Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm working on other stuff but baby Chare'ya Wright is breaking my heart with those little sobs of her. Every time she cries I'm on the verge of tears myself. So, here's a little introspective piece from sweet Daphne, someone I want to find happiness as well (and she doesn't find it in this story. Sorry)

Daphne could feel herself trembling as Tasha's foster mom stomped off. She stroked Tasha's back, her head, her tiny little foot as the baby sobbed mournfully in the social worker's arms.

The woman patted the tiny girl's back and looked at Daphne regretfully. She was sorry this had happened. She saw how excited the girl had been to see her baby. Still, a part of her was relieved. Daphne was too unsure of herself to make a big deal about this. If she were more politically savvy, she could make trouble for DSHS. They were supposed to make sure things like this didn't happen. She sighed again. Tasha was one of twenty-seven kids on her caseload. She was supposed to have twenty-one – at the most. Tasha had also been one of her easiest. She hadn't been physically or sexually abused and had adapted very well to her foster home. She looked at Daphne as Tasha's sobs tapered down, "here honey, why don't you take her?"

Daphne reached over and clasped Tasha to her. Tasha lay her little head on Daphne's chest and Daphne felt her heart constrict. Oh G-d, oh G-d. That's where she had put her head when she was just a baby. She'd lay there on her chest and just fall asleep and Daphne'd be so afraid to wake her that she wouldn't move – just lay there – just listen to her baby as she breathed so sweet and steady. Hours. Daphne's eyes filled wit h tears and she looked at Callie a little helplessly.

Callie smiled at her, just a little one, but one that expressed her support. "You wanna go back to the sandbox?"

Daphne nodded, feeling Tasha's shuddery sighs as if they were an actual physical pain.

Rafael looked at the social worker after the girls had left. "That shouldn't have happened," he said.

The social looked at him worriedly. "I know. It won't. She must've followed me or something."

"If it happens again, I'm going to recommend that Daphne make a complaint," he said. "I still might."

They looked at one another, sizing each other up. Finally the social worked sighed, "we're on the same side."

"I'm on her side," he said flatly. "You have to many other bases to cover."

She shook her head, wondering again why she did this job, "one of them is hers. And Tasha's." She didn't wait for him to reply but walked away to stand near the shadows of the building, enough to get out of the heat, but well in eyesight of the three girls playing in the sandbox. Tasha was listlessly lifting sand in the air with the shovel, looking at her mother apprehensively as if to ask what she was doing with this stranger.

Daphne watched her, the tentativeness on her face displaying her uncertainty even more then her earlier request to hug her own child.

The social worker's lips tightened. Reuniting families was supposed to be the good part of her job but it hurt as much as everything else.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Daphne walked into her apartment, locking the door behind her and leaning her forehead against the scratchy wood. She closed her eyes tightly. The police had scared her. They knew it too. She tried to be calm, tried to think of Tasha but that only made her more scared because all she could think about was losing her. They'd gone away but she could feel the threat of them in her very bones.

She shuffled over to her bed, shedding clothes as she went. She felt too sick to eat. Crawling under the covers she shivered and shivered and shivered. Even with the blanket on she felt cold.

The darkness was oppressive but even so, she was glad the lights were off. At least she didn't have to see the pathetic nature of her home. Home. What a fucking joke. This was a home? It was good enough for someone like her, but it wasn't nearly good enough for Tasha. It was a damn hole with pipes that leaked and heat that could only be counted on to be infrequent. The paint was peeling in all the rooms and even though it was mostly clean, it reeked of pathos…just like her. She tried to close her eyes, weary almost to death. She should be studying for a chemistry test but she was pretty sure she was going to fail. She didn't know half of the formulas but even though she had tried to memorize them over and over again, their meaning was uncertain. She'd always know she was stupid and that was just becoming more evident the longer she was in school. She had no chance of graduating. Who was she trying to fool?

She thought of that foster lady's face as she yelled at her, then how her face had changed, softened after she had held Tasha. If you care about Tasha you should let her go. Let her go? Tasha was her baby. She had carried her for nine months. She'd stopped drinking, stopped using. She'd run away from her gang. Tasha was everything...the only thing she'd ever done right. Unwillingly her thoughts were pulled to Callie. She'd seen the misery on Callie's face whenever she talked about Robert and even though she'd tried to tell her to ease up, she'd known Callie hated it. Hated him in some ways. She wanted to be with Stef and Lena. Wanted to be with her moms. Oh G-d was she doing that to Tasha? Was she doing that to her baby? Only thinking of what she wanted, not Tasha?

Her room was probably real pretty. Probably painted all cute. She probably had tons of toys. And she had two parents. Two. Ones that were grown up. Who had jobs and had probably finished school and had their fucking lived in order. Who was she to mess that up? Who was she?

"I'm Tasha's mommy. I'm Tasha's mommy," she whispered, tears trickling down her face. "I love her more than anything. Anything." She sobbed quietly, a habit she was unable to break even though there was nobody around to punish or make fun of her for doing it anymore. She rubbed at the tears furiously, trying to push them away. Maybe…maybe she needed to stop being selfish. Maybe she needed to give Tasha the chance she had never had. The chance Callie was fighting for. Parents who loved her and would take care of her. Isn't that what a real parent did? Do what's best for their kid? Daphne sobbed a little, pulling the covers over her face. The world was so big and Tasha was so little. She needed people on her side, making sure she didn't get lost

Daphne rocked a little as she wept. She wished she had Tasha. She wished she had parents. She wished she had someone that would tell her that things would be alright. That she was good enough to do something with her life. That she would be an exception to the thousands of foster kids that aged out of the system and were left homeless. She wished… she wished she mattered. To anyone.