to see her nervously biting her lip. "We don't have to do this."

She shook her head, giving him a tiny smile. "No, I want to."

Nodding, Booth took her hand. He'd be damned if he was going to take her in his living room of all places.

Tempe watched him calmly, almost clinically, as he removed his shirt and belt, shivering on the edge of his bed when he approached her, as the plain buttons of her blouse came undone, one by one.

She shuddered as he pulled the fabric away, layer by layer, her fear soothed by the kisses he pressed against bared skin, the heat swirling inside of her, stoked by gentle fingers, until she gasped for breath, until she wanted him.

Even in the darkness, Booth could see the last of her fading bruises, the inconspicuous scars that marred pale flesh, the flush of desire that brought her colour. And then his name, a whisper and a plea as he touched her. There was a promise that it would be different, that it would be good, a hard-won patience fuelled by the painful knowledge that she did not know what good was, what the most intimate of caresses could be. There was a silent oath that this, right now, when she was moaning softly, shy, yet sure in her desire...this was what she should have had, and it was what he swore to give her. What he swore she would always have from now on.

She was hot and gently yielding when he entered her, kisses and fevered strokes easing the tension, the apprehension in her form. The heat built, and the feeling unbearable, indescribable to her as he moved against her, within her, her name a prayer on his breath.

And just when she could take no more, could resist no longer, when he told her he loved her, when her eyes met his, he could almost swear she loved him back.

"Teach me to fight."

If they hadn't been sitting down, Booth was sure he would have fallen over in shock. "What?"

"I know you haven't lost your hearing yet, Booth." She looked him dead in the eye, perfectly serious. "I said I want you to teach me how to fight."

"Why?"

"You're just full of dumb questions tonight, aren't you?"

"Okay, okay," he caved, getting up. She bounced off her seat eagerly, her legs planted firmly apart, her arms up. She reminded him of something between a football player and a boxer.

Tempe frowned, hands on hips now. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," he lied, moving behind her. He covered her fist in one hand, and held her shoulder with the other. "So what you want to do is…"

"Mom, I'd like you to meet someone." Booth took his mother's arm, leading her through the garden party she'd forced him attend.

Lucy Booth was not surprised when he stopped before a tall woman who stood out in the crowd, if only because of her unease. She eyed the pale woman, whose smile was shy, but steady.

"Mom, this is Temperance Brennan. Temperance, this is my mother."

"Lucy Booth," she introduced herself as she took the younger woman's hand. "I'm afraid my son tends to forget I do have a name."

Tempe laughed at the stately woman's eye rolling, deciding she liked her. "Yes, I've had a little experience with that myself."

"Oh?" she asked curiously, making Tempe wonder if she'd said something wrong.

Well, she'd already dug the hole…

"Seeley seems to forget that my name does not, in fact, have the word 'girl' on the end," she smiled tentatively.

Booth feigned shock. "Why, now, Tempe-girl. You never said."

She elbowed him lightly, "Of course I mentioned it. You just never listen."

Lucy watched the exchange with amusement, pleased when Angela came up, smiling. "Miss Montenegro."

"Mrs. Booth," Angela greeted warmly, "How are you?"

"Quite well," she answered mildly. "I was hoping you could tempt Miss Brennan here with the dessert selection."

Angela caught the hidden meaning in her words, even though Tempe remained perfectly ignorant. She took her friend's arm, and led her away, chatting enthusiastically.

Lucy watched her son's gaze follow their departure, and laughed. "You really like her, don't you?"

"I know you just met her, but… I love her, Mom."

"Well," she said slowly, "I suppose you'd better find out if she feels the same way about you."

"You know they're talking about you, right?"

"Who?" Tempe asked, looking left and right to figure out who her friend could be referring to.

"Seeley and his mother." Angela popped a grape into her mouth contentedly. "I told you he liked you."

Laughing at her friend's obvious embarrassment, she continued, "And I'd say you liked him just as much."

"He's a nice man," Tempe said softly. "It's funny. Sometimes he's so gentle and kind that I just want to strangle him, and sometimes he's so irritating and vexes the heck out of me, but half the time that's when I want to hug him."

"You are weird, Temperance Brennan," Angela proclaimed decidedly. "But you're right. He is rather wonderful to you."

"I didn't say that!"

"No," Angela agreed readily, her eyes picking out a certain curly-haired man in the throng. "But I heard it."

"Tempe!"

With a smile, she hugged Kitty tightly, whose exclamation had woken the other girls. "How are you doing?"

"We're fine," she answered with a happy smile. "Lorraine got a job a few streets over."

"I'm glad."

Kitty watched as the younger girls swarmed her, feeling a rush of affection for the woman she looked to as an older sister. She had really done it, she mused, had fulfilled her promise that one day, they wouldn't have to sell themselves to survive.

Yet she worried. She was sure she was the only one who knew the details of how Tempe managed to provide enough for them to stop working, of the mysterious client the older woman had only hinted at. Kitty knew of the one night a week that paid for everything, the one night she was sure Booth didn't know about. She had her suspicions, but Tempe would say nothing of it.

She watched her, the smile that came easily to her now, the glow of…something else. Kitty waited until the younger girls had settled, pawing through the package Tempe had given them.

"You look different."

To her surprise, Tempe flushed. "Seeley's sister-in-law –"

"No, I know about that. Although I see you've taken to calling him by his first name now," she noted coyly.

Her blush grew deeper. "He's just…"

"You feel for him."

"He's a friend, Kitty, and he's helped us a lot. Although why, I can't –" she broke off abruptly, her eyes focusing on something not in the room.

"He loves you," Kitty said boldly.

"I don't think –"

"And you love him." She wanted to laugh at Tempe's flustered expression, her cheeks practically glowing in embarrassment. "I can't blame you, Tempe. He seems like a very nice man, and he certainly seems to want to take care of you."

Tempe seemed torn between euphoria and desperation. "I know. He's been...just wonderful. I think, I might…love him."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Tempe."

This just seemed to agitate her more, as she grasped Kitty's hand tightly. "I'm still working. Just one night a week."

"So stop," Kitty said simply.

"I can't." Tempe looked truly tortured now, Kitty thought with alarm.

"Why not? You've made it possible for us to." Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn't that easy. Bills would still have to be paid, and until the rest of them could find decent jobs, money was scarce. Bills Booth thought she paid with money earned working at a florist's. Oh God.

"I can't. This man…he's valuable, Kitty. To more than just us. It's important, but Booth, he's not going to understand that." She looked ready to cry as Kitty took her hand reassuringly.

"I slept with him last night. And he was…God, Kitty, I love him. I really do. And he loves me. He said it last night, but…I just don't want to lose him." She was crying openly now, muffling the sound in Kitty's shoulder.

"You won't," she soothed.

"I will. He won't understand."

"Yes, he will." She rubbed her friend's back patiently, her own heart aching for her troubled friend.

"Even if he does," she lifted her tear-streaked face to look at her, "I'm afraid someone's going to find out about me. Could you imagine that? If someone found out that he was living with a prostitute?"

Her sob caught the attention of the other girls, who came around, hugging their surrogate mother, comforting a pain they knew nothing about.

If anything, this worried Kitty even more. She'd never seen Tempe like this, not ever. No matter how bad it got, she was always strong, always calm and unemotional in the face of adversity. But this. This was something different, and all Kitty could do was let her cry.

Chapter Ten - Sacrifices

"Tempe?"

Hoping he wouldn't notice her red eyes, she stepped into the living room hesitantly. Booth rose immediately, "I know it sounds bad, but I'm sure that something can be done. It's just a bit of gossip, anyway, no one believes that garbage."

"What's just a bit of gossip?"

He paled. "You haven't seen it?"

"Seen what?" she asked, becoming impatient.

"Nothing."

Immediately her eyes searched the room for whatever this 'nothing' was, falling on the open newspaper on the table. "Was there something in the paper?"

"No," he lied.

Striding in, Tempe snatched the crumpled paper before he could grab it, scanning the black type for whatever was the cause for alarm. Her heart stopped, the wind trapped in her lungs, even as she read shakily.

"While the identity of the woman accompanying the new Chief of Police, Seeley Booth, at the retirement of former Chief Cullen, has been a mystery to everyone, sources have informed us of her occupation, if not her name. It appears that the mysterious woman, who has been seen with the new Police Chief both in public and entering his home, is in fact, what we will delicately call a lady of the evening. At the time of printing, former Chief Cullen declined comment…"

She trailed off; stunned by the words. "Oh, God." Her eyes fell back to the torturous sentences, reading on, needing to know what they said.

"Tempe, don't –"

"I sound so dirty," her voice shook, the tears she'd finally managed to stop threatening to make a re-appearance.

"Like garbage off the street. Like I'm bad, like I'm not worth –" She shuddered, ready to collapse had he not been there to hold her up. His arms gave strength that she drew from, as she tried to steady her shaken self, even as she leaned against him. Tempe closed her eyes, as the fears she'd shared with Kitty not an hour ago came true. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They don't know what they're talking about," he murmured soothingly, stroking her hair. "I think you're clean, and good, and a thousand other things, and if they can't see that, then it's their loss."

She trembled as she thought of what she knew, what she feared. There were some things she could not tell him, he who thought he'd saved her from the street, who thought she was worth loving. Silently, she apologized even as he kissed her, and savoured the moment while it lasted.

"There's a girl in your office, sir."

Booth scowled, but Tess didn't flinch. "I thought I said I didn't want to see anyone today."

"She was very insistent," was her only response before he stormed into his office, the door slamming behind him.

The sour look he sported vanished as soon as he saw who was standing awkwardly in the middle of his square office.

"Is she okay?"

The corner of Kitty's mouth twitched. "Tempe's fine."

He relaxed immediately, and her lips twitched again. "What can I do for you, Kitty?"

"It's Tempe's birthday next week."

"She didn't tell me."

"Did you think she would?" she asked, amused by him. Tempe, this one is something else… "The girls and I, we wanted to do something for her. Tempe, she's…she does so much for us. For most of us, she's like the whole world. Everything good. And we wanted to show her that."

"And you're asking for my help."

To his relief, Kitty didn't display the qualms about asking for help that Tempe did. "Yes."

"Okay."

Precisely a week later, a well-filled basket of hot food arrived at a certain grey door. With it, was a thick black coat wrapped in paper, picked out by Kitty two days earlier. And in its pocket, something even Kitty had not expected.

A tiny silver dolphin on a delicate chain. The smile it brought to her face was one unlike any the girls had ever seen before. A sweet happiness that a late night, off-hand comment had been remembered, and a tinge of sadness that only Kitty saw. A bitter knowledge the two women would ignore for tonight.

She managed to keep it for two months before she sold it to a pawn shop.

"What do you think of Booth's new girl?" Jack asked, reclining comfortably in his favourite armchair, eyeing the smiling Angela seated across from him with interest.

"She's not some kind of pet, Jack," she admonished half-heartedly. "But I like her."

He gnawed thoughtfully on a toothpick, "The two of you seem kinda close."

"We're friends," she shrugged. "And she's nice. A little quiet sometimes, a little awkward, but she's…cute."

Making some sort of sound in his throat that she decided to interpret as agreement, she took another tart from the tray on the table, nibbling as a maid brought in the paper. "You know, I still can't figure you out."

Taking the newspaper with a nod, Jack asked, "What's that?"

Gesturing at the room they sat in, she explained, "I don't why you'd want to spend all your time working for other people when you're so rich."

He unfolded the paper with a smile. "I'm a cop, Angela. I work for the people. And I try to make a difference, without my family's money. And you better not tell Booth."

She grinned, "God, could you imagine if-Jack?"

His expression had changed dramatically, a sick look of dread on his face as he looked up from the front page.

Angela wasn't sure why, but her heart began racing, it's beat erratic at the sight of that look. And it wasn't the gentle skip she sometimes felt. No, this…this was something big. Her voice sounded strange and choked when she asked again, "Jack?"

Without a word, he handed her the paper. Her eyes scanned the column rapidly…

"Oh God."

The paper fell to the floor, the front door flew open, a long pause, the rumbling sound of an engine turning over.

He groaned. She would take his car.

A loud banging at the door had Booth approaching his front door cautiously, and Tempe stiffening in her seat in his study.

Three people marched past him into the house, all wearing very different expressions. Angela brought up the rear, the concern in her eyes asking where Tempe was. He tilted his head towards the study, trusting her to be understanding about the whole thing. The other two, however…

"Seeley, what were you thinking?" Rebecca demanded, hands on hips, with a look that suggested she would be strangling the answer from his throat had Drew's restraining hand not been on her shoulder.

"I don't see what you're so upset about," he said calmly.

"Living with some girl you picked up off the street? Bringing a prostitute out with you in public, like she's some kind of –"

"Person?" Booth suggested, his tone becoming dangerously strained. "That's what she is. A person. I'm surprised you don't understand that."

"Maybe Rebecca's being a little harsh," Drew tried to temper the tension in the room. "But really, Seeley. You just got appointed Police Chief. You think today was bad? It's only going to get worse. That girl is going to destroy you."

"We just want what's best for you," Rebecca said, "You deserve better than her."

Booth's control over his temper was slipping, and fast. "She is better - the best - and I'm sorry you can't see that. But this isn't any of your business, so if you can't accept her as part of the family, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Part of the family?" Rebecca echoed, outraged. "You can't mean that you plan to marry her! Seeley, she's a prostitute. She's only here for your money, and once she has that, you'll have nothing but what used to be a good reputation!"

Any self-control he had left tore away with a violent snap. "Get out."

"What?"

"I said, get out!"

Something in his face, in the hands balled at his sides, in the deadly intensity of his voice, told the couple that there would be serious consequences if they didn't do as he said. They were gone within seconds, the front door slamming so hard the walls vibrated with the force.

That was it, Booth thought, releasing some of the tension that threatened to tear him apart. He'd made his choice.

He just damned well hoped it was the right one.

"Do you think that's true?"

"What, sweetie?"

"Do you think I'll ruin him?" The look in Tempe's eyes told Angela that she believed she would, especially as Booth's angry voice sounded through the closed door. She flinched as the front door slammed, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"I don't want to mess things up for him."

"You're not, Temperance. If he didn't think you were worth it, well, you wouldn't still be here."

"His family is important to him," she said quietly, looking at the heavy wood of the study door, as if she could see through it to what lay beyond.

"So are you," Angela pointed out.

A reminiscent smile flickered on her face. "You know, before I met him, I was mostly independent. I took care of myself, protected myself. I was…okay on my own, just me and the girls. But ever since he came along, I find myself letting him do that more and more, telling him things, getting used to having him around until I actually missed him when he wasn't there. I wonder if I can ever go back."

"Do you think you'll ever have to?"

Angela looked into the other woman's eyes, and saw that fear there, naked and raw. Before she could answer, the study door opened. Angela stood, immediately sensing that it was time for her to go.

Squeezing Tempe's hand, she slipped past Booth, offering a sympathetic smile, and then she was gone.

Tempe watched his face carefully, trying to guess at what he was feeling. Something similar to the sick feeling that overwhelmed her, she imagined.

"Come here," he reached for her.

Stepping into him, she relaxed as he rested his chin on her bent head. "I'm sorry," she offered quietly.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said gruffly, still stinging with the realization of what he'd just done. Drew's words echoed sinisterly in his mind. That girl is going to destroy you. His brother was wrong, he was sure of it. If anything, this girl was going to save him, give him the life he'd always wanted, the love he'd secretly envied others. "If everyone else can't love you the way I do, then everyone else is just plain stupid."

He sounded so sure, so confident that everything would be okay. She kissed the corner of his mouth and closed her eyes, lulled to peacefulness. "I love you."

It was the first time she'd said it to him, and it filled him with a stupid kind of giddiness, even though he'd seen it in her eyes before this. Somehow hearing it, the words offered because she wanted to say them, made it real, wrapped him in an invisible cloud of safety.

But even then, a little part of him wondered how much he would have to sacrifice for her. And when the time came, would he be willing to give it all up?

Chapter Eleven - Lies

Things only got worse from there. Booth had made statements, and the clamouring of the press simmered slowly, heatedly, waiting to boil over again. It seemed that the house was the only place they would find sanctuary from the endless questions, comments, screams and whispered slurs that followed them both everywhere.

He looked so tired, she mused, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept beside her. Work, she knew, was proving difficult for him. The case he's spent the last two years building against Cugini and his multitude of enterprises was met with fierce opposition, from both the criminals and the men he worked with to catch them.

The force was corrupt; they both knew it, making it even harder for him to uphold the prohibition laws she knew he didn't even believe in.

He was stressed and tired, and everything with the press was only making it worse. And when he came home, he found solace, a place where he knew everything was okay; he'd told her as much, and the knowledge only amplified her guilt. He shared everything with her, and yet he knew nothing about that one evening a week, thought that the money she used came from a respectable job she said she'd found.

Tempe smiled slightly as she looked at him. He was so innocently naïve sometimes, believing that someone would hire her, even after everyone knew what she was.

He was naïve, and idealistic, despite everything he'd seen. It was stupid, and pointless, and as far as she was concerned, it only led to disappointment.

For him, she feared, there would be a great deal of disappointment.

She found him in the darkest corner of the park, leaning against a scarred tree, a bottle beside him whose former contents she suspected were not entirely legal. Cops.

His head lolled to the side as he looked at her blearily. "Tempe?"

"I'm surprised you can still recognize me," she remarked, recoiling as she sniffed the open bottle. "This stuff is vile. And illegal, which I shouldn't have to remind you of, seeing how you're supposed to be enforcing that particular law."

He didn't seem to hear any of her rebuke, only gesturing shakily. "Tempe…come here."

"Why?"

Waving still, he patted the ground next to him invitingly. Pursing her lips, she sat, nearly jumping back up again when his head fell heavily onto her shoulder.

"Tempe."

"Yes," she said impatiently, "Now that we both know my name, perhaps you'd like to tell me why you're drunk in a dark park."

Booth tilted his head, his lips almost pressing against her cheek, his stale breath whispering past her lips. "I killed someone today."

Suddenly, everything made sense. She met his gaze, something stirring in her at the sight of his red eyes, and the pain there. Slowly, tentatively, she slid an arm around him, relieved that she had apparently done the right thing when he leaned into her.

After a long moment of oddly comfortable silence, he spoke again. "It was so quick. Just one shot…and then there was the blood. He fell, and I didn't even know if the bomb…if the bomb would still go off or not…I killed him. I killed a person. He has…god, he has family somewhere. A mother. Maybe a wife. Children. I-I killed –"

The words formed uneasily on her tongue, but forced themselves into premature flight. "You saved lives, Seeley. You did good. You're…you're a hero."

His only response was to bury his head into her shoulder, his body quaking.

A minute later, she realized he was crying.

"Is she here?"

Booth stepped aside hurriedly to let his mother in, already dreading the confrontation. He could handle the fall out with Drew and Rebecca, with everyone at the precinct, but his mother? Inside every man there was a little boy that still cowered in the face of a strong mother's wrath. Booth was no exception.

"No, Angela came by to take her out," he explained, hastening after her.

Lucy Booth settled herself in the kitchen, smiling slightly as he went automatically for the kettle. When he took the seat across from her a few minutes later, setting her tea before her, she went straight to the point.

"You've been a popular subject in the papers lately."

"I know."

"I suppose you thought I wouldn't approve if you told me who she really was."

"I did tell you who she was," he insisted, dropping lumps of sugar into the coffee he'd made for himself, sure his mother's watchful eyes were counting the number of passes made from sugar bowl to mug. "What she used to do isn't who she is, Mom."

"No, but her former…profession doesn't bother you?"

"What Temperance had to do, why she did what she did…I think she could have left it a long time ago, Mom. I asked her - wanted to help her a long time ago, and until now, she refused, for reasons that are longer and more complicated than what I can explain to you. But she's good, and kind, and smart, and sometimes so horribly stubborn. And sometimes, she's so quiet and closed she won't let anyone in at all, no matter how much it might hurt. But all of that...that's part of who she is. And I love her, all of her."

Lucy nodded slowly, her look analytical as she lifted the cup to her lips . Whatever she thought about his decision, he knew she would accept it, and her. That would suffice.

This place was fancier than any she'd seen before. Thick curtains, elaborately patterned wallpaper, a floor she could almost see her reflection in, a bed almost unimaginably soft. And yet she wished she was elsewhere.

She wished for the plain, worn comfort of the small home she'd left just earlier that night, the open arms of comfort that reached for her, even as she ran; she'd stayed a week this time. She'd even prefer the cold grey room she usually slept in with the girls over this. Heck, the street was better.

But when the door opened to admit a tall, sharp-featured man, her expression did not betray any of that. Her impenetrable mask of coy smirks and beckoning eyes hinted only at surprise.

Her brief slip didn't go unnoticed, as the man smirked. "Think of it as…an audition."

She would not lose this. Would not mess this one up. Scooting back against the over-stuffed pillows, her smile did not waver. She'd heard of this man before, through some of the others on the streets he liked to frequent. Liked his power. She could…she could do this.

"I like to think of it as…a little fun," she responded, lowering her lashes slightly. Knowing he would see it, she resisted the urge to swallow nervously, and watched as he discarded his clothes on the floor. That unspoken gesture told her she would be there until morning.

She shivered as he slid beside her, his calloused fingers deftly undoing the discreet buttons of her dress. A pair of hands that tore the clothing from her, to roam her body roughly. There was a moment's pause before she forced herself to touch him, her fingertips skimming over a foreign body she longed to push away.

Instead, she jerked as a probing hand touched her intimately, a gasp escaping from parted lips, although whether from pain or pleasure, she let the man decide for himself.

"You like that?" he smirked, his hand twisting, eliciting another sharp cry.

Her heart was racing, her breathing coming heavily in the fear inspired by the strange mix of ice and lust in this man's eyes. His hands tormented her, a torture forged of both pain and pleasure. She wanted neither, but she forced the hissing sound of agreement out.

"Beg me."

She gritted her teeth. So that was what he wanted. Forcing the revulsion back down, she did as he demanded. All of it. She begged, pleaded, degraded herself until he took her roughly.

The pain was sharp, blinding, but not unfamiliar. She twisted, arched the right way, made the sounds he wanted to hear, did everything, let him take what he wanted.

And because he wanted her to, she pretended she liked it.

"How you doin', Booth?" a younger officer asked with a wink to his friends that immediately put Booth on guard.

"Why do you ask, McCrae?"

The man shrugged, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. "I don't know, just thought you might be enjoyin' yourself, what with that whore you're keepin' at home and all."

The entire precinct fell into dead silence.

"What did you say?"

"Just wanted to know how your girl's doin', s'all." He looked around at his colleagues with a laugh. "Can't say I wouldn't mind a go at that myself, you know what I'm sayin'?"

The next sound of his mouth was the gasp of someone choking, as Booth shoved him against the wall, his hand clenched and pressing hard against his throat. With his right hand, he pulled out his gun calmly, levelling the barrel against the young man's temple.

"You say anything like that again, McCrae, and I'm going to have a go at putting a bullet in your brain."

He released the petrified officer reluctantly, holstering his weapon with even less enthusiasm. "Someone get that piece of shit out of my precinct."

Booth stormed back to his office, furious both with McCrae and himself. Hodgins slipped in, completely ignoring his foul mood as he took one of the hard backed seats across the desk.

He let out a low whistle. "I gotta say, Booth, I'm glad you didn't actually shoot the kid."

"And why is that?"

"Think of the paperwork."

Tempe should have been at home. Or at one of those evening classes he knew she attended. Or visiting Angela. Anywhere but here.

She'd been reading one of those enormous tomes when he left, completely cool and casual as she kissed him goodbye. He'd never suspected a thing.

Booth's hands clenched painfully, the short dull nails digging into rough skin. He'd trusted her, believed every word she'd said, only to discover she'd lied. That wasn't even the worst of it.

The why is what escaped him. She didn't need to do this. So why was she–he watched as she emerged from the bright shiny lobby. The Carlyle was an expensive hotel, a far cry from the places he knew she was familiar with, places that rented rooms by the hour. The heavy feeling that had settled on his chest seemed to press closer. Could she be meeting someone of her own accord?

He wouldn't wait to find out.

Crossing the quiet street quickly, he caught up, grabbing her wrist in a fury. Just as swiftly, her free hand had formed a fist, throwing a punch just the way he'd taught her to at her unknown attacker. Lucky for him – she was surprisingly strong – she realized it was him before making contact. Her hand dropped immediately as she stared at him in shock.

"Seeley? What are you doing here?"

His hand tightened around the wrist he gripped, even though she tried to pull away. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"It's not what you think," she said, her heart racing as she scrambled to find a way to explain.

"No? Tell you what. I happen to have a few little theories about why you're here. I'd like to think you were here because you were working at a real job, but judging by the way you're dressed, and the fact that you've never mentioned this place to me before, I'm going to guess that I'm wrong. Which doesn't leave me with much. One, you lied to me when you said you'd stopped, although God knows why you'd want to keep doing this, or two, you lied to me when you said you loved me, because I know whatever you were doing in there wasn't something you'd want me to know about. So what's it going to be?"

"Booth, I can't do this here. Not here. Can't we just go home and discuss this?"

If it was even possible, his eyes grew even darker, the fury she saw there terrifying her, she who had seen a thousand terrible things without a single sign of weakness.

"I want to know why you're here." His tone left no room for argument.

"I can't tell you!" She was overwhelmed by the urge to cry, but fought it back fiercely. She would not be weak, not now. "God, Booth. I didn't lie…okay, I did, but I didn't lie when I said I loved you. I swear it."

The horrid look on his face grew colder, the sick feeling in his gut intensifying. He almost wished she was having an affair. "So you lied when you said you'd stopped whoring."

She cringed. "I can't explain it to you now. I'm sorry I can't, but I need you to trust me."

Taking his hands in hers, she pleaded silently for him to believe her. "It'll be over soon, I promise. But until then…please, just trust me."

He'd never seen her like this, never seen her so desperate, so…weak. The thought of her as weak made him sick, made him want to grab her and drag her away from this, with him, forever, made him want to push her away as far as he could.

He shuddered when she touched his bare skin. "Please," her voice was a whisper on the wind.

"Promise me."

"I promise." She meant it, but when he took her hand, she could swear she saw a hint of hatred in his eyes.

For himself. And for her.

Days passed quietly, slowly, tensely. He still loved her, he said, and she believed him. Had to believe him, because if she didn't, the strength she needed to do this might falter.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and padded downstairs to the telephone. Tonight…it would be over. All her work, her efforts, were about to come to fruition. It was worth it, she told herself again, her finger picking out the numbers as the dial rotated.

It would be over. But she wondered if he would still love her in the morning.

Chapter Twelve - Slowly, Walk Away

"I'm going to see the girls."

He didn't seem to notice the way she kept her eyes lowered, preoccupied with fuzzy black and white photographs and a plethora of long reports. "Be careful."

"Hmm," she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Love you."

"Mmhmm," his brow furrowed as he stared at the papers in his hands. With the slightest of smiles, she paused at the doorway, looking back at the concentration on his face. "Thank you."

"For what?" he looked up, for what might have been the first time in an hour.

Tempe shrugged. "Everything."

"Okay."

"Okay," she echoed. Booth watched as she closed the door after herself, the odd expression she'd been wearing both distracting and disturbing to him. He pondered upon it until the telephone rang an hour later. The call was short, succinct, and had him running out the door within the minute.

All she wanted in the whole world was to go home. Wash the gunk off her face, the dark colour out of her hair; leave the face, the hair, the clothes in the glittering, sinister, underworld that was Cugini's enterprise. Booze today, tomorrow; as long as the Prohibition lasted, as long as it was profitable. Who knows what he would start next, what those obscure shipments of his would hold. Tempe didn't care. Tonight was what mattered, and tonight was almost over.

Glancing at the stylish clock on the wall, she realized it had been a quarter of an hour since she'd made the call; surely it wouldn't take much longer.

Surreptitiously, Tempe began weaving her way to the door. No one would notice, she told herself, they had more girls than usual tonight. A hand on her waist stopped her. A glance back revealed the thin man she knew to be in charge of enforcement. Of Cugini's…laws.

"The boss wants you," he informed her, his thin lips twisting into a smirk.

"Now?" He hadn't asked for her in weeks. Why tonight, of all nights? Why her?

"Now."

His hand pushed her towards a set of double doors; she knew what lay beyond, and repressed a shudder. The last time, she told herself, it would be the last time she ever had to do this, the last time…

A hand settled on her waist, pulling her into the dim room, the door shutting behind her with a heavy click. All too soon, the hand was joined by another. There was a voice, a bed she was pinned against, lips, hot breath, demands she had no desire to fulfill, and there was hell. This was hell.

And she thought of him.

"He's in there," Hodgins informed him as soon as he pulled up. "Far as we can tell, it's exactly how they said it would be."

Booth nodded grimly. Months ago, they'd been contacted by an anonymous informant, who obviously had some kind of an in on Cugini. Whoever this guy was, he'd given them meeting times and places of various transfers, and every one of them had checked out. Nothing they could nail on Cugini himself, but this…

Every month, the crime boss met with some of his top people, including those who handled the bootlegging ops, and the transfer of the dough they made into Cugini's many accounts. Tonight, Booth hoped, could be it. The night they finally managed to get him for more than a speeding.

His last case in the field, and there was no way he was going to screw this one up.

"We've got a couple of morons from the press here."

"Tell them if they get shot, it's not my problem."

Hodgins nodded, and Booth waited until he returned before rounding up his small team.

"All right, listen up. It's going to be quiet, and it's damn well going to be quick. I want two men on the stairs, just in case anyone up there gets any ideas. The rest of you go in with me. You all know the rules, but please try not to shoot anyone just standing there this time, especially if they're unarmed."

Hodgins clapped the shoulder of his partner. "Hear that, Addy?" The younger man's scowl had the group chuckling until Booth cut them off with a glare, leading them into the bright hotel.

The lift doors opened with a cheery chime. With a nod, Booth directed two of his men to the stairwell at the end of the hall. A set of double doors were the only feature the broke the continuous line of beige wall before them.

Eyes trained on the door, Booth spoke softly. "Two take the far left, two on the far right. O'Connor, you're with me. Secure whoever you find before moving."

The sound of glass clinking and raucous laughter interrupted him. "We'll get them on possession charges at the least."

They waited in silence as Booth approached the door, bracing himself to force it open; any friendly knocking would have their targets scattering, and that would be messy.

In the moment before their leader kicked the door in, Hodgins turned to his shaking partner. "You scared, Addy?"

"Would you think less of me if I were?"

"Nah."

"I'm terrified."

Then the doors flew open with a bang, and the game was on.

They were quick, and more importantly, relatively quiet, Booth noted with pleasure. One by one, his men returned, a thumbs up signalling the clear. A quick glance around counted half a dozen of Cugini's men in custody, with just as many girls rounded up on the floor. One winked at him, the curl of her mouth offering…he looked away, sick in the stomach.

A single door left unopened. Booth took it, once he ensured his men and their prey were secured.

At first, his eyes couldn't focus properly in the dim lighting, but what he could see was more than enough.

A man, far from dressed.

Bared skin, the same tone as the flesh of the woman he'd woken up to this morning.

Terror in one set of eyes, cold pain in another.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Watched as Hodgins took over, cuffed the man Booth desperately wanted to kill, whose neck he wanted to squeeze until the air left his lungs, whose form he wanted to mutilate, slowly, painfully.

Leaving her. Struggling into torn clothing. He watched. Her, makeup smudged, hair darkened, touched. Irreconcilable with the clean, bright woman whose image he could no longer conjure.

"Seeley." She reached for him, and some distant part of him knew she was seeking comfort, understanding in arms she trusted.

He stepped back, and she flinched, stilled. Tempe watched as he took another step away, and felt something in her pull with him.

Another step, and it felt like it was landing on her chest, forcing the air out of her.

Another, and he was out of the room, turning his back.

She waited, frozen in her hope that he wouldn't go, until she heard them leaving. Closing her eyes, she slumped onto the floor, hugging her knees to herself, shaking with tears she seemed unable to shed.

"Temperance?"

A voice woke her out of her daze, pulling her out a hazy dream where she wasn't lying on the floor, where he hadn't walked away from her, where she wasn't alone.

"Temperance?" Jack Hodgins slipped into the room, offering her a blanket.

She met his concerned gaze, and attempted a smile as he helped pull the material around her. "Jack. What are you doing here?"

"I think we'd better get you home," he said, avoiding her question.

"I can't go back there." She looked at him dully, her eyes dead in a way that scared him, not that he'd show it.

"I'll take you to Angela's," he offered, helping her up.

Tempe nodded slowly. That she could do.

"What happened?" Angela demanded as soon as they heard the bathroom door shut.

"Booth found her," Hodgins explained tiredly. "Next thing I know, I'm the one snapping cuffs on Cugini. Minute later, he comes out, and gets us all going. I go back as soon as I can, and she's still sitting there."

"He just left her?" she hissed.

"As far as I can tell," Hodgins nodded. "She's really messed up, Ange. You should have seen her when I got there. She looked…dead."

Angela shivered, glancing upstairs. "I'll take care of her."

"Good." He reached for his coat by the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to pay Booth a visit."

"Don't!" she said hurriedly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Let Tempe talk to him first. She deserves to."

With a grim nod, he agreed.

Jack was right, Angela thought with a quiver at the unseeing look in her friend's eyes. "Sweetie? You okay?"

"No."

"Do you…want to talk about it?"

Tempe was silent for a few minutes before speaking quietly. "When they got there, I was with Cugini. I should have been gone by then, but at the last minute…"

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "He came in, and Jack followed him. And then he just stood there. He didn't say anything, even when Jack pulled Cugini away. Just looked at me, with this horrible... And when I went to reach for him, he just walked away. He left. As if I hadn't even been there."

Tempe trembled, hugging herself tightly. "And I felt so dirty. As if what I had to do wasn't bad enough, when he saw me…he knew how I felt, Angela! He knew I needed him, how much I needed him to…and he…he just left me."

Angela hugged her friend sympathetically, biting her lip to contain her own tears. "He didn't understand, sweetie. You have to explain it to him."

She shook her head. "It wasn't that he didn't understand. God, Ange, if you had been there. The look he gave me. It was just like everyone else. Like he had finally realized what I was and was disgusted. With me."

Angela had nothing to say to that.

It took two days for the combined efforts of Angela and Hodgins to force Tempe back home. Angela kissed her cheek briefly before shoving her past the threshold, the door slamming loudly between them.

Tempe ventured into the house cautiously, fighting the desire to run. She'd seen the papers; somehow the press had gotten a hold of the details of that night, and it had been everywhere. The time, she was sure, would have only served to make him hate her more.

Yet here she was.

He was in the living room when she found him, the same room in which they had shared conversation, both light-hearted and serious, had engaged in heated fights and prickly arguments.

"Seeley. I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, hating herself for it. For the stutter. And strangely, for the apology that stumbled from her lips.

Booth was silent as he contemplated her. The last two days had been hell; when all the press should have been concerned about was the piles of evidence they'd managed to get against Cugini, stories of the Police Chief's "live-in call girl" being found with the mobster circulated just as widely. When he should have been exuberant, he was hounded by the nasty headlines, haunted by the hurt on her face when he walked away.

"How could you do that to me?" he asked, his voice low and harsh.

"I could easily ask you the same question."

"It's not the same," he objected.

"You're right, it's not. I did what I had to do, for you. What's your excuse, Booth?" she asked, folding her arms. "Explain to me how you could see that I was afraid, and that I was hurting, and walk away. Explain how you could tell me you love me, and then look at me like I'm filth clinging to the soles of your shoes."

"You slept with that bastard!" he exploded. "And don't say you had to, because we both know you didn't! Do you have any idea how much this ruins things? How messed up everything is?"

"I know I broke your trust, but I trusted you to at least see me as a person." Her gaze was neither sad nor angry, only quietly accepting. "And in spite of everything you said to me, you don't care about me, or how I felt about being abandoned there. You just care about how this makes you look."

A slow shake of his head was his only denial. "Things were going so well, I wanted to give you everything. I thought you were happy."

"I was happy," she said softly.

"Then why'd you go and –" he rubbed his face tiredly. "I just want to know why you did it."

"I can't tell you that."

"Can't, or won't."

"I won't."

Her face was decidedly sad when she drew near him, taking his hand tentatively. "You once said that my loving you was enough for you. Is it still enough? Am I still enough?"

Booth only hesitated for a second before pulling her to him, relaxing for the first time in two days when she rested her head against his neck.

Chapter Thirteen - Amends

She usually took two walks in a day; one in the morning, and one in the evening. Her morning walk could take hours, sometimes the entire day, if she found something interesting. Like the shop a few streets away that carried an immense assortment of odd artifacts she liked to pore over. Or even worse, a museum. If they didn't have closing hours, Booth was sure he would have lost her to the rich depths of one long ago.

Her first walk was solitary, and over supper, she would relate all the things she had seen that interested her. It was the second walk, in the evening, that he accompanied her.

Their pace was slow, leisurely, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm as they made their way home. Their conversation was quiet, the partiality for argument they shared subdued for now.

As they turned the corner, they nearly collided with a man striding in the opposite direction, his face masked by shadow and a felt hat. Instead of moving along, however, the man stopped, peering at the two of them intently. Tempe felt Booth tug her closer, his arm sliding around her waist protectively.

Before they could pass, the man's mouth scrunched up for a second, and then –ptt!

His spit missed her feet by inches. Almost instantly, Booth released her, his body lunging in the direction of the smirking man. With equal speed, Tempe gripped his arm, pulling him back.

"Seeley," she said warningly, the evidence of his anger in the bunched muscles beneath her fingers.

The stranger turned away with a sneer, his parting words just loud enough to be heard. "Dirty whore. And you ain't much better, Chief."

He jerked under her hand, forcing her to tighten her grip as she tugged him away. "Booth, please."

With a weak smile, she took his hand in both of hers, her eyes tired and silently pleading. "Just let it go."

"He's absolutely miserable, Ange."

"He's got you."

"That's just it," Tempe threw her hands up as she paced Angela's living room. "I'm making him miserable."

"You know, Tempe, I thought you were smarter than that," Angela said patiently. "Can't you see that you're the only thing that's not making him miserable? It's not you, okay? It's the press, and the stories, and all those stupid people who won't leave him alone."

"There wouldn't be any story without me," she pointed out morosely. "Before all of this, he was respected. People liked him, admired him. And now all they think of when his name is mentioned is 'Oh, he's that cop living with a whore.'"

"Tempe –"

"They're thinking about asking him to resign," Tempe blurted out. "Because of me."

"Sweetie," Angela patted the space next to her, stroking her friend's hair as she rested her head on her shoulder. "You can't blame yourself for what's happening."

"It's just," she sniffed, "He's worked so hard to get this far, and now he might lose it all just by being with me."

"That's his choice, Tempe. He chose to be with you, and the two of you will deal with the consequences of that."

She shook her head slightly. "I don't want to be the reason he loses everything. He's so unhappy, even though he pretends he's not. Everyone at the precinct thinks he's a joke, and the press won't leave us alone…Ange, he isn't going to be remembered as the guy who caught Cugini, they're going to remember him as the Police Chief who lived with a whore. I can't do that to him. I-I can't do that to me."

"Temperance," Angela said warningly, "What are you thinking?"

Silence only heightened her concern. "Don't do this. Why are you even thinking of doing this? If you leave, you're going to kill him."

"People are quite resilient, you know. If you could see him…I'm ruining him by staying. And he doesn't…he doesn't look at me the same way anymore. After what happened," her eyes dropped, "At night, he hasn't…he doesn't…"

"He needs time, Tempe."

Her smile was sad. "I don't know how much longer I can wait for him to forgive me."

"You doing all right?"

Booth shrugged. "We're okay."

His bland answer was far from satisfactory to Jack Hodgins. "Listen, man, about that night –"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly, sipping his soda and wishing for something infinitely stronger.

"Yeah, well, get over it, because there's something you should know."

"I said, I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?" Hodgins leaned in , the set of his jaw firm, exuding a menacing air Booth had never seen before from him. "Because it makes you feel ashamed of her? Is that it?"

"Yes," Booth's fist came down heavily on the table, "Yeah, thinking about that night makes me feel ashamed of her, okay? Are you happy now?"

"No. And you know what? I thought you were better than that, man. Do you have any idea what that girl put herself through to get there?"

"She didn't have to get anywhere!" he fumed, "She didn't have to do any of that."

"Did she tell you why she did it?"

Silence. Then, "No. And I still don't want to talk about this."

"Fine. Don't talk. Just listen. Temperance has spent the last six months trying every one of her connections, doing everything she could to get into that hotel that night. And don't give me that look, Booth. Let me ask you something, how do you think we knew about Cugini's little meeting? Where do you think we've been getting all those tips about drop offs and transfers?"

Booth looked shocked, by both the realization that he had no idea, and the shame that came with that. "I…don't know."

"That girl has been feeding us information for months now. I didn't even realize it was her living with you until two months ago."

His mind whirled. Two months ago…there had been a major bust on the East Side…and Hodgins had been the one to call him in…he had never even asked where the info had come from, content with a "reliable source" line.

"Tempe…she…" he trailed off weakly.

"She gave us everything we needed to nail Cugini," Hodgins said matter-of-factly, glad to be the person to make Booth realize exactly how much he had. "She gave herself to get what you needed, so when you went in there –"

"I left her," Booth said woodenly. "After everything, I left her behind. Like a criminal."

"So what are you going to do about it now?" Hodgins asked quietly.

Booth waited until she had slipped into bed, careful to maintain the space between them. This time he cared.

Quietly, she turned on her side, her back to him. "Night."

He said nothing in response, and she didn't expect him to. Nor did she expect him to close the gap, and press himself against her. Tempe tensed, but didn't pull away as his hand spread across her abdomen.

"I know what you did." His words froze the contentment that coursed through her as his breath tickled her ear.

"I know how you tipped us off, how you kept working, even though you didn't have to, just to get what we needed on Cugini."

"Jack told you," she said quietly.

"He did, but I wish it had been you." He tried turning her around to face him, but she remained firmly entrenched in her position. "I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

"You would have made me stop. Even if you understood…Cugini is a dangerous man. You would have made a fuss, you would have acted differently, and someone would have noticed." She said it calmly, in that rational voice that made everyone feel like they couldn't argue. Except him, of course.

"I'm sorry." He wanted to say more. Wanted to make sure she understood, but failed to find the words.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, and he knew he was forgiven; he felt her tears when she pressed her cheek to his, and knew she was looking for more than an apology. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on her, holding her closer than he had in weeks. Her hold on him was just as strong, even as she shook with sobs.

"I wanted to tell you," she managed to choke out, finally assured and comfortable with him for the first time since that night. "All those times you tried to stop me…don't think I didn't want you to. I did. There was nothing I wanted more than to let you make everything okay, to be happy just being with you. I don't want you to think that you weren't enough for me. Because you are. But after...you were so angry, and I thought-"

A tight embrace silenced whatever she might have wanted to say next. Lips pressed against her neck, his touch sure and burningly there. And everything was perfect.

"You have our attention. Now what do you want?"

Suppressing the urge to snap at the other woman's rudeness, Tempe shifted in the stiff, uncomfortable chair she had been seated in. The hard seat and harder looks did nothing to deter her.

"I came to talk about Seeley."

Rebecca crossed her arms tightly, while Drew asked stiffly, "What is there to talk about?"

"With the exception of his mother, the two of you and Parker are the only family he has," she said plainly. "I don't want him to lose that."

"He wouldn't have to if you would just-" A hand on Rebecca's arm stilled her angry words.

Drew was calmer, colder, and in a way, Tempe preferred Rebecca's hot anger. "What do you expect us to do?"

"Talk to him. Be his family."

He seemed to consider this for a second. "Am I to assume that we are to accept your relationship with my brother as well?"

"No."

"This is ridiculous!" Rebecca exploded. "You've cost Seeley his reputation, potentially his job, deluded him to the point where he would choose you over his own family, and you think you can just come in here and tell us to 'be his family'? We are his family! And you, you're trash!"

Tightening her grip on her temper, she spoke calmly, controlling the tone of her voice with an iron will. "What will it take?"

"I assume you've heard about the situation at the precinct regarding Seeley's job?" Drew asked evenly, knowing full well that she had.

"Yes."

Tempe knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted the security of Seeley's job back, and if she wasn't mistaken, part of that concern lay in the social standing he had as brother of the Police Chief.

He laid it out bluntly. "You fix that, and we'll fix this."

She stood rigidly, the tight line of her lips masking her disgust. "Fine."

"He isn't here," Tess informed her tartly.

"I know he isn't here," Tempe said impatiently, undeterred by the other woman's polished appearance, or the arch look she was giving her. "I want to talk to Cullen."

"He's retired."

"I know that. I also know that he's returned temporarily. And I know he's here, at this precinct. And I want to see him."

Tess shrugged nonchalantly. "He's in his old office."

"Funny, I didn't hear a knock." The older man didn't look up from the pile of papers scattered over his desk.

"That's because I didn't knock."

Cullen looked up, but his face registered no surprise. Instead, he folded his hands over the top of his desk, and eyed her sternly. She returned the look unflinchingly. "Miss Brennan."

"Yes."

"May I ask why you're here?"

"I came about Seeley's job." The man's expression changed; the first sign of interest he'd shown since she appeared.

"Oh?"

"I've heard that the board is thinking of asking him to resign," she said bluntly.

"I won't deny that."

"What will it take to change their mind?"

Cullen crossed his arms, smiling slightly as he recognized the hard negotiator in his grim, determined visitor. "I'm sure you're aware of the board's stance on the, uh, relationship between Booth and yourself."

"Yes."

"You know, I don't think you do," he said thoughtfully. "Booth is bright, talented, and one of the youngest Police Chiefs we've ever had, if not the youngest. He's got one heck of a future in front of him. He has amazing potential, and the board understands that."

He half-expected her to ask why they were thinking about asking Booth to resign if they thought so much of him, but she remained silent. All the better, then. "But I have to say, the board isn't a big fan of their Police Chief having a public affair with someone such as yourself."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that they will never accept you, Miss Brennan. The board, the public, everyone. If Booth is ever going to regain any of his public standing, this little affair of yours has to end. You might be a very nice young lady, Miss Brennan, but you have to understand that you're never going to be what is expected in the wife of Police Chief. You will ruin him. You know that, and I know that, even if Booth doesn't."

Eyeing over the expanse of his desk, Cullen added shrewdly, "And just think of how this will affect you. I hear you have quite lofty aspirations for someone of your social standing. Do you really think any respectable institution is going to accept you knowing who you are? No, Miss Brennan. I think you are far better off...relocating yourself."

He said it calmly, matter-of-factly. Inside, she burned. That this assured, well-to-do man could dismiss what she and Booth had as a 'little affair', something trivial, something easily written off as torrid and meaningless...that he could strike upon a little vein of truth; this was ruining her hopes for herself as well as Seeley's. It infuriated her. And it hurt. More than anything, it hurt. But she'd be damned if this man knew it.

"You're saying that if I leave him, he'll be okay? His job, the press, everything. It'll all be okay?"

Cullen smiled broadly. "Exactly, Miss Brennan."

She swallowed hard. "And you're sure of this?"

He nodded. "You end it, Miss Brennan, and Booth will get everything he's supposed to. Everything will be as it should."

The slightest tremor in her voice was the only sign of the raging storm inside her. "Okay."

Chapter Fourteen - Softly, Darling

"Tempe." Her name came out in a hiss as he found her, their bodies melding. She had only a moment to draw the difficult breath before his hips rocked against hers.

Almost dizzy with the feeling, his kiss stole the air from her lungs, the soul from its secret hiding place. She didn't need them anymore. He breathed for her, her heart beat for him, and the soul…they shared.

I need to be closer, she thought hazily. Need him to be closer. Needed to mark him, to be a part of him, and he a part of her. Selfishly, she needed to make him hers, even if she couldn't keep him. She needed this to last.

In the flush of the endless moment, her voice knew nothing but the sound of his name, over and over, an invocation to bring him closer, deeper, further into her.

She could feel him. Against her, around her, inside her. Gently urging her to a familiar precipice, with soft words and caresses of love. She resisted, wanting to make it last, to keep him forever.

When she fell, it was with the certain knowledge that he was with her. Against her, around her, within her. When he gave himself to her, she gave just as much back. She gave everything she had. In that blinding moment, that was enough.

She knew Cullen had told him as soon as he came home that night. His expression, as usual, gave him away. The hard line of his mouth, the cold and closed set of his features, the way his hands gripped his cutlery so firmly she was almost afraid they would break. This…this she had not expected.

The silence, broken only by the sounds customary to supper; the clink of the heavy handled knife against the plate, the dull thump of a tumbler of water being set back down on the wooden table, the soft sounds of chewing and swallowing. All sounds that could be heard at any meal, in any home. But there was something different about this one, something inaudible, intangible, but oh, she could feel it.

Hostility. A barely restrained anger that she had not felt in him before, that had her wondering, anticipating when his control would slip. She kept her eyes lowered, her movements short and as noiseless as possible. She didn't think it would take long; knowing him, her silence and projected meekness was only irking him further.

To her surprise, he continued to eat silently, and she began to wonder if he wouldn't say anything to her at all. Well, in that case…

"How was your day?" Innocent and deceivingly trivial in appearance. Booth set his fork down.

"I spoke to Cullen today."

"Oh?"

"He said that he'd spoken to you recently."

"Yes."

"Would you like to tell me what you were thinking when you decided to talk to my former boss about me?"

She tensed, wondering, "What did he tell you?"

"He asked me when you were planning on leaving, so he could schedule a press conference about it. I, of course, laughed and asked him what on earth he was talking about."

His explanation was concise, but it painted the situation with ease. She could picture it; him, smiling, perfectly ignorant of what she'd been planning. And she wondered for the thousandth time if she would have been able to do it.

"Temperance."

"Yes."

It sounded as if his words were catching on his gritted teeth, tearing away to pierce the still air. "Why did he think you were planning to leave?"

She met his gaze. "Because I am."

Present tense. Not I was. I am.

And then he was on his feet, towering and menacing on the other end of the table. But he didn't move towards her. The confusion, the hurt, the sheer fury that exploded in him manifested itself only in the hand that slammed his knife down, the blade gouging deeply into the wood.

"You're ruining the dining table," she pointed out quietly.

"You're ruining everything," he countered. As soon as the words left him, he realized how melodramatic they sounded.

If she noticed, she didn't show it as she regarded him calmly. "Yes, I am. We both are."

"Tempe, I didn't–"

"Please don't," she interrupted. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, Booth. We're both suffering. And for what? Neither one of us is happy like this."

"So, what? You're just going to run away?" His mouth twisted in disgust; it wasn't the first time she'd seen that expression on his face, nor was it the first time that she had been its cause. "Were you even going to tell me?"

"I don't know."

The knife joined the fork on his plate with a clatter, and as he took a step towards her, she was almost intimidated.

"So, I could have woken up tomorrow morning to find you gone." The tone of his voice was hard, accusing her rather than asking.

"I wasn't planning to leave tomorrow," she said, and regretted it immediately.

"Damn it, Temperance, for once in your life, don't be a smart ass," he bit.

She bristled at his tone, pushing her chair back and standing to be eye level with him. "I am just trying to do what's right."

"Right for whom? For you? Sneaking off in the middle of the night, without a goodbye, leaving me with what? A job I might lose, a family that doesn't want to talk to me anymore?" he spat. "I've made a lot of sacrifices for you, and you're just going to leave. How is that right?"

"You've made a lot of sacrifices for me?" Her words came out in hiss, the anger that coloured them making the sound almost unidentifiable to her and her own. "I have given up everything for you, Booth. Everything."

"Like what?" he scoffed. "The dump you called home? The whoring you called a job?"

The shock and hurt on her face registered distantly in his mind, but the dam gates had been opened, and there was no stopping the flood from hell. "Is that what this was about, Temperance? Huh? Getting away from the hellhole you called your life? Or was it me?"

He took a step closer. "Is that it, then? Your big plan for you and your girls? Get close to the unsuspecting cop who was stupid enough to fall for you, and then take him for all he's got? Well, guess what? It worked. You won. Are you happy now?"

Her face contorted in fury, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Booth, don't you dare–"

"Don't I dare what?" he taunted, his anger making him cruel. "Speak to you like that? Why not? You were a whore, and god knows I've paid a high price for you."

Her right fist connected solidly with his cheek, just the way he'd taught her. And then the left. The right might have made a second visit, if he hadn't grabbed her wrists to stop the blows.

"You bastard," she spat, her eyes dark and furious.

With a sound she would have almost called a snarl, he stormed out of the room, his footsteps heavy as they thudded down the front hall. She followed him angrily, his abrupt dismissal infuriating her.

He was taking his coat when she caught up; the collar snagged on the stand, and sent it crashing to the floor. She watched, unable to say anything, as he struggled into the heavy coat, his fury and desperate need to get out hampering his motor skills.

"Don't think that I'll be here when you get back!" she shot, the heat of the moment fuelling her forceful words, the subtle threat, making her believe it.

"Is there anything for me to come back to?" he asked coldly.

Before she could reply, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang. The sound seemed to aggravate the temper she'd long since lost control of; with a growl of frustration, she swiped at the vase on the side table, sending it crashing to the ground. It shattered, scattering large pieces of glass in a pool of water and helpless flowers.

It felt good.

The frustration, the worry, the hurt all seemed to erupt as an uncontrollable force, sending plates smashing to the floor, books tumbling from their shelves, chairs overturning, until anything and everything was out of place.

When the winds settled, the storm soothed, and all was calm, she found herself sitting in the middle of it all, knees tucked under her chin. It was then that she realized she was crying.

He'd thought about not going back. Seriously. It had been so easy to imagine just walking away, never having to deal with all of it. After all, wasn't that exactly what she had been planning to do?

But he found himself walking home slowly, just before sunrise. It was his home after all, and despite his cursing and angry mutterings to himself, he couldn't just walk out on her. Although whether she'd still be there when he returned was another question.

The front door wasn't locked; the knob turning easily in his hand. The house was dark – he nearly tripped over the fallen coat stand, and if he hadn't kept his shoes on, the shattered glass that littered the floor would have cut his feet to ribbons. She was mad.

Chaos continued down the hall, and into the kitchen, ending in the living room. That was where he found her. Huddled in the corner, leaning against a fallen armchair, surrounded by disaster. The sound of his return must have woken her up, judging by the tired eyes that looked to him. And it reminded him of that night. Finding her curled up, alone in the midst of havoc and disarray, looking at him, just like that. This time, he wouldn't walk away.

Carefully, he made his way towards her, looking out for anything that might trip him up. Even more gingerly, he settled himself beside her, keeping just a sliver of space between them.

"I'm sorry."

Silence. And in that, forgiveness only they could hear.

"I just don't understand why you're doing this," he said finally.

She sighed, looking down at her feet. "I'm tired, Booth. We both are."

"So we'll take some time off, relax for a while…" he trailed off, knowing that wasn't what she meant.

"Even before I met you, I had hopes for myself," she said. "I was going to make sure the girls were settled, and then I was going to get educated. Get a real job, be someone…respectable. Then you came along, and everything changed. And I thought I could forget about all of those things, and just be happy living like this, with you–"

"But you can't, can you?" he asked softly.

"No. I can't give up on my hopes for me, and I won't let you give up on yours, either. You're about to lose your job, your brother won't speak to you, people are spitting at you in the street…and for what? This? If we keep going on like this, we're going to wake up one day and hate each other. You know we will."

He wanted to say no, that they wouldn't, but he knew better. The part of him that still blamed her, that resented what had happened to his reputation since their relationship had become public …that part spoke up, loud and clear, telling him she was right.

"So, what," he asked, "That's it? Are we just giving up?"

"I'm sorry about the mess I made." Then she leaned against him, and said nothing more.

Cleaning could start in the morning, they decided, leaving the wreck of the first floor behind. Booth lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening as the bathroom door opened. He could hear her, barefoot, padding past the bedroom door, down the hall to the guest bedroom she had occupied previously.

His breathing slowed, quieted, as he listened for the sound of movement. Nothing. Silence. And then footsteps, growing minutely louder. They paused right outside the door for a long moment, making him wonder what she was waiting for. He heard her sigh, and then a moment later, felt the other side of the bed give a little under her weight.

Glancing towards her, he saw that she had turned onto her side, and was watching him in the darkness. He stared back, any fatigue eradicated by the look in her eyes.

"Do you think…if things had been different…" she trailed off, lowering her eyes as she shifted, resting her hand on her pillow.

"I don't know." He rolled onto his side to face her. "This feels, I don't know, odd. Like everything that happened tonight wasn't real, that it can't be happening. But it is. And you, you're leaving. Me. You're leaving me."

Tempe reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek so lightly they were just barely making contact. He didn't like it, the faint caress, almost as if she were already gone, and covered her hand with his, pressing it closer, so he could feel the rigid bones of her fingers against his cheek. He could feel her, solid and undoubtedly there. And then he wondered how many more times he would get to feel that.

"If I were leaving you, Booth, I'd already be gone by now, and tonight would have never happened. But I'm not, and I'm here."

Her words did nothing to reassure him as he released her hand. "But you're not staying either, are you?"

"No."

"Then what is this?" he asked, on his back now, frustrated. "What is this? You're not staying, you're not going…god, you don't even want to go."

"What would you have me do, Seeley," she responded dully. "Stay here? Let you lose your job, your family, while I spend all my time keeping your house? We'd be miserable, and in a couple of years, we'd wish we'd never met each other."

"So let's both leave." He grabbed her upper arm tightly. "We'll leave New York, and start over. No one will know us, and we can forget about everything that's happened, and we–"

"No, Booth," she said firmly. It was an impossible idea, and they both knew it. "Your mother is here, and your family. And your job, Booth. You're going to lose all that if I stay here. You aren't finished with New York, and the city needs a lot more men like you."

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"You know I'll never stop loving you, right?" she answered, half-teasingly.

He pulled her into a tight hug, saying nothing, but expressing so much more than words could in his silent embrace.

It was then that she knew he was going to be okay.

The days passed almost normally, as if that night had never happened. But it had. Every morning, the relief, the panic followed by soothing calm that played out on his face when he woke up to find her still there beside him was a constant reminder of that.

It was torture. Slow, self-inflicted torture. And while part of him hated it, the almost constant nerves, the anticipation that he would wake up one morning to find her gone, another part loved it, needed it, because as long as it lasted, she was with him.

He wanted to ask her to stay, was tempted to use every power he had over her to keep her there; some days, he felt in danger of begging her to stay. But he didn't. She would refuse outright, or give him that long silent hurt expression, or look miserable and apologetic. Or even worse, she would say she wanted to, but they both knew she wouldn't. So he said nothing, and savoured every moment that he did have. And wondered if he would one day regret his silence.

Every morning, when he left for the precinct, he kissed her goodbye, and told her he loved her. Just in case he came home to an empty house. He did the same when he returned – this time, in silent thanks that she was still there. And then at night, he would hold her as close as he could, as if to keep her from slipping away in the night.

It was crazy. Simply absurd for this one woman to have such an immense impact on his emotional welfare. Ridiculous how hearing her say she loved him too could make him as contented as it did. Preposterous how the thought – no, the knowledge – that he would one day find her gone, lost to him, inspired feelings that approached physical pain.

Unbelievable that he was letting it happen.

He asked her once, when she would leave, dually dreading her answer and anticipating the timeframe it might give him.

She had thought about it for only a moment. When it becomes impossible for me to stay.

At the time, he hadn't understood. But as pressures to deal with his 'personal issues' mounted with the board and with Cullen, added to by his brother's vague probes into his home life, he began to see what she meant by it becoming impossible for her to stay. He was on the brink of losing everything, just by being with her, and she was already sacrificing her dreams and aspirations for him. And in his heart, he had already begun to forgive her.

She had just turned off the light, but Booth hardly noticed, his thoughts consuming him so. He remembered her half-asked question.

…if things had been different…

He gave it serious thought now. What had she meant? If he wasn't the Police Chief? If her time on the street hadn't been exposed to the public? If they were different people, with different lives…what? There was no wishing for things to be different, he thought rationally, they were as they were, and nothing could change that. Tempe, he knew, would agree.

Which made him wonder…

"Do you think that in the future, we might…" he trailed off, uncertain of what he was asking.

"We might what?" she asked, sliding between the sheets.

"We might get another chance, one day."

"For the two of us?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know," she answered honestly, curling up against him. "I like to think so. I like to hope so."

"Will you-will you ever look for me? I mean, do you think you'll ever come back?"

"I don't have an answer to that, Booth. But I wouldn't suggest waiting to find out. Waiting for something that might not come never did anyone any good."

He had no response to that. And as she curled up in his arms, they both knew that no matter what they said, a little part of each of them would always be waiting.

Night was falling, gently cloaking the sky of a brilliant day. The weather had been perfect today; bright, warm, and beautiful. She savoured the dying rays of the setting sun from the window that opened beside their bed, the molten light too painful to look at directly. Instead she saw the delicate transformation from day to night, the streaks of pink and golden yellow meeting the deep indigo in a clash of soft violet.

She waited, patiently, until all was dark, until distant stars peeked out at her, until the shadows were born, home to the endless inky darkness.

The day had come. She wasn't sure what had made her decision, only knowing that with every passing day, the inevitable split grew harder and harder to think of, let alone accomplish. And it had to be done. For both their sakes.

Slowly, she let her arms slip from around him, her trailing fingers memorizing him - this one would have to last her. A single kiss, gentle, so not to wake him, and she slipped out of bed.

Tempe lingered over her dressing, taking her time packing a small suitcase of belongings, prolonging the time she had left. Every moment was bittersweet; the longer she stayed, the more time she had, but each second intensified the pain. The clock ticked away an hour before she could bring herself to leave their…his bedroom.

Once there was space, once she couldn't see him anymore, her feet carried her swiftly. Down the stairs as silently as she could, and to the front door. There, she stilled. Faltered. One glance up to the top of the staircase, the closed door on the left, the man she knew to be sleeping within.

The door shut behind her with a click.

Booth awoke, and without opening his eyes, knew she was gone. The space beside him, if he were to reach out and touch it, would be cold and vacant, mirroring the rest of the house. In a way, he had known it would be today. How, he wasn't sure. She hadn't said anything, or acted any differently, yet he knew that if he was to open the chest of drawers, or the closet, he would find them, like everything else, half empty.

Looking to his bedside table, he caught sight of the folded note resting on the corner. He took it, unfolding it to reveal a short note. It's length didn't matter; she'd said everything she needed to long ago.

Her parting words brought an almost imperceptible smile to his lips.

Be safe.

Love,
Temperance

He thought about her, breathed in her scent that lingered on the sheets, wondered if she would be happy, wherever she was going. Hoped she would be. And he loved her.

Temperance had changed his life irrevocably. He liked to think he'd had just as much an impact on her, that he had somehow changed the course of her life for the better. Had loving her made his life better? Made him a better man? He wasn't sure, but she had left him with one certainty. He would never forget what they'd shared, never lose what she had given him, never retract what he had surrendered. If he never saw her again, never heard the name Temperance Brennan spoken aloud again, he could not, would not forget her.

In time, he thought, he would get up, and resume his place in the order of things. He would go to work, be a good cop, a good brother, a good son. He would be a good man, and life would go on without her.

He lay there for a long time.

fin