A/N: So... I'm not even sure who was actually able to read the last chapter of this, since I posted it a few hours before the website died for like, 4 days. If you didn't get an alert or weren't able to read Chapter 11 because of the site fail, it's there. :) Then after you get caught up you can read this one, which near about broke my heart to write. You'll see why. And don't worry, I promise this fic will see happy days. Seriously, you have my word on it, it's not going to be this depressing and doomcloudy forever. But you know what they say... when it rains, it pours. Enjoy, and leave a review letting me know what you think.

By the way, the song you will encounter later is "Family Business" by Kanye West. Just an FYI.

She says things are fallen into place
Feels like they're fallen apart
I painted this big ol' smile on my face
To hide my broken heart
If only she knew
This is where I don't say
What I want so bad to say
This is where I want to,
But I won't get in the way...

- Ready, Set, Don't Go, Billy Ray Cyrus

Brennan woke with a start the next morning, eyes shooting awake as if someone had sounded a loud buzzer. The room was quiet, though, save for her breathing and his. Very quickly her brain assimilated the previous night's events—she came over, brought him dinner, he detonated, and they had somehow ended up here. She was relieved when she realized all of her clothes from the night before were still on, right down to the earrings tugging at her lobes.

She lay curled into his shape like two crescent moons, one of his arms draped around her, the other underneath the pillow they shared. It was a tight fit, and she could feel his slow, hot breaths blowing on the nape of her neck where his face was nuzzled into her hair. She couldn't help but love the way it felt, and she smiled. One of her hands was resting near her face, while the fingers of the other were entwined in his. Had they really slept that way all night?

She knew she needed to get up, to assess and possibly begin damage control. She knew she should but she didn't want to—she was perfectly fine next to him, feeling him rise and fall against her back, fitted into the spaces between his fingers. It must have been early in the morning; the room was filled with the hazy grey-blue of the early morning, making everything that much softer, that much more serene. With everything cast into cool tones the room seemed to glow with a soft stillness that didn't really exist. It couldn't really exist.

She sighed, and something about it must have screamed, "I'm awake!" to Booth's subconscious, because his breathing halted, then sped up. They were not the easy breaths of sleep any longer—they were calculated and counted, like she could feel the pulse of his mind racing with each one. She decided she would still pretend to be asleep, and let him react naturally. Then she would know.

He didn't seem to react at all, other than that he raised his head slightly, then settled it back down on the pillow directly behind hers, and resumed breathing on the back of her neck. She wondered how long they would both lay like that, each pretending they were still asleep just to feel the other. She thought she might be able to keep it up for the rest of the morning if given the opportunity, but opportunity was whisked out the door when the phone in her back pocket rang loudly. They both jumped, and the ruse was over. She slipped her hand between them to reach for the phone and felt it brush the length of his abdomen as she did. He suppressed a shudder, as did she.

"Brennan," she said quietly into the receiver, though not sure why—she knew he was awake, and he knew she knew.

"Dr. Brennan, hi there," a vaguely familiar voice chirped over the line. "This is Cindy, from social services. How are you?"

"I'm… fine," Brennan said after hesitating for a moment. Even though she had removed her hand to take the call, Booth's arm was still slung around her midsection, his fingers toying with the sheets in her hand's absence.

"Great," Cindy said quickly. "I actually have some news for you." Cindy did not elaborate, and there was a tense pause on the line.

"Yes?" Brennan said, waiting for her to continue.

"Jamal's aunt has filed for custody." Cindy expelled the sentence in a rush of breath, like she had been holding it just before. Brennan realized she was holding hers too.

"What?" she said, confused. Booth shifted slightly, presumably to better hear the other end of the line since his head was so close anyway. "I was told that Jamal's aunt was in a rehabilitation clinic for drug abuse."

"She was," Cindy said. "Three months ago when Jamal was first placed with you, she was still at the clinic in Arlington. A little over a month ago she was released from the program, and about a week ago she regained custody of her own two children."

"They let drug addicts have their children back?" Brennan asked, not knowing why she suddenly felt so hostile towards the social worker. Cindy seemed to sense her hostility, but reacted with, if possible, even greater sweetness and sincerity.

"She completed a six month program," Cindy explained. "Family Drug Court monitored her progress, and upon graduation from the program social services felt she earned back the right to her children. When a child can safely be reunited with their family, we always feel it is in the better interest of the child to do so."

"And now she wants custody of Jamal as well?" Brennan asked, feeling incredulous.

"Yes," Cindy said. "She is Jamal's next closest relation—well, his only relation actually, other than his father. She has shown an intense interest in taking custody of Jamal, and after reviewing her petition we believe she is both emotionally and financially stable."

"You're telling me," Brennan said, nostrils flaring, "that after being out of rehab for, what, a month? You think this woman is capable of raising children? You think a—a crack head is financially stable?" She felt hot and overcome with a sudden rush of emotion, and she sat up in the bed, running her free hand through her hair and shaking her head angrily. Booth still leaned on his side, looking up at her with his brows tightly knit.

"Dr. Brennan," Cindy said patiently, "I understand that after several months of care, foster parents form a particular attachment to their foster children. You're extremely concerned for Jamal's well being, that's natural. I can assure you, we are just as concerned. We only want what's best for Jamal."

"Then you're not going to grant her petition for custody," Brennan said. There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line.

"We already have."

oOoOoOoOo

The following afternoon Brennan drove across town with Jamal sitting in the passenger's seat, several bags of his belongings riding in the back behind them. Jamal practically put off an electric current, sitting upright in his seat and watching everything around them with interest. Brennan had spent the entire morning faking smiles—when she woke him up that morning, over their last breakfast together, packing his things into the car. Her face felt as if it had been contorted, twisted into knots. She wanted to smile genuinely, to be happy for his happiness, but she couldn't.

"Man, I love this song," Jamal said, reaching for the volume and turning it up. He sang along with the lyrics, bobbing his head. "This is family business, and this is for the family that can't be with us…" Brennan liked this song too, but not today. Today she wanted to throw Kanye West out the window, watch it shatter in the road through the rear-view mirror.

Before the song even ended they were parked in front of the social services building, and Jamal nearly flew out of the car towards the entrance. Brennan took her time, eyes pausing on each car in the parking lot. Which one was hers? Was she here yet? Would his things fit?

She was there, waiting for him in Cindy's office. She was a solidly built black woman with dark, shining obsidian skin, much unlike Jamal's coffee-and-creamer tone. She still wore her maid's uniform from work, and Brennan had to wonder how a Merry Maid could possibly afford to take care of multiple children. She must have had some other form of income. Probably welfare. Brennan hated herself for thinking it but there were a lot of things she hated in that moment, herself the least of them.

"My baby!" she nearly wailed, opening her arms and allowing the boy to step hesitantly into her reach. She pulled him tight and planted a kiss on his cheek, her eyes spilling over with tears. "Oh child I am so happy to see you, look at you! You're so big now!" Jamal nodded, but he looked over his shoulder at Brennan hesitantly. She felt the barely controllable urge to snatch him by the arm and drag him back to her car, to speed as far across town as they could as fast as they could. She wanted to take him home.

"All of the paperwork is settled, so you two are free to go," Cindy said cheerily, hands clasped in front of her. "Jamal, are your things in Dr. Brennan's car?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "They in the car."

"Well let's get 'em and go, baby," the woman said. "Yo' cousins can't wait to see you again!" Jamal grinned and all three of them followed Brennan out to the parking lot. Jamal's aunt whistled when she saw Brennan's car.

"Oh Lord," she said, impressed.

"She all kinda rich," Jamal explained.

"She bought you all them clothes?" his aunt asked, eyeballing the multiple duffle bags as Jamal and Brennan unloaded them, carrying them several spaces down to Talia's weather beaten Oldsmobile.

"Yes ma'am," Jamal said, slipping back into familiarity with every word exchanged with his aunt.

"I sho' hope you thanked her," Talia said as they tossed the luggage into her expansive trunk. It barely shut, and when it did, the four of them—Talia, Jamal, Cindy, and Brennan—stood awkwardly around the vehicle, staring at each other.

"I guess we be goin' then," Talia said, unlocking the doors. "Jamal, say goodbye." Jamal, who had been so upbeat and energetic before, suddenly looked like he would be sick. He looked up at Brennan, instinctively sticking his worn jacket sleeve into his mouth and biting down on it. Brennan opened her mouth like she would say something to the boy, but nothing came out. They just stood and stared at one another for a minute, before Jamal stepped towards her and hugged her around the middle. She bent down and gave him a proper hug, and he felt so small in her arms.

"Bye, doc," he said quietly into her ear, using the nickname she had once found petulant and disrespectful and nearly melting her with it.

"Bye, Jamal," she said, standing upright and looking up slightly. Jamal swallowed hard, then let himself into his aunt's car. Cindy and Brennan stepped away and let the car back out, and Brennan saw Jamal's head just barely visible in the car window, waving at her. She lifted one hand and waved back, and kept waving until the car was gone and so was he.

She exchanged a few words with Cindy before she got into her own car, leaning back into the seat and breathing hard. She stuck the key in the ignition, and the music picked up from where it left off.

They don't mean a thing
All, all, all the things
All these fancy things
I tell you that
(all the glitters is not gold)
All my weight in gold
Now all I know, I know
All these things…