A/N: Thank you to those who have stuck with me and have written lovely reviews! I appreciate you more than words can express! I had off of work yesterday and today (hallelujah for -35 temps in WI), so I actually had time to write! I decided to include a lengthy recap in the beginning of this chapter because someone mentioned that they could never remember what happened previously, due to my lag in updates. Actually, they were a real prick about it and said that my story was a waste of time, but, since I do admittedly take forever to post a new chapter, I think that a recap is a good idea! Feel free to skip it! I summarized chapters 1-9 as briefly as possible (and that is not my strong suit, clearly); but, in the future, I will only recap the chapter before, so it won't be so long, I promise! As usual, I would LOVE your feedback, positive or constructively negative! THANK YOU SO MUCH!
Recap: This is an AU. Callie is 15, and Jude is 11. They grew up poor in San Ysidro, CA. Their mother died and their father went to prison five years ago, following the same circumstances described in the show. The siblings were immediately placed into foster care, together, where they experienced both neglect and abuse from multiple families. Two years ago, when she was 13, Callie met a young man named Marco; he made her feel special, and he promised her and Jude their freedom. She fell head over heels for him. The siblings ran from foster care to live with Marco, and no one looked very hard to find them. Since she was young and naïve, Callie ignored the signs that Marco was not who he appeared to be. He is a local gang leader who oversees the making and selling of methamphetamines; he is also involved in sex trafficking and prostitution, among other crimes. Joe and Damien are prominent gang members as well. Joe is Marco's right-hand man, but Damien is a friend to Callie and Jude. Callie was initiated into the gang when she was 13. She participated in an attack, and Jude witnessed it. He has been mute ever since. Callie feels tremendous guilt. She has slowly distanced herself from Marco over the past two years, and she has definitely lost her naivety along the way, having grown edgier and harder with time. She tries to protect her brother as much as possible, but she is growing increasingly helpless. She has kept Jude out of the kitchen, where the meth is made, but, as he gets older, she is losing control over what happens to him. Marco wants him to start contributing immediately. Callie knows just how unsafe the kitchen is because Joe exploded their last home and killed Tia, who was Damien's girlfriend. It was Damien who warned Callie that he overheard Marco and Joe talking about putting Jude in the kitchen and using Callie for prostitution instead of for pushing drugs on the street. Marco has all but lost interest in Callie and seems to sense that she is only pretending to love him for her own protection as well. When Callie confronts Marco about Damien's warning, she is severely beaten. However, they did strike a deal, which involves Callie committing a robbery at an out-of-town pharmacy in exchange for Jude's short-term safety. She knows that she can't trust Marco to be 100% sincere, but she agrees, and, the night before, Marco gives her a gun to use for the crime. Callie establishes a secret Plan A and Plan B with Jude; it's time for them to be on their own again. Plan A involves temporarily trusting Marco, handing over the money/drugs, and then running away together as soon as the opportunity arises. Plan B will be set in motion if Callie doesn't return, and it involves Jude leaving the house and hiding in a pre-determined location to wait for his sister. Plan B is a more dangerous option, since Marco is more likely to come after them if they have his money, etc. On the morning of the day of the robbery, Callie stops by the local corner kiosk, which is run by a man named Edward Foster. He is Mike's grandfather, and he is very close with the family; he and Stef have a bond that was not broken by her and Mike's divorce. Callie is a regular costumer at his shop, where she purchases comic books for Jude with what little money she has. Edward is a good man who feels connected to his community and wants to help the local youth. He slips Stef's phone number into the comic that Callie buys that morning, thinking that his granddaughter might be able to help the adolescent. Callie finds the note and puts it in her pocket, not thinking much of it. That night, she takes the bus to San Diego, where the pharmacy is located. She puts on a ski mask, grabs the gun, and kicks open the door. When her plan is fouled and the police show up, Callie feels trapped and doesn't want to give her own name; she tells them that she is Stephanie Adams-Foster because it's the only thing that she can think to do in the moment. The cops recognize the name that Callie provides and call Stef, who shows up on the scene. She is fitted with a bulletproof vest and sent into the building, where Callie is surrounded and alone. When the girl realizes that she has impulsively impersonated a cop and a mother, she feels even more guilty and trapped than before. In a moment of weakness and self-pity, she turns the gun on herself, asking the older woman to find Jude. However, Stef is able to distract her with conversation and, eventually, Callie lowers the weapon. Stef describes her connection to Edward and tells Callie that she wants to help her. Stef also promises to try to find Jude, but Callie has not yet revealed their relationship, nor has she confessed to where he is hiding. Stef and Callie's conversation ends with the cop admitting what she knows about the teen (as revealed by Edward) and demanding an explanation from Callie. Meanwhile, both Lena and Edward are unable to sleep and turn on the same news channel, where they see LIVE coverage of the pharmacy. Edward rushes out the door, believing that he is responsible for the situation. FIN.
Chapter Ten
Jude's sneakers crackled on the scattered autumn leaves as he nervously trailed the moonlight through the maze of surrounding maples. He tugged on the straps of his backpack subconsciously, instinctively tightening his grip on all that he possessed in this world. The wind whipped behind him, urging the small boy forward and just barely concealing the sound of the footsteps that had been skillfully following his own for miles.
000
Callie gawked at Stef in dumb disbelief, not even attempting to mask the mixture of incredulity and culpability that was clearly painted on her countenance. How could she determine what to confess, where to begin to explain, whether or not it was even possible? What could she say that this cop didn't already know, or that would matter in the slightest? She opened and closed her mouth several times before ultimately shrugging and sputtering, "He's right. I don't honestly know what else there is to say." Her manner expressed finality, but, when her eyes were captured by the older woman's patient reflection, she quietly questioned, "What would you like me to tell you?"
The blonde smiled affectionately at Callie's genuine admission, at her progressive compliance in regards to communication. "How about your name and age, love? Like, as in, what's printed on your birth certificate," she emphasized with a small, teasing smirk. "Could you tell me that, please?"
The teen nodded, turned her gaze upward and inhaled in appreciative relief. I can do this. I can answer some questions. No big deal. Just pretend you're back in school. "Callie Jacob, 15."
"Ok, Callie." Stef paused. "Thank you. I know that must have been hard—for you to trust me, but this is good. I am not lying when I say that want to help you, Callie." She leaned forward in earnest now, and her hair fell lightly around her shoulders, softly framing the frank expression on her features.
"I don't trust you," the girl spit back, leaning her head wearily against the pharmacy counter and widening the gap between them once more. She didn't mean to be disrespectful, really, but the woman had requested the truth, and the truth was that Callie had learned a long time ago not to trust anyone but herself; evidently, even that degree of confidence was laughable, considering her current position.
"Ok. That's fair," Stef conceded kindly, unwilling to back down now that she had coaxed the girl this far. It also hadn't escaped her attention that Callie seemed to have forgotten about the weapon, which separated them, altogether. She avoided glancing down at the gun, detaining the teen's gaze instead. "I'll bet that you trust Jude, though. Is that true?"
"I do," Callie confirmed. It was now or never. She breathed deeply, fixing the cop with the intensity of her severe demeanor. Her voice flowed forth with both steadiness and sobriety, but an undercurrent of desperation washed over the words that tumbled from her lips nonetheless. "He's not safe right now. That's why I need you to find him." The teen ducked her head slightly. "I think we both know that I won't be able to," she added just as Stef's arm snuck forward and latched onto the cold metal barrel.
000
Edward approached the scene slowly, temporarily blinded by the array of blinking lights. He found a spot down the block, sidling up to the curb not far from the barricade. Favoring the shadows created by the downtown awnings, he hobbled toward the pharmacy undetected, scanning scrupulously for an unsupervised entrance.
000
In one swift motion, Stef spun the revolver into her own hands and out of the teen's. Callie let out a startled shriek, and the two women rose to their feet in simultaneous reaction.
"Why did you DO that? I was talking to you!" The adolescent cried in petulant frustration. The whine in her pitch and the sudden, childish deportment would have been comical if Stef weren't afraid that she'd just ruined the tenuous bond they had forged. She wasn't sure why it was so important. She'd done her job. The girl could be held for formal questioning now, could be appropriately punished for her crime. But the blonde couldn't deny the promise that she made to her grandfather, or to Callie; she couldn't walk away without closure now, without hearing the rest of the story. She silently cursed her bleeding heart, but an irksome voice in the back of her mind argued that she'd be happy no other way.
"I know that you were talking, sweetie, and I want to keep talking to you without worrying that you might hurt yourself, or me, for that matter. OK?" Stef placed the gun in her belt and strode towards the teen slowly, with her hands in the air. Callie slid backwards with each step that the woman made, but it wasn't long until her heels hit the wall. Stef handcuffed Callie's left wrist to her own with practiced speed and dexterity. "I'm not going anywhere yet, and neither are you."
Stef's radio spluttered loudly, interrupting Callie's vehement protests. "Everything OK in there, Foster?" The lead detective's presence exploded into the still space, ricocheting off the brick and igniting panic in the adolescent's eyes. All of their sudden movements must have alarmed the crowd outside.
"Yes, Sir. We're fine." The policewoman paused long enough to give Callie's hand a gentle squeeze. "I have the weapon and the girl. Name is Callie Jacob, 15. Call off the dogs and give me ten."
"10-4" Came the static response.
For a long moment only silence filled the air. Then a quiet voice uttered, "What's going to happen to me now? I mean… where will I go?" Callie's knees buckled as stubborn tears flooded her vision and clogged her throat, coating her words with a heavy comprehension. She already knew the answer.
"Well, love, there will be no avoiding Juvenile Detention at this point," The woman's warning was cut short by a great, shuddering sigh; the teen had begun to heave as though the room lacked oxygen. How could she reach Jude from behind iron bars?
"Hey, hey, sweets. I need you to breathe." Stef lead the girl back into a seated position, rubbing her free hand in soothing circles between the teen's shoulder blades, relaxing the palpable tension that existed there. Callie flinched once before shamefully surrendering to the contact. She couldn't remember the last time that someone had comforted her in this way, had brushed her hair behind her ears and calmed her with touch alone. Not since her mother.
Stef continued her motions absentmindedly, assuring the girl as best she could. "We're not leaving yet. I still need some answers from you, and, depending on your cooperation and honesty, I might be able to speak to the judge, get him to lessen the sentence—especially if Edward is right, and someone put you up to this, to all of it." The older woman glanced sidelong at the troubled girl who was already stealing her heart piece by piece, little criminal that she was. There was something about her that reminded Stef of the twins, but she couldn't put her finger on precisely what it was.
Callie knew that she shouldn't compromise the only opportunity that she had been granted for salvation by demanding petty truths, but she couldn't stop the uncertainty from escaping regardless, "Why do you care?" There was no malice in her tone, only simple inquisition.
"That's a fair question. If I answer you honestly, though, then it's my turn to do all the asking. Got it?"
Callie nodded noiselessly.
"Well, I suppose that there are a lot of reasons that I want to help you, Callie. For one, and don't you dare tell my wife that I said this, I'm starting to really believe in fate—"
"Wait, you're a dyke?" The girl blurted impulsively, more out of surprise than disapproval.
"We prefer the term people, but yes. Now stop interrupting, please." Stef shot the girl her most maternal look of consternation, and the teen straightened immediately.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"As I was saying," Stef continued, "You literally called me out of my bed to be here, less than 24 hours after my grandfather called to describe your situation and to request my help. I already told you that I don't take promises lightly. I wasn't sure how I was going to find you, honestly, but then you found me."
"Why did he think that you could—would—help me?"
"Are you going to let me tell you, or are you just going to keep being rude?" The cop admonished with an unmistakable twinkle in her eyes. Callie's cheeks reddened; she raised her right hand, the one that wasn't handcuffed to the blonde, and drew a finger across her lips in silent contract.
Stef chuckled. This girl was something else. "OK, then. I told that you that I am a mother. Two of my children are twins, 14 years of age now, adopted five years ago from the foster system. They suffered horribly before coming to my wife and me, but they're doing remarkable now. Mariana's on the honor roll, and Jesus, well," Stef snorted and rolled her eyes, "he's a great athlete and a loyal brother, despite being a bundle of energy." She wrapped her fingers around the girl's, holding the adolescent's hand thoughtfully in her own, ignoring the metal rings that encircled them. "Edward and I share a compassion for lost youth, Callie, kids at a crossroads, and I think it's fair to assume that he wasn't wrong about you. He must have seen something in you worth saving, and I always trust his judgment."
"You shouldn't," the teen muttered, staring down at her dirty converses.
Stef cupped Callie's chin in her palm and raised the adolescent's gaze to meet her own. "Listen to me, love." She smiled sadly at the girl, but not without sincerity. "You are not worthless. You are not disposable."
And with those simple words, Callie unleashed her soul. She told the woman everything, from the moment that her mother died to the moment that she pummeled through the pharmacy door. She explained Plan A and Plan B. Her words came out in a rush, demon after demon tripping off her tongue, until all there was left to say was, "Please find my brother. He's alone and scared, I'm sure of it. There is no one else but me."