Ok, that new episode this week didn't inspire me that much so there isn't much here on her high school life, I'll invent my own later.

Anyone else notice how their relationship wasn't like... strained until the dance? which woulda been normal anyways? I mean come on!! HE CONFESSED!!! And they both cried... yet it's like normal...

That janitor… HE'S AWESOME!! I so envy Brennan for having him as a best friend. I also agree with him, people who smile all the time are up to something. [unless they're like my crazy, hyper, awesome friend who smiles and laughs a lot and she's awesome. But she doesn't smile 24/7 I mean who does?]

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Bones. I do, however, own seasons 1-3 on DvD! And if all goes right my sister will get me season 4 for my birthday! I'm obsessed and I proudly admit to it.

Brennan:

She hadn't slept the night before. Sweets' book said she and Booth were in love. Before Booth, she hadn't believed in the possibility of love, only its scientific reasoning; A Chemical Reaction.

But how could a chemical reaction cause her heart, metaphorically speaking of course, to flutter every time she heard him call her name? How could it explain the emptiness she felt every Friday knowing she wouldn't see him again until Monday, and the lightness she felt when she did? How could it explain the jealousy she felt when his gaze rested upon another woman, interested or not? It couldn't; that's what scared her.

She had lied awake in bed that night wonder what he had done to her. She'd never had a problem compartmentalizing before, forgetting all the horrible thoughts of her past or getting through a breakup to a relationship that never worked to begin with.

The next day, they had corrected Sweets. Their first case together had been over a year before Cleo Eller and almost destroyed the foundation of the friendship (and love) they now shared. It was approximately 4:00am when she crashed on her office couch. She'd been awake for nearly 48 strait hours. Now, it was taking its toll.

Booth:

Groaning, Booth awoke and glanced at his clock. The glowing red numbers told him 8:03. He'd slept longer than he normally did even after a long case. Sniper training is something that stays with you your whole life; early mornings and heightened instincts.

After starting the coffee maker, he stepped into the shower. Hot water pounded on his back. His muscles were aching, he felt sick, he felt awful, and he felt grateful it was Sunday and he didn't have to work. Dressing quickly, he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed to mass. He needed more time to think things over. He would fight for them, that was absolute, but he had to make her see that he was here, he was staying, and nothing short of death would keep him from her.

Booth felt guilty. Throughout mass he hadn't been paying attention. Instead he had fantasized about his partner. Granted it was nothing explicit, but he was in the Lord's house. He'd thought about their 'guy hugs' and how her perfume always floated up into his nose, enticing him to take another whiff. He thought about that first drunken kiss they shared and the first real kiss they shared, maneuvered into it by a puckish prosecutor. The way she'd cried in his arms when the confusion of her life, of who she was, set in and his dream. It was so real. She had been his, his wife, his friend, his everything in everyway and pregnant with his child. While the dream had been wonderful, it wasn't who Bones was. If she never married him, he'd be ok as long as he woke up every morning with her next to him and fell asleep every night kissing her softly.

When his mind finally left his overactive, Bones addicted, imagination, he realized mass was long over. The church was nearly empty. Bowing his head, he prayed asking for forgiveness for his distraction and for hope that everything would be ok. Getting close to his Bones had taken years. How long would it take for her to finally see something that science couldn't completely explain?

Getting into the driver side of his SUV, he headed for her apartment to try and reason with her. When all else failed with Dr. Temperance Brennan, use logic and irrefutable proof.

Brennan:

She turned slightly on the couch. Her exhausted mind and body ignored her internal clock to wake up at 6am and allowed her to sleep on. Dreams plagued her restless mind. Reflexes from foster care kept her body almost motionless.

*Dream* (although more like a memory)

She was 17 and had just been moved to yet another foster home. It seemed no one wanted to put up with a quiet, withdrawn teenager who spoke, when she actually talked, with complex words and a clinical detachment from the world.

It was dark as she lay in 'her' bed staring at the ceiling. How long would she be at this home? Curling up on her side, she stared out the window opposite her bed. 1 year, 3 months, 15 days left in the system.

The system was full of abusive foster parents, uncaring social workers, and garbage bags. Had her parents not disappeared, she no doubt would have already been accepted into collage a year early. Moving around from foster home to foster home had created instability in her school life. She worked hard to catch up to where the other students were or just sat in class relearning what she already knew.

Northwester had expressed interest in her attendance with a full scholarship. The only catch was she had to finish all 4 years of high school. They knew she was smart, her nearly perfect grades showed that, but they wanted to be sure she was worth their time and effort. Northwestern gave her hope that she would finally make something of herself. That hope was her only drive in school, to become a forensic anthropologist and help those who were looking for answers as she still was. In the years to come she would convince herself she no longer cared and her parents were long dead, but the lingering unanswered questions always lurked at the corners of her mind.

Turning again in the bed, she winced as it squeaked loudly. Footsteps sounded in the hallway and her door was flung open. "Quiet girl!" The man's voice was harsh and cruel. "If I hear another noise out of this room, you'll regret it."

"Yes Sir." He left, tromping back down the hallway. Temperance slowly let out the breath she had held in. She had only been here a week and already received beatings and punishments for simple mistakes. She had dropped a sock while carrying a pile of laundry. It hadn't even lain on the ground for 2 minutes before her foster mother had discovered it. She'd been locked in the closet for a day.

She didn't sleep that night for fear of bringing their anger down upon her. It was Friday, but she had a history essay, a math test, a quiz in chemistry, and sociology that day. Staying after school to make those up would take two days at the minimum. It would only enrage her foster parents more if she was home late three times in a week.

When she returned that night, a note was on the counter. 'Foster child,' she thought grimly. 'More like slave.' Dinner was cooked and set out on the take exactly at 6pm. There would be no punishment for late dinner at least.

Her foster parents had complained all dinner about the chicken being to overcooked, or the potatoes being to salty. They decided to punish her by making her wash the dished by hand instead of using the dishwasher.

"If you break a plate girl, there will be serious actions taken."

"Yes Sir." She had no name here. She was just 'girl', a slave not a human being.

The water burned her hands and exhaustion nipped at her mind. She was so tired, so very tired and scared. It happened in almost slow motion, although years later she would blame it on her mind functioning slower due to lack or sleep. A plate slipped from her soapy fingers and crashed to the floor with an ear-deafening boom.

"GIRL!" She was seized from behind and dragged out the kitchen's side door which lead to the garage.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Tears welled up behind her eyes, but she forced them back. Tears only made it worse.

"We warned you. Now you must pay for your clumsy uselessness." The latch clicked as the trunk opened and a terrified 17 and 9 month year old Temperance was forced inside. Rather than risk being badly injured, she stopped struggling. She hated being so weak and submissive, but injured required a hospital.

Hospitals asked all kinds of questions, questions she would rather avoid. Nurses made sympathetic faces to hide their pity, pity that was useless on a broken girl.

It had been two days before the trunk had opened. A starving, cramped girl was pulled out and yanked into the house where she was put in her room without so much as a roll of bread to eat. Her body learned never to make a sound. She learned she was claustrophobic.

*Present*

Her eyes cracked open for a few seconds. This is what she was protecting Booth from. He'd wormed his way into her heart, but he cared to much. She cared to much. She would screw things up, she would break his heart and hers in the process. She was already broken. What was the point in breaking him too? He would move on and be happy. She would die alone as she had always been.

Booth:

With only slight hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked on her door. She didn't answer. A glance at his watch told him it was almost noon. Temperance Brennan never slept past 8am, even on weekends. 10 minutes later there was still no answer. Her silver sports car had been parked outside, but it would appear that she wasn't home.

Dialing her number, he waited for her to pick up on the other end. There was no answer. Pressing his ear to the door, he couldn't hear her phone inside. With a sigh, he headed to his car. He'd wanted to talk this out in private, not at the Jeffersonian, but it would seem that Bones didn't take any ways off even after he poured his heart out too her.

It seemed odd that she'd not taken her car, but if she'd gotten as little sleep as he had, then taking a cab would have seemed like a good idea. There was no since in crashing a nice car because of a little lack of sleep.

So episode 100 probably happened on a weekday, but hey, my story I control the pen… well keyboard. I would have made this longer, but this seemed like a good point to cut off. This chapter was kinda Brennan focused, the next will be more focused on Booth, but I have no clue when the next chapter will be up. Since I've moved away from using episode scenes as flashbacks it might not take a full week anymore…

BUT…

Tomorrow I'm having surgery to remove my wisdom teeth. So…. I'll be grouchy and sore and in pain and taking vicodin. I promise not to get addicted like House XD. It's also April vacation though so I won't be dragging myself to school. If all goes well I'll update again next Thursday if not before. If I don't, I'm not abandoning this story, I'm just not feeling well enough to get the gears turning. -DHUnleashed

Ps. Reviews are the music to my life. I don't go a day without listening to music and itunes is always open and laying music. Music also makes amvs go round. You can't have an amv without music! You can't have a story without reviews! Well you can... it's just not as fun and rewarding.