(Season 5)

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It looked like he wasn't going to get the happy ending he had always hoped for. He'd asked her to take a chance and she'd turned him down. His heart felt like it had shattered in his chest, but he had to accept it. He had to move on. Didn't he?

The weeks seemed to move at their normal pace. They had cases, they worked together, but some things seemed to have changed. It wasn't anything that they did on purpose, but their relationship was altered and neither of them knew how to act around their partner anymore. Their talk outside the Hoover had broken something and they were terrified that that something was their friendship.

They didn't hang out on the weekends like they used to. They found excuses to stay away from each other and they knew they were slowly drifting apart.

The weekend had started and Booth was at loose ends. His son was with his mother visiting her parents and he couldn't count on Brennan to come over and watch movies with him anymore. Bored, he put on some soft jazz, grabbed his photo album and a glass of wine and sat on the couch. Flipping the book open, he slowly scrutinized each picture trying to remember when each picture was taken and why. In the middle of the book, he found one of his favorite pictures of Brennan. She was standing in the break room, a birthday cake on the table in front of her and she was smiling a rather bashful smile. Booth's heart beat just a little faster as he thought about his partner. It made him sad that she didn't think people cared about her and that she was always surprised when they presented her with a birthday cake and some presents each year. It was like she felt that she didn't matter to her friends and that was the worst thing of all. Of course, she mattered. She mattered to him so much and to Angela and Hodgins and yet Brennan didn't see it. She never saw it.

His thoughts on her past or what he knew of her past, Booth was reminded of something Brennan had said in Sweets' office the previous year. At first, he hadn't known why she had volunteered the information, but it was shocking when she had revealed it.

"My foster parents locked me in the trunk of a car for two days when I broke a dish. I was a clumsy child. They warned me it would happen, but the water was so hot and the soap was so slippery. I still don't think it was fair, even though they gave me fair warning. The water was so hot." Her words had pierced his very soul and now. . . now he needed to make right what had been done to her. He would make it right.

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To his disappointment, the Little family was no more. John Little had died of pancreatic cancer ten years after Brennan's ordeal and Judy Little had died three years after that in an automobile accident. Unable to confront the people who had almost killed Brennan, Booth wasn't sure what else he could do about it. They were dead and had met their maker long before he had heard Brennan's story. Sometimes fate took care of things and Booth knew that it was probably a good thing that the Littles weren't around anymore. He hadn't really planned to harm them, but he knew that he had a temper and sometimes he lost control whether he wanted to or not. It was something that he worked on and for the most part he was successful. Still, the Littles were dead and Brennan was unavenged.

Standing in front of the gravestones of John and Judy Little, Booth saw that the stones were small and the lettering was already starting to melt away. Whoever had bought the headstones had not spent a lot of money on them and Booth found that to be satisfying. He knew it was a petty thought, but he didn't really care.

A noise behind him interrupted his thoughts. Turning he spied a man standing behind him. "Did you want something?" The man was a stranger to Booth.

"Did you know the Littles?" The strangers didn't move from where he was standing. "We're you related to them?"

"No, I wasn't. I didn't know them at all." Booth watched the man give him an odd look then move over to where the grave stones were.

Still uncertain about Booth, the man finally removed an envelope from his jacket pocket, pulled a worn sheet of paper from the envelope, cleared his throat and read the letter out loud. "When my parents died, the State of Illinois sent me to stay with you. I didn't have anyone else to take me in, so they gave me to you. I don't know why you took children in. You didn't like children. You never held me, consoled me or said a kind word to me. I had to obey your rules. If I didn't you punished me. You beat me, you called me trash and you treated me like trash." He paused and cleared his throat. "Then one day you went too far. You treated a girl that you had taken in pretty badly for breaking a plate and you almost killed her. You couldn't hide what you did. That girl was brave. She told the police what you had done and why. I don't know how she found the courage, but she told them that you beat me and that you were unfit to take care of kids." He wiped a tear that had escaped his lashes. "They believed her. Probably because she almost died and you couldn't deny what you had done. I had been telling my social worker for years that you were mean and she wouldn't listen, but you went too far and that girl saved my life. She saved her life too. She didn't leave me behind. I was only eight and I can only remember calling her Tempe. I don't know who she was, but she's my hero. She'll always be my hero. I was given to people that loved me and they eventually adopted me. I will never forget how you treated me and Tempe and because of you, I know what evil is and because of Tempe I know what good is." He folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Turning he looked at Booth. "I come here every year on the anniversary of when I was taken away from the Littles. I've been doing it ever since John Little died. My psychiatrist told me to do it and it really does help."

Not sure if he should say anything, Booth finally nodded his head. "I'm glad it helps you. I'm glad you were taken away from the Littles."

"Yeah, me too." The younger man placed the envelope back in his jacket pocket. "My parents . . . the ones that adopted me, are good people. They gave me a happy home and they helped me learn to control my anger. My psychiatrist helps me with my trust issues . . . I have trust issues." Nothing else to say, the man walked away leaving Booth behind.

Slowly shaking his head, Booth knew that he had just caught a glimpse of Brennan's childhood and he would not forget it. He had known Brennan for several years and he knew that one of her demons that affected her was the fear she had that those she trusted would walk away from her or they might hurt her or both. Living in a hellish house where her life was valued less than a plate had marred her, made her unable to give herself to anyone, unable to give herself to him. He didn't know how he could slay that demon, but he supposed that he didn't have to. She needed friends she could trust and he considered himself to be her best friend. They may never be more than that, but he had vowed a long time ago he wouldn't abandon her and he never would. If all he could have was friendship, then that would be their future together. It would have to be enough.

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