A/N: Hello. =] This chapter's kind of long, and there's kind of a lot going on, but that shouldn't stop you from leaving your feedback, right? xD Thank you to everyone who has, by the way, but I still feel like I'm losing some of you guys. Don't be worried about the angst yet. I already promised I would warn you when it was coming. xD

Oh, and by the way, even though I know you guys probably never would, please refrain from leaving any spoilers to Season Seven in any reviews or PMs. I'm spoiler free, and I know fanfic is dangerous territory when the spoilers come out, so if any of you read anything, I would appreciate it if you didn't share with me. Thanks. =]

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

"Just Give Him a Chance"

Booth was comfortable, laying on his stomach, when woke up the next morning, and he could tell by the limited amount of light coming into their bedroom that it was still early. He turned his head, resting his cheek against the pillow, so he could look at his wife while she slept, her hair falling across her face, and her sheet covered chest rising and falling with her relaxed breathing. Sometimes, when he watched her sleep, he was wondering if she was having nightmares, but that morning, she looked so peaceful that he knew she couldn't have been.

When he reached over, skimming his fingers in a feather light touch over the outline of her spine, he could see her eyes flutter open, and she immediately reached up to brush her hair away from her eyes so she could look at him sleepily.

"Hey...sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," he whispered, keeping his voice soft so he didn't break the serene feel of the room, "you can go back to sleep."

Brennan smiled and shook her head the best she could in her current position.

"I'm not tired anymore," she told him, "although, if I did close my eyes again I would probably fall back asleep."

"So how about you just close your eyes and we'll see what happens?"

Brennan folded her arms under her head so her cheek could rest against them while she looked at him.

"I would rather stay awake with you," she half smiled at her own words, closing her eyes when he leaned over to kiss her forehead softly, "if that's okay with you," she added in playfully.

"You know that's okay with me," Booth laughed lightly, moving closer so he could drape his arm over her back, "as long as you're not cranky later."

"I'm not making any promises."

With a small laugh and a smile, Brennan leaned the small distance over to touch her lips lightly to his, able to feel his lips turn up into a smile under hers. After only a few seconds of the kiss, she pulled away, untucking one arm from under her head to run her fingers across his back the same way he was doing to her when she woke up.

"I miss seeing you like this," he told her, pulling her a little closer as his fingers skimmed over each of the ribs on her right side.

"Naked?" Brennan asked, with innocent eyes.

"Well I do miss waking up next to you all bare with just our sheets covering us," he nuzzled the crook of her neck softly with a small laugh, "but that's not what I meant. I meant I miss seeing you...you know, the way you are now. Sated. Sleepy. Tranquil."

"I'm not completely sated,"she filled him in, her index finger tracing slowly up his spine, stopping when she reached the back of his neck, "I believe you told me that we would make love again in the morning...and it's morning."

"Alright, baby, we will," Booth laughed lightly, "just relax for a few minutes. We both just woke up," he laughed again when she looked at him disappointedly, "it's amazing how you can go from being so adamant about not having sex, to craving it the way you are now."

"I forgot how much I liked it," she smiled mischievously, before quickly turning herself over and straddling his waist, pushing her hair suggestively over one shoulder as she looked down at him, "especially when you do that thing where you-"

"Okay, I get it, I get it," he assured her quickly, before she could go any farther, "you enjoyed yourself last night. I'm glad."

"I think saying I 'enjoyed myself' is a bit of an understatement," she told him, shivering when his hands cupped her waist , "I feel idiotic for waiting two weeks after my doctor gave me permission. I should have taken advantage."

"Bones," Booth laughed, "I didn't know you were capable of feeling stupid."

"And I didn't know you kept a condom behind your bank card now," she smiled when his cheeks flushed a bit, "I guess there's still a lot we have to learn about each other."

"Yeah, well I learned my lesson from a few weeks ago when we wanted to make love but didn't have protection," he told her, "I was making sure that when you changed your mind, we would be prepared."

"You're thoughtful," she leaned down to kiss his chest softly, "I forgot about protection last night. You were the one that reminded me. A lot of men wouldn't have done that."

"I'm not just a guy, Bones, I'm your husband," he laughed weakly, "and trust me, I don't want another baby any more than you do right now," he paused, looking up into her eyes, which the sun was hitting in just the right way to make them look see through, "although, I do want to have more kids with you one day. Maybe one day soon."

"Not too soon," Brennan reminded him, keeping her tone light, even though she was panicking just a little in her head at the thought of having more children.

"No, not too soon," Booth confirmed, "maybe when Chris is about six months we can start trying to get pregnant again."

"Six months?" She sounded a little uneasy when she spoke.

"Yeah, I think that's a good age," Booth shrugged, "if you got pregnant again when Chris was six months, he'd already be a little over one by the time the new baby would be born. You know, I would really like to have a little girl next. A little baby Bones."

Brennan didn't want to tell him that she didn't want to get pregnant again so soon, in fear of upsetting him, so she simply forced a smile. There was no way that she would want to become pregnant again in just a mere four months, so she just hoped that he would forget about this by the time that time came around.

"You know it would not be a hundred percent chance that we would have a girl," she reminded him.

"I know," Booth assured her, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, "I wouldn't mind having another boy either, but I have two boys already. I think it would be exciting to have a girl. A little Bones," he poked her flat stomach gently, "imagine having a little baby Bones right in there? And then she and Chris could play together, in our in ground pool while we-"

Booth was cut off when his phone rang, and they both sighed heavily, glancing over to where it was set on the night stand.

"Should I answer it?" Booth asked, his fingers tracing over her shoulder blade.

"As much as I would like to say no, it could be Angela," she said, despite the fact that, even though the baby conversation was making her uncomfortable, she still did not want him to answer, simply because if the call was from Angela about Christian, they wouldn't be able to make love, "you should answer."

In a way, Brennan felt as if she was saved by the ring, since it did a good job in distracting Booth from his fantasies of making another baby in four months and living in the house that she mentioned to him earlier in the week.

"Why does this always happen to us?" He murmured the rhetoric question before he leaned over his wife to grab his phone off of the night stand, answering it sharply, "yeah. Booth."

Brennan pressed affectionate kisses over his chest as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone, hoping that the gentle touches of her lips would help to soothe him a bit, since he seemed highly annoyed that somebody had interrupted them, especially when he realized that it was not Angela calling about the baby. It seemed to be working, since he looked down at her with a smile, and his tone softened a little bit when he would mumble an 'okay' to the person.

After a few more 'okay's and 'yeah's, he finally said that they would be there as soon as possible and hung the phone up, moving his hands to cup her face gently.

"We gotta go," he told her apologetically, "but I promise, I'll make it up to you. We'll make love later when Chris is asleep."

"Where are we going?" Brennan asked, rubbing her palm against the stubble on his jaw, hating when he just told her that they had to go without telling her what was going on.

"Adelina Castro's son turned up," he told her, tugging her down to him so he could kiss her softly, his warm lips soft against hers.

Brennan's smile immediately faded.

"Dead?" She asked.

Booth shook his head, kissing her again.

"No, baby," he smiled when she did, "he's perfectly alive. He's probably a little scared, but he's perfectly fine. He was with his grandparents for the week and they dropped him off outside, which was pretty irresponsible if you ask me...dropping a little kid off outside without making sure he got in okay," he realized he was getting off topic, shaking his head, "anyway, when he went inside he couldn't find his mother, so he called 911 and the cops told the FBI since they knew we were investigating her murder, and dropped him off at the Hoover."

"Does he know his mother's dead?" Brennan asked, feeling slightly comforted when his hands let go of her face to stroke the skin of her back that was not covered by the sheet.

"I don't know," he told her honestly, "that's why we gotta take a really quick shower, get dressed, and go down there."

"Is he catatonic?" Brennan asked, looking at the little boy, who was looking down and coloring a picture in his coloring book, looking sad and disinterested in what he was doing as he scribbled with the crayons.

"I don't think so," one of the other agents told her, "but he won't talk to anyone. We sent in a few different people. Agent Sullivan even gave him a coloring book...he accepted the book, but wouldn't speak to him."

"He's scared," Booth told them, since they were seeming to just be thinking of him as a child who wouldn't speak, as opposed to a little boy who just lost his mother, "and as if he wasn't scared enough going home and not finding his mother, then they cart him over to the FBI and stick him in an interrogation room."

"Well we told him he's not being interrogated, and that we just want to ask him a few questions but have nowhere else to do it, and he still won't talk," the other agent informed him.

"Do you see how young he is? He probably doesn't even know what 'interrogated' means," Booth huffed, feeling a little annoyed that he was the only one being understanding of this child's situation, "he just knows he's in a strange place, and all of these strange people are trying to talk to him about his dead mother. Losing his mother was bad enough. Now you can't just let him go home to his grandparents or his father?"

"He might have information, Booth. We can't just let him go."

"Even if he does have information, it'll never hold up in court. He's a kid, and little kids are notorious for making up stories. That's all the defense has to say, and then the jury completely disregards it."

"You know, Booth, I know you feel bad, but right now you have to put your feelings about his situation aside and do your-"

"Let Booth talk to him," Brennan cut the man off with her suggestion, seeing both of their heads turn towards her, "Booth is very good with children. Maybe he can get him to talk."

"I doubt it," the man said, "everyone who went in there was nice to him."

"Not in the same way," Brennan shook her head, "trust me, I have seen my partner interact with children, and most of the time he gets through to them. Just give him a chance. At this point, what other options do you have?"

The other man seemed to soften up his stance on the subject a bit when she pointed out that last bit of information. There really was nothing else he could do. If the kid still wouldn't talk to Booth, they would be in the same place they were now. But it was at least worth a try.

"Alright," the agent reluctantly agreed, handing Booth an earpiece "I guess you can try your luck."

Brennan offered her husband an encouraging touch on the shoulder before he left the little room they were all standing in to go into the interrogation room. When he opened and closed the door, the little boy didn't even look up at him. He just continued to color a picture in the coloring book that Sully gave to him, not acknowledging the other person in the room.

"Hey," Booth greeted him warmly, taking a seat across from him, "I'm Seeley Booth. I'm an FBI agent."

The boy didn't respond, just picked out a different colored crayon from the box that was set in front of him.

"What's your name?" He tried, still receiving no response.

From outside the room, the man glanced at Brennan with an 'I told you it wouldn't work' look on his face.

"It's not working," he told her.

"Just give him a minute," Brennan was starting to grow slightly annoyed at how impatient this man was, "I know he'll be able to get through to him."

"Listen," Booth lowered his voice a little, his tone less cheerful, "I know what's going on right now is scary, but we need your help to find out what happened to your mom."

The boy finally looked up at him, his brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I want to go home," he whimpered, in a soft, barely audible voice.

"I know," Booth assured him, his voice soothing, "I know you want to go home, and I know you're scared, but I can't catch this bad guy who hurt your mom unless you answer a few questions for me."

After a few seconds of silence, the little boy spoke, his voice less frightened and slightly more audible this time.

"Do you always catch the bad guy?" The boy asked.

"Yeah," Booth chuckled, "I always catch the bad guy. Me and my partner," he smiled when he got just the tiniest fraction of a smile out of the boy sitting in front of him, "I have a kid who's probably just a little older than you, you know. How old are you?"

"Six," the boy responded, dropping his crayon to hold up six fingers, "do you have a boy?"

"I've got two boys," Booth smiled, reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet and pull out two pictures, "this is Parker, he's seven," he laid the first picture of Parker on the table, "and this is Christian," he laid out the picture of Brennan holding Christian the day she was released from the hospital.

The little boy seemed to study the pictures thoroughly.

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing to Brennan in the picture he showed him of Christian.

"That's my wife, Temperance," he told him.

"She's pretty."

"Yeah, she's very pretty," Booth glanced over at the two way mirror when he spoke, "your mom was very pretty too. I saw a picture of her."

"Yeah," the little boy smiled when he thought about his mother, "mommy had brown hair like Temperance, but her eyes weren't blue like hers. Her eyes were brown like mine."

"And what about your dad?" Booth asked, "What does he look like?"

The boy's smile faded, and he shrugged.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "I don't have a dad."

"Oh," Booth tried to sound cheerful, not wanting him to get upset again, "that's okay."

"Do you have a dad?"

"Yeah, I have a dad...but he's not very nice," Booth paused, smiling a friendly smile once again, "we've been making such good friends and you still haven't told me your name."

"Anderson," the boy seemed to be comfortable enough with Booth to tell him his name now, "Anderson Carlos Castro. I'm Anderson because my grandma is Andresa, and Carlos because my grandpa is Carlos."

Booth smiled and nodded.

"Okay, Anderson, now you've gotta answer a question for me. Can you do that?"

Anderson nodded in return.

"I need you to tell me if there was anyone who your mom didn't like," he tried, "anyone who she told you was bad, or not to talk to?"

Anderson seemed to ponder the question for a little bit.

"Enzo," he said, "mommy had a friend named Enzo, but then they weren't friends anymore. Mommy told me if Enzo called our house to hang up and not to say anything, or to give her the phone. And I used to like to answer the door, but I wasn't allowed anymore. She said Enzo was a bad man. Mommy was allowed to talk to Enzo, because sometimes he would come over, but I had to hide in the basement when she did. She didn't like him, so he was never over that long...and he sounded mean."

"Do you know Enzo's last name?" Booth asked.

Anderson shook his head.

"I never met him. Mommy said I wasn't allowed to."

"Okay," Booth nodded, dropping the subject, since he didn't want to push anymore than he already was, and cause him any more trauma. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, putting on a happier voice, "So when you go home are you going to live with your grandparents?"

"No. I spent the week with them because they are going to live in a home now. One of those homes where a lot of old people live and they get taken care of. Mommy couldn't afford to take care of them anymore."

"Oh, okay. My grandfather lives in a home too," Booth kept a light tone, even though now he was concerned as to where this boy was going to stay, "so who are you going to live with?"

"I don't know," Anderson shrugged, his eyes lighting up when he looked back up at Booth, "can I live with you?"

"I don't think that's possible, Anderson," Booth laughed lightly, "but don't worry. My wife and I will find somewhere for you to stay. I promise."

"Okay," Anderson seemed happier now, "Agent Sully, the one who gave me these crayons and this coloring book, told me that I have to stay in this building today, so can I stay in your office with you?"

"Yeah, of course you can," Booth chuckled, even though he knew he would have to consult Cullen if he needed to go to the lab and had to take Anderson with him, "maybe you'll even get to meet my wife, if you're lucky."

When Anderson smiled at her husband, Brennan looked over at the man next to her, who still looked completely shocked that Booth had turned a silent child into an affectionate chatter box. With a confident smile, she just had to say it.

"I told you he could do it," she told him, before leaving him alone in the little area where they were watching Booth and Anderson converse.