Disclaimer: Hart Hanson owns Bones, not me.

March 3, 1988

"I'm telling you, she's missing!" Booth insisted, anger creeping into his voice. He was standing in his living room, Pops, Ms. Briggs and two police officers surrounding him. Pops looked worried, but Ms. Briggs and the cops merely looked bored and annoyed, as if he was wasting their time.

"Seeley," Ms. Briggs called out in a soothing tone - he imagined she had to use it a lot to comfort the younger foster kids she had to deal with.

"It's 'Booth'," he informed her in a curt voice.

She blinked, looking taken aback, but regained her composure a moment later and nodded her head. "Okay. Booth, then," she smiled, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "We have already spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Dawson…When Temperance shows up, they'll be sure to give us a call."

"And in the meantime," one of the cops - tall, sort of skinny, red hair - said. "We have her picture, and are on the lookout for her. Don't worry, kid. We'll find her."

Booth ran a hand through his too-messy hair - he hadn't combed it or even washed it in three days, let alone wash it or style it in its usual neat spikes. "But she didn't run away!" he tried again, running a frustrated hand down his tired face.

He'd gone by Temperance's foster house the night after Pops had gone to see Ms. Briggs for the first time. Pops hadn't gotten much luck, but Booth had known that though she would never admit it, Temperance would be anxious to know even the slightest of news. He'd waited until midnight, snuck out of the house, drove all the way to McCallum street, climbed in through her unlocked window - she'd left it unlatched these days just in case she couldn't get up to let him in - only to find her room empty.

She wasn't lying on her bed, she wasn't sitting at her desk doing homework or extra credit or reading. She wasn't sitting on the floor, or whatever. He'd thought she was in the bathroom, but he couldn't hear the water running. He'd sat down on the floor, back against the bed, and waited for her. A horrible feeling had erupted in his chest and spread throughout his whole body the moment he'd seen her empty bed, a tug deep in his gut telling him something was wrong, but he waited it out just the same.

He sat there, from half past midnight all the way until the sun was rising and he had to run out for fear of someone catching him as he went back to his car. Temperance never returned.

The likelihood of her having fallen asleep outside of her bedroom was very slim.

He'd dashed home, ashen faced and trembling, not even bothering to hide from Pops that he'd been out at night and had told Pops that he feared Temperance wasn't okay. He'd offered to call Ms. Briggs and bug her for a visit to Temperance's house.

Booth had reluctantly been sent to school. When he'd returned home, he'd found Ms. Briggs there with Pops, saying something about Temperance having run away in the middle of the night. Ms. Briggs had gone to the Dawsons' house, asked for Temperance, and they'd told her that they had just found that she was gone. They were about to call her, but she'd beat them to it by showing up.

"Foster kids running away…It's not uncommon, Booth," Ms. Briggs told him sympathetically.

Booth glared at her. "Bones isn't just a foster kid," he said hotly. "She's a girl, who's been fighting tooth and nail to make sure her grades don't slip despite everything going on right now. She skipped two grades, and she's got her sights on college. I know her, Ms. Briggs, and there's no way in hell she'd let anything get in her way of college. So I know that she didn't run away - there's just no way."

"Look, kid," the other cop said, sighing in frustration, as if he was annoyed he had to be here at all.

Booth cut him off. "You don't have a single shred of evidence that she ran away. No note, nothing. All her things are still in her room!" he threw his hands up in the air, directing this to the cops - they'd been to the Dawsons' to check around. Routine procedure, they'd said. "You only have the word of her foster parents. You can't just go on that."

"Like I said," Ms. Briggs' voice was starting to lose its calm edge. "Foster kids running away happen all the time. Statistics show that-"

"Statistics also show that it isn't uncommon for foster kids to get placed in abusive homes, Ms. Briggs," Pops said frostily. "It might not always seem like that to social workers, but it happens, doesn't it? And more often than not, it goes by undetected."

She blushed a furious red at this, and seemed too flustered to string together a coherent sentence. "Well…I…We do the best…I…That is not the point, Mr. Booth!" she finally yelled, anger coloring her expression.

"Then what is?" Booth demanded. "Because right now, you're acting like her disappearance means nothing more than having ten extra minutes for lunch." Before she could dignify that with an answer, he rounded on the cops, "I'm telling you, right now, that my friend is missing for the past three days. I'm telling you that she's been abused by her foster parents - I've seen the marks, I've helped her tend to her wounds, I've kept her secret for as long as I could."

Booth had told the cops about his nightly visits to Temperance, ever since the first time she had missed school and he'd grown worried, so they could know that the abuse had started a while ago. Even before he came into the picture, in fact.

He fixed them with a steely gaze. "What are you going to do about that?"

The thin, tall cop sighed once more. "Maybe we could have another look around," he relented. "Question the parents again."

"Foster parents," Booth corrected quickly. Temperance loved her real parents - ever since that day she'd shown him her family album, she'd bring them up once in a while, and every time, she would wear a soft smile on her face and a sad twinkle would appear in her pretty eyes. She loved her parents, and these monsters didn't deserve the same title.

"Right."

Booth and Pops insisted on coming alone, which the cops weren't too pleased about. They argued, though, and knowing that Booth and Pops would only follow them anyway - the cops had only dealt with them for a few days and already they knew how persistent both Booths could be - had reluctantly allowed the two to tag along.

"Mr. Dawson? Mrs. Dawson? Chicago PD! Open up!"

This went on for several minutes before the creaky door swung open. "What is it?" Mr. Dawson barked at them, fairly drunk.

God, it's only nine thirty in the morning, Booth thought disgustedly.

"Mr. Dawson, we'd like to ask you a few more questions regarding Temperance Brennan's disappearance," the thin cop asked.

Mr. Dawson glared at them, "I already told ya lot everything!" He took another swig of beer - a long swig - and swayed a little despite leaning against the doorframe. "They're the ones who can't accept the truth!" he nodded in Booth's and Pops' direction.

"Mr. Dawson, please," the other cop tried to coax. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can prove to them that Temperance really did run away."

Booth glared at the back of the cop's head. Temperance had not run away! Why was he so eager to believe that? He was about to say something when Pops reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Pops gave him a meaningful look and shook his head - now wasn't the time to cause a scene.

"Where were you the night Temperance disappeared?"

Mr. Dawson shrugged. "I was at home," he replied. "I was workin' in my garage - my car's been actin' funny. I got in for dinner, came out to tune the car up a little more, then I went to bed."

"Is Mrs. Dawson here by any chance? I'd like to confirm her…"

But Booth wasn't listening anymore. His blood had run cold, his spine stiffening, as he remembered a conversation he'd had with Temperance a while back, after a particularly gruesome day she'd had.

She had been sobbing, her back in so much pain because of the second whipping she'd received, and for once she had just let go and openly cried in front of him. "It was so bad, Booth," she had sobbed to him. "I don't remember doing anything wrong…But he was so angry. And he started hitting me, threatening to lock me up in the trunk of his car…"

He had held her, anger boiling underneath his skin, but had kept his calm so he would be able to soothe her. "What if he really does it, Booth?" she'd asked, still crying. "I-I…I don't want to be locked in a car. I'm scared."

"Shrimp," he felt Pops shaking him by the shoulders slightly. Blinking himself back to the present, he turned to look at Pops, in a daze. Pops glanced at him worriedly. "Are you alright, son?"

Booth felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't answer Pops.

Temperance had made fun of him before, whenever he said he just 'had a feeling' about something, or that his 'gut told him something'. But even though she would joke about it, he knew she still trusted his gut instincts.

Right now, his gut instincts were screaming at him very loudly. It was as if there was an actual voice shouting in his brain, telling him for certain that Temperance Brennan was closer to him than he might think.

Without saying a word to Pops, Mr. Dawson or the cops, he ran across the small lawn and dashed straight to the garage.

He could hear Mr. Dawson yelling drunkenly behind him. "Hey! Hey, kid! You can't go in there! Get out of there, you fuckin' punk!"

Booth ignored him and pushed his legs faster. The garage was close to the house - the lot was quite small after all - and the garage door wasn't anything complex. He lifted the door up and went inside, looking at the beaten up old Chevy car sitting there. He couldn't hear a single thing but, following his gut anyway, he went straight to the back of the car.

He tried opening the trunk but it was locked, so he looked around for something to pry it open with. He found a metal crowbar a few feet away and snatched it up, trying to hurry before anyone came in.

"Hey, kid," one of the cops said, as both of them reached the garage, panting hard. "What the hell are you doing?"

Pops reached the garage as well, a drunken, stumbling Mr. Dawson following close by. "Get away from my car!" he bellowed, swaying forward with his half-empty beer bottle in hand. He made as if to swing the bottle at Booth but the cop closest to him grabbed the bottle and restrained him.

"Sir, just calm down," the cop said.

Booth didn't pay any attention to them. He gave one final pry and cried out as he felt his muscles strain. The trunk lid finally popped open, and he threw the crowbar aside, pushing the trunk lid all the way up.

"My God, Bones…" he whispered, his eyes falling on the limp body of his friend. When no one stepped forward, he yelled out, "Don't just stand there, do something!"

Pops was the first to rush towards him, followed by the other cop not handling Mr. Dawson. Pops reached over and placed two fingers at Temperance's thin neck. "She has a pulse," Pops reported grimly. "Very weak, though."

"I'll call for an ambulance," the cop was already on it. "Don't move her - we don't know if she has any internal or spinal injuries."

Booth nodded absentmindedly, reaching forward to stroke Temperance's filth-covered hair. "Hey," he whispered, tears filling up in his eyes. "Hey, Bones. I found you. Are you okay? Wake up, Bones…"

She stayed perfectly still, her eyes closed and her breathing irregular. She wasn't responding to him whatsoever.

When the ambulance came, Mr. Dawson was already handcuffed and sitting in the back of the police cruiser. Mrs. Dawson, who had been out in the grocery store, had returned home just as the ambulance arrived and had been taken in as well. She sat right next to her husband, cuffed and sulking.

"I'm riding with her," Booth insisted assertively, not taking his eyes off of Temperance. She had been strapped gently onto a gurney, and was now being loaded into the ambulance.

One of the paramedics, exchanging looks with his co-worker, nodded. "Fine. But just one of you," he shot a look at Pops.

Pops smiled encouragingly at Booth. "Go on, Shrimp. I've gotta go get Jared, anyway. We'll meet you at the hospital," he assured Booth.

"Hurry up, kid," the paramedic said, as his friend placed an oxygen mask on Temperance.

Booth quickly climbed into the ambulance, taking a faithful spot right next to Temperance, taking her grease stained hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

She'll be alright, he thought silently, trying to assure himself. Clutching onto her hand, he started to pray.

Temperance awoke to a beeping sound. Groggily opening her eyes, she blinked her dry eyes a few times and looked around slowly. She was in a hospital room, from what she could tell. She was hooked to an IV drip, and a heart monitor. She felt slightly better than the last time she'd been awake - but her body still ached and her throat felt sore.

She felt something heavy pressed against her stomach and looked down. Booth was sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs next to her bed, fast asleep. One of his hands was dwarfing her smaller one, even in sleep. His arm was splayed across her abdomen, and his head was lying on her stomach.

She smiled weakly, and reached with her free hand to run through his disheveled hair. After a few strokes, he woke up, eyes blinking a few times.

When he saw that she was awake, he shot upright, fully alert. "Bones! You're awake!" he cried out happily. "I'll call for the doctor," he pressed the button above her bed.

"Booth…What happened?" she asked him, watching him move about. She coughed a little - her throat was too dry.

Booth frowned at that, as well, and gently extricated his hand from hers. He took the glass from the bedside table and poured her a glass of water. "Here, drink this," he instructed, helping her sit up so she could sip.

"What happened?" she asked again, after drinking the entire glass.

He looked at her with a grim expression on his face. "You don't remember?" he asked cautiously.

Temperance closed her eyes, leaning back against the pillows as she tried to recall. "I remember…Sunday night," she spoke, and without really knowing the reason why, a shiver ran down her spine. "I remember making dinner, and Mr. Dawson being really angry. I think he was fired from his job or something? He started hitting me, then he locked me in the closet…"

Booth frowned. "The closet? I found you in the trunk of his car," he told her, confused.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him. "You found me?" she asked, surprised. At his nod, she sat still, stunned. "Wha…How?"

He shrugged. "The cops kept saying you ran away," he informed her.

She scowled at that. "I'd never do that," she said stubbornly. "I wouldn't jeopardize my education."

He smirked a little at that. "I know - that's what I told them," he assured her. She seemed a little appeased that strangers she had never met before knew now that she wouldn't sabotage her education and future career. "I remembered you telling me about Mr. Dawson's threat to lock you up in his car. Something told me you were in there."

She raised her eyebrow. "Gut feeling?"

He nodded. "Told ya gut feeling's real," he couldn't help but throw in. She rolled her eyes at him. "I ran to the garage, pried open the trunk and there you were."

She stared at him, gratitude and weariness making her feel a tad more emotional than usual. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching for his hand once more. He quickly laced their fingers together. "For not giving up on me."

He smiled, leaning over to press his forehead gently against hers. "I'd never do that," he vowed. They shared a quiet moment together, just sitting there smiling at each other for a while. "How'd you end up in the trunk?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

She took a deep breath. "I've been locked in the closet before," she revealed. "The next morning, Mr. Dawson decided that I wasn't learning my lesson if I kept repeating my punishments. So he dragged me out to the garage and locked me in the trunk."

He frowned, "What did you do? To make him so mad?"

She looked down, ashamed, embarrassed and tired. "I broke the dishes," she mumbled in a whisper. "Just-just one. The water was so hot…And it was just so slippery…It just fell and I…"

He reached over to run his hand through her hair, shushing her soothingly. It was clean now, but it smelled nothing like her. "Hey," he said gently. "It wasn't your fault, Bones. That guy was seriously twisted."

She gave him a weak smile, but he wasn't sure if she really believed him or not. It was going to take time for her to be okay again, he knew that. He just wished he knew what to do, how to help her.

"Temperance?" they heard, and both turned to the door where a woman in a white coat stood. She looked to be in her late thirties, or early forties, and had dirty blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her green eyes twinkled a little. "It's good to see you're awake."

Temperance didn't answer. "I'm Dr. Malone," the woman said. "I've been treating you since you've been brought in."

This seemed to spark an interest in her. "Since I've been brought in?" she repeated. "How long ago was that? What day is it?" she looked from Mr. Malone to Booth.

"It's Friday, Temperance," Dr. Malone answered before Booth could. "You've been out cold for two days."

"Friday…?"

Booth nodded.

"I can't believe I missed a whole week of school!" she moaned, sounding so depressed by it that Booth snorted in disbelief.

"After everything you've been through, this is the thing that you're upset about the most?" he asked incredulously.

She lifted her head to glare at him. "It's a whole week, Booth!" she protested. "One entire week. Five days of classes and useful information. I can't believe it! What if I missed something important?"

"Yes, you wouldn't want your straight As to go down to Bs…"

She looked positively horrified by the very idea. "Don't joke about something like that, Booth," she said seriously. He rolled his eyes. "At least I can borrow your notes," she sighed. "They might not be as extensive as mine, but it'll do."

Booth chuckled a little, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Actually…I haven't been to school since Tuesday."

Temperance gaped at him, jaw dropped. "Booth!" she scolded.

He threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, I was worried about you…And when you came here, I was…You know, still worried. So I stayed here. Pops let me, but he said that if you still hadn't woken up by Monday, I'd have to go back anyway."

She scowled. "I can't believe he let you stay out of school for four days," she muttered, as Dr. Malone checked her vitals.

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine," Dr. Malone said, scribbling something down on Temperance's chart. She smiled a little at the two of them. "I'd like to keep you overnight just to make sure, but I'm certain that you can be released tomorrow."

Temperance nodded her head, relieved. "Good," she smiled in relief.

She still looked worried, though, so Booth rolled his eyes. "Good grief, Bones," he sighed, exasperated. "I'll borrow someone's Goddamn notes, okay? Quit sulking."

Temperance scowled at him. "It's a valid concern, Booth," she said in that haughty tone of hers. "It's nearing finals."

Dr. Malone couldn't help but chuckle at the two of them. They both looked at her, both a little startled; they'd forgotten she was even in the room. "How long have you two been together?" she asked, a knowing smile on her lips as she stared at them. They sounded nothing like teenaged couples, but more like old married couples. It was so obvious to her that they cared deeply for each other.

Booth's cheeks flushed pink slightly while Temperance merely blinked at Dr. Malone. "We're not together," she told the doctor, trying to keep as much emotion out of her voice as possible. "We're just friends…And lab partners."

Dr. Malone's eyebrows shot up to her hairline in surprise. "Really?" she asked, shocked. Clearing her throat, she shot them both an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry. I just assumed…Well, I should head out. I'll check in on you in a few hours, Temperance. Have a good rest."

Temperance nodded, watching Dr. Malone leave the room with a contemplative frown on her face. She looked to be lost in her thoughts, which gave Booth enough time to compose himself. When she turned back to him, though, and spoke, all was lost once more.

"Why would she assume we were a couple?" she asked, her tone innocently confused.

He choked a little on air and changed the subject as quickly as possible. "I don't know," he shrugged. "Anyway, how're you feeling?"

She bit her lip. "I'm okay," she said instantly. He raised his eyebrow, lips set in a firm, thin line. It was clear he didn't believe her. "Okay, I feel a little sore," she conceded, rolling her eyes. She knew if she didn't admit even a little of the truth, he was only going to pester her until she did. "But nothing I can't handle, Booth…Can I ask you something?"

"When has anything ever stopped you before?"

She scowled at him, and decided to ignore his jab. "What happened to Mr. and Mrs. Dawson?" her voice was small, and frail, and for the first time, Booth realized just how tired she sounded.

He took her hand in both of his, her small hand dwarfed by his large ones. "They were arrested, Bones," he told her gently. "They're being charged with neglect."

Temperance stared at him in disbelief. "Neglect?" she couldn't help the dismay in her voice. "That's it?"

He gave her a sympathetic, meaningful look. "If you show them your scars, your bruises…That would help," he encouraged. "They'd be charged with child abuse."

"I'm not a child," the defense came automatically though she was hardly paying him any attention now. Could she really expose herself like that? If she did show her bruises…Everyone would know.

Then again, if she didn't let everyone know, then Mr. and Mrs. Dawson might be in the position to do the same thing to some other kid what they did to her.

Taking a deep breath, she gave him a determined look. "I'll do it."

He beamed at her proudly, though that sad look still remained in his deep brown eyes. "I'll let them know," he promised her. "You'll have to talk to the cops. I hope you get better ones than the ones I talked to about your disappearance. Boy, you've gotta see 'em, Bones. Thick as-"

"Temperance!" someone sang. "You're awake!"

They both turned to see Ms. Briggs dancing into the room, Pops trudging in after her. Ms. Briggs had one of those false smiles on her face that Temperance detested. It was as if she thought pretending to be all smiles and happy and cheerful would somehow calm Temperance down. It never worked. It only served to annoy her. She hoped Ms. Briggs would figure out that those false smiles never worked for any of the foster kids.

Booth noted that, at the arrival of Ms. Briggs, Temperance had stiffened. Her entire posture was tense, her jaw locked and her lips set in a thin line. Her blue eyes, which had been twinkling just moments before as she giggled at his description of the two cops he'd found incompetent to help him with finding her, had hardened to a steel, icy grayish sort of blue.

The only sign that she was scared of what was to come next was her vice grip on his hand.

"Ms. Briggs," Temperance greeted formally, coolly.

Ms. Briggs was either used to Temperance cool attitude towards her or chose to ignore it. "How are you dear?" she asked, smiling brightly at Temperance from where she stood over the bed.

"She's just been locked inside a car for three days. How do you think she feels?" Booth couldn't help but snap.

"Shrimp," Pops warned, though he, too, wasn't very happy with the situation.

Temperance squeezed Booth's hand lightly. "I'm fine," she answered Ms. Briggs in that same detached voice. "I assume you'll be placing me in another home?"

Ms. Briggs nodded, wincing sympathetically. "Aw, sweetie…You should've told me this was happening," she gestured her hand lamely over Temperance's bruised body.

Temperance attempted a shrug, wincing when it hurt too much and stilled. "You wouldn't have believed me," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I would!" Ms. Briggs looked shocked that Temperance would even suggest such a thing.

Temperance shot her a look that showed just how much she thought Ms. Briggs was an idiot. "You never have before," she said, in an annoyed voice as though she was right and Ms. Briggs shouldn't argue with her.

Ms. Briggs flushed a little. "Yes, well," she cleared her throat a little.

"How ya feelin', little lady?" Pops asked Temperance, walking around Ms. Briggs to smile down at Temperance.

"Okay," Temperance returned his smile with a small grin. "I'd be better if I could go back to school." She gasped suddenly, eyes widening. "Oh, no! Booth! Our English project!"

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Calm down! We got an extension 'cuz you're in the hospital and all…We didn't flunk the class," he assured her. As soon as she began to relax and her heart monitor wasn't as wild as before, he snorted. "God! Only you would be that panicked over a school assignment."

He made a face as though homework was something vile and nasty.

"We're very close to finals, Booth," she reprimanded him. "You should be, too."

Ms. Briggs giggled a little and, as though she just remembered her presence, Temperance stiffened all over again, clamming up. "Well, I've got great news, Temperance!" she said happily.

Temperance didn't seem to believe her and just watched on warily, silently. Ms. Briggs continued as though she'd received an eager response from Temperance. "Due to everything that had been happening," Ms. Briggs said, another cheerful smile on her face. "I think that it's best if Mr. Booth here becomes your foster parent."

Temperance's eyes lit up slightly. "Really?" she asked, her tone slightly incredulous as though she expected there to be some sort of catch.

Ms. Briggs nodded. "Yes. We'll need a few days to sort out paperwork, of course, but you'll still be here for a while so there's no need to put you in a group home…Will that be alright, Temperance?"

She nodded, trying not to show just how alright this was with her. She had a philosophy that whenever she was too happy about something, it would always get taken away from her. "Sure," she said softly, looking down at Booth's and her entwined fingers.

Ms. Briggs chatted a little more, mostly to Pops about several things he needed to do and stuff like that.

Once she was gone, Booth turned to give Temperance a wide grin. "Did'ja hear that, Bones?" he asked in an excited tone. His brown eyes were sparkling and his skin was flushed. He was like an adorable little boy on Christmas, he's so happy, she thought fondly. "How's about that, huh? You comin' to live with us?"

She beamed at him softly, then turned to give Pops a grateful look. "I can't thank you enough," she said sincerely.

He chuckled a warm, deep, resonating laugh that was reminiscent of his character. "You don't have to thank me, little lady," he assured her. "Just make more of that pudding…I miss it already." Even though his tone was joking, she could tell that he was telling the truth - the Booth boys had a strange fascination with pudding.

She agreed quickly. "I'll do whatever chores you want me to," she added, not wanting him to regret taking her in so soon. "I'm slightly uncoordinated when it comes to dishes in soapy water, but I'm quite adept at everything else."

Pops shook his head. "Whatever chores you'll have," he said, and his tone was firm as though there was no arguing this. "Will be shared between the other two kids. Just normal stuff, Tempe."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, causing her to blush crimson. "I've got to go with that pretty social worker - she's got paperwork for me to do," he winked at the two of them before walking jauntily out the door.

Booth and Temperance shared a laugh though he could tell she was still a little unsure, on edge. It was to be expected, of course, considering the ordeal she had been put through not just the past few days but the past year and a half.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, making sure to look her in the eyes when he spoke - he found that she was always calmer whenever she could see it in his eyes that he was telling her the truth yet again.

"This is going to be different, Temperance," he said, his voice low and frank.

She kept her gaze locked on his, soaking in his innocent honesty. She sighed, seeing what she always saw in those deep, dark eyes. Satisfied and reassured, she relaxed her tensed muscles and allowed herself the tiniest amount of hope. I hope so.

I love Booth saving the day! Thank you for reading.

Juliet.