Title: I am Temperance Brennan

Summery: This is my manta.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine! If it were, let's just say we wouldn't have to wait all summer for the next ep.

Author's Notes: After the finale, this kept rattling around my mind. I wanted to know what Brennan was thinking.

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I am Temperance Brennan.

I am Doctor Temperance Brennan. I am a forensic anthropologist. I specialize in identifying the bones no one else can.

I am not Joy Keenan. My parents are not, were not, bank robbers. Their names were not Ruth and Chris Keenan. They did not abandon me for their criminal activities. They were not top safety deposit box thieves. The criminal 'gene' does not run in my family. My brother is not Kyle Keenan. My whole life is not a lie. Everything I have worked for, everything I have done is not a lie.

My parents were Matthew and Christina Brennan. My father was a high school science teacher. My mother was a bookkeeper. My brother is Russ Brennan. He works as a Ferris wheel operator at a carnival. He is on parole for running a chop shop. He is the Marco to my Polo.

My best friend is Angela Montenegro. She is optimistic, hopeful and happy. She cares about everyone. She tries to make me become part of the 'real' world, even if she has to drag me out kicking and screaming. She is squeamish around the grotesque of the skeletons we salvage.

My assistant, my protégé of sorts, is Zack Addy. He is admiring, gullible, and intelligent. He is eager to learn and glean all the information he possibly can. He desperately wants to be part of a group, to be part of something bigger than himself. He wants the acceptance and commendation of people outside his intellectual circle.

My friend is Jack Hodgins. He is suspicious, paranoid and caring. He tries to expose the cracks in the systems that let the good slip through. He wants to be a leader, not a follower. He cares about what he does, and takes careful pride in his work, whether it be sifting silt, or dissecting beetles.

My boss is Doctor Goodman. He is methodical, kind and dedicated. He endeavors to keep order, even when all order is lost. He keeps control, when those around him lose it. He has two daughters, a kitten, and a wife.

My partner is Seeley Booth. He is loving, protective and generous. He has a four-year-old son. He dated a sexy blonde lawyer, of whom I was unrightly jealous. He takes care of me when I cannot take care of myself. He helps me to see the inner workings of the living. He protects me, even when I do not see the need for it myself. He comes looking for me when I most need it. The title of my second novel was changed on his advice. The dedication is to him. He is my knight-in-FBI-standard-issue-body-armor.

I keep reassuring myself. Of who I am, of what I know, of what I have accomplished. I have to remain rational, logical, normal. I must keep an iron hold on my fleeting composure. I must not let the walls fall.

My life is no different than it was when Booth was steering me through the corridors, dragging me to court, pulling away my lab coat and slipping on my sweater. It is no different than when David (whom Booth still refers to as Dick431) returned my manuscript. It is no different than when I woke up. It is no different than when I went to sleep. Nothing is different. Nothing is supposed to be different.

I do not want to believe that everything I have known is wrong. I do not want to believe that my notion of the past was totally, utterly, and completely wrong. I do not want to break down, not knowing who I am, or where I am going. I do want everything to return to be as it was. Where I knew which way was up and which was down. Where I knew who I was, where I was in control.

I am Doctor Temperance Brennan. I am a forensic anthropologist. I specialize in identifying the bones no one else can.

I am Temperance Brennan.

This is my mantra.