First of all, we apologise for the cliffhanger (or at least, Catherine does XD). That's not usually our style, but we had to cut the chapter in two.

Also, one of you had trouble reconciling this fic with the episode of Booth's brain surgery where Brennan has tests to make sure she can have children. So, just to be clear: this fic is not really set anywhere in the show, we only picked one event to inspire us. Pretty much all you need to know is in the story ;), you can ignore any other specifics from the show.

Thanks again for taking the time to review! We really appreciate it. Now, on with the show.

Previously in The Fact in the Lie:

She sighed deeply as without her approval, her brain had released the memories in response to Booth's pleading. She dropped her face in her hands, breathing through the images that assaulted her mind. She wanted to tell him that no, he did not need to know, and certainly didn't want to know, but she had a feeling it would make no difference to point that out to him. "I've always been afraid that somehow I'd be put back into foster care if I ever told this," she spoke into her hands, warning him beforehand that this wasn't a pretty story.

Chapter 4

"Bones, you are never going back into the foster care system. You're a strong, confident, smart woman," he tried to reassure her. "And maybe, just maybe, you should've told this story to someone years ago."

"Not years ago. But you're right, I don't depend on any of them anymore. Maybe I should take my revenge and just tell someone." She looked up. "Tell you. But I'm telling you, the crime has expired, so no one involved can ever be prosecuted. I don't want you to feel bad about that, because I don't. It was a deal and we both came through. Logically, I can't hold any grudges, so I just tried to forget about it. I'm not a victim. I did what I had to so I could have a better life." She felt ready to tell her secret after all those years, but she wanted to prepare him for what he was about to hear. It was only fair.

He wasn't liking what he was hearing and from the sound of it - this deal she was talking about - was something she had been pressured into agreeing with. Booth, however, decided to keep his mouth shut and simply nodded, trying to encourage her to continue with her story.

He gave her the okay, she assumed, and she reached for her coffee mug, emptying it to moisten her throat. "Officially speaking, I should have been in foster care until age eighteen," she began. "I didn't know I had any relatives left. Except for Russ, of course, but he was not coming for me. He was the one who put me in foster care to begin with," she pointed out. "Anyway, you know that I got out at age seventeen and lived with my grandfather until I went to college. But he wasn't the one who found me, and I didn't even know he was alive." She stopped to check if Booth was still following.

"So, you got out sooner, by making a deal with someone, and because of this deal, you got an infection and lost the ability to conceive?" Booth asked as she looked up at him. "What was the deal, Bones?" he asked gently, trying to encourage her to just get it out.

"I would never speak to anyone about the events that eventually caused the infection and in turn my foster dad would arrange for me to leave the system and live with a relative if he could find any, or else he would arrange for an apartment for me. He could give me anything I needed to start my own life; a place to live, furniture, a job, new clothes. It was my only chance to get away and I took it."

"Meaning, you wouldn't let anyone know that your foster dad, the man who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe, exposed you to - to whatever it is that he exposed you to?" Booth sighed, and decided that he had had enough of their cryptic way of communicating with each other, hoping the other would understand what they were trying to tell them. "So what was the deal? You allowed him or someone else to have sex with you, so you could get out, before your eighteenth birthday?" Booth realized it was harsh, especially for his standards, but he wanted the truth, and maybe it would help her to just say out loud what it was that had cost her the ability to have children. To conceive, to feel new life growing inside of her body.

"Booth, jesus!" His directness had taken her by surprise, and, startled, she jumped to her feet, wrapped her arms around herself and went to get a glass of water. She returned quickly, though, and placed the glass on the coffee table after having taken a few gulps. She wouldn't sit back down with him, though. Not yet. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know if I would have allowed him to do that, had he given me a choice, but that's not how it went down, Booth. I told you the deal was for me to keep my mouth shut and not potentially ruin his reputation. I never consented to any type of sexual intercourse. Okay?" She demanded that he listened carefully and not go about guessing. That would not lead him to the truth. "Be patient, I never told anyone this and I want to do it right now that I am."

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, Bones. I understand this is hard to talk about. I do. But you are worrying me. A lot. I care about you and the mere thought of how you were treated in foster care is enough to make my skin crawl. I won't interrupt again. Please, continue."

She took a moment to scrutinize his expression. He had jumped to the exact conclusion that had always nagged at her. That she was afraid people would think of her as a prostitute. That she had whored herself out to some guy in his forties so he would do her a freaking favour. Finally, she decided that he didn't mean to sit there and judge her, so she reclaimed her seat on the couch. "All right," she said. "I'm not going to tell you his name, so you won't get yourself into trouble by going after him," she announced. True to his word, Booth merely raised an eyebrow and frowned, but didn't say anything. She could trust him. "First of all, they were the best home I'd been placed in until then. Everything went well enough, and my foster dad especially was kind to me. He treated me like a human being, and finally I began to trust him. Then one day, he said he needed to talk to me about something. As it turned out, he had come to love me, but not really as his daughter. He said I was mature way beyond my years, and he was attracted to me. He asked me what I thought of that, and I said that I'd been wishing for a father figure, not a lover more than twice my age. Then I cried, and I told him I had to leave them and that I was sorry. He was understanding and tried to comfort me, but I ran away. I didn't return until bedtime and went to sleep." The words were coming to her so easily. She'd never imagined this was the way she would finally expose her past to someone. It was almost as if it wasn't really her. As if it was another life she was speaking of. But then, it kind of was.

"I'm sorry that you had to experience that. In my opinion, he didn't have the right to dump that on your shoulders, but please continue." Booth's heart ached for her. By the time she was seventeen she'd been through so much bad stuff already, and when she finally thought she'd found a good, warm, loving home, her foster dad was having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

She nodded after another sip of water. "The next morning when I woke up, I had a headache and it felt as if I was coming round from anesthesia. In any case, not from a natural sleep." She adjusted her position on the couch as she remembered in much clearer detail than she'd expected how her prison had looked. "I was confused, because I felt weird and I wasn't in my room. After a while I figured out I was in the basement. It was dark, but I recognized the pattern on the walls. It was my foster dad's sound-proof room where he used to practise his drumming. I tried flicking on the light, but it didn't work. I felt around for the drum kit so I could make noise, but it was gone and no one would probably have heard me anyway. I did discover a stool next to the mattress I'd been sleeping on, and there was a bottle of water on it, along with a banana, which I ate half of." It was like a movie was playing in her mind, and she was just quickly trying to describe what she was seeing until the film skipped to the next scene. At some point, she wasn't even consciously aware that she was talking to Booth. "I went back to bed to try and get rid of the headache, but I couldn't really sleep. So I sat with my back against the wall, knees drawn up to my chest and the blanket around me so I wouldn't get cold. I couldn't hear any sounds from upstairs, and there was no way they'd be able to hear me." Snap to next scene. "Then, after what seemed like hours, the door opened and I protected my eyes from the light of a lantern. My foster dad observed that I was awake and had eaten something. I asked him why I was in there, and he locked the door behind him and put the lantern on the stool next to the banana and the water. My eyes got used to the light and I looked at his face, but it hardly looked like him. As if there was another person inside his body. He stood in front of me so I had to look up, and he said that I couldn't run away from an important conversation like I did the night before. It wasn't polite. I said I hadn't meant to hurt him, but that I still didn't understand why I was in that basement. He laughed as if it was obvious. He told me that I couldn't seduce him, wrap him around my little finger, and then disrespect him by crying and running away as if the mere thought of him made me sick. I asked him why I was feeling unwell, and he confessed that he'd sedated me with chloroform so I wouldn't wake anyone. It began to dawn on me that I was in trouble and I began to cry." She had been speaking calmly, recounting the events in a coherent manner. But here the movie suddenly ended, and she fell silent.

"That," Booth spoke with a voice which barely contained the anger he felt, "is child abuse." He paused, looking at his hands which had curled into tight fists during her story. He relaxed them and flexed his hands a few times, trying to get rid of the overwhelming urge to make that bastard pay for everything he had put her through. The question, what deal did he force you to agree with? was burning on his tongue, but knowing better, he clenched his jaw muscles and kept his mouth shut, waiting with as much patience as he could muster, for her to go on with her horror story.

Booth's voice came from far away, but when she turned her face in his direction, she found him sitting close. It was nice to hear him say that. Especially since she'd always taken responsibility for some of the things that had happened. For instance, she should have been more careful to trust him in the first place, but she should also have controlled her own behaviour better. Apparently she'd given him the idea that she was open to a romantic relationship with him. Her face fell. For her mind - meanwhile - had skipped to the darkest scene. "He sat down next to me and held me in his arms, stroking my back as if he wanted to comfort me. I was scared, and I kept as still as possible. Then he kissed my neck, and my face, and then my mouth. He pushed the blanket off my shoulders and began stroking me again, but in a different way. A bad way; I could feel that. I asked him to please leave, that I would stay in the basement if he didn't want to see me anymore. But he told me that he couldn't and he explained how it was all my fault. While he spoke, he pushed me down and - and he -" She cleared her throat, taking a moment to tell herself again that she was seeing the memories, but that she wasn't actually in them at this moment. She was on the couch in her apartment, and Booth was with her. And that was okay. "He touched me everywhere. His strength was overwhelming, and he kept talking to me, about maturity and responsibility and such. I pushed his hands away once and he gave me a blow to the head that sent my mind spinning. I could only concentrate on the pain that radiated to my entire head, and the next thing I knew he was half-naked on top of me. I realized that it was really going to happen, nothing I could do, nobody coming to help me... And indeed it happened," she said, her voice disappearing into silence. "God." She pressed a hand to her mouth and ran towards the bathroom, where she sank onto her knees in front of the toilet bowl - just in time - and gave way to the revulsion and to the sickness of that act by throwing up everything she had in her.

Booth's anger, frustration, but also his concern had been steadily rising as she continued with her story. Even before that soft admission was whispered, he knew what had happened. The bastard had simply taken what she wasn't willing to give. When she bolted upright and ran towards the bathroom, Booth didn't hesitate and immediately followed her. He sat down next to her and gently gathered her beautiful dark hair in his hands, keeping it out of the way. When she was done and leaned back, he carefully wrapped his arms around her waist. Not saying anything, just holding her. Just letting her know she was not alone, that he was not repulsed by the story she'd just told him. He still wanted to be with her. He still wanted her, so he held her, closely to his chest, his heart breaking for her and the mess they were stuck in.

When she'd caught her breath, she stood and rinsed her mouth at the sink. "Thank you for holding me," she said sincerely right before turning back to him. "Somehow that really helped." She felt exhausted, drained, but she was adamant to tell him the rest. There wasn't that much left, but she needed to get it out, just like she'd just thrown everything out of her body. Clean up. Get it out of her system.

"I'm glad it did," Booth told her softly, standing up, yet not knowing whether he should approach her again or not. "You still haven't told me how you got that infection that had such disastrous consequences," he gently reminded her. He didn't want to push her, but he needed to know what had been the cause of his partner's infertility.

"I know, I'm getting to that," she said without reproach. Walking ahead of him, she went back to the living room and had another sip of water. He sat down with her and she felt okay enough to continue. "When he left, I was in excruciating pain and bleeding. But there was nothing I could do for myself. I just hoped that he would either let me go or never come back and let me die there. Of course, he did come back. In fact, I believe he held me prisoner in that basement for three days. He raped me twice and proposed a deal to me on the third day, when the mere opening of the door caused me to go crazy with fear." She shook her head at the memory, as if she could just shake it off. It was in the past, but it felt so recent all of a sudden. "He told me that we were even and that he would give me anything I needed to start a life of my own, on one condition. That I would never tell anyone about what he'd done to me in that basement. It was for my own good as well, he said, because people would think I was a whore and I would be put in a psychiatric hospital because I was underaged. He used different arguments to blackmail me into silence, but I had already accepted. I would have done anything to get out of there and away from him. In the middle of the night, we left in his car. I was so nervous I couldn't talk, and I was so bruised I nearly screamed every time he hit a bump in the road. He explained that the story was that I'd run away - I should come up with a lie of my own to explain that. He'd managed to find and contact my grandfather, and he was coming to pick me up at dawn. I didn't have any reason to believe him, especially since I thought my grandparents were dead. I actually expected him to kill me and dump my body somewhere down the road, so I wasn't really listening when he explained everything to me. I was searching for opportunities to flee. However, he kept true to his word and actually left me alive with food and water. A man who introduced himself as my grandfather indeed picked me up at dawn." She paused to drink more water.

The thought of her hurt so profoundly, treated so carelessly, made Booth's blood boil with anger. The anger and resentment towards her foster father - her rapist - was so overwhelming Booth could no longer form words, let alone sentences. He had always subconsciously known she had been treated badly in the foster care system, but this? This was just incomprehensible. Who could do such a thing? What kind of animal can hurt a young woman so deeply? Slowly, Booth's mind started to form thoughts again. It's no wonder she treats sex as a way to satisfy her body on her terms. It's a way to stay in control. She doesn't allow emotions into the equation, and now that I know what happened to her, I can't blame her.

"We never really got along, my grandfather and I," she continued, "Or at least, there was always this distance between us. I guess it was my fault, because he certainly tried. The first week I spent in bed because my lower half was hurting too much to really do anything else. And I couldn't go to a doctor, because I couldn't break the deal. I was still scared, then. Letting me live was probably more cruel than killing me." She shrugged. "I see that differently, now, of course. But it was a rough time. As soon as I turned eighteen, my grandfather found me a dorm room at the university. Seven months after I met my grandfather, I received a letter that had been delivered to my grandfather's address. It was from him, telling me I should get checked out because some doctor had found a dormant bacterial infection on him, and there was a great chance I had it, too. It was a formal letter, but it ended on a more personal note. It said that he was happy with the way our deal had worked out. That I was trustworthy and he wished me all the best. That he had come to forgive me." She felt a surge of anger as she tought back to that moment. "I was furious - and went to see a gynaecologist as soon as possible. She indeed found signs of an infection, and scarring. She asked me how I got it, but I told her that was pretty obvious. I asked if there were consequences. She did an ultrasound and told me my fallopian tubes were obstructed by scar tissue. In other words, I couldn't get pregnant because sperm would never reach my eggs. I didn't feel sad, I just imploded with anger. That stupid bastard had ripped me apart, infected me with his filthy bacteria and my reproductive system was all-scars and rendered useless. But worst of all, the week I spent in bed because of the terrible pains that sometimes were so excruciating I passed out - that suffering hadn't been necessary if a doctor would have diagnosed the inflammation and given me adequate pain killers. That's actually the reason why I started martial arts. There were try-out classes that evening and I could finally give air to some of my anger. In addition, if I'd ever run into him again, I would at least be able to beat him into a coma. Because he never said anything about that when he explained the terms of the deal. The only thing I had to do was keep my mouth shut about what he'd done. He never said I couldn't retaliate. But of course, I never saw him again. Especially not after moving here. But the martial arts always stayed with me, because it was the only way I knew how to release my frustration, and it made me feel more confident. Stronger. Like I would never have to let it happen to me again." She looked in Booth's eyes. "And yet, if it all hadn't happened, I might never have met you." Now that she'd shared her story, thereby acknowledging it had happened, the memories she'd been immersed in suddenly faded, were being pulled back to the past, and she was back in the present. Now, she could finally put it behind her.

So what do you think? Is this a realistic scenario to explain Brennan's views on children? (Again, ignoring Critic in the Cabernet.) For Booth's reaction to all this - and a surprise of his own - please stay tuned!