A/N: I have never tried anything in the first person before, so please let me know if you think this works or not. Also Jude here is more cynical and hard than in the show..I'm curious as to what people think.

When Connor is happy, really happy, he has this cocky way of smiling that somehow makes you feel everything is exactly like it needs to be. I think he got it from his dad- who isn't such a bad guy actually. In fact I'm sure that smile helped the guy close zillions of dollars worth of real estate, because when you see that smile you're sure that not only is this guy OK, but so are you, as is everything you do.

So when the Chairman of the Education Board called Callie's name and she walked to the platform, accepted her diploma from Monte and shook mama's hand as well, I glanced at Connor and he gave me that damn smile.

Between watching Callie graduate and getting that smile from Connor, I felt like someone had just reached through my chest and filled my stomach with the warmest and best chocolate a person could find.

I wasn't surprised that I could feel so happy for Callie, but Connors ability to reach me, no matter how often he does it, has always taken my breath away.

And that is a big deal because for most of the time I was growing up, I was a quiet kid, who read a lot of books and thought a lot of thoughts, but kept mostly to myself. In fact I learned early on that it was useful to not be seen. I was a little lucky that way, it was easy for me to put on a good front, because I was good with words. In fact when I was younger, I would think of words as my friends. I liked them. They were useful.

Now when I think about words, I always think about a poem Callie showed me by a guy named Frost. From what i gather, Frost wasn't a nice guy- but I don't think being an artist requires that you be a good person. Just like you don't need to be a good person to be a good surgeon.

Anyways, the poem's point is that boundaries are necessary. Frost writes 'fences make good neighbors.' Well to me word's were, and still can be, a type of fence. I used them to show people where I stood and where they should stand. It set a boundary. I also used words like a fence, to pretty things up, to hide things and I guess only show people what I wanted them to see. I grew up using words like that. I had to, it was my way of trying to control my world.- to make it better- for me. Otherwise, things could get pretty dicey.

Its a handy skill, sort of like carpentry, building a fence out of words, that is. But a fence is pretty useless unless there is a gate, right. I mean you have to get in and out. Yet somehow I missed that lesson.

Come to think of it I'm not sure if Frost built his fences with gates, like I said he wasn't a very nice guy. I know I never did. But if you don't have a gate, what happens if your world catches on fire, or somebody needs to get inside. It wasn't a big concern to me at first. I figured, if it was hard to get in, then the only people who would bother would be people who really cared and meant well. I still sort of think that's true, but why I am bothering with this story is that it turns out that gates are pretty useful. Unfortunately growing up in foster care sometimes you miss out on crucial things. In my case I learned early to keep people out and only very slowly how to let people in. So take that Mr. Frost, fences may make good neighbors, but only if they have a gate.

Now, I don't think I could have done this whole fence thing without Callie. You see, throughout our long foster career she was sort of like the scouts or the rangers of an army, running around like mad, sussing out any danger conducting lightning offensive strikes, keeping people off balance. I would just sort of hang back and sit on the fence and observe the mayhem she'd created. And yeah, occasionally I'd lob a few zingers from my well fortified position. What we did wasn't without its dangers, but its not like two kids without money or parents have a lot of good choices. She took it in the neck sometimes, and I felt bad, but its what she knew how to do, just like building fences is what I knew best. We both survived as best we could and as a far as brother sister acts go, it wasn't half bad. I think all told we did better than most.

Oh yeah, I have to mention this also, she was the best PR man the world has seen since PT Barnum- at least as far as promoting my interests. You see Callie and I are both really observant, partly from necessity. Except with Callie, what she sees goes straight to her feelings. So she can suss out good or bad, quicker than anybody and she moves like a bat using sonar when she has too. It is all feelings driven. and pretty much immediate. I, however, see things and they bounce around in my head and I don't let it until I have words that say what I need them to say. This always amazed Callie, she thought of it like some special or magical quality.

The admiration is mutual really, I'm awestruck at her ability to act immediately on feelings. I think its why she is a good photographer. She sees, she feels, she clicks- boom from her heart to yours. Me I see, and wait and wait and wait, and then something pops out. If it's useful I say it, if not, I just file it away.

So to Callie, I was this amazing creature who put into words things she felt and whom she needed to protect, because thinking things through isn't usually the best way to win a street fight. And who was I too argue? She's my older sister, and I had no parents.

Things sort of worked OK, for a while, well, not really, but we could both pretend that it was OK, until we got to Johnson's in San Ysidro, that's when everything started to fall apart.

You see Callie was now 15 and she had nice curves and a great smile, which is all some guys want right? Your not suppose to talk that way about your sister, but I don't think anyone would argue the point with me, and Callie is pretty direct so I don't think she would mind. I guess a better way to say it is that she had become a woman, even if she still was a kid.

For most of our lives we had both mostly been ignored, so I guess she enjoyed it when the attention started, at least for a half minute or so. Unfortunately, she quickly found out why some societies require bur quas —not that I think it would have helped. By the time we got to Johnson's, well, the gig was up. Callie had taken a couple of hard hits- the extent of which, given I was about 11 at the time, I didn't fully understand. What I did know is that she was hurting and my outer ring of defense might be on the way down. I also had seen this Johnson guy with his wife and he was a nasty piece of work. The bad news really started when the wife left, not that she was a saint, or protected us; she was bitter and had a vile potty mouth, but after she left, Johnson focused his rage on Callie. So I wanted out of there. I had a sense that Callie was close to a real breaking point, and i figured if Callie could get us kicked out of the Olmstead's then I could get us out of Johnson's.

You see Callie's story is that the guy went after me because I was wearing his wife's dress and then she went after him, and he, being the gentleman he was, returned the favor and went after her, Sort of like a vicious game of ping pong, back and forth, back and forth. At some point she got tired of the game picked up a bat and redecorated his car. Actually there is more to it than that, and it is sort of important.