I don't own anything, absolutely nothing. :(

"Hey Callie!" A voice called from behind her, "Wait up!" Callie Jacobs turned around to her foster-brother Brandon's voice.

"Yeah?" Probably not the most eloquent response. Even after nine months in the Foster home, she still wasn't necessarily great at talking.

"Do you think you could ride home with Mom today? Tayla needs a ride home, her parents are out-of-town." He looked upset, probably afraid he was letting her down.

"I'll probably just walk, my free period's today. I could make it to the house before school's even out." He looked at her, his face questioning, studying really, if he would be able talk her out of walking by herself. Brandon really had that whole older-sibling-protective thing down. "I'll be fine." She smiled half-heartedly, one side of her mouth raising.

Brandon seemed at least okay with her response, shot her a quick thank you and one-armed hug before running to his next class.

And that was how it all began.

Callie knew it wasn't Brandon's fault, it was hers. Bad luck followed Callie around like a starving dog who just spotted a bone. She should have seen the concern in Brandon's eyes, should have read that maybe it was a clue to just wait, and to get a ride with Lena and the other kids or even take the school bus.

It only took about ten minutes into the walk before she spotted him. A face she never wanted to see again. A face who spotted her right away. A face she had spotted too late, because it seemed like only seconds from the time she saw him to the time his hand was grasping her upper arm.

Surprisingly, although it probably shouldn't be her senses kicked into overdrive. The force of being pulled, the sound of her backpack falling to the ground, the smell of the damp alley, (because isn't that where things like this always happen?), and the sound of his voice. The soft silkiness that he used when he would sneak into her bedroom, hurt her. She had been fourteen, and him sixteen.

She hated him.

"Callie." Fear, god she was scared. She wanted to scream, to scream for the foster parents who she couldn't believe she had grown to trust. (Lena! Steph! Help me!) But they weren't going to help her. She wanted her foster brothers, Jesus and Brandon, always able to put a smile on her face, always looking out for her. God, she even wanted Mariana.

Really, she just wanted her family.

No! They weren't her family. She had to remember that. This wasn't permanent.

"Let me go Liam." Her voice didn't waver, she was great at acting like she wasn't scared. Juvie will do that to you.

He didn't bother answering her. The rest was a mixture of vivid and blurry images. The feeling of being slammed into the brick wall, her head rebounding only to be slammed back into it by her ex-foster brother. Her vision swam, her head ached and she screamed.

She screamed for Steph, for Lena, for Brandon, for anyone. But no one came. No one ever came.

She vaguely remembered the feeling of a hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her cries, with the low growl of shut up! shut up! accompanying it.

Most of the rest of the experience was a blur. Everything except the pain. And the words. The awful words, that words that made it her fault. The kicks, punches, and even the wounds left by the knife didn't hurt as much as the venom spewing from his mouth.

-The-Fosters-

Steph Foster was not having a good day. After having to put up with Mike all day, fighting with Lena and coming home to the chaos that had now become her life she was ready to crawl into bed and call it quits. But the Foster Mom wasn't a quitter and so there she sat at the kitchen table, listening to Mariana cry out her latest dilemma.

"Why would Hannah say something like that?" Steph said as calmly as possible, her attention solely on her daughter.

"I don't know mom, one minute we were just joking around and the next she was just freaking out."

"Maybe she's mentally ill." Jude stated as he walked into the kitchen to the fridge. The seriousness of his tone easily bringing a smile to Steph's face. How had he and his sister so easily wiggled a spot into her heart?

"Who's mentally ill?" Jesus asked, grabbing the drink Jude had just poured and taking it for himself.

"Hannah."

"Hey!" Jude made a grab for it back, only to be held out of reach by his taller foster-brother.

"Jesus, pour Jude another one, and apologize." Turning to the sound of the door opening and closing, she smiled as her son walked in. "Hey B, how was school?"

"Fine."

"What did you do today?"

"Nothing."

"Why do I get the same response from all five of you everyday. Obviously you do something in school."

"No we don't" At least Mariana was smiling again. Ahhh, to be a teenager again. Steph couldn't help but smirk.

"Hey Lena can we have pizza tonight?" Ruffling Jude's hair, she shot her wife a cursory smile.

"Well it is Friday…" She laughed as the smiles and shouts came from her children. "Now somebody go get Callie and see if she wants her Cinnamon stick things."

"Callie's not up there." Mariana said, her tone shocked.

"What do you mean Callie's not up there, where is she?"

"Didn't she come home with you?" Steph asked turning to Brandon.

"She said she was going to walk home, she's not back yet? Are you sure?"

Jude walked up to his blonde haired foster-mother, "I tried calling her cell phone, she's not answering. She's ok though, right?" The lines of worry would permanently be sketched onto this little boys face.

"Of course she is baby. She probably just stopped somewhere along the way and forgot what time it was."

Turning his head to look at her he replied, "Lena, she never does that."

Lena looked at her wife. Worry was starting to build in the pit of her stomach. She knew that the youngest was right, and she knew even before she had said the words as a means to comfort.

It didn't take anyone long to agree that Steph, along with Mike would follow the trace they had put in each off their children's cell phones to Callie and bring her home.

"You guys order the pizza and I'll be right back." Steph promised as she walked out of the house, only to be stopped by Lena.

"Be careful, alright."

"I always am." She replied with a quick kiss.

-The-Fosters-

It didn't take long for the GPS of Callie's phone to register that in all honesty she wasn't that far away. Only about a mile from the foster house itself. "Turn on your high beams, Mike. I can't see a thing." The rain had started abruptly, coming down hard and fast within minutes of the first drop.

"It says she's over that way." Grabbing her flashlight, she walked - just a bit grudgingly, into the rain. "Callie!"

Swinging her flashlight back and forth, she did her best to survey the scene in front of her. Only about a foot in front of her, she noticed a green and blue backpack. The green and blue backpack that belongs to Callie. Her panic rising, she screamed again "Callie!"

She stopped to listen but couldn't hear anything above the rain. She picked up the wet and muddy backpack, and swung it over her shoulder. Immediately she felt Mike by her side, and together she and her ex-husband, guns drawn, walked into the alley.

"Callie!"

"Steph." It wasn't the voice she want to hear, turning to her ex husband, she looked at his shocked face. Turning her gaze slowly, not wanting to see, she followed where he was staring at. Callie.

Her legs were running, and she thought she heard Mike say he was going to call an ambulance but she couldn't be sure.

Lifting the fifteen year old into her arms, she did her best to shield her from the rain. "Callie, baby, can you hear me?"

Callie's eyes fluttered open, and Steph released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Steph?" Her voice was raspy and soft.

"I'm right here baby." She couldn't help but pull her a little closer. "Who did this too you?"

"Steph?" Her voice was confused this time. Then recognition dawned on her.

"Steph," she started again "I think I'm dying."

"You are not dying, do you hear me? You're right hear with me. I'm right here and nothing is going to happen to you." Tears stung at the back of her eyes. The rain was starting to let up and she could hear Mike's footsteps behind her.

"I called an ambulance." She nodded briefly, keeping her attention on her foster daughter. Why was she still her foster daughter, they should have made it official months ago, but time had gotten in the way.

"Don't leave me." Callie pleaded her small hand clutching the shirt of her foster-mother. "I don't want to die alone."

"Your not dying. I'm not letting that happen." She was crying, the strong Stephanie Elizabeth Foster, was crying. She hadn't cried when she'd been shot in the line of duty, she hadn't cried when Mike walked out. But the sight of her child broken and bloodied in a dark alley, telling her she was dying was too much.

"Don't leave."

"I'm right here." Clutching her daughter closer.

Well, there it is, my first fosters fic.

This idea has been swimming in the back of my head for a few weeks, and I just couldn't get it out so here it is. The section has a lot of Brandon/Callie fictions and while I enjoy one every once in a while I wanted some non-romance bonding between not only them but the foster moms as well.

This BTW is not a death fic.

Review so I know if there's interest, I'm never sure with my writing...

Excuse any Grammer/Spelling Mistakes, if you can, I read through it a couple times and thought I caught most of them. Sorry if I didn't.