A/N: A lot of great reviews this week! It seems my vocabulary solely consists of 'thank you' and the words 'awesome' 'amazing' and 'you rock'. But it's all good because these are my favorite words and I'm not going to stop saying them because it appears you guys aren't going to stop being them! You guys have some great ideas and I'm going to use a few so when they appear in a chapter, I'll make sure to give you credit! Also, let me know if any parts of this story bore you so that I can change it up, maybe make it more exciting. Just overall let me know about everything! If you guys don't review I won't know what you liked and didn't like and then I'll have nothing to write for because I'm writing for you guys! And myself, of course. So Mike may seem a little OOC in this chapter but that's because I'm totally recreating him, making him do something that has never happened and might not be planned to happen on the show. So I hope this is as realistic as possible, I wanted to give you guys a crazy-ish chapter to make up for the short one I posted last week! Keep reviewing please :) They make my world go 'round. Enjoy!

Episode 16

"Hey, you doing the work?"

With a roll of his eyes, Jesus pushes himself up out of his bad posture to turn and face Travis behind him, who's undoubtedly asking to copy his work, as usual. The nerve of some people, especially after everything that he said earlier. He and Brandon didn't exactly go easy on him, but Jesus still feels like he could say more. Like he could do more. So when he replies, it's through his teeth. "No, I'm not. And if I was, I wouldn't let you see it because you're a dumbass with or without it."

"Whoa," his hands fly up, dropping the pencil he obviously wasn't planning on using, and feigns innocence. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

He turns back around, clutching his own pencil a little bit harder. The things he could say right now...

"It's what I said about your foster sister, isn't it?"

Jesus bites his tongue. He hasn't taken his medication in a few days now, he's sick of feeling like he depends on it. Like it holds him back. Right now, he can't really depend on anything or anyone and he just wants to feel free. He wants to be normal. But sitting in front of this jerk, trying to refrain from punching him straight in the face, is next to impossible. He should've taken it today.

Just when the wave of desire breaks, and he thinks he's in the clear, Travis has to add, "Well, if it is, you shouldn't even worry about it. Your real sister is the problem, people are saying she helped your mom get shot."

There's the screeching of a single desk across the tile, paper flutterings and pencils clattering and the rustle of a windbreaker in fists and the thud of a body on the ground, tense trying to break a fall, and the heaving of a hovering Jesus, and a chorus of teenagers almost drowns out the shoutings of a very angry math teacher. But even in Jesus' blind fury, he can make out, "Jesus Foster, go see your mother now!"

And he knows the teacher purposely said that to make him feel guilty or embarrassed or something, but he takes one last look at the cowering kid on the floor before exiting and he has absolutely no regrets. "That was for just being an asshole in general."

"Out!"

He wakes up to go to the bathroom but he never actually goes.

Brandon knocked out somewhere around ten. He'd thought he'd still be tossing and turning right about now, the usual case of insomnia plaguing him. His mind is an amazing thing sometimes, with exceeding intelligence and unlimited imagination. It helps to have a brain like his, and it would continue to help him throughout his life, help him prosper. But sometimes it's a curse. He'll pick out things other people don't notice, things that stick with him, haunt him. He'll roll over the days events ceaselessly, wondering how things would've changed if he'd done something different. Wondering the pointless because there are no time machines, at least not yet.

And some people think that intelligence makes you wise, makes you accept the evil things in life more easily. But it doesn't. It intensifies them. Evil feeds intelligence, and vice versa. Ignorance really is bliss.

So tonight should be no different, with everything that's going on with Talya, Jesus' fight at school, and Callie. He hasn't talked to Callie since their kiss before school, and he barely got a good look at Jesus before their moms sent him up to his room. He's seen enough of Talya. She didn't go to school but she came by after, and he does feel bad, he really does. He wants to help her, he wants to be there for her, but he can't in the way she still wants him to. He's not going to end it because that's not him, that's not who he is. The real problem is self-control. Self-control concerning Callie.

He guesses he's just finally realized the only real escape from reality is sleep. You can't fear nightmares when you're living one.

His feet are hot so the carpet feels cool underneath, but it doesn't last long as he lingers where he steps. He's tentative to continue to the bathroom, he can hear talking in the kitchen still and it's eleven thirty. His moms were in bed before he was.

But he can hear that its them, he hears both of their voices. He can't pick out what they're saying, but he hears them. He's curious, as always, as to what they talk about late night, but it's none of his business, and he's about to head for the bathroom when he hears it.

The low rumble of a man's voice.

He's on the stairs before he can think about it, almost jogging, though he's careful to stay soundless. All the lights are off downstairs and the blinds are closed, not even the moonlight offers him direction, so it's good Callie could hear him descending or he would've plowed her down. She puts her hand out and presses it into his stomach, stopping him in his tracks. She'd been down there for a while, clinging to and hiding behind the large column that introduces the staircase, and he knows if anyone's got the fully story, it's her. She hardly sleeps.

It almost hurts to whisper so quietly. "What's going on? Who are they talking to?" He says this as he peers over the top of the handrail, so he's already seen his father in the kitchen, he doesn't need her answer. He's clearly drunk, unsteady on his feet, leaning awkwardly on the counter behind him, and his hair is matted to his sweaty forehead.

But Callie won't get out of his way when he tries to side step around her. "Brandon, wait," she pleads, because she knows that Brandon can see he's drunk, and she knows this has been going on for a while, so this might be the last straw for him. She was there once, she knows. She knows what he's feeling and she knows what he wants to say and do right now. That's what scares her the most.

But in the darkness it's easy for him to slip past her and he's already stomping to the kitchen, and it's not very loud but it's the middle of the night and it's enough to capture the attention instantly of the unhappy-looking trio inside. Callie doesn't know what she should do, so she hovers around that column, her sort of security blanket.

"B," Stef stays first, and something falls off her face, some nasty, unknown expression, "it's late, why don't you head back to bed?" She glances at Lena, who already gets the message and walks over to the teen with raised arms, trying to get him to come with her. But Mike speaks, and Brandon shoos her away, aggravation written across his face.

"Brandon, I haven't seen you-"

"Brandon can't talk now, Mike, he has school tomorrow." Stef is quick to cut in, nodding at Lena again. "Get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning, and you can call your father later."

"Move in with me, Brandon."

Brandon slides out from behind Lena, who's blocking his view of his father, still trying to get him to leave. He holds nothing back when he speaks, because he sees how messed up his father is and it's as bad as its ever been. He doesn't try to hide the absolute absurdity. "What?"

"Move in with me I need you."

"That's enough, Mike." Stef commands, releasing the nothings-going-on-here attitude she used so often when Brandon was a kid. It doesn't matter, though, it doesn't work anymore. He knows when something's not right.

And apparently so does Callie, because suddenly she's right up next to him, and her fingers are slipping through his, cold and clammy and she's urging him to just listen to his mom, just with that hand alone and those huge, brown eyes. He looks down at her, and for a moment he considers it, but he's so tired of running in circles, he has to say something. He has to stay. He has to see where this leads, what happens.

"Just leave, Mike," Stef sighs, and she sounds so emotionally exhausted, and Lena's next to her again, seeing as Callie's taken over her job, still desperately trying to pull Brandon out of the room, but he digs his feet into the floor. "Now's not the time. You're drunk, again."

Again? "What the hell is going on?"

"Brandon!" Lena almost gasps, but she's ignored when Mike pushes off the counter and tries to stand upright, though he has to do a little two-step to stop from falling over.

"I want you to th-hink about moving in with me again," he slurs, running his palm over his hair, flattening it further to his head. He stumbles towards them a little, seriously trying to appear sober, but it's almost comical. "What do you say, huh?"

"No," he says, and he says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is. And it's a slap to his face, hard bone and hot hand slap. He reels back a little as if he actually were. "No, I don't want to move in with you, and you need to leave, now."

There's a little squeeze on his hand, Callie reminding him that she's still there and they should still leave. But he's not going to leave until he sees his father out, away from his moms. He's never known his father to be destructive, and he can't picture him ever wanting to hurt anyone, but he's different when he's drunk. He's not him.

"There's your answer, Mike," Stef starts to say, but Mike comes back up in front of Brandon, babbling, "But why not? Why do you always say no to me? I'm your actual father and you never want to see me and you always want to see Lena and she's just another dyke!"

The silence, now, is that kind when you pass that point of things that do happen in life, and things that just can't be happening. When your body sends your mind into some kind of strange dream state, and you think of all the crazy movies you've seen, and you think how it makes sense that it happened in those movies, but not in this life. Not in reality.

Callie can hear Stef chant "Oh my God," and Lena falls back, too fearful to defend herself, and Callie can understand that fear, but right now its not for herself but for Brandon, who looks like he could actually fight his father right now. So, if possible, she squeezes his hand harder, feeling for that tug of his arm muscles, that tug that tells her he's going to lunge.

"Get the hell out of my house before I call the police!" Stef screams, forgetting she's got three more kids sleeping upstairs, though Mariana and Jesus could've slept through the civil war. Which is fitting, since this is essentially one. "Now!"

Callie's still holding tight but Brandon doesn't go anywhere. Instead, he says, "I can't believe you just said that. I can't believe you. This is not...you're not my dad."

Any other time this would send him away, this would break his heart and hurt his feelings and he'd leave so that he could feel sorry for himself alone. But this is different. He's dangerously drunk, and now furious. So he picks up the still-full glass of water Stef and Lena insisted he drink when he arrived completely wasted and hurls it at the floor, sending shattered glass in every direction.

Stef and Lena jump back into the joining room to the kitchen, they know this isn't stable ground anymore. Callie knows this sound to well, the crashing and shattering of not only china but her whole world, so perhaps this makes her jump more, but she doesn't fall into Brandon. Her back meets the wall behind her, and Brandon flips his body in one clean move so that he's in front of her and his back is to the bouncing glass. It all happens so fast, she's not sure how he even manages this.

Seconds after, their eyes meet, but they're not his eyes, they're her eyes, young and still growing and scarred eyes, and there's that familiar but intangible emotion flashing across them. Almost as if in slow motion she sees his body turn and she reaches for him, tries to hold him back but he's already crunching across the debris, pushing his drunken father to the back door. She fears something more will happen, but nothing does, and he's outside and the door is latched in under a minute.

"Is everybody okay?" is the first thing he asks, and now he carefully steps around the glass and steps down to hug his mothers, who look completely besides themselves. Lena is pretty calm, though its mostly just for Stef's sake, who is on the verge of tears but is almost too stunned. Callie stays in her corner, watches as they all comfort each other. Brandon invites her over with his eyes, but she can't. Back then, comfort wasn't a two-way street. It was just her comforting Jude. And she doesn't know how to come about that kind of care right now.

She rolls so that her shoulder is on the cool wall now but she ends up catching a glimpse of the living room, and there's a tiny figure where she was previously hiding, and she should be freaking out right now but she's not. She's so used to it now, it's happened so often they both are. It's been a while, but if anything, it's not as bad now. Jude's older, he knows nothing's sunshine and lollipops.

Still, she exits the kitchen and approaches him with her usual soft, empathetic voice. She can't help it, she'll never stop babying him, and she'd rather have him not see that whole ordeal. "I'm sorry, Jude. They tried not to wake you. Let's go back to bed, they're alright."

He doesn't protest as she walks him up the stairs, but he doesn't seem freaked out, either, as she expected. He's actually just curious. "Why was Brandon's dad like that? I thought he was nice."

"Ah," she flounders, because she does know why, but Jude doesn't have to know. He doesn't have to know about all the horrible adult world things, not yet. "I don't know, buddy." They stop in front of his door and she pats him on the back, urging him in to the room. "Now go get some sleep."

His hand is on the knob but he stops. "Hey, Callie?"

"Yeah?"

He isn't sad as he says it, it's almost as if he's reminiscing on some fine summer memory, something positive. But it's not something positive, he's just been so torn apart and broken by the world that he's practically numb. "That kind of reminded me of-"

"I know." she agrees, stopping him from finishing that sentence. They don't need to dwell on it. "I know. Sweet dreams."

"Alright Jesus, get up!"

He groans and rolls over, checking his bedside clock. It's only seven thirty and he's not going to school, so he doesn't get why Lena is tearing the comforter off his body, cutting him with those dull daggers. "But-"

"You're suspended not sick, you do not get to sleep in while the rest have to go to school." She peels the sheets off of him and he suppresses a grumble as he slips off the side, standing around awkwardly, unsure of what she wants him to do. She nods to the door.

"What? Go eat breakfast. Then you can come back up, make your bed, then come back downstairs so we can figure out your punishment together."

"That's a lot of walking," he points out, but he's not trying to piss her off, he's quite serious, "why don't I just make my bed now, then go downstairs-"

She's on a short fuse, which isn't normal for her, but he's not yet aware of the night's events. "Go."

He slinks out of his room and downstairs, which is already void of all siblings, the car in the driveway gone. Lena, right behind him, sees where he's looking and explains, "I'm going in a little late so that we can sort things out before I leave."

"Great." he drones, and steps into the kitchen, where Stef is sitting, pretending to read a newspaper, but she keeps going over the same line, and she can hear the words in her head but all she can think about is Mike. She looks up only when he enters.

"Cereal's gone." she tells him, just as he's heading to get some, "You'll have to have toast. I need to go grocery shopping today."

"You kidding?"

"Hey," Lena warns, taking a seat next to Stef, who acknowledges her company with a squeeze of her hand, "that's what happens when you pick fights with people."

He snatches the loaf of bread off the counter and proceeds to unwind the twist tie and asks, "Why are you guys acting like it was mindless? I told you, I was defending our family. The whole school knows about everything!" He slams two pieces of bread in the toaster and turns. "And I wasn't picking a fight, that jerk was. Wouldn't you have done the same?"

They're in sync. "No."

"I meant if you were my age."

They don't miss a beat. "No."

He huffs, still sleepy and not in the mood, but Lena goes on, "Look, Jesus, we see that you've missed a few pills. Why aren't you taking them? You know what happens when you don't."

"This is not even related, I would've thrown that kid out of his seat even if I had taken my pill!"

His toast pops up prematurely and he flips around angrily, jamming the tray back down, but it just pops back up again, clearly broken. He tears the soft bread out of it and looks at them, not amused. "Do you see what I've been forced to go through?"

"Must be hard, Jesus," Stef agrees sarcastically, standing to retrieve her third cup of coffee, but Lena is a little more serious about the situation. "Just eat your breakfast, take your pill, and go make your bed. You're grounded for a week-"

"What?" he cuts her off, mouth full of white bread, "but I'm only suspended for two days!"

"Listen to your mother, Jesus." Stef says, setting him with a look, though she's remained surprisingly uninvolved this whole conversation. He watches her as she returns to her seat, flips through that dirty, old newspaper, long strands of hair sneaking out of her bun and into her eyes. She's wiped out. They both are, now that he comes to think of it. He sighs as he shuffles to the fridge, praying to God that there's still at least some juice left, when his foot kicks something across the floor. It clips the trashcan and they all watch as he bends over and holds it up to them, a tiny shard of glass that catches the early morning sunlight. "Did somebody break something? It's a piece of glass."

"Careful," Lena jumps up quickly and takes it from him, dumping it in the trashcan in record time, as if it's a time bomb. "Do you see any more on the floor?"

"No," he says slowly, eyeing the two suspiciously. "What happened? Is this why you guys are so grumpy?"

Lena looks to Stef, silently telling her that this is something she should tell him, if she wants. She glances at her watch. "I better be going. I'll see you guys later. Don't forget to do your homework, Jesus."

"Right." he assures, but he'll be doing it all in SSR, that's something that'll never change. He turns to the remaining mother and raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to explain, but what she offers is short and vague.

"Listen, Jesus, if you see Mike, just...just don't talk to him, okay? Just not right now. And if you see him, come and get me. He came by last night and he's just not in the right state of mind, but I promise you it's not forever." He's more interested than ever now, and she sighs, runs a hand through her disheveled hair and adds, "It's nothing to worry about it, he's not dangerous or anything but you kids don't have to get involved, okay?"

But it does sound like something to worry about it. "Well what happened?"

She stands and leaves her mug in the sink, and ruffles his hair as she walks past him, as if he's just a young boy again. "Hey, don't worry about it. And don't tell Lena I told you this, but thanks for defending our honor."

She curves around the staircase and heads back up to her room, and its only then that Jesus realizes what she's done, and he calls up at her from the kitchen, "Hey, that trick doesn't work anymore!" He should've seen that one coming, distracting him with the quick topic change. He'll just have to ask Brandon about it later.

Callie's out the car door before he can even put it in park.

He didn't exactly expect her to wait up for him, but it's too obvious to ignore the fact that she really doesn't want to talk to him, even after all that went down last night. Jude and Mariana climb out of the car next, barely saying their own goodbyes before taking off somewhere else. He locks the car and takes off after her, barely catching her before she's consumed by the mass of bodies in the hallway.

"Hey, can we talk?" he asks as he saves her from the jaws of the monster, gently pulling her by the arm back into the garden. She looks down at his hand, which he draws away at that very moment, then back up at him. With pursed lips, she hikes her sliding backpack back over her shoulder and holds onto the strap with both hands. "Last night," he begins, seeing as she's not going to do much talking, but she shakes her head and cuts him off there.

"Look, Brandon, I don't want you getting the wrong idea. I wanted you to know that I was there for you, as a friend," she emphasizes, slowing her speech in attempt to better get her point across, but he's never been easily deterred, "and I'm sorry about what happened with your dad. Really."

He looks upset as she says this, but he tells her, "All I was going to say was I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sure it didn't do you any good."

"It's nothing new to me." she says automatically, and it's already too late when she catches herself, so she turns on her heel without another word and tries to take off again, but he seizes her arm once more.

"Wait, Callie, I didn't know," he's able to get her to face him but her eyes are at her feet now, avoiding that intense gaze that somehow always manages to exorcise all her secrets, no matter how hard she resists. "I didn't know your dad-"

"And you don't need to."

"You said he...but I didn't know he was..."

"An alcoholic?" she finishes for him, a little too harsh, even for her, "Yeah, well, I knew, and I still let him go out with my mom every night, knowing she would let him drive, anyway."

He can't believe how ridiculous she's being, he can't believe that someone can hate themselves so much that they'll take the blame for something that's out of their control. It hurts him inside to know that all these years she's lived with this guilt, all these years she's hated herself but managed to put on a brave face for Jude, took care of Jude as if she could live without the care for herself. She was forced to live without something she needed more than anything. "Callie, you were only a kid, you probably didn't even know what an alcoholic was-"

But she won't hear it. "I want to be your friend, Brandon, and this is not something I'd talk about with any friend."

When she darts off towards the hallway, he darts after her, stopping her one last time next to a vending machine. She looks to the sky, lips pressed together so that her bottom one is almost curling under, and she looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here, but he assures her, "I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about it. Only if you want to. I really just want to know why my dad was like that."

This makes her meet his eyes, and her features pull together in confusion. "I don't know any more than you do."

"You were watching long before I came down, Callie," he reminds her, almost chiding, "You heard more than me. Something...something made him snap. That wasn't him."

She swallows softly, feeling less cornered now that the focus is no longer on her, though she'd still prefer a different topic, if there had to be one at all. She hesitates. "This is not the place to talk about it."

"I deserve to know, he's my dad."

"I know," she agrees, but she won't tell him. She won't be the one to ruin his day, if it's not already ruined. "But it's not my place to tell you. It's something your mom should tell you and I'm sure she will soon."

He opens his mouth to badger her more but suddenly Talya's behind him, greeting the duo meekly, and her hair is less vibrant and she doesn't even attempt a smile and she clings to Brandon instantly and now Callie's the third wheel. But she tries her best. "Hey, Talya, I'm really sorry to hear about your dad." She doesn't know if bringing him up is the right thing to do, but it's all she can think of with the redhead standing there so glumly.

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be here today," Brandon says before Talya can even acknowledge Callie's sympathy, so whether she was going to or not remains a mystery, but Callie doesn't stick around any longer to find out.

"I better get my books, and stuff," she excuses herself awkwardly, smiling so phony, and disappears in the sea of students in a matter of seconds. It has to be a new record. Brandon watches her go, so desperate for that info, he's not sure if he'll be able to offer Talya the attention she wants. But Talya speaks first.

"Yeah, my mom thought it'd be good for me. You know, to do some normal stuff." she explains, trying to fight through the hoarseness of her voice, but it's clear she's already getting run-down. "She even said I could somewhere after school. Maybe we could do something?"

"I don't know," he says tentatively, trying to make it seem like he doesn't mind her attached to his arm, but every time she does something like this it reminds him that he basically cheated on her. And now's not the time to fess up about it. Every little action is a painful reminder of what he's done. "I've got a lot to do."

Her face falls and she says, "Oh, okay, that's alright." But it's obviously not.

"How about this weekend?" he offers up quickly, and she straightens her body, and a little smile makes its way onto her face, and something inside of him explodes. He'd say it's his heart but as of right now he's not sure he has one. "Saturday?"

She nods and loops her arm through his. "Saturday works."

And there's not an ounce of sarcasm as he says it, but there's a hidden emotion in his voice, there's a hidden history of serious conversations and romantic undertones and a couple of kisses and a foster girl and he knows that this is his punishment for sinning, this is his own karma. "Great."

Next week on The Fosters:

Stef is cleared to return to work

Jesus meets somebody new, who may or may not be good for him

and more

All new, Monday, September 16th