A time to kill and a time to heal.

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth was not having a good day. Her morning had started at six when the Booth's youngest foster daughter, Scout, had woken complaining of nausea. By seven, Scout had vomited four times. Temperance felt bad about having to leave the teenager home sick, but as Parker was staying with them for the week while Rebecca was on a business trip, someone had to make the hour-long drive to take him to school in DC. That someone was her. She dropped him off just in time and was half-way home when the school nurse called asking if Dr. Brennan would mind coming back and picking Parker up as he was throwing up as well.

It was nearly eleven by the time she got home again, sick Parker in tow, to find Scout sound asleep. She put Parker to bed as well and set about tidying up the house. As she'd suspected, the girls had left their dirty dishes strewn about the house, as well as pieces of clothing and other paraphernalia. Unable to settle down into her normal writing routine, she began cleaning the upstairs bedrooms. It was under Lily's bed that she had found the bong.

Lily Rogan was seventeen and had been with the Booth's for a year and a half. She was headstrong and stubborn and had previously refused to submit to authority. Her mother, fifteen and scared, had signed her over to the system when she was four and never looked back. Lily had been through twenty foster families in her short life; none able to cope with the on-edge teen. When she had first come to live with them, she had used more foul language than a boatload of sailors. Booth had put his foot down there, not wanting his impressionable son to pick up on the rough language. It had taken months of being consistent with her to shake her of the habit; and she still slipped up from time to time. Now they would have to confront her about the bong, though Temperance was relieved to find no drugs in the bedroom as well.

She spent the rest of the afternoon checking in periodically on Parker and Scout and working on her latest novel. When the girls returned from school she asked Lily to join her in her office.

"Do you know what this is?" Temperance held the bong up to the girl.

Lily shrugged, "A bong."

"Yes," her voice was even, but firm, "I found it in your room, under your bed."

Another shrug, "So what?"

"Lily, this house has rules. Bringing a bong into this house is in clear violation of the rules."

"So kick me out already," Lily spat, "Doesn't matter. I'll be eighteen and clear of here in a month anyway."

"No," she shook her head firmly, "You are staying here until you are emancipated. I will, however, be informing your social worker of this."

The teenager rolled her eyes, "Like that's going to do anything."

"Lily, you could easily be arrested for possession of drug paraphernalia and in a month you can be prosecuted as an adult. Booth and I are here if you are willing to seek help, but the desire must start with you. As for this," she held up the bong, "Booth and I will discuss your punishment when he returns home. For now you are to remain in the house."

Lily rolled her eyes again and stalked dramatically from the room, slamming the door on her way out.

Word of the finding spread quickly through the house, leading to a very subdued crowd at the dinner table. The girls were, for the most part, very supportive of their foster parents and when one of them broke the rules the others were quick to mete out their own form of punishment on the offender. For her part, Temperance was thankful for the quiet as Booth was not home yet and she still had two sick children to tend to on her own.

After dinner she assigned each of the girls a part of the cleaning up ritual. While they were carrying out their tasks, she went to check on Parker, who was feeling better, but longing for company. She read him a book and gave him some Jello and Gatorade for him to try and keep down. Her next stop was Scout's room, where she found the teenager fast asleep. She removed the girl's sketch pad and pencils from the bed, covered her with a light blanket, and turned off the light.

With Booth still not home, she spent the rest of the evening checking homework assignments and offering help when needed. A game of Phase 10 broke out after homework was done and did not end until nine o'clock. Exhausted from the day's events, Temperance sent the girls to their rooms with strict orders for lights out at ten o'clock and went down to the basement to relax.

Slipping in the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Angela had purchased for her last Christmas, she began folding laundry. She could not wait for Booth to come home. She ached for his listening ear and physical support. She also wanted to consult him as to how they should proceed with Lily. Perhaps the teen would respond to Booth's alpha-male personality. An hour later, the laundry was finished and she was beginning to be concerned about Booth's whereabouts.

She was in her room preparing for bed when she finally heard the front door opening, signaling Booth's return. His footsteps echoed through the quiet house and were headed in her direction. She turned toward the door, smiled widely in greeting- and stopped.

Booth was haggard- his clothes were disheveled, covered in dirt, and torn in a couple of places. His mouth was set in a grim line and a slow gait replaced his usual swagger as he made his way into the room. Passing her wordlessly, he took her hand in his and sat them both down on the bed. He turned his body toward her and pulled her close.

For five long minutes he held her, silent, nursing the beer he had retrieved on his way up. He alternated between stroking her hair and caressing her hand and arm. She felt something warm and wet touch her lower back.

"Booth," she turned to the source of the wetness, "You're bleeding!"

"Just a flesh wound," he said absently.

All thoughts of her own bad day vanished as she went to retrieve the first aid kit. When she returned he was exactly where she had left him. Taking the now-empty beer bottle from his hand and setting it on the dresser behind her, she began gently removing his shirt to get a better look at the wound. He had been correct that it was superficial and within moments she had it cleaned and bandaged.

"Thanks, Bones," he managed.

She nodded, studying his face and seeing that he also had a black eye that was beginning to emerge. She checked for other injuries.

Noting her perusal he tried to force a smile, "You should see the other guy."

Their eyes met, "You had to kill them, didn't you? Whoever gave you that wound?"

He nodded, "No other choice, Bones. It was either him or me."

She moved to sit beside him again, took his hands in her own, and met his gaze, "I am sorry that you had to kill again, Booth and I love you."

"Can I just hold you, Bones?" his voice was quiet, but laden with emotion.

"Of course," she assented.

An hour ago all she had wanted was to be held and to regale him with the events of her day. Now, with his arms around her, clinging to her as if she were his anchor, she was simply glad that he had made it home alive.