Disclaimer: Hart Hanson owns Bones, not me.

March 5, 1991

"Shrimp!" Pops called out as Booth shoveled dinner in his mouth - even though he'd told Pops about Temperance's situation, he hadn't said anything about his nightly visits to her room. "I talked to Mr. Duncan, the social worker I'd worked with to get my license a while back. He said that he doesn't handle Temperance's case, but he thought I'd have a good chance if I spoke to the social worker assigned to her. He thinks I could have a chance to take her in."

Booth's face lit up and he stopped choking down his food long enough to swallow. "Really?" he asked excitedly.

Pops nodded his head, smiling. "Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm already taking care of you and Jared, and everything's right here, so I'm good to go…What does Temperance say about all this?"

Booth flushed slightly. "I, uh, I haven't actually told her yet," he mumbled, burrowing his face into his glass of water.

Pops glared at him. "Seeley Joseph Booth!" he growled. "You'd better talk to her about this! I need to know who to contact about her."

Booth nodded. "I'll talk to her as soon as possible," he promised, knowing that this meant bringing this up to Temperance tonight when he visited her.

They'd had barbeque for dinner tonight, so Booth packed a burger and a few hotdogs Pops had made, as well as a few Mars Bars he'd found in the fridge. He grabbed two bottles of water and stuffed them in his bag.

"Hey, Bones," he greeted her with a small smile as he climbed through her window. Her ribs were doing better, thankfully, so she was able to open the window for him and stand and move about. "I've got some news for you."

"What news?" she asked, distracted, having snatched his backpack from him to get the food. It was days like these, when she acted like this, when he knew she hadn't eaten a single thing all day. She'd told him that she never really noticed her hunger until he showed up and she knew that there was food meant for her that he'd brought with him.

He sat gingerly at the edge of her bed, careful to put some distance between them in case she felt the urge to hit him, "I…told Pops something."

"Something like what?"

"I told him about…Your situation."

Immediately, her head snapped up. She stopped munching on hot dogs, and turned her head to glare at him instead. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You did what!" she whisper-yelled, putting the food aside so that she could stand.

"Bones, I only did it -"

"Booth!" she interrupted, hands on her hips. "I can't believe you'd do something like that!" her cheeks were slowly turning red. "It's bad enough that everyone knows about me being in foster care! I don't need them knowing about-"

"Hey!" he cut her off, standing up, too, and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't tell everyone. I only told Pops. Not even Jared knows."

She calmed down a bit, though her ears were still burning red. He swore he could see steam coming from them. "What on earth possessed you to do that?" she demanded in her haughty, 'annoyed teacher' voice.

He tried to joke by saying, "I thought you didn't believe in possessions?"

"Seeley Booth, I swear, I'm going to kick you in the-"

"Okay!" he held out both hands as a shield, flinching away from her as if she was really about to kick him. "Look, I…" he sighed, sitting back down on the bed and pulling her at her arm to get her to sit next to him. "I can't keep watching you get beaten up."

She stiffened. "You don't have to keep coming here," she said stiffly, misinterpreting his words. "If you feel uncomfortable…"

"What?" he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. "No! No, that's not it," he shook his head. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to keep getting hurt."

"Booth, it's not always going to be like this. I only have four more years in foster care…I mean, I'm graduating high school in two years, so I'll probably be able to file for emancipation, anyway…"

He frowned at her words. "But that would still take two years," he protested.

She smiled a little at his impatience - very typical of him, actually. "Well, patience is a virtue, Booth," she retorted.

He rolled his eyes at her very Bones-like answer. "Okay, but what if I have a better plan?" he asked, excitement about his breakfast-time epiphany yesterday morning starting to get to him again.

She stared at him in utter confusion. "What do you mean?"

He started to tell her all about his conversation with Pops, how he'd thought of Pops registering as a foster parent, and how Pops had dropped the bomb on already being a registered foster parent, and had a fighting chance to be Temperance's foster parent, according to the social worker he'd worked with.

Temperance just stared at Booth as he spoke, his words causing a dull hum to break out in her mind. The hope that he was giving her…It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. It was making her dizzy.

"What?" she asked faintly as he stopped speaking.

"Bones!" he laughed happily as quietly as possible. "Pops is a foster parent! We could take you in, then you wouldn't have to stay here with them."

She shook her head, still upset. "What if this doesn't work, Booth?" she asked, sounding angry. The hope that had come with the introduction of his crazy plan was slowly diminishing, crushed by the despondent feelings she always get when it came to her life being turned for the better. That was only because she knew better. Every time something good was about to happen, she would swerve into a wrong turn and everything would turn out for the worst instead.

"What if we just upset my social worker, and my foster parents?" she continued raving. "What if I'm moved away from here? I won't be able to see you again. Or Pops and Jared."

He frowned at her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Bones, that's not going to happen," he tried to assure her.

"How do you know that?" she asked, knowing that Booth couldn't possibly know for certain. "Booth…I like it here."

"Really?" he asked dryly, quirking an eyebrow.

Temperance rolled her eyes. "Well, I hate the Dawsons, and I don't like your girlfriend-"

"-Ex girlfriend," he corrected. "Ex."

"But I'm not falling behind at school anymore. I'm doing well, and at the rate I'm going, I'm very optimistic about my college future," she continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. "Plus, I like you and your family. They're nice."

She pulled her hand away from his. "I don't want to risk it, Booth," she told him quietly, turning her head away. "I'm sorry, and thank you for going through all that trouble -"

"No," he said, his tone suddenly firm and strong. "I know it's a risk, but we have to take it."

Her eyes flashed as she glared at him. "I don't have to do anything!"

"So you're just going to let them beat you up? You're just going to allow yourself to be a punching bag for two jerks - who happen to be strangers, by the way - for the next two years because you're too damn scared to try and find a way out!" he demanded, yelling at a whisper-soft volume.

Just as he had predicted, Temperance scowled at him. "I am not afraid of anything," she spoke through gritted teeth.

The thing that he had noticed about her was that she was fiercely independent, and it was hard for her to accept help. Every time he climbed through the window, she'd be telling him over and over again how fine she was and how he didn't need to help her. She'd try and downplay her helpless situation.

But he knew her, knew what made her tick.

And Temperance Brennan would always take the bait if he threw out some nonsense about her being afraid or incapable of doing something. A challenge of some sort.

"Prove it," he lifted his chin, daring her. She simply stared right back at him, unimpressed and upset. He sighed and gave her a pleading look. "Please, Bones. I can't keep quiet about this anymore. It tears me up knowing you're hurt…I have to do something. Please."

Temperance bit her lip, unsure. His pleading tone had gotten to her, but she was still uncertain. "Are you sure, Booth?" she whispered, dropping her gaze to her lap and picking at stray threads of her worn sweatpants. "I don't want to inconvenience you or Pops."

He rolled his eyes, wrapping a muscled arm around her shoulders. "Bones," his voice was tender. It made tears well up in her eyes. "You're my best friend, okay? You're not inconveniencing anyone." Noticing that she still looked hesitant, he scoffed playfully and added, "Besides. You know that old man. Loves you more than his own grandsons…Remember when he gave you that last piece of strudel?"

It worked. She started giggling, turning her head slightly so that her quiet laughter was muffled by his shirt. "Please," she replied. "He only did that because you and Jared had both had three each, and you'd have wrestled with each other for the last one."

He smiled, resting his head on top of hers. "Are you okay with this, Bones?" he asked, realizing that even though to him this plan was flawless and perfect, it might not be the same for her. He knew she hated living here with the Dawsons, but she might not want to live with him, either.

She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes, and Booth felt his breath catch in his throat. Her eyes…They'd always been pretty. He'd noticed before how they seemed to change colors with her emotions. But right then, at that very moment, with the bright, silver moonlight shining through the large window and illuminating her pale, flawless skin, and a soft smile gracing her lips for the first time he could ever remember…Her eyes were beautiful.

The color of navy blue ocean, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

"It's…Booth, it's really…" she seemed to be struggling to find the right words. In the end, she just lunged forward, hugging him tightly around the neck. He laughed a little in surprise, hugging her back as fervently. "Thank you," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear lightly. He fought down the shiver that had elicited.

They stayed like that for a while, just locked in a firm embrace. Booth nuzzled his nose into her hair - it always smelled sweet, like vanilla and coconut, but with a spicy undertone like sandalwood.

She was the one to pull back first, causing him to blink rapidly as he started to slowly come out of the haze her sweet scent had caused - it was as if his mind was all fogged up.

Temperance grabbed the Tupperware of food and grabbed another hotdog. She had her long hair curtaining her face, though he could hear a quiet sniffle or two. He had to smile to himself - she was touched, obviously, but was hiding it.

"So, the thing is…Pops doesn't know who to ask about you," he said, as if he were continuing their conversation without any of the emotional stuff happening in between. "He doesn't know if he should just ask the social worker he's working with, or…?" he trailed off questioningly.

Temperance nodded, "I know who he should call." She jumped off the bed, wincing slightly when she'd jostled her ribs a little, and went to her bulky bag resting against her bedside table. She dug around a bit in one of the inside pockets of her bag and pulled out a business card. It was a little crinkled, with bent edges, but the letters and numbers on it were still legible. She straightened it out as much as she could and handed it to Booth.

"Fran Briggs?" he questioned, reading the name off the card.

Temperance nodded. "That's my social worker," she informed him. "Pops should give her a call, and talk to her. I can't guarantee that she would be much help, but she's the person to talk to if this is going to happen at all."

"Ms. Briggs?" Pops called out tentatively as he approached the work station one of the social workers had pointed out.

The woman behind it - mid-twenties, long pin straight black hair and black eyes - looked up and smiled at him widely. "Yes? How may I help you?" she asked, her voice cheery.

He smiled back, using the infamous Booth charm smile that every Booth man had inherited since the beginning of time. Even at late fifties, he was still a handsome bloke. "Hello. I'm Hank Booth," he introduced himself, extending his hand for a handshake.

Ms. Briggs, confused, took his hand. "Alright," she said slowly. "Please have a seat."

"You see…I'm a registered foster parent," he started.

Ms. Briggs' eyes lit up. "Oh! So you want to see if you could take in a foster child?" she asked, her voice back to its original peppiness. "That's no problem at all. We have a lot of foster kids in the system that need a good home to be in. Of course, the main objective of the system is to-"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted her as politely as possible. "But I already know who I want to take in."

She gave him a perplexed look. "You do?"

He nodded. "See, she's a foster kid who goes to my grandson's school," he explained. "They're project partners, and his tutor…I really like her. She's a nice girl. I thought, you know, since I'm a foster parent, it'd be a nice thing to take her in…She's over a lot anyway, and she fits in nicely with the family."

Ms. Briggs smiled and nodded as he spoke. "Well, this is a little…Unorthodox, but nothing that can't be managed," she assured him. "Do you have a name for me?" her fingers were already flying across the computer screen, probably about to log into some sort of an account or whatever it was they had.

"Temperance Brennan."

Immediately, her fingers froze on the keyboard and she sighed, hanging her head for a moment. "I bet she put you up to this," she was almost muttering to herself. Turning her head to look directly at Pops once more, she said, "Mr. Booth…"

"Hank, please," Pops corrected her with that same charm smile.

"Hank," she couldn't resist a smile. "Temperance is my personal case, so I know for a fact that she's been placed with a family. A couple, actually, who haven't been able to have kids…It's a good home."

"Ms. Briggs," he started again but she interrupted him.

"Now, I'm sure what you said about her fitting in is true, but I can't just pull her out of a home like that without a reason," she told him with an apologetic smile.

Debating whether to tell her what Booth had told him, Pops bit his lip and tried to stall. "But it wouldn't really be all that much of a change," he said, internally scoffing at that. It would be a big change - for one, Temperance wouldn't be beaten up over anything. "Her foster home now is barely a few blocks away…And our house is closer to her school, actually. And I have two grandsons - one two years older than her, the other two years younger. She'd have friends to talk to at home…"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Booth, but that is not something I could arrange for. Unless there are certain problems with Temperance's current living arrangements, or if her foster parents feel as if they can't care for her any longer, then I'm afraid -"

"She's being abused!" he blurted out, panicking at the last moment.

With wide eyes, he watched as Ms. Briggs stilled. Her hands, which had been carefully stacking a pile of files, stopped moving. Her head snapped up in his direction. "What?" she asked, her tone sharp. "Mr. Booth, that is a very serious accusation."

He nodded. "I know," he said solemnly. "But I have a very strong feeling."

She sighed. "Strong feelings won't make a case at all."

"I saw strangulation marks on her neck once," he said. Technically, it wasn't really a lie. A Booth did see them, just not Hank Booth. "And she admitted this to my grandson. She's missed some school days, too, because she was injured…"

Ms. Briggs bit her lip, looking torn between accepting his words and denying them. "Temperance hasn't told me anything," she said, and this seemed to strengthened her resolve. She straightened her spine and told him in a clear, crisp voice, "She has my card, Mr. Booth. I'm sure if something of this nature is happening, then I'd know. Now, please…"

"Ms. Briggs," he said, just as he stood up to leave. "I know you don't believe me, but this is a claim that I'm giving of a suspicion that one of the foster kids in your care is being abused. Please, just check it out. Visit her. Talk to her without the foster parents around. Check for bruises…If you can't find anything, then I won't bother you again. But I really do think she needs help."

With a pleading look and a charm smile sent her way, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a stunned social worker in his wake. I hope this works…

Thank you for reading!

Juliet.