A/N: Okay, I'm definitely not even going to bother any of you guys to review, because you guys are so amazingly beautiful that you blew me away last chapter, and you will blow me away again. You guys keep me motivated! I got a lot of good feedback for last chapter and I hope you guys will continue to let me know what you like, don't like, what confuses you, etc. So I had one reviewer suggest doing little promos for the next episode, but the thing is, I don't even have the next episode fully completed, I never really do. And that's because I like to get ideas from you guys! So really, if there's anything you'd like to see, let me know, because I will most likely include it! You guys are brilliant. So, I kinda leave it off on a cliffhanger, and I'm sorry :( It's just the way it worked out. I like to keep you guys hungry for more! Please don't hate me! Also, I had another reviewer say something about a Brallie kiss, and I assure you, there will be some action in the very near future! I don't want to rush anything yet, I want to develop everything a little more. But I promise, with every chapter there is more Brallie. I won't skimp you guys, they're the main reason I watch the show, so you can trust me on that one. Last but not least, I've got a little game for you guys since I can't offer you the promo: find an example of assonance/alliteration in this story, drop it in a review, and if you're correct I'll send you a sneak peek of next episode! Fairly simple, I believe, since you've got the internet at your fingertips if you have no idea what assonance or alliteration is ;). Happy hunting and keep reviewing my lovelies! Thank you!

Episode 14

"You got ready pretty fast."

He's faking obliviousness, something that is actually pretty believable when it comes to him, but she can still tell that he's digging around for something, that he's trying to get her to throw up all her secrets and feelings and thoughts as if she's some bulimic teenager girl that's just binged. As if she's always done it.

She doesn't have bulimia but she has something.

She only shrugs. She did volunteer to come with, and it was her way of saying that she wants to trust again (she wants to feel something, maybe not necessarily love, but she wants to feel something), but she doesn't see how he translated that to her wanting to shoot the breeze.

No, that isn't right, his question clearly has purpose. He's not asking about the weather, he's asking her if she was going to try to run away again. And the unspoken elaboration is not just going to slip out the open car window, it's not just going to rewind back into his mouth. "I thought about it." she admits, swallowing past swollen tonsils, "Running away again. I thought maybe I could run away to the one person that I have left to count on."

He flicks on his turn signal, pretending to be extremely engrossed in the city around him, pretending to look for a certain boy he knows is not on this street, while deep down, he's extremely concerned that all she's ever going to be now is a flight risk. But he can't let her see it, because although he knows she wants to see somebody cares, she may not be emotionally prepared to see how much he cares for her. "What made you change your mind?"

"Well," she props her elbow on the open car window, a casual gesture, but it's only for support for the bomb she's about to drop, "you can't run away from a place you're running to."

He's lucky she says this as they're at a stop light, because he wants to look at her, and when he does, her face is halfway out the window, though it's slightly flushed, even in the cool night air. He thinks maybe she means Lena or Stef, maybe even Mariana, but when she allows a quick peek at his reaction, she looks almost terrified that she's made such a confession. For anybody else, it's ordinary. For her, it's groundbreaking.

"We're heading to the airport," she points out, so out of her element that her voice wavers between a question and a statement, just desperately trying to get off the topic she shouldn't have even presented. But as soon as the light is green he's focused again, and she relaxes a little. "He's not going to be there. He's not even old enough to buy a plane ticket."

He's driving slower than the speed limit but there aren't many cars out now, though it's slightly more congested on the roads to the airport. He huffs through his nose, a laugh of sorts, and scans the dimly lit sidewalks. "This is Jesus we're talking about. I doubt he knows that."

She takes another peek at him, and he's so concentrated on the road, hunched forward a little in his seat, eyes squinted heavily, and she feels warmth in her body again, she feels it in her toes and her cheeks and everywhere in between. She looks down at her lap, embarrassed at her typical teenager girl reaction, something she hasn't had in a while, but he hasn't noticed a thing. "You know, Jesus knows more than you may give him credit for."

This time, he does laugh. "I don't think he's stupid, Callie, but sometimes the things he does are. I mean, he's skipping town for some girl he's barely known! I bet he doesn't even realize how his choices are going to affect his family, his sister, especially-" he stops talking when he finally catches a glimpse of her face, which is a little disbelieving and twisted up, and he finally processes what he's said, "shoot, Callie, wait, that's not what I meant-"

"It's fine." But it's not. "It's the truth. Jude hates me and I'm sure Mariana will if Jesus gets away. Which is part of the reason I came with."

"I'm sorry." He's not looking at her, thoroughly rueful, and he really does mean it. She doesn't accept it, just keeps a watchful eye on the streets for a skateboard rat, who hopefully will make his appearance soon, because things are getting heavier between the two. "I'll talk to Jude. If I tell him it was my fault-"

"Stop." she demands, but her voice breaks while saying it, making it almost impossible to want to follow. "You can't keep doing this. I'm not letting you take the blame for my mistake."

He's trying to figure out if she really just said that when the stop light bounces to red and she yells at him to brake, more anger than fear lacing her voice. He manages to stop in time and avoid the crosswalk, but neither of them are in the clear. "It wasn't a mistake."

She avoids his gaze, bringing her necklace into her mouth. It bites her tongue with its bitterness, effectively taking her mind off the strife for a moment. "Can we just...find Jesus?"

He eases on the gas, peeling his eyes off her to watch the road again. "I don't believe that you feel that way." She won't speak again. "You're right about one thing though, I don't think he's here. Let's check some side streets. You try his phone."

He doesn't sound happy anymore. He didn't really to begin with, given the circumstances, but now he's really not pleased. She grudgingly pulls out her phone to text him, only taking his orders on behalf of Jesus. It's easy for him to say it wasn't a mistake, it didn't ruin his life, it ruined what little of hers she had left. But she can't find the energy to say this to him, or the will, because she knows he really is the sole person she can count on, and he means well, even if his intentions don't translate right.

"I hate this neighborhood." he mumbles absently, glancing at Callie as she texts away on her phone, and when she's done and she looks at him, she's waving her white flag. They both are. Neither says anything, but the small, sad smiles are enough.

She looks out her window once more as they roll through the spotted blackness, setting down her phone as she catches something further down the block. "Up there...is that him?" He pulls off to the side and when the headlights hit the unmoving form, it does turn out to be him, slumped over on his skateboard, his arms dangling over his bent knees. His head shoots up on contact, but he doesn't run.

Brandon grumbles as he shifts the car in park. "Of course he's in the worst neighborhood past midnight." He pulls at the handle and pushes open his own door, stopping only when Callie starts to do the same. "Wait, you should just stay here."

"Look," she begins, taking a quick look at Jesus to make sure he hasn't tried to flee. He hasn't. "If he doesn't want to come with us, how are you going to convince him? It's better if I just lay it out straight for him."

He's not keen on it, but he doesn't say anything when she starts getting out again. They shut their doors quietly and approach the teen, who's got his beanie almost in his eyes and a cargo pocket stuffed with unseen cash. He still doesn't move, but he starts talking when they stop in front of him. Brandon's standing a little bit behind Callie, glancing around the street, a stressful scowl making its way on his face, but Callie's full attention is on Jesus, trying to help him see that she understands with an empathetic smile. "I wasn't going to leave. At first I was going to find a way, but now I see there was no way I was going to get to her, or bring her back home, and if I did, she still wouldn't be safe."

Callie looks back at Brandon, trying to get him to see how upset his brother is, knowing he's probably about to explode right now, but he's not even looking at either of them. She turns back to Jesus. "Listen, Jesus, I know what you thought and I know what you're thinking, I do. But running away from or running to your problems doesn't actually fix them. Sometimes you just have to wait to face them." When he doesn't say anything, she adds a little as a consolation, "And I'm sure if she's with her family, she's safe. You don't have to worry about that."

"But I do. I do worry about her."

This sets Brandon off and he turns his head into the conversation. "Sitting there is not going to make you stop worrying about her, Jesus, you're always going to worry about her. It doesn't just go away." He sounds almost angry when he says this, and when he meets Callie's eyes, she gets that he's actually trying to make a point to her, not him. Her eyes find the ground. "Right now moms don't know we're gone, but if we hang around any longer they might. Get in the car."

Without a word he rises and hauls his board to the backseat, where he throws it and himself inside. Callie thinks about joining him in the back, too. She thought coming along might help her sort a few things out, but she's more confused than ever. She knows what she wants, she knows what she needs, so those aren't the questions.

The question is if she should let herself have it.

"Mariana?"

She would know that voice anywhere but she squints her eyes towards the door, the light from her phone screen accentuating her features and making her appear younger than the boy standing in her doorway. It could be all the shit he's been through, too, that sometimes makes him appear older than her, wiser. Sometimes he says things she would never think of saying, but he remains childish in one way: he can't understand a lot of things.

Which is why she has to stop herself from cussing in front of the young boy, though the damage is already done. "Jude," she whispers, shining her light his way for a moment, forced to watch as he comes to find Callie missing from her bed once again. "It's not what you're thinking, I promise. Callie's coming back, everybody's coming back,"

"Everybody?"

She waves him over into the room but he plants himself in place, clearly upset. His shirt is on backwards, she can tell because the tag is sticking out of the front of it and he still has no clue, and his too-short pajamas bottoms are off center and well-slept in, and he's so innocent and clueless and she can't help thinking that he doesn't deserve all of this pain, he's just a boy. He doesn't deserve any of it but neither does Callie, and when it comes to the two of them, they both can't be happy. It's their dynamic.

"Jesus left for a little while so Brandon and Callie went to go get him. They'll be home soon, though, Callie texted me and told me they found him. But moms can't know about this at all, okay?"

"Are you mad at him?"

Mariana raises a shaped brow, thrown off slightly by his question. "What?"

He finally shuts the door behind him and makes his way to her bed, and she scoots over to let him sit on the end of it, watching him carefully. She keeps the light on her phone on so they can see each other's faces, though she's not sure she wants to. She doesn't know how she will handle it if he starts crying. "Are you mad at Jesus?"

Just by the look on his face, she knows he's not really asking about her. "Well, I was at first, but now I'm just going to be happy when I see him." He's picking his fingernails, avoiding eye contact, and because she knows what she's said might've made him feel guilty, or like a bad brother, she tells him, "You shouldn't feel bad for the way you reacted. It's kind of like a default setting, being angry with someone when they leave you alone. Because it's selfish, right?"

He looks at her from under his lengthy eyelashes and she goes on. "But it's not always right. Sometimes people leave you because they think they're being selfish if they stay. You can't take back the way you reacted, but you can change the way you're going to react when you see her again."

He's shaking his head, obviously not convinced. "But what if she's mad at me now?"

She laughs, and for a second it pisses him off, but then she explains, "Jude, Callie could never be mad at you. She left so we would still adopt you. And we're still going to, Callie already sorted it out with them. She loves you, and you love her, and everything is going to work out, got it?"

He nods, that typical, humble Jude smile crawling out of hiding, and she pats him on the leg. Still, he has no idea that while they're going to adopt him, they may not be able to adopt his sister. She won't let him know that, not yet. "Now go get some sleep, you can see her in the morning. Just be careful not to wake up moms."

He complies and ambles back to his bed, leaving Mariana feeling a little bit lighter, knowing that she is capable of fixing things, not just breaking them. But she hopes everything will work out, because if she ends up being the one to break his little heart again, she might have to run, too.

"What in the world, Mike, it's seven in the morning-"

"It can't wait." he swears, and he's so dead serious, and it's so damn early, that Stef just has to let him in. She rolls her eyes as she shuts the door, then turns to find him in the living room, though he refuses to sit down. He's almost pacing as he talks to her. "It's about Brandon."

"I figured." She's using her condescending voice again, talking at him while he's trying to talk to her, and he just comes right out with it, sick of her attitude. "I want Brandon to move in with me."

It's so abrupt and strange that she has to cackle. "This is absolutely crazy, you came here this early for this? You should've just slept in, Mike."

"I'm serious!"

The humor leaves, annoyance left in its place, and she starts walking away to the empty kitchen, where their conversation will be muffled through the ceiling instead of traveling up the stairs. He storms after her. "This has happened before and he said no, Mike, so I think that's that."

"Well I think he should think about it again, Stef,"

She's about to sit down when she stops and just stares at him, taking in his unzipped hoodie, with its lopsided strings, and his disheveled hair and seriously-in-need-of-a-shave face. She could really laugh in his face right now, but it's clear he's not in the right state to take that kind of thing, and she can't risk it. So she sips her coffee, nodding at him and his poor hygiene. "You're really not in the right mind for taking care of a kid right now."

"How could you know? You never let me see him, and he's my son." He presses his palms into the island, leaning his weight in her direction, but there's a good deal of space between them, thankfully. "And he's not a kid. I can take care of him."

Her words tip out of her mouth and fall into her coffee mug, which seems to be attached to her lips. "Your job?"

"They're still on me a little but I'm not going to lose it, Stef. I can support him. Hell, I'm still paying for those piano lessons of his! He needs space, space that he can't get here, and I've wasted too much time already."

She shakes her head, finally separating the mug from her lips. "That doesn't matter. You're not fit, and you're still drinking every night. To be honest, I'm surprised you'd even ask at a time like this."

"This isn't your decision, it's Brandon's."

"I think we both know what his answer's going to be."

It echoes through her coffee mug, bounces off the walls and seems to come too fast and too harsh because now his left ear is ringing, and he's stepping away and turning his back to her, checking out the fridge pictures and pretending to be interested in all of them but he's really only interested in one, and it's the one of his son. He breathes out through chapped lips, slowly filling every corner of the room with his carbon dioxide, though it seems more poisonous. "I don't want it to be this way, but if you deny me this, I'm going to want to take it to court."

Her mug finds its way back to its liquid ring on the counter top, a few drops splashing out as she slams it. "You are out of your mind! We both agreed we were never going to put Brandon through something like that so why in the hell would it be okay now?"

"I have a right, Stef-"

"You are way out of line-"

"It doesn't have to be this difficult, all I'm asking-"

"After all the shit you know I've been through, I can't believe-"

"I'm not out to get you, just listen-"

"Get out of my house, Mike!" She's standing again, so quickly that the bar stool falls out from under her, ringing out in the silent kitchen. It's almost overwhelming after all the yelling that's just gone on, and she's trying not to think about it, because she can already feel her face tighten, and her throat hurts as she stifles a gasp. "I can't do this now, I really can't. Come back when you're sane or sober, whichever comes first."

He falls back to the doorway. "This wasn't what I came here to do. I hope you'll think about what I've said."

When she says nothing more, he leaves, and when she goes to pick up her bar stool, she knocks over her coffee. The handle cracks and the hot liquid drips off the island and onto the floor, and while she's cleaning it up, she mops up a few angry tears in the process.

After Callie wakes, she lays in bed for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sunlight that has snaked through the drawn blinds. And she's thinking, she's thinking about yesterday and the day before and the day before that, and she knows if there's ever a right time to make up her mind about things, it's now, when the adrenaline and crazy feelings and emotions are dormant once again.

Jude. Jude is her everything, he's her brother, and he's the last of her real family. She's always done whatever she could do to make him happy, but it came with a price, and now she's broke and broken and she knows her worth, and that's thanks to Brandon. If Jude is anything like the boy she spent so long teaching and raising, he won't hold her back from happiness anymore.

But while she can't just let Brandon slip away, she can't let Jude either. And it seems it ultimately comes down to the two. It comes down to who's always been there for her, and who's there for her now. Neither of those have a definite future, which makes the decision that much harder.

But then she's in the doorway, and Brandon's in his, and he looks so worn and harmless and completely incapable of hurting her, and she can already imagine herself marching right up to him, and brushing those overgrown curls out of his eyes, and letting him tell her it's going to be okay, like he always does, because maybe it will be when he says it. There's no way to know because she's never actually let herself take comfort in that, and maybe that's what has always changed the outcome.

"Morning." he says, but she'd rather skip the obvious small talk and cut to the chase, so she's standing in the center of all the rooms, and there's some kind of magnetic pull bringing him to join her. "What is it?"

She doesn't remember drinking an ocean but there's a school of fish swimming around in her stomach as she looks up at him, and there must be some rocks in her lungs. Breathe. It's the only thing she's thinking, but it's not helping her do it. "Brandon, I need-"

"Callie?"

The 'you' lodges in her throat when she twists her neck towards Jude, who's standing in his own doorway, looking like he just woke up himself. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to think anything weird of the situation. "Can I talk to you?"

She looks back at Brandon, who seems to be pretty intrigued now, but nods his head at her anyway. They'll just have to continue talking later. He slips out of sight and Jude take his place in the center of the room, playing with the hem of his shirt, which is still backwards. This would usually be Callie's cue to talk, but she doesn't know what to say and she doesn't know what this is about, so she stays silent, her fingernails digging into the skin on the back of her neck.

His lips smack as he pulls them apart, his mouth dry. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like I don't like you anymore, or that I don't want to talk to you anymore. You're my sister and I was just really scared and I still love you and I was mad, too. But now I'm not anymore." His eyes are pleading with her but she looks more sick than ever. "And you promised you weren't going to be selfish anymore, so I know you won't. Could we just maybe pretend none of it happened?"

Then she breathes, and it's to release all the toxins in her body, but it ends up releasing a lot of the good things, too. "Yeah, baby," she finally says, pulling him into her sweater-clad torso, tightening her arms around him for the first time in a while, and she swears she can feel him smiling against her. And then she's done, that's it. She's got some happiness but it comes at the cost of another. There is no talk with Brandon later. "Yeah, let's just forget it all happened."

"You're an idiot."

Jesus stops making his bed for a second, sees its his sister, then shrugs and continues. She steps out of the doorway and picks up one of his throw pillows off the floor, smacks him with it on the back, then deposits it on the end of his bed. "I'm serious. What were you trying to do?"

"Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry. He finishes pulling his duvet up and hops off his bed, then digs through his closet for an outfit, trying to keep busy. "I made a promise to her that I'd take care of her and now I've let her down."

Mariana's arms fold over her chest, not because she's self-conscious, but because she finds the whole thing ridiculous, as per usual. He's gone over all of his shirts about three times already and still hasn't found anything, so clearly he isn't actually looking. "You couldn't have stopped it, nobody could've. It's out of our control, Jesus. And she was my best friend before she was your girlfriend, so if I can accept it, so can you."

He finally yanks out a black tee and turns to her, gripping the hanger a little too hard. "It's not that easy, Mariana, it's not always science and math problems and easy answers. I'm not going to stop thinking about it until she's home."

"She's not coming home, Jesus, she can't."

"There has to be a way!"

"There isn't."

He discards his shirt a little roughly and pulls on the fresh one before grabbing his skateboard off the wall and zipping out the door, with Mariana in hot pursuit. "Where are you going?"

He's curt as he descends the stairs. "To hang out with some friends."

Mariana's mouth is ready to flap again but Lena's in the living room, speaking before she can. "Where are you going?" she asks him again as he reaches for the door knob, and suddenly he's happy Jesus, nothing-going-on-here Jesus.

"Oh, just to hang out with some friends. Just for a little while, if that's okay."

"Sure," she chirps, patting him on the shoulder as she waltzes by, magazine in hand. "Just be home soon, I was thinking we could have a family day since you guys go back to school tomorrow."

Mariana beams at her as she rounds the corner, then grabs her brother's arm when she's out of sight, holding him back. "Did you even eat breakfast yet? Did you take your medication?"

He shakes her off, tired of her nagging. She's worse than their moms sometimes. "I don't need it."

The door frame vibrates when he closes it after him, unaware that he almost takes off her fingers as he does so.

Brandon's in the middle of watching Callie and Jude talk and joke around again as they eat their bowls of cereal at the island, genuinely happy at the sight, though he's got the feeling that this can't exactly be good for him and the foster girl. He'd been hoping they would make up sometime soon, because he knows how much Jude means to her, but Jude isn't exactly fond of him after what happened, and a repeat incident may push him away again, and that's not what he wants.

He knows what he wants and it's to be with Callie, in a world where Jude and his mothers would accept that fact. But they've already made it clear that they won't allow it. It's not just their rule, it's the whole system's, though it doesn't make much sense to him. But if anyone were to accept and allow what is pegged "forbidden", it'd be his mothers. There has to be a way around it.

She's pouring Jude another glass of orange juice, and he's telling her about the time some kid in his class pulled a prank on his teacher, and she's laughing and she's showing it with her teeth but not with her eyes, because those eyes are on him and she knows he's watching and listening and it kills her more.

He wonders what she was going to say, and he's thinking about how great it would be to finish that talk now while his mothers are getting ready in their bedroom and Jude is placing his bowl in the sink and heading up to his own, but he gets a text.

I need to talk to u.

He supposes they do, but he can't let Talya put him in a mood right now, so he sends back that it'll have to be over text, he's busy. It's not exactly a lie, because he's getting off the window seat and walking over to Callie, who's doing the dishes in the sink, and he's prepared to finish that conversation.

She's got her back to him but she can sense him behind her now, and she unconsciously scrubs a plate a little harder with the sponge, though he doesn't pick up on the tension. "So, what were you going to say to me earlier?"

Her hands are so sudsy that she loses sight of them under the bubbles and accidentally scrubs her own finger a little too harshly with the sponge, then bites her lip to stop from making a sound. When she doesn't answer him, he leans his side on the sink next to her, finally catching her face. "What's wrong?"

She's saved by his phone, thankfully, and he hits the talk button and presses it to his ear, though he stays by her side. "Hey, what's going on? I told you to text me."

Callie can't catch what Talya's saying, but Brandon can barely do that himself, for her words are so slurred and broken by her hysterical sobbing. She's going on about why her mother always wants her home early, why she doesn't seem like herself, why her dad has been coming home from work early, and he's shooting Callie an exasperated look while she shuts off the water and sets down her sponge. The unusual graveness in her voice is enough to make Callie forget she shouldn't be looking at Brandon, much less standing so close to him.

When she stops talking nonsense and stops hiccuping, she says, loud enough for Callie to hear this time, "Brandon." The kitchen grows eerily quiet. "My dad has cancer."

Next week on The Fosters:

The kids return to school

Stef tells Lena about Mike

Brandon must decide what the right thing to do with Talya is

and more

All new, Monday, September 2nd