The students filed in, their voices echoing around the empty auditorium as they chattered and formed clusters and found seats together. Brennan and Dr. Goodman crossed the stage to shake hands with the dean and the chair of the department and stood conversing for a few moments while the room filled. Finally, they took their own seats as the dean stepped up to the podium and after a false start that resulted in an ear-piercing scream of feedback, began the speech he had prepared to introduce Brennan. There was a loud round of applause when she stepped up to the mic.

Milly did her best but fifteen minutes into Brennan's presentation she'd lost the ability to pretend she had any interest in the history of FBI/Jeffersonian Institute inter-agency cooperation. When the lights dimmed and Brennan began working her way through a series of images projected onto the screen behind her, she gave up. Stretching out on the floor of the stage in front of the podium, she folded her arms beneath her head and stared up at the ceiling. Almost two weeks had passed since the trip to Washington and in that time, there had been no contact between Booth and Brennan - and none between their mothers. Listening to the husky tone of Brennan's voice, Milly lay there and worried . . . about Ruth, about their last conversation, about why the other woman hadn't come to the church to meet as they'd agreed and, she acknowledged to herself privately, she worried about other things, things she had no business even thinking about let alone fretting over.

"If you weren't already dead, I'd think you were preparing to sacrifice yourself." Ruth's voice was filled with amusement when she propped her elbows on the stage, her head level with Milly's.

"Hey!" Booth's mother lifted herself up on both elbows. "Where'd you come from? Where have you been? Why weren't you at the church last week?" The room darkened briefly as the images behind Brennan changed; she grimaced at the screen. "And what are you doing here?"

Ruth gestured over her shoulder; peering through the darkness Milly saw a shadowy figure slide into an aisle seat. "Seeley has a case. He called Tempe's office and they told him she was going to be here tonight." She paused. "It's a child."

"Oh." The word hung in the air between them, suspended on threads of regret. Milly shook it off and sat up. "Well, I'm glad to see you anyway. Ruth," she hesitated briefly, "about what I said the other day, about Tempe . . . I had no right to-"

Ruth shook her head. "No, it's okay," she interrupted. "You were right. Of course she would keep everyone at arm's length. It makes sense that it's hard for her to trust anyone enough to . . ." She paused and looked up, watching her daughter speak. "I left . . . We left her. There was no warning, we didn't … we didn't leave a note or call, we, we were just gone." Her eyes met Milly's. "Max and I, we got careless. We settled down and years passed and we started to believe we were safe, that no one would ever find us. But they did." She took a deep breath. "And we panicked. We should have had a plan," she added, shaking her head. "Maybe if we'd been more prepared, if we'd always been ready, we'd have done things differently." Ruth smiled sadly. "I'm sure Russ did the best he could but she needed us . . . and we abandoned her."

Milly swallowed over the hard knot of dread that formed in her throat, struggling within herself over the question of revealing what she knew about Brennan's life after her parents' disappearance. "Ruth," she began.

"But I'm here now," the other woman interrupted. "I can't change what happened in the past but I can be here for her now. I can help her find happiness now. I have to be content with that."

"Ruth, I-"

The lights went up before she could get the words out. Dr. Goodman stepped to the podium and began taking questions from the students, his irritation readily apparent when they seemed to be more interested in Brennan's work as a writer than in her expertise as a forensic anthropologist. He rebuked them sharply then paused as a broad, familiar figure rose in the crowd.

"I have a question - regarding the role of the FBI in your book," Booth said, catching Brennan's eye as he continued. "Who do you base brilliant and insightful Special Agent Andy Lister on?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Dr. Goodman muttered with an expressive roll of his eyes.

"Because, you know," Booth sniffed and resettled his wide shoulders, "I'm pretty sure it was me."

A loud buzz filled the auditorium as students repeated his words and murmured to each other, shifting in their seats to get a look at him and in some cases, standing up in order to see better.

Brennan raised her voice in an attempt to be heard over the noise. "What are you doing here, Booth?"

"Official FBI business, Bones," he answered, his tone as cheeky as his smile.

"Don't call me . . ." She gave a loud huff of annoyance before turning to Dr. Goodman with an air of resignation. He nodded and took the microphone.

"This concludes Dr. Brennan's lecture. If you have any questions - related to anthropology," he added with emphasis, "you may submit them in writing. Thank you."

Milly shot a surprised look at Ruth. "She wrote about Seeley?"

Ruth nodded. "Oh, it's definitely him. Haven't you read her book?"

"Of course not," Milly grumbled. "I'm with her all day, why would I want to read about her job, too?"

Ruth tsked. "You should read it. She's very . . . descriptive," she added with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows.

Brennan headed to the steps leading down from the stage, glancing over at Booth in time to see a gaggle of coeds slink toward him. "Are you really the inspiration for Andy?" a petite brunette asked, peeping up at him through a curtain of dark lashes. He looked over her shoulder and grinned as Brennan shook her head emphatically.

"Well, you know," he began, chuckling as Brennan speared him with a glance, "Bones doesn't like to talk about that . . ."

"No, no, he's not in the book," Brennan insisted, trying to force her way through the mingling students to his side.

"Would you mind signing this for me?" another student asked, tossing her long sun-streaked hair flirtatiously over one shoulder as she held out her copy.

"He's not in the book," Brennan arrived in time to snatch it from the girl's hand.

A third girl stepped up, tall and willowy with a shining cap of bright, copper colored hair. "Are you really an FBI agent?" she purred, her green eyes sweeping hungrily over the width of his shoulders. "Like, do you have a gun and everything?" Her tongue swept out to moisten already glossy red lips. "Because I'd really love to see your . . . gun . . . "

"Who are you?" Brennan stepped between them as Booth blinked and took a tiny step back from the predatory look on the young woman's face. "You are not one of my students. Booth," Brennan faced him, putting the woman at her back, "this woman is not one of my students. I assume we have human remains to examine?" At his nod, she turned and faced the group of young women. "Excuse me, we have decomposing human remains to see. Please direct the rest of your questions to Dr. Goodman." She stared stonily at each of them, arms crossed over her chest, until they began to disperse. When she and Booth were alone, she tossed a disgruntled look in his direction. "I'll get my coat and be right back."

Milly and Ruth watched her long strides carry her away before exchanging a triumphant smirk. "Look who's jealous now," Milly crowed.

Brennan returned shortly, the length of her coat swinging against her calves, a heavy briefcase in hand. "Where are we going?" she asked as they exited the lecture hall.

"Local police got an anonymous call saying that there were human remains in a field behind a mall in the suburbs," Booth began.

"Wow!" Ruth exclaimed when Tempe approached a sleek silver coupe. "Is that Tempe's car?"

Milly nodded. "Her publishers just gave it to her. Sweet, huh? Seeley is going to love it."

Booth was laughing when Brennan approached the car. "You've got to be kidding."

Ruth pulled a face. "Or not. Maybe he's not into cars?"

"He loves cars," Milly disagreed. "He's just playing it cool."

"Playing it cool?"

"Obviously."

" . . . supposed to be a nice car."

Booth took a step closer and peered into the interior. "Gave it to you?"

"Of course, she parked like an idiot," Milly pointed out.

"Why'd you park it crooked?" Booth asked.

"Well, the guy said to always park it like that," Brennan answered.

Booth stuck his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "He's wrong. It makes you look like an idiot."

"I tried to tell her," Milly shrugged. "The guy gave her orange road cones, too, and told her to put those in the empty spaces beside the car. She should have used them instead."

Ruth was bent over the car, peering inside. "Where are we going to sit if they take this to the mall? There's no backseat."

"They won't take this car," Milly asserted confidently. "Trust me."

Ruth straightened. "Why not?"

"Because Seeley's a cop," Milly explained. "He can't show up in this . . . this little toy. No one would . . ."

". . . . it would detract from the gravity of my FBI presence," Booth was saying, his expression smug.

Silently, Milly held out a hand in his direction.

"Good," Ruth responded. "I like Seeley's car better anyway. I wasn't really looking forward to riding on the hood of that thing, or in the trunk."

Milly looked at her curiously as they followed their children to Booth's SUV. "It's not like we really take up space."

"I like to keep things as normal as possible," Ruth answered primly before she passed through the front seats to the back and settled in.

"That was normal?" Milly asked pointedly.

"Not listening."

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"It's so little," Ruth murmured, looking at the small skeleton laid out anatomically on the exam table. "I don't know how they do it - work on cases like this, I mean. When it's a child," she clarified.

"Me, either," Milly sighed.

"I know I've told you this before, Milly, but Seeley is very good," Ruth said. "You should have seen him earlier - he found out where this boy really disappeared from and all he did was talk to his brothers. Well," she clarified, "they're not really his brothers. They're foster kids the mother took in."

Milly started in surprise. "What?" Before she could pursue the topic further, Booth and Brennan entered the small room, for some reason arguing over Star Trek and baby animals. Her mind raced in circles around the new revelation, distracting her to the point where she didn't notice Booth's focus on what was left of the little boy until Ruth's whisper reached her.

"He's about the size of Parker, isn't he?"

"Oh, no," she breathed out, looking from Booth to the small bones. "I didn't notice."

"The thing to do is concentrate on the details," Zach advised, his tone even.

Booth hesitated before forcibly refocusing his attention. "Let's do that," he agreed, clearing his throat roughly.

"I guess that's how they do it," Ruth murmured. "They stop looking at the bones as people."

"I guess so," Milly responded. She caught Ruth's eye. "Tempe said she puts her heart in a box."

"Let's not let that become a habit."

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"I don't like this." Milly paced restlessly behind Margaret Sanders as she wept over the baby she'd taken home so many years before.

"I know," Ruth agreed. "It's so sad. Tempe is obviously very affected by her story."

"Yes, I can tell." Milly stopped in her tracks. "Ruth-"

Booth came around the side of the table. "Margaret Sanders, I'm placing you under arrest for kidnapping and transporting across state lines a minor child, Nathan Downey . . ."

"What?" Brennan stood up so quickly her chair fell to the floor. "Booth, you can't-"

"Wait outside, Bones," he ordered as he reached for Margaret's wrists. She stood up, still crying, her head hanging forward.

"Booth, you can't-"

"Bones!" His voice was sharp, his eyes hard and implacable. "Wait outside," he repeated forcefully.

Mouth pursed tightly, Brennan glared back at him for a long moment before she jerked the door open and left the conference room.

Helplessly, Milly looked back at Ruth before following her.

Twenty minutes later she was pacing again, this time keeping up with Brennan as she did the same thing right outside Booth's office, when he turned the corner and headed in their direction. Ruth tagged along behind him.

"Why did you do that, Booth?" Brennan's long strides ate up the hallway when she methim halfway.

"I had to arrest her," he responded shortly, his tone curt as they entered his office.

"Why is she mad at Seeley?" Ruth asked in confusion. "He was just doing his job."

"She's not mad at him, she's mad at the situation." Milly heaved a big sigh. "It's hard to explain . . ."

". . . I bet you could give me a dozen examples of societies that have killed their own young," Booth said, stepping around his desk to confront Brennan.

"What about Shawn and David Cook?" she demanded. "Where do they go now?"

"Back into the system," he stated baldly, turning away from her.

"Do you have any idea how bad the foster care system is?" she argued forcefully, her voice rising in agitation.

"Do you?" Booth asked pointedly. When she pursed her lips and refused to reply, he continued. "What do you want to do, hmm? Do you . . ."

"They're really fighting over this," Ruth noticed. "I mean, they're both being really defensive."

Milly observed them closely. "I know. I can't tell if Seeley knows-" She cut herself off abruptly.

"Knows what?" Ruth asked. "That Tempe's upset? I think that's pretty obvious."

Glaring at Booth angrily, Brennan turned without a word and walked out of his office, sweeping past the women she couldn't see. Milly just managed to step back in time and before she'd taken the first step to follow her, Brennan was already several feet away, headed to the elevators. Frustrated, Milly growled and rushed out. "We'll talk later, Ruth!"

She knew Brennan by now and was unsurprised when the anthropologist ignored the taxis zooming by on the street outside and headed in the direction of the Jeffersonian on foot, her long legs combined with her emotional upheaval lending speed to her pace. In what felt like half the usual time, they'd covered the city blocks that separated the two workplaces and Milly had made up her mind to share with Ruth everything she had discovered about what had happened to Brennan after her parents' disappearance. There was no way to avoid causing her pain, Milly knew, but there was hopefully a more gentle way to inflict it than having her discover those facts accidentally.

Unfortunately, that decision required Ruth to be present in order for the discussion to take place and she was, again, conspicuously absent. When Milly saw Booth working later that day with Angela and Zach over images taken from the mall's security cameras but didn't find Ruth there as well, she assumed the other woman was taking the opportunity to be near her daughter. She made her way to Brennan's office and found the scientist deep in conversation with Dr. Hodgins, but still, no Ruth. Perplexed, she wandered through the lab, searching offices and even storage rooms with no success. Out of ideas and frustrated, she was standing in the middle of the hallway when Booth walked out of Angela's office, Brennan on his heels.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

He looked over his shoulder but didn't stop. "I'm going to make arrangements to have Shawn Cook brought in for questioning. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Booth!" Brennan halted him with a hand on his arm. "He's a child-"

"And we just saw him leading Charlie Sanders out of the mall, which could mean he was either the last person to see Charlie alive or that he might have been the one who killed him." His stare was hard. "I don't have a choice here, Bones."

She held his gaze for a long moment. "I want to be there when he's questioned."

He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Fine." He turned sharply and walked away. "I'll call you."

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"These rooms give me the creeps." Milly started in surprise when Ruth appeared next to her. "They make me feel like a spy."

"Where have you been?" Milly exclaimed angrily. "It's been almost two days since I've seen you!"

"Did I miss something?" Ruth asked, taken aback by the heat behind Milly's words. "I've been in the building Seeley works in . . . I just lost track of time. Did you know there's a whole group of people who never leave the storage vaults-"

"You are supposed to stay with Seeley, remember?" Milly poked the other woman's shoulder. "We were told to stay with them!"

"Why are you so upset?" Ruth's own ire began to grow. "It's not like I lost him. I was in his building, where he works every day."

"I'm upset because we have live people to help, Ruth," Milly answered forcefully. "Live people . . . as in our own children! They're the reason we're stuck here, or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't-"

"Look, I know you're excited about your little project but you need to learn how to prioritize, and that means Tempe and Seeley." Milly chin jutted out as she finished speaking. "I told you I needed to talk to you and then you disappeared! You can't do that!"

"Fine!" Ruth bit out. "I'm here now. Talk to me." Just then she looked over Milly's shoulder and frowned. "Why is Tempe going in there instead of Seeley? That doesn't make sense."

Milly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "They have pictures of him taking the little boy who died out of the mall but when Seeley tried to talk to him yesterday he got stonewalled. Angela figured out that it had to be a grown man who killed Charlie and Tempe thinks she can get Shawn to tell her what happened."

Ruth laughed shortly. "Why? Tempe wasn't good with kids when she was a kid." Something she saw in Milly's face wiped the mirth from her face. "What?"

"Ruth . . ." Milly hesitated for a fraction of a second before plunging in. "Tempe thinks that she knows how to talk to Shawn because . . . because she was a foster child herself." Ruth's face went blank. "After you and your husband left."

"No." Ruth shook her head immediately. "No." She glanced through the mirror and watched as Tempe exchanged a few words with Shawn's advocate then sat down beside the frightened young boy. "No, that's not right. We left her with Russ." When she looked back at Milly her eyes were wide with the beginning of panic. "No, I know that's not true. We left her with Russ. He was 19, he was supposed to take care of her."

"Ruth . . ." She shook off the hand Milly put on her arm and stepped closer to the two-way glass.

"No," she whispered again. "No. We left her with Russ . . ."

Brennan leaned in closer to Shawn. "Smart enough to know that you didn't kill Charlie," she said, keeping her voice pitched low as if she were speaking only to him. "You don't have to say anything, Shawn. Just listen." She paused momentarily before continuing. "They give you a garbage bag," she said softly, "to carry all your stuff, like they're telling you everything you own is garbage." Her face reflected the pain she felt when Shawn began to cry. "And then you have to go to a new school in clothes that smell like garbage bags.'

Milly stepped up beside Ruth and placed a comforting hand on her back. "Ruth?"

"No." Her head shook from side to side. "No."

Shawn's tears fell even as he refused to look at Brennan. "All the regular kids know you're a foster kid. How do you know what it's like?"

"They bounce you from place to place," was all Brennan said in response. "And it's never home."

Ruth's shoulders shook as she began to sob. Milly pulled her into a hug and held on tight. "I'm so sorry," she said over and over again. "I'm so sorry, Ruth."

"Like Margaret?"

"Yea," Brennan answered, her voice breaking. "And sometimes they separate you from your brother. It must have been nice . . ."

With a harsh cry, Ruth pushed away from Milly and before the other woman could follow her, fled the room.

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Without knowing how she got there, Ruth found herself in the little sanctuary she and Milly used as a meeting place. She dropped to her knees then fell forward on her hands and gave herself up to the sorrow and regret that manifested themselves in the tears that wracked her body. Vaguely she was aware of others around her - the living, there to light candles or sit in peace and the dead, who also came to sit in peace and remember. When the first hard bit of weeping ended she picked herself up from the floor and found a seat in one of the empty pews. It took only the memory of the pain on her daughter's face to start the tears falling again, her arms hugged tightly around her middle, her head bent forward.

How much time passed she didn't know but it was the sudden stillness of the room that first captured her attention, and it was then she became aware of his presence beside her. She kept her eyes closed, her head down, and allowed the tears to dry on her cheeks.

"Is this part of my punishment?" she asked finally, her voice hoarse in the silence of the chapel. "Finding out what we . . . what happened to her?"

"This was unavoidable," Michael responded. "Had you and Millicent never interfered in your children's lives, still would you one day have discovered the facts of your daughter's youth."

Ruth sniffed gently and a handkerchief of snowy white linen was offered. She accepted it gratefully. "What happened?" she asked softly. "I don't understand why - I'm not blaming Russ, Max and I are completely responsible for leaving them, but why didn't he take care of her? Why was she alone?"

"Harsh words were exchanged," Michael replied, "the regret for which came too late." His voice was a deep rumble filling the silence of the room. "He was at the threshold of adulthood himself and uncertain of his ability to provide the care she needed."

"But why didn't anyone tell me?" Ruth finally dared to look at him and found him staring at her without the censure she expected and instead, she was certain, with a hint of sympathy in the depths of his fathomless black eyes. "We sent someone to check on them," she insisted. "Max told me he sent someone. Bird knew people . . ." She let her voice trail off, uncertain of the protocol in discussing with an archangel a man who made his living on the wrong side of human law.

"Your husband kept this knowledge from you for the span of one day," Michael answered without addressing her discomfort over the topic of Bird. "The day you returned home."

Ruth's chin dropped and then she laughed without humour. "What great timing I have," she said bitterly.

"No one is promised tomorrow," Michael said simply.

Ruth saw again her daughter's face as she spoke of shared experiences to Shawn Cook and swallowed over the knot that formed in her throat. "Is she okay?" she found the courage to ask. "Was she safe, when she was in foster care?"

Michael met her eyes. "All those born of woman must suffer, each according to their destiny. Temperance endured more than some," he acknowledged, "but less, much less than others."

Ruth nodded, accepting the truth of his words while feeling the stab of pain that came from knowing she was responsible for any scars, physical or otherwise, Tempe bore from that time. At that moment, a furtive movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked up to find the small sanctuary crowded with familiar faces. She glanced up at Michael to gauge his reaction.

"They have been gathering for some time," was all he said, a glint of humor in the fractional lift of one dark eyebrow.

"I've been talking to them about home," she explained, "about going home, I mean - I don't know how they knew you were here but obviously . . ." she waved a hand toward the group. Taking note of their reaction to her guest, she smiled. "I don't think you're what they expected," she said, looking over the sharply sophisticated black suit he wore.

This time, she was sure she saw laughter in his eyes when he inclined his head toward her. "We must not let your efforts be for naught," he said before touching her arm lightly. "You will be at ease, Ruth," he instructed and she nodded as warmth spread from the spot where his fingertips brushed her skin, lessening the fierce ache of sorrow and regret and dulling the sharpness of her grief.

Then he stood up - and hers wasn't the only loud gasp that filled the room as he stretched taller and taller, the rich black suit disappearing into robes of such blinding white that everyone watching lifted an arm to shield their eyes from the glare. In the blink of an eye the small sanctuary was hidden in the brilliance of the light that surrounded him and radiated out from him. He hovered in front of them, his feet a foot or more above the floor and as he opened his arms, a magnificent pair of white wings appeared at his back, spreading wide and even taller as he looked down on the group that fell as one to their knees in front of him. "Welcome home, children," he said, in a rumbling voice that echoed around the room and shook the very walls that surrounded them. For an instant the light was so hot and bright it was as if the sun itself had dropped from the sky. In a protective reflex, Ruth closed her eyes and tucked her chin against her shoulder. When she opened them again, she was alone and the small sanctuary was as it had always been.

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Milly waited in vain for Ruth to return. She trailed alone after her son and Brennan through the rest of the busy day and looked over her shoulder constantly, but there was no sign of the other woman. Even when Booth came back to the lab at the end of the day, he was alone.

"You worry overmuch, Millicent."

"I can't help it," she replied, leaning on the railing of the walkway high above the platform to better watch the group below. "It broke her heart, just like I said it would."

"Michael spoke with her."

"Good," she nodded. "I'm sure that helped."

"He was greeted with a group of her lost souls," he added. "She scolded him for looking less magnificent than was expected."

Milly couldn't help laughing, her eyes sparkling brightly when she looked at him. "She didn't!" When Raphael nodded, she shook her head. "Did he break out the wings?"

"He did."

"Wow. Well," she smiled at him, "she was right. The wings are magnificent."

"They are." The two of them watched Booth as he tripped over his words trying to compliment Brennan's change in appearance for the party. The silence stretched out between the two observers for a long moment before Raphael spoke again. "Yet are they also a heavy burden to bear."

Milly looked down when his hand covered hers where it gripped the railing. She studied the smooth bronze skin covered in a dusting of sun bleached fine white hair for a moment and then giving into impulse, turned her hand over and threaded her fingers through his.

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In case you're wondering, the character 'Bird' that Ruth mentions is one of my invention from "On the Run." Not that I'm pimping another of my fics but . . . okay, I'm kinda pimping another story. Most of you guessed this chapter was going to deal with "Boy in a Bush" and it did, so cookies and rainbow sprinkles for everyone!

Thanks for reading and (hopefully) reviewing!