Note: I decided to go for it and expand this into a longer story! It will mostly be about Brallie, but I'll be touching on some other themes as well, including Callie's current identity crisis. Stay tuned!

Chapter 2.

There was so much Callie wanted to say to Brandon. So much more he needed to hear, now that he knew how she really felt. But before she could take her next breath, a nurse charged into the room, followed closely by Stef and Lena.

"What happened?" the nurse asked.

"He woke up!" Stef cried. She let out a sob; apparently a sob of joy. "Brandon! Oh, honey!"

Callie stepped aside as Stef rushed to her son's side and kissed him, wrapping him in an awkward hug.

"Ugh," he groaned, becoming even paler, if possible. He was already white as a sheet.

"Right. The ribs," Stef apologized. "Sorry. But B., I'm just so glad you're with us a again."

"We were so scared," Lena added. "This is... a miracle."

"It was Callie," he told them. "She woke me up."

His moms turned to look at Callie with surprise, and Stef grabbed her into a hug.

"Whatever you did, love," she said, taking Callie's face between her hands, "thank you."

Callie smiled as her foster mother kissed her forehead.

"You must have the magic touch," she added with a wink.

"Brandon," Lena cautiously ventured, placing her hand on his arm, "who did this to you? Do you remember?"

Brandon closed his eyes for a moment, as if it hurt to think or speak. His head was foggy, and he was unsure of how much time had passed since his attack, but he clearly remembered the other boy's vengeful face as he came at him. He remembered falling to the ground, his hands on the damp pavement. He remembered coughing up blood. Finally, his eyes fluttered open again, and he glanced around the room, from Stef, to Callie, to Lena. "It was Vico," he finally told them with certainty.

"Are you positive it was him?" Stef asked, looking him in the eye. "I mean, without a doubt?"

"Yes," he answered. "It was him."

"I knew it," Stef breathed, brushing away fresh tears. "I'll be right back, I'm going to go make some quick calls. Hopefully, he'll be behind bars tonight." She turned, and briskly walked away.

"I'll come with you, honey," said Lena, following her with her hand on her back.

Once they were gone, Callie was left in the room with just Brandon and the nurse. She stood in the corner, trying to make herself small. Her nostrils burned with the acrid smell of disinfectant. She hated, hated, hated hospitals. They reminded her of everything painful in her life; her mom's final minutes as she slipped away, giving into her head injuries, the beating she had once taken from a foster father, which caused internal bleeding, Stef's shooting, and now this. As memories of every tragedy she'd ever lived through replayed in her head, the walls seemed to close in, and she breathed shallowly through her nose, trying to filter the hospital smell.

"Now that you're up, I'll need to check your vitals," the nurse told Brandon. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a bus," he replied in a strained voice. He lifted his head a few inches to look up at Callie, and she went back to his side, and touched her hand to his shoulder. Comforted by her touch, he rested his cheek against it. "You're hands are cold," he told her.

""Sorry," she apologized, withdrawing it.

"Don't," he said, stopping her. "It... felt nice."

Callie smiled, and brushed her hand across his forehead, over his swollen cheek. Her mother always had cold hands. She used to say; 'cold hands, warm heart.' And when Callie or Jude had a fever, she would always press her hand to their foreheads. Somehow, it always made them feel better.

"When can I go home?" Brandon finally asked. Callie thought he looked sad.

The nurse frowned, a pained look clouding her face. "I'm sorry, hon, but not for a little while. You're injuries are pretty severe. You have a nasal fracture, a few fractured ribs, and a broken hand."

"My hand-" Brandon cut her off as he looked down at his side. His jaw clenched as he tried to lift his arm from the bed. He couldn't. He looked up at Callie as his eyes were shiny with tears.

"My hand... no!... the symphony."

Callie quickly darted her eyes away as she started to cry again. She had the impulse to leave the room; to run far away so he wouldn't see her that way. But she knew she needed to stay. He needed her.

"Don't cry, Brandon," she whispered, taking his good hand in her's. She reached over and took a tissue from the box on the bedside table, then used it to dry his eyes.

"It's okay," she said in a soothing voice. "It will be okay. Your hand will heal, and you'll play piano again. You'll see."

She glanced up at the nurse, expecting her to back her up, but the young woman made no reply. Her eyes were vacant and distant. Callie knew that look. It was the look she used, when she wanted to avoid something that she didn't want to discuss. And that scared her.

Looking back down at Brandon, she ran her fingers through his dark, messy waves, but her fingertips caught in a matted clump of hair. Looking closer, she realized it was dried blood, and her heart ached. "Don't cry," she repeated. "Please."

Just then, Stef and Lena returned to the room, looking distraught.

"What happened?" Callie asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Vico is under arrest for assault," Stef replied. "But I don't know for how long. Chances are, his parents will bail him out." She turned to her son, and touched her hand to his forehead, much like Callie had done earlier. "Do you need anything, honey?"

"No, thanks. I... I just want to be alone right now," he mumbled, laying his head back against the pillow.

"I think that's a good idea," the nurse agreed. "He needs his rest, and the doctor will be making his rounds soon."

"Okay. We'll let you rest, B.," Stef told him, pulling his sheet up around him and tucking him in. "We'll see you tomorrow, honey." Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. If she noticed he was crying, she didn't say anything. "I love you."

"Feel better," said Lena, giving him a kiss. "Love you."

Callie looked to Stef and Lena, then back at Brandon. Then, bending down, she quickly gave him a half-hug and a peck on the cheek. "Bye," she told him. Then, she mouthed the words; "I love you," so only he could see.

Once they were out in the hall, Callie stopped the nurse before she could walk away. "Wait," she said. "You didn't tell him he'll play piano again. You didn't say his hand will heal. It will. Won't it?"

The nurse paused, and looked carefully at Stef and Lena, studying their tired faces.

"We want to know the truth," Stef nodded. "Please."

Sighing, the young woman looked down at her clipboard. "The truth is that his fingers are broken, as well as quite a few small bones in his hand. The doctor isn't at all sure he'll regain full mobility of that hand. There may be some nerve damage."

"Oh," Stef gasped, as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"But there's hope, right?" Lena asked. "Brandon is young and healthy."

"It's just too soon to know," the nurse explained. "If he does regain mobility, it will take a long time and a lot of hard work."

"So he might as well forget the symphony," Callie realized out loud, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Turning, she hurried out of the hospital and to the car.

That evening, once everyone was seated at the dinner table, Stef and Lena looked around at the kids as they served themselves from the dishes of food. They shared a silent look, as they prepared to tell their children about their visit with Brandon.

"Kids," Stef finally began, with a grim expression, "we need to have a family meeting."

Callie picked at her meatloaf, not daring to look up. If she did, she might cry. She knew what the family meeting was about. She'd heard the bad news once already, and she dreaded hearing it again, knowing it wouldn't become any easier to accept.

"What's up?" Mariana asked, taking a bite of salad. "How's Brandon?"

"Actually," Stef continued with a small smile, "he woke up today."

"He did?" Mariana cried, raising her voice above Jude and Jesus's cheers. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Well, sweets," Stef replied, her smile falling into a frown, "we found out some new information about his injuries, and, the truth is, it doesn't sound very good. Brandon's hand might be permanently damaged." Her voice quavered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "If that's the case, his piano career may be over, and that's going to be pretty hard for him to take."

Mariana looked down, and Jesus and Jude nodded sympathetically. "That's not fair," Mariana finally concluded.

"No, it isn't," Lena agreed. "Sometimes, terrible things happen in life. But we have to accept them. The important thing is that he's alive."

"But piano is his whole life!" Mariana argued. Tears glistened in the corners of her dark eyes.

"Well, we're going to do everything we can to help him cope," Stef assured her. "When he comes home, he's going to need all of our love and support, so we're going to need all hands on deck."

"May I be excused?" Callie asked quietly. No one heard her, so she repeated herself a little louder.

"You didn't touch your dinner," Stef told her, looking concerned. "All you did was pick it apart. You feeling okay?"

"I'm just not hungry," Callie shrugged, looking at her foster mother through a curtain of hair, that hung in her face. "Please."

"Let her go," Lena whispered to her wife.

"Alright," she nodded. "Go ahead, baby."

"Thanks," Callie mumbled, hurrying to her room. When she got there, she went to her bed and flopped down on her stomach. Once her face was buried in her pillow, she began to cry hard, her shoulders shaking violently, her sobs muffled so no one would hear.

To Be Continued