Grounded (Happens sometime in late season 2, when Wyatt is back and they are dating again.)

Callie waited for the house to be silent. She listened for the sounds of Lena's door closing, Mariana's even breathing, no more pounding on the keyboard from Brandon, and Jude and Jesus's laughter morph into loud snores. Tonight was perfect for her purposes. With Stef working a late night shift, probably just doing paperwork at her desk, it was an amazing opportunity to engage in some old-fashioned teenage rebellion: sneaking out. She had gotten a text from Wyatt earlier that day. He had a friend with an older brother who had just turned 21, and he bought a huge supply of beer to sell to his underage friends. Wyatt and a few others invested in the illegal elixir and planned a small rave on the beach at midnight on a Thursday. For Callie, this could not have worked out better. Or so she thought.

Once 11:45 was plastered on all the clocks in the Adams Foster house, Callie grabbed her jacket and shoes and crept downstairs, succeeding in her goal of total silence. It was at the foot of the stairs that she donned her high tops and hoodie and slipped through the door, into the night.

She was making good time. Her feet swiftly glided on the pavement, cutting through backyards and hopping fences to make it to the beach on time. Once she saw the glowing, crackling bonfire, she knew she had arrived. Wyatt appeared, reaching out to hug her. His hand held two beers, and he offered one to her. She took it, sitting in the sand and taking off her shoes.

After one beer apiece, the two misfits moved away from the crowd and laid next to each other on the lukewarm sand.

"You sure know how to throw a party." Callie jokingly stated, turning her head to meet her boyfriend's gaze.

"I'm just glad you could make it." He responded simply. "It's nice to have a night where life doesn't get in the way." These words were true for both teens, submerged in mutual understanding as they smiled at each other.

"Agreed." Callie added.

"Hey, so beer is okay and all, but how about we try something a little stronger?" Wyatt inquired as he pulled a bottle of tequila from his jacket pocket.

Caught up in the moment, Callie agreed, snatching the bottle from him with a playful grin and took a swig of the newly opened bottle. They took turns handing it back and forth to one another, kissing and telling stories in between. They were in their own little world, just as they liked it, until they heard a panicked voice from the crowd near the bonfire.

"Dude! There's a cop car driving around! We've gotta run!" If Callie's judgement was not so impaired, she would have scampered off with her peers, away from the bright headlights of the cop car.

"Callie, come on!" Wyatt urged from his standing position, his hand outstretched to take hers.

"You go that way," She giggled, thinking this was some sort of game. She began to jog the other way. A flashlight in the distance scared Wyatt off, and Callie was left alone on the dark beach.

"What the hell?" A distant voice called. Callie heard the clink of the beer bottles as they made contact with a policeman's boot.

"Damn kids." The low, gravelly voice spoke again.

A second voice rang through the darkness. "A real idiot move. Drinking hard liquor by a lazily constructed bonfire." From Callie's hiding place behind a large rock, her brain clicked on again and she recognized the second cop's voice: it was her mother, Stef.

Just as she felt the panic seep in, the tide crashed near the rocks, effectively soaking her feet, jeans, and a portion of her shirt. The cold ocean water stung on her skin, and as she shivered, she slipped on a slick rock and gasped.

"I think I hear one of them!" The first officer shouted. He shined his flashlight towards the rocks, but Callie was able to stay hidden. "I think they ran over here, Stef." The man said, trudging in the sand, past Callie's hiding place.

"Okay, Smith." Stef called after him. "I'm going to check this area again." Stef had then come across something quite interesting. "The hell?" She bent down in the sand to pick up the high top sneakers. Callie peered over the rock at Stef, who was holding up her shoes, which she had discarded earlier that night. Callie heard her mother mutter something under her breath as she paced towards the rocks, and towards Callie. The light clicked on and Callie was revealed, her eyes full of fear.

"Let's go." Stef's voice was cold and unforgiving. Her hand wrapped around Callie's right wrist and she felt herself being dragged across the beach. Without another word, Stef led Callie to the police car, opened the passenger door, sat Callie down, and moved to the other side where she took her own seat, locking all doors of the car. She tapped her radio.

"Smith, I have to go. Family emergency. Be safe, okay?" She received a response before turning to her daughter. "What the hell are you doing Callie? Do you even comprehend what…" Her voice trailed off as she glanced at her daughter's left wrist. On one side of it was a large, bleeding gash. Her heart raced.

"What is…?" Stef tried to communicate.

"I… slipped… on the rock…" Callie looked down at it. She hadn't really noticed it, but looking at the severe gash made it start to throb. Callie watched as Stef's arm crossed her body, grabbing the seat belt and strapping it over her daughter. She reached in the backseat, grabbing a police sweatshirt and holding it to Callie's wound.

"You keep that on, do you understand me?" She said seriously before turning her attention to the road. She backed out of her parking space and drove out of the parking lot. She turned left, knowing that turning right would lead them home. She drove fast, and Callie yelped from the pain.

"Shh … It's gonna be okay, baby. I'm taking you to the ER."