I'm so glad this was well received! I am going to say, though, this chapter deals with some dark subject matter. You've been warned.

Brennan picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, setting off from the airport to the waiting cab. She was anticipating her reunion with Booth, and she didn't know what was going to happen. She had found herself thinking about him a lot while she was on Maluku, and she discovered that she perhaps she had been too quick to shut him down when he'd tried to nudge their partnership into something more. On more than a few occasions, Daisy had asked her what she had been dreaming about that caused her to moan so loudly, and Brennan would flush in response and not reply. Brennan's fear that prevented her from taking the risk was mocking her now and barraging her with all the "what ifs" that could be taking place if she had said yes to his proposal. She had no reason to expect him to still be single. He had said that he had to move on if she wasn't going to go for it. This was causing her some anxiety now. She was fully preparing herself for him to tell her he'd met someone and was in love. Seven months was a long time apart. They were supposed to meet where they'd said goodbye, and she arrived there now, pacing back and forth with anticipation. After almost half an hour, she finally sat, desolated. He wasn't coming. Was he all right? Had he forgotten? Did he just not want to? She played with the handle of her bag absently. She'd give him twenty more minutes before leaving. Surely he'd still come.

Booth

He looked at his watch repeatedly until Cleo asked him what was so damn important. For a young girl, she definitely knew how to use foul language appropriately. They were in the interrogation room, and Booth had remembered amidst everything that he was supposed to meet Brennan on this day at their spot at this time.

"I'm supposed to meet someone," he said. "And I have no way of telling them I'm not coming."

"And if you don't go, you lose all chances of love," Cleo finished.

"Wha-no," he shook his head. The only reason he knew Brennan was back as well was because Angela had texted. Ten times to be exact.

"Liar."

Booth bit back his response. This kid was very sharply focused on everything right now. He was at the office waiting for Caroline to bring him some good news. Then he was taking Cleo home and panicking about what the future was even going to hold.

"Okay," Booth said, releasing the air from his mouth. "I guess we should get on with this."

"My interrogation? By all means," Cleo gestured. "I didn't just see my father shot on the ground and watch my mother get murdered in front of me barely 24 hours ago."

"It's called a statement," Booth said. "I'm sorry, but we need to have it."

"Fine. You were there, though. You saw it all. You already know."

"Yes, but that's my perspective. They want yours."

"Why?"

"To help catch the guy who did it."

"You probably won't get him."

"You seem very sure about that."

"I'm just being realistic. That, and I watch the news."

"Are you ever a kid? Or have you always been a mini grown up?"

Cleo grew somber then, fiddling with her fingers.

"I had to grow up pretty fast, Mr. Booth," she said softly. Booth stiffened at this. What could she possibly mean?

"All right," he said. "Let's start with the most obvious fact here. Your parents were Caucasian, and you're not."

"You're correct. I am Egyptian," she nodded. She flicked her brown, gold flecked eyes at him then.

"Care to elaborate a little more?"

"My parents adopted me. Did you really need me to spell that out for you?"

"When were you adopted?" Booth asked, making notes.

"I was nine," she replied quietly. He looked at her, sensing a lot of pain in her past. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Sorry to interrupt, cherie, but I need you," Caroline said, sticking her head into the room.

"Sorry, Cleo. I'll be back," Booth said, getting up.

"Take your time," Cleo responded. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What did you find?" Booth asked Caroline.

"A whole lot of bad," Caroline hissed. "Cherie, you have no idea what Mr. Ambassador was into."

"So fill me in," Booth said impatiently. He looked through the glass at Cleo sitting there staring at her own hands like they were something foreign and new.

"Booth, he made frequent trips to different areas of the world where...where..."

"Where what? Spit it out," Booth ordered.

"Brothels," she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth. It took Booth three seconds to get what she was implying.

"Oh God," he breathed. He shoved past her.

"Wait..." Caroline called after him, but he ignored her. He went back into the interrogation room and stared at Cleo. She looked up at him slowly.

"She told you," Cleo said calmly.

"Why don't you tell me how you got to be with the Ambassador and his wife?" Booth redirected.

Cleo drew in a shaky breath and released it.

"He found me," she said simply.

"Where?"

"Mumbai."

"How did you get there?" Booth asked as calmly as he could. He was shaking with rage inside. If he could find the bastards who did this to her, he'd rip them to shreds.

"My real parents were killed, and I was sold," she replied. "We were holidaying, and they saw us at the beach. They wanted me. They waited until dark when we were sleeping. The gunshots woke me up. By then, they were gone. They took me to a place with other girls my age and some older. I...I really don't want to share anymore."

"It's all right. You don't have to. You must have been terrified," Booth said softly.

"I was. I was eight. I had no idea what they were doing with me," she whispered. She bowed her head so that her shoulder length black hair covered her face. Booth felt like his voice was trapped in his throat. He couldn't even begin to imagine. His own son was currently nine years old. How she was even standing right now without falling apart was incredible.

"That explains some things," Booth noted. She nodded. When Shelley had been shot, Cleo had lost it, but was that because she cared for Shelley or was it because she'd never seen someone get murdered like that before?

"I loved Shelley," Cleo said quietly, reading his mind. "She was a good mother who did everything to make me happy and spent time with me, but she had no idea what was going on after dark."

"So Frank Lavine stole you from Mumbai. That must have upset somebody."

"I guess so. I don't know. He brought me here, said I was adopted and that I was safe. Well, it was his version of safe," Cleo added with a soft chuckle. Booth didn't get how she could be so casual right now. He wanted to flip his shit. Frank had twisted her version of what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like. It explained her reaction to seeing him dead now too. Booth had seen that it wasn't a true, genuine shriek of terror when she laid eyes on his body. It had been acted out very realistically, though. Sweets would know more about the abuser/victim relationship dynamic.

"Did you recognize the man from Afghanistan?" Booth asked.

"No."

"Do you know what Frank was doing there?"

"No."

"Okay. I think that's a wrap for today," Booth said. He turned off the recording and sat back in his chair. Cleo finally looked at him again.

"Now you see what a disgusting being I really am," she whispered.

"No," Booth said. "No, no, no. No. This isn't your fault. Those men...it's their fault, you hear me? You are not disgusting. You are a child who was used by disgusting men. Cleo, you are safe now, okay? And I really mean that from the bottom of my heart. No one is ever going to touch you or hurt you ever again. Okay?" Her eyes filled up with tears then.

"I hear what you're saying, but I don't know if I can believe it," she cried. Booth knew he couldn't bring her home with him then, not by herself. He needed to build her trust, but he also couldn't risk letting her out of his sight if people were after her. He wasn't sure if the traffickers were after her or if it was a whole other thing the Ambassador had been into that went down in Afghanistan. He'd have to do more digging.

Brennan

He wasn't coming. She had to give up. She picked up her bag and went home somberly. He didn't come. What did that mean? She resisted contacting Sweets or Angela to see if they'd spoken to him. When she got to her apartment, she suddenly felt how empty it was. There was a message on her machine, so she clicked play when she passed, setting her bag down and taking her coat off.

"Bones, it's me," Booth's voice said. "I know we were supposed to meet. I...something came up. Can you come to the office as soon as you get this? I really need to talk to you about something." The machine clicked off, and Brennan stared at it. Why didn't he just call her cell phone? She looked and realized that he had tried. Six times to be exact. There were voicemails too. She had forgotten to turn her phone off of flight mode.

"Damn it," she muttered. Curse her own stupidity! She hurried out the door and headed for Booth's office. His voice sounded urgent, and she hoped he was all right.

Booth

Cleo was sitting and talking to Caroline a bit further about what had happened to her. Legally, Caroline had to report to Social Services, but Booth made it very clear Cleo wasn't going anywhere. Caroline agreed and said she would explain to them what was going on.

"Booth?" Brennan's voice said, making him look up from his desk. The sight of her took his breath away. All his stuffed down feelings popped right back to the surface. Who was he kidding, saying he had to move on? He could never move on, even if it meant suffering for the rest of his life.

"Bones," he said struggling to his feet and moving around his desk to hug her. With her arms wrapped around him, he felt like things could be figured out, that this case would get solved.

"What's happened? You sounded anxious on the message," she said after they pulled apart. His scent made her feel wobbly on her feet. She just fully realized how much she actually missed him. It was almost scary.

"Something happened over there, and now...now I've got to finish it over here," Booth started to explain.

"You have to give me more details than that," Brennan said, resisting the urge to chuckle at his ideation that she'd just figure out what he was talking about.

"I went on a mission. It went very badly..."

"Wait, are you hurt?" she asked, beginning to examine him.

"Flesh wound," he waved it off.

"What?!"

"Focus, will you?! My mission went bad, and I had to rescue someone."

"Who?"

"Mr. Booth? Caroline is finished with me," Cleo said at the door. Both Brennan and Booth swung to face her.

"Cleo," Booth said, clapping his hands together. "Perfect timing. This is, uh, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Nice to meet you," Cleo said, offering her hand.

"Oh," Brennan said, taken aback. She shook it. "Nice to meet you too."

"Cleo is here under my protection, but something has come up, and I need your help."

"You need my help?" Brennan asked, confused.

"Yes."

"With what? Are there remains for me to look at?"

"No."

"Is she the forensic anthropologist from your story?" Cleo asked, intrigued.

"Story?" Brennan asked, looking at Booth.

"Ah, no," Booth lied. "Different one."

"You do realize you suck the one side of your cheek when you're lying, right?" Cleo pointed out.

"I do not," Booth argued, ensuring his tongue was dead center in his mouth.

"You do," Brennan agreed. "But that's beside the point right now. What do you need me to do?"

"Cleo? Can you just give us a minute?" Booth asked.

"I can just tell her," Cleo offered.

"No, no. It's not about that. It's something else."

"Oh. Okay."

"Booth! Brennan! You're back!" Sweets exclaimed, sticking his head into the door.

"Perfect timing! Dr. Sweets, can you sit with Cleo here for a bit? I need to discuss something with Bones."

"Bones?" Cleo asked.

"Um, sure?" Sweets said, confused.

"He's the psychologist I was telling you about," Booth said to Cleo.

"I'm not talking to him about it," Cleo warned.

"That's fine. Just go sit with him, okay?"

"Fine."

"Booth, what is going on?" Brennan asked once they had left. Booth shut the door and sighed loudly, turning to face her.

"I can't be alone with her," he blurted out.

"Why not?"

"She...she's a victim of sex trafficking, Bones, and if she stays alone with me at my apartment...it just won't end well," he finished.

"She knows you won't hurt her, though," Brennan pointed out.

"That doesn't matter. I want her to feel safe."

"So...what do you need me for?"

"I need you to stay with us until I figure out how to solve this."

"You're asking me to live with you?" Brennan confirmed.

"Yes."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Brennan trailed off. It would be too hard. I'd want to eventually crawl into your bed...

"Because...?" Booth echoed, holding his hands together and searching her face.

"It just doesn't seem like a good idea."

"None of this is good, but I need you, Bones. I need you to help me with this. Please?"

"Booth..."

"Just say yes. I'll do everything. You just have to sit there with us so we're not alone."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm not."

They did a stare down, and Brennan could see the fear and anxiety in Booth's eyes pleading with her.

"Okay," Brennan finally caved. "Fine. I'll come live with you. This is definitely not what I was expecting."

"Me either, but it's happening, okay? Just go with it," Booth said.

"I am...under your pressuring," she noted.

"I'm sorry. I'm just...it's been a long two days, and I'm exhausted, and I have no idea what I've stepped into."

"Are we leaving now?"

"Yes. It's late, and I need to shower, and she needs sleep. Tomorrow I'm going to see Angela with her to have her draw a face we saw over there. It's going to help us get him."

"Okay."

"I really do appreciate this, Bones," Booth said, touching her arm lightly. She shivered.

"I'm sure you'd do it for me," Brennan nodded. He smiled finally. He wasn't exactly sure how to handle her in his apartment all the time, but he would figure it out.

"I talked to the Social Services," Caroline said, coming into the office. "They're fine knowing that you're FBI and friends with a registered foster parent."

"Good," Booth said, relieved.

"Oh, and one more thing," Caroline said, pointing in the direction of Cleo. "That girl out there? She's thirteen."

"She's...what?" Booth asked. "I thought she was eleven."

"Thirteen. Small for her age," Caroline tutted. "Poor thing. The hell she must have seen and endured. I wish I could get my hands on the people who did this to her."

"Me too," Booth agreed as she walked away. He hated child crimes and abuse of any kind. It twisted his stomach into knots.

"Are we leaving now?" Brennan asked, cutting into his thoughts.

"Huh? Yes," Booth nodded. He grabbed his phone and keys and pocketed them. They went out to find a very stunned looking Sweets with Cleo sitting beside him talking.

"Ready?" Booth asked, stopping in front of them.

"Yup," Cleo answered. She hopped up and started walking. She hadn't expected to tell Sweets what happened to her, but he had a way of wrangling it out of her. Whether or not he could handle it, that wasn't her call.

"She...that...I...oh my God," Sweets said to Booth as Brennan followed Cleo.

"Yea, I get it," Booth said, clapping his back and starting to move along.

"I want to see her. As a therapist," Sweets said. "Trauma like that...if I can treat her before she gets older, she'll have a better life."

"I'll ask her."

"I really, highly suggest it," Sweets said.

"I said I'd ask her," Booth repeated. "See you tomorrow." He left Sweets sitting there rubbing his knees with his hands and looking like he was going to throw up.

...

Once Booth had Cleo set up in his guest room/Parker's room, she was out like a light. He returned to the living room where Brennan was sitting and joined her on the couch.

"She's asleep?"

"Yea."

"How did this all happen?" Brennan asked.

"I got called on a mission."

"You said that part already. How did she end up with you?"

"I really don't want to delve into that, Bones. It'll only upset you."

"If I'm going to be living here, I need to know everything, Booth," she said, leveling him with a steady stare. He swallowed.

"All right," he finally caved. "I'll tell you." And he did. He told her everything. She visibly tightened when he told her about being attacked and shot, and she got wet eyes when he explained how Cleo's adopted mother was killed.

"And the story about the anthropologist you told her?" she pressed.

"It was just about some of our antics, nothing else."

"I see."

She felt disappointed somehow, that perhaps he had told this girl he had feelings for her or something. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part.

"That girl is so...tough," Booth finished. "I don't know how else to explain it. How does someone experience all that for five years and be so strong?"

"It helped her survive," Brennan answered calmly. "That's how she gets through every single day."

"But...God," Booth said, running his hand through his hair. "I don't understand why this happens to people. To children."

"I don't understand it either," Brennan said, taking his hand gently in hers. She knew he was distressed and greatly bothered by all of this and the fact he hadn't been able to save this girl before any of this happened to her.

"I have to shower," Booth said. "I also have to sleep, but I don't know if it'll actually happen."

"Adrenaline from the mission," Brennan nodded knowingly. He got up then, tugging off his shirt as he walked towards the bathroom. Brennan watched, transfixed. Had he actually just done that? Did he forget she was there?

"Whatever you need, just take, okay?" Booth said, appearing in the hallway again.

Can I take you? she thought. She saw the bandage on his torso then. For some reason, the image of him being shot entered her mind and greatly disturbed her. She stood, moving towards him.

"What?" he asked.

"You probably shouldn't remove that bandaging yet," she said, trying to make her voice sound less hoarse. What was the matter with her?

"Right," he nodded. "I'll cover it up with something. Thanks, Bones." He turned to go into the bathroom when she saw the bruising on the back of his neck.

"Booth," she said urgently. She couldn't help it, she reached out to touch him. He turned his head, feeling pain under her fingertips. He placed his hand on top of hers, trying to get the sense of where she was touching. The shock from feeling her fingers under his was enough to make him feel like he was running out of air.

"That's from the end of the gun hitting me," Booth explained once he figured it out and got his voice back.

"That's where he hit you?" she asked, incredulous.

"Well...yea," he answered, puzzled.

"You didn't say that was where. You only said he attacked you then shot you."

"Oh...I'm sorry, Bones. Yea, he hit me in the back of the head."

"And you didn't get checked for a concussion?!"

"I was playing dead and escaping a country, Bones. There wasn't exactly time to hail a medic," Booth said, annoyed. He softened then, realizing she was only concerned about him.

"You're right. I'm sorry for thinking irrationally," Brennan said.

"It's not irrational, just not feasible," Booth corrected. "I woke up though, didn't I? So all good. No concussion. No severe injury." Brennan forced her fingers to leave his skin alone, and he shut the bathroom door after starting the shower. She walked back to the couch, her mind ablaze. How the hell was she going to survive living here without eventually revealing that she wanted him?