Alas, I do not own The Fosters.

Lena drove home in silence, counting on talking to Stef in order to try and put the pieces of the puzzle together or find a way to convince Mariana and Jesus to help them do so.

Needless to say, Lena was both relieved and confused when she saw her wife's car in the driveway when she got home. "Looks like Stef's home," she spoke her observation aloud, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She was glad she wasn't going to have to deal with this alone, glad to have the support of her wife.

Meanwhile in the back seat, Jesus was feeling something very different. Stef had to have figured out what he'd done. She must know what had happened. Why else would she be home? She would probably be waiting on the porch with his and Mariana's suitcases, their clothes already packed and ready to send to yet another home.

Mariana bit her nail nervously, her thoughts aligning with Jesus'. Stef wouldn't be home this early unless it was something big, right? She only wished she had better prepared herself for her wrath.

"Hey, honey, what are you doing home?" Lena called, stepping out of the car as she spied the blonde sitting on the stair leading up to the house.

"Got off a little early. Roberts is training some poor kid fresh out of the uni so they don't need me past four today. Figured we could get an early start on the weekend."

"That's great," Lena said, "but why are you sitting out here as opposed to in there?" she questioned.

Stef shrugged. "I don't know. It's a nice day; I figured I could use some fresh air."

"Mhm, you locked yourself out of the house again, didn't you?" Lena asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, not for a moment believing the phony story.

Stef sighed, defeated. "I hate our doors. Let's get new ones, ones that are easier to not get locked out of."

"Don't you go blaming the door, Stefanie; it is your own fault that you can't remember how to properly use a key."

"Oh wow, you just full-named me. Did you hear that, kids? Full-named. She's not messing around," she told Mariana and Jesus, who were silently standing behind Lena. Each tried to smile for the sake of keeping up appearances, but they were both failing considering they were both so fearful that being full-named would be the least of their problems.

"Hold on a second," Stef put a hand up, "one, two," she said, taking a headcount. "If I'm not mistaken, we're missing a kid. Lena where is my other child? You know, about ye-high," she lifted her hand. "Plays piano, likes to read, has stunning looks he inherited from his mother?"

Lena chuckled. "Dropped him off at Aiden's house for a play date," she replied.

Stef nodded, "all right, looks like it's just us for awhile, yes?"

"Listen, Stef, I need to talk to you. Preferably someplace somewhat private," Lena said discreetly, suddenly turning serious.

Stef nodded, getting serious as well. "Sure. Okay, why don't you two go inside, go ahead and get yourself a snack if you want, we'll be in to join you in a few minutes," she instructed the twins.

The pair said nothing, instead silently walking side-by-side into the house while Lena and Stef conferred.

"Do you think they know?" Jesus asked when they arrived in the kitchen.

"No, not yet at least," Mariana replied. "And they won't have to if you keep quiet about it."

Jesus nodded, still not fully convinced. He was still so nervous. He was about ready to let the secret spill, not caring what the consequence was. Anything they dished out had to be better than the suffocating guilt he was currently feeling.

Everything was so confusing, and he couldn't organize his thoughts. It was like the spelling test all over again. Nothing made sense in his head, everything had been moving around too fast and too often for him to grip it.

He opened the fridge and took out two oranges for himself and Mariana. He also snatched the gallon of milk while Mariana went about getting two plates and glasses on which to eat their snack.

Jesus then went about pouring the milk while Mariana set to peeling the oranges, each falling into a routine of give-and-take.

They both sat at the barstools in silence, each musing over what had happened and what their next plan of actions would be.

Jesus' head was still spinning, his body getting more and more hyperactive as time went on, the thoughts penetrating and twisting his brain. The nerves and guilt caused his body to shake with fear or uncertainty, and he realized there would be no good answer. Either he would continue to feel this guilty secret, or he would come clean and face the painful consequences. His body quaked with the fear of both, each option seemingly overwhelming and unbearable. He distractedly reached for his glass of milk, longing for some of the cool liquid to soothe his burning throat. However, his trembling arm mixed with the slippery juice of the orange made this a disastrous idea.

Before he or Mariana could register what was happening, the glass container was everywhere. Hundreds of tiny glass shards littered the counter and floor, milk splashing and soaking into everything.

They both sat there for a couple moments, not knowing what to do, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. Jesus bit down on his tongue. He always messed everything up. He was always ruining everything. Now he was in even bigger trouble. He didn't even go seeking it out; it just always seemed to find him. He deserved any punishment he was going to get, and although he knew he wouldn't like it, he decided he was going to take it as well as he could, and hopefully Mariana wouldn't have to see most of it.

But Mariana had other ideas.

"Okay, it's okay, we can fix this. I can fix this," she said. Always the problem-solver. She was quick on her feet, literally jumping up from her seat to Jesus. Her heart was racing, and she knew that she needed to race against the clock if she was going to hide this evidence, or at least figure out a plan to protect her twin.

She frantically started grabbing at the tiny, broken shards and tossing them into the trash.

"Mariana, what are you doing?!" Jesus yelled, knowing what she was doing was dangerous.

"Be quiet, Jesus, I'll fix it! I don't want you to get in trouble" she yelled back, still continuing to sweep up the smashed cup with her hands.

"Mariana, stop!" Jesus commanded her, getting up from his seat, ready to pull his sister away from the mess.

"Shut up, Jesus!" Mariana ordered, her voice cracking in hysterics. Tears burned at her eyes as her tiny hand clenched the sharp glass. Her hands were stinging, and each time she went back to stash more of the jagged evidence, fresh, sharp wounds sliced at her small, bare palm.

The two could faintly hear the swinging open of a door and two pairs of footsteps briskly coming through the house, but neither paid it much attention. Mariana continued to try and clean the glass while Jesus stood behind her, trying to convince and persuade her to stop what she was doing.

Whoa. I am seriously so humbled by the response and support this story has gotten after just one chapter. I cannot thank you all enough. Your kind words are overwhelming. Thank you all so much! I hope you continue to enjoy and give feedback! It's very helpful and lovely to read!

Thanks to justliziam and obsessedatopia for helping me out with proofreading and idea-bouncing!