A/N: Okay, this chapter took me beyond a ridiculously long time to write. I have no legitimate excuse, just a sincere apology. I am so so sorry for the delay.

Oh and, in case you haven't checked it out and are interested, I started another 'fic' called "Keep Your Head Above" that will eventually be a collection of one shots/extended scenes intended to accompany Swim (the current extended scene involves the siblings offering to shave their hair too...and Callie's reaction to that suggestion actually fits well with the theme of this chapter). If you have any ideas for one-shots set within Swim that you'd really like to read, I'd love to hear about them.

xxxxxx

Chapter 10: Craters

The night of Callie's adoption, after the entire Adams Foster clan had gone out for a celebratory dinner, and after Stef and Lena had both come into her room to tuck her in and kiss her good night, Callie lay awake staring up at the ceiling. The giddiness and excitement from the day were permeating her thoughts, making it difficult to sleep – an unusual occurrence given that in the last month or so her red blood cell count had started to plummet, leaving her increasingly exhausted and usually sound asleep before anyone else in the house even had pajamas on.

When Callie finally fell asleep, which actually, in the end, didn't take as long as she thought it would – it had been an eventful day after all – it was with a smile on her lips.

xxxxxx

The giddiness from Callie's adoption carried into the next day. It was the day of her eighth chemo treatment. What would have been her last treatment if they hadn't decided to add the two extra cycles of what she'd jokingly started calling bonus chemo.

Lena couldn't help but laugh as Callie practically bounced standing at the reception desk in the hematology wing of the cancer center. The wide smile on the girl's face as she proudly announced her name change to the receptionist made Lena's heart swell. Callie Adams Foster. She would never get tired of hearing that.

The giddiness faded quickly though once Callie was seated in a recliner in the chemo suite.

Lena watched the colour drain from Callie's skin as the drugs dripped into her system. Despite how many times she'd watched the very same thing happen, the greyish tinge Callie's skin took on never ceased to make Lena's stomach tighten in concern. She absolutely hated seeing her child so sick. As if agreeing, or perhaps sensing her discomfort, the baby kicked at her ribs. Lena grimaced slightly, dropping her hand to her stomach.

Callie, noticing the action, smiled softly at Lena, "Is my brother pretending to be a soccer player again?"

"Something like that," Lena smiled back at Callie, so happy to hear the girl refer to the baby as her brother. "Here," she said reaching for Callie's hand with intentions of placing it on her stomach so that Callie could feel the baby kick but she paused when their hands actually connected. Callie's skin was like ice. "Callie, are you cold?" She asked.

In response, Callie shivered involuntarily. "A bit," she conceded.

Lena immediately stood and went to get one of the warm blankets. Months earlier, she would have had to rely on a volunteer to complete such a task, but the cancer center was slowly turning into their second home. Now, more often or not, if Callie needed juice, or water, or blankets, Lena just got them herself.

Coming back to Callie's recliner, Lena draped the warm blanket over Callie, pulling it all the way up to her chin and then rubbing her hands up and down Callie's arms, hoping that this action would help the warmth from the blanket soak into her daughter's skin. After a few minutes she stilled her hands, "Better?"

"Mmhmm…" Callie nodded, "thanks."

"Of course," Lena smiled softly, leaning in to plant a kiss on Callie's forehead before taking her seat again.

Callie snuggled deeper into the blanket, her eyelids heavy as her gaze shot, almost accusatorily, towards the IV pole holding the chemo pump. It seemed ridiculous that this morning she'd practically been floating and now she felt like she might be made of lead. She wanted the euphoric feeling from yesterday afternoon and this morning back. She wanted to live in the You've Been Adopted Bubble forever. Instead, here she was, less than a day later, stuck back in Chemo Side Effects Land, that place she was forced to live in post-chemo. Welcome back, she thought with chagrin as she tore her eyes away from the chemo pump.

xxxxxx

Callie never felt well the Sunday following a chemo treatment. Physically, those Sundays post-chemo were her worst days. Her mouth was at its sorest, exhaustion and nausea abounded, the drugs had usually made her so constipated by that point that any trip to the bathroom involved tears, her head always hurt, every joint in her body ached, she alternated between being too hot and much much too cold, and no matter how hard she tried she just couldn't get comfortable. In Chemo Side Effects Land, Sunday was the bottom of a crater she had no choice but to trudge through to get to the other side.

Once, when Stef had asked her how chemo made her feel, Callie had tried to explain but all she'd managed to come up with was that it was sort of like having a fever or the flu. It wasn't exactly an incorrect explanation but it certainly didn't seem quite right to her either. It didn't seem harsh enough. It didn't really encompass the full breadth of terrible that was Chemo Side Effects Land. But, then again, it wasn't as if she had any desire to actually explain Chemo Side Effects Land to anyone anyway. She didn't need Stef or Lena, or any of her siblings, to know that she was barely hanging on by a thread on those Sundays.

Chemo Side Effects Land was an unpleasant place but it was a place that Callie had gotten pretty used to by the time her eight treatment rolled around. Sure some treatments were better than others and there'd been surprises along the way – in addition to the weird arm pain, there'd been a bought of oral thrush that she hoped to never repeat – but overall she had the routine down pat. So, she was somewhat surprised when the Sunday following her adoption, she felt worse than usual.

She spent the day the way she spent most Sundays post-chemo, curled up on the couch watching TV, or the back of her eyelids, with her family filtering in and out of the room. At dinner she dragged herself off the couch long enough to sit at the table and shovel mashed potatoes into her mouth. She'd recently discovered that the key to eating was to start and to not stop. After four bites, though, she'd had enough. It was still Sunday, after all. She pushed the rest of her meal around her plate a few more minutes before she asked quietly if she could be excused. Months earlier the request might have been met with a raised eyebrow, or a frown at how little she'd eaten, now it was just met with a gentle smile and a nod.

Callie retreated back to the living room, not surprised when her siblings and then her moms, joined her within a half an hour. Someone put a movie on and she tried her best to stay awake through it but eventually, despite her effort, her eyes drifted shut.

Her eyes fluttered back open just as the movie was ending and she was promptly sent up to bed – not that she was arguing.

She trudged into the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. There were dark circles under her eyelash-less eyes and her skin was much too pale. She looked sick. There was no denying it. She sighed as she spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth out. She put her toothbrush back in the drawer and reached for the thermometer that was always there – it was one of three thermometers that Lena had placed at strategic locations throughout the house to help with what Callie liked to think of as Fever Watch. As far as Callie could tell, checking to make sure you didn't have a fever was basically a cancer patient's number one job –although, truthfully, as time dragged on, she'd gotten a bit lax about it. She actually hadn't checked her temperature yet today.

Now she slipped the thermometer under her tongue and went back to staring at herself in the mirror. She was surprised when moments later the thermometer beeped shrilly, signaling that she had a fever. Sure she felt like she had a fever but she always felt like she had a fever the Sunday post-chemo. It hadn't occurred to her that she felt worse than usual today because she actually did have a fever. She pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and stared down at the red screen. 100.5. It was a fever but just barely.

She bit her lip as she stared down at the number, trying to decide what she should do. If she told moms, they would freak out for sure. It was Sunday night, which meant that the cancer center was closed, and freaking out would lead to calling the emergency number. And Callie really didn't want to do that. Sure if she was really sick, she'd be fine with calling the emergency number. But she didn't feel really sick. She basically felt the same she always felt. Just, maybe, a little bit worse. She hated the idea of disturbing someone at home for a problem that might not even be a problem.

It was barely a fever, she reasoned. Plus, the only reason that having a fever was a problem for cancer patients was a lack of enough white blood cells to fight infections. But she was giving herself those Neulasta shots for a reason. She hadn't had a problem with her white blood count since that first chemo treatment. She could fight an infection if she had to, couldn't she? And maybe it wasn't even an infection. Maybe it was nothing. A fluke. Maybe the fever would be gone by morning. And then she would feel really silly for having said something.

The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself that if they called the emergency number tonight, they would just be told to hold tight until morning. And then telling her moms would have done nothing but make them spend the entire night worrying, probably not sleeping at all, which they definitely did not need. They worried enough as it was. Callie hated how much they worried about her, actually. She hated how much her cancer affected them. It made her feel so guilty. No, they definitely didn't need any more reasons to worry.

She sighed, staring down at the thermometer one more moment, before she clicked the button to turn it off, dropping it back in the drawer. It was barely a fever. It could wait. If she still had a fever in the morning, she would say something then.

She padded down the hall to her room, climbing under the covers and proceeding to slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

xxxxxx

Sundays might be her worst days physically but Callie actually hated Mondays more. Although less nauseous, and marginally less achy, than Sunday, or even Saturday, she always felt restless the Monday following chemo – as if something was trying to crawl its way out from under her skin. She hated it. She couldn't sit still but she was too unwell to do anything but sit. So, she spent every Monday following chemo actively waiting, just counting down the minutes, for it to be over. If Sundays were the bottom of the crater in Chemo Side Effect Land, then Mondays were the start of a slow crawl out of that crater. It was torturous.

When Callie woke up the Monday following her eighth chemo treatment it was with a groan. She could hear movement downstairs, which meant that her family must not have left for school yet. She squinted at her alarm clock and sighed, it was only 7am. She shivered and pulled the covers tighter around herself, wondering why she'd woken up so early. And then the sleepy fog started to clear and she remembered – checking her temperature before she went to bed the previous night and the number flashing red at her.

She pulled her hand up to rest on her forehead trying to figure out if she was warm or not. She couldn't really tell one way or the other and, so, after a minute she rolled over and reached for the thermometer that rested permanently on her night stand – it was identical to the one they kept in the bathroom. She stuck it under her tongue, closing her eyes and dropping her head back onto her pillow. As she waited for the reading, she chanted in her head, please be normal, please be normal. She sighed when the same shrill beeping from the night before filled the room indicating that her temperature was, in fact, not normal. She squinted at the screen of the digital thermometer through one open eye. 102.0. She grimaced – not only did she still have a fever but now she could no longer call it barely a fever.

She knew she should get up and go find either Stef or Lena but she could still hear the noise her siblings were making downstairs and it made her want to stay put. She pictured everyone bustling around downstairs, making lunches, eating breakfast, maybe finishing some last minute homework, making plans for the day, bantering. When she pictured her family in the kitchen, she pictured them happy. And then she pictured what would happen if she went downstairs now. She never got out of bed before nine, if she went downstairs now everyone would know something was up. Happiness would be replaced with worry. Then they would have to go to school without answers and she was sure that they would worry all day. It would be terrible. Waiting until they were gone to school was a far better plan.

Without meaning to, she dozed back off, waking with a start a half-an-hour later. It was quiet in the house now and she couldn't help but frown at the realization that she had no good reason to procrastinate getting up now. Unless, magically, in the last half hour her fever had disappeared. Hopeful, or more likely trying to delay the inevitable a few more minutes, she reached for the thermometer again to double check her temperature. 102.1. She wasn't actually surprised that the fever hadn't disappeared.

It took ten more minutes but eventually she did get out of bed, stepping quietly as she walked down the stairs and stopping in the entryway to the kitchen, not really wanting to go in.

Stef was at the sink washing breakfast dishes and Callie resisted the urge to sigh. She hadn't remembered whose day it was to stay home with her but she'd sort of been hoping to find Lena in the kitchen. It wasn't that she didn't love Stef, or trust her to take of her, it was just that Callie was pretty sure that Stef was going to freak out way more than Lena would have.

Callie hadn't been standing there long before Stef glanced over in her direction, having sensed more than heard the girl. Stef's gaze drifted towards the clock momentarily before her eyes were back on Callie, "You're up early today."

Callie shrugged and looked down at the floor.

Stef frowned when Callie looked away from her and didn't move into the kitchen. Was something wrong? "Cal? You okay?" She asked.

Callie shrugged again. She didn't look up but slowly she pulled the hand that she'd had behind her back forward to reveal the thermometer that she'd brought downstairs with her. She didn't say a word, just held the object in front of her so that Stef would see it.

Stef's eyes widened as she realized what the object in Callie's hand was. She set the dishrag down and quickly strode over to Callie. Gently, she pried the thermometer from Callie's fingers, hitting the on button so that the last reading would flash on the screen. She sucked in a breath of air as the screen lit up red and the too high number was displayed. She couldn't stop herself from reaching forward and placing her hand on Callie's forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of her daughter's skin. She could feel her heart rate increasing in panic, "Okay. It's okay. We'll call the doctor right now. How do you feel? Do you need to sit down? You should sit down." She reached for Callie's arm and started to pull her in the direction of one of the kitchen chairs.

"Mom," Callie groaned, as she pulled her arm free from Stef's grasp, "I'm fine."

Stef stopped and took a shaky breath, eyeing Callie up and down trying to figure out if her daughter was indeed fine. "You have a fever, that's not fine," she decided.

"It's just a fever, I feel fine," Callie shot back but when her words didn't make the evident panic in Stef's eyes disappear, she sighed, "I'll sit. Okay?"

"Yes, sit," Stef nodded, as she moved to grab the portable phone and the paper with all of the important numbers written down on it. She punched in the direct line for Callie's oncologist and waited while the phone rang.

After a few rings the receptionist picked up and Stef quickly explained that Callie had a fever. She answered most of the receptionist's questions without pause but when asked how long Callie had had the fever, she blinked, unsure. "Just a sec," she mumbled into the receiver, covering the mouth piece and looking over at her daughter, who was sitting at one of the kitchen chairs, swinging her feet back and forth, "When did you check your temperature? They want to know how long you've had the fever."

Callie's swinging feet stilled as she bit her lip and looked down at the table, "Umm…last n-night," she stuttered out, her words barely audible.

'What?' Stef mouthed her eyes widening as she stared horrified for several moments before she managed to form words, "When did you check it last night?"

"Before bed," Callie mumbled, her eyes still firmly planted on the table top.

Stef swallowed, trying to control the new flurry of worry stirring in her stomach. How could Callie not have told her last night? She suddenly remembered that she was still on the phone and she pulled her hand off of the mouth piece and stammered out, "Umm…she says she's had it since at least last night. She checked it before she went to bed around 9." She listened as the receptionist explained that she was going to pass the information on to April, Callie's oncology nurse, and that April would call back and let them know what to do.

As soon as she hung the phone up, Stef's eyes were back on Callie, demanding, "You've had this fever since last night? Why didn't you tell me then? What were you thinking?"

Callie swallowed slowly, shrugging one shoulder and refusing to look up from the table.

"Callie, look at me," Stef's voice was firm and left no room for debate.

Callie hesitated only a split second before she obeyed, drawing her eyes away from the table and up towards Stef. Given the firmness she'd heard in the woman's voice, she expected to find anger staring back at her. Instead, all she could really see were the hints of panic she'd spotted earlier and what was probably concern.

"Callie, do you have any idea how dangerous it could have been for you to not to tell us you had a fever last night?" Stef asked, her heart still beating irrationally quickly.

"But I'm fine," Callie practically groaned.

"Youhave a fever," Stef reminded her with a pointed look.

"They didn't seem that concerned about it on the phone did they?" Callie responded quickly, suddenly feeling defensive as she crossed her arms in front of her. She didn't know if it was the fever or the usual Monday unease but she could feel annoyance clawing at her brain. Why did Stef have to be so freaked out?

"You don't know that. I only spoke with the receptionist. We're waiting for April to call back…she'll tell us if…" Stef frowned, shaking her head as if to shake that thought away. "Whether or not anyone but me is concerned is not the point. The point is that you have a fever and you didn't tell me or mama."

"I did tell you," Callie answered stubbornly.

Stef didn't even bother to respond, she just fixed Callie with a sceptical gaze that was clearly suggesting that the teenager should revise her statement.

"When I knew it wasn't just going to go away, I did tell you. I did," Callie sighed, all stubbornness gone, her words just sounding impossibly tired. "I just…I didn't want you to worry for no reason."

"Callie…" Stef sighed too, taking a calming breath and running a shaky hand through her hair. She wasn't sure why Callie's words surprised her – of course Callie would worry about worrying her. Callie always worried about everyone else much more than she worried about herself. It seemed that Callie still hadn't quite figured out that being the child meant that she was supposed to let her parents worry about her. But, then again, Stef reminded herself, not that long ago Callie might not have told her about the fever at all. Even just a few months ago, Callie might have let things get much worse, waiting for her or Lena to discover the fever themselves. When she thought about it that way, Callie coming to her at all was actually kind of amazing. It was a sign that things really were changing. That Callie really was relying on them. Even if she was still Callie.

When Stef spoke next, she sounded much calmer, her voice soft, "Baby, I'm sorry to have to be the one to break this to you…but moms worry for no reason sometimes. Nothing you do or don't do is going to stop that from happening. I know it's annoying…you've met my mother, so you know that I know it's annoying. But worrying is a mom's prerogative. It's just what we do."

"But…" Callie bit her lip, her eyes searching Stef's.

"But what?" Stef asked, genuinely curious about what Callie was thinking.

"I cause you too much worry as it is…" Callie whispered.

"Oh baby," Stef's heart broke at the sadness in Callie's eyes and she moved around the table, wrapping her arms around Callie's shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "You do not cause me too much worry. Do I worry about you? Of course I do. I worry about Brandon, and Jesus, and Mariana, and Jude, and even mama too. I worry about all kinds of things. I told you, worrying is just what moms do. So, if I worry, that's on me, not you. It's not something you should worry about."

"But I do…" Callie mumbled, her shoulders slumping slightly as she breathed her next words out, "I don't want to be a burden." Living in Chemo Side Effects Land meant that crawling out of craters was just part of Callie's everyday life but she didn't want to drag her family into those craters with her. More than that, she didn't want to be their crater. Because, truthfully, sometimes that's how she felt – like she was a crater that they might all fall into.

Stef's eyes widened horrified as she comprehended Callie's words. She pulled her arms away from Callie's shoulders and instead grabbed the sides of her chair, spinning it around so that she was face to face with her daughter. She crouched in front of the chair, her hands on Callie's knees, so that she was looking up, not down at the girl. "You. Are. Not. A. Burden," She spoke each word carefully, making sure that Callie really heard them. "You, my sweet girl, have brought so much love and so much joy to me and mama and to your brothers and sister. This family needs you. You make us complete. You could never be a burden. I promise, with all of my heart, no one has ever thought that, not even for a single second." Stef reached up and ran her thumb along Callie's cheek, ignoring the warmth of the girl's skin, "Callie, maybe someday you'll be a parent and you'll understand what it's like to love your child. That kind of love…it couldn't possibly ever be a burden. It's the opposite. Getting to love you is a privilege, a gift. And, oh baby, do I ever love you."

As Stef finished speaking, tears started to form in the corner of Callie's eyes, she didn't even try and stop them from slowly rolling down her checks. She knew because of the fever any attempts to stop the tears would be futile. Especially because it was Monday in Chemo Side Effects Land and she always felt on the verge of tears on Monday – another reason Monday was her least favourite day. She hadn't known how badly she needed to hear that she wasn't a burden until Stef had said it.

"Sweet girl, don't cry," Stef hummed softly, catching a few of the tears with the pad of her thumb before she moved from her crouched position to pull Callie into a tight hug.

Callie swallowed thickly as she clung to Stef. "I love you mom," Callie practically whimpered, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the fever last night."

"Sshh…" Stef just soothed as Callie buried her head further into her shoulder.

xxxxxx

Twenty minutes later, Stef had moved Callie into the living room and, after bringing her daughter breakfast and her anti-nausea medication and not so casually placing her hand on her forehead to check on her temperature for the tenth time, she slipped back into the kitchen to make a phone call.

The phone only rang twice before there was a click and Lena's voice came through the speaker, "Hi."

"Hi, love," Stef answered back.

"What's up?" Lena asked, unable to keep the edge of concern out of her voice. She hadn't left home all that long ago and it seemed unusual for Stef to be calling her so early in the day.

"I think I need some help remembering how to be a calm rational human being," Stef said into the phone.

"What?" Lena laughed.

"Our daughter has a fever and I can't get my heart to stop beating all weird," Stef offered as way of explanation.

"What?" Lena repeated but there was no laughter this time, just hints of strain, "Is she okay? Do I need to come home? Are you going to the hospital?"

"She's fine," Stef rushed to explain, kicking herself for not leading with that. Lena might usually be the calmer of the two of them when it came to dealing with their kids when they were sick but that didn't mean she wasn't prone to worrying herself. "At least that's what she keeps telling me. I called the cancer center. We're still waiting to hear back from April about what to do."

"How high is her temperature?" Lena asked.

"102.2 at last check," Stef explained.

"Okay," Lena said and Stef could practically hear her frowning through the phone, "Besides the fever does she have any other symptoms?"

"Not that she's telling me about," Stef answered.

"How long ago did you call the cancer center? How come they haven't called back yet? Should you try again?" Lena asked next in quick succession.

Stef shook her head even though Lena couldn't see her. "Love, I didn't call you so that you could freak out too. I called you so that you could talk me out of the irrational panicking thing I do. This is not really helping."

"Umm…sorry?" Lena couldn't help but snort into the phone. "Stef, seriously. How did you expect me to react when you said that Callie had a fever?"

Stef sighed, running her hand through her hair, "Okay, so I wasn't really thinking."

"Right," Lena hummed and Stef could picture the 'I knew it' look on her wife's face perfectly. There was a pause before Lena added, "You really don't need me to come home?"

"No," Stef said, "I don't think Callie would appreciate both of us hovering. I promise I'll call you as soon as I hear back from April."

"Okay," Lena sighed into the phone. As much as she wanted to rush home to check on Callie, she knew that Stef was right, Callie never did especially well with hovering. "Can I talk to her at least?"

"Of course," Stef confirmed as she walked the phone into the living room and handed the phone out for Callie to take. "It's mama," she explained at the confused look on the girl's face.

Callie's eyes widened in surprise, and maybe concern, but she reached for the phone and brought it to her ear, "Hi mama," she whispered softly.

"Hi sweetheart," Lena hummed from the other end, any panic that had existed when she was speaking with Stef gone. "Mom said you have a fever. I'm sorry to hear that. You must not be feeling too good, huh?"

"I'm fine," Callie mumbled.

"Mmhmm, I'm sure you are," Lena shook her head, not really surprised by Callie's response. "Just take it easy okay? And try not to be too annoyed by mom. She really can't help the freaking out."

Callie smirked then, her eyes drifting towards Stef, "I know."

Lena smiled from the other end of the phone, "I'll see you this later this afternoon, okay? I love you."

"I love you too," Callie answered.

xxxxxx

It took an hour and half for April to call back. By that point Callie's fever had hit 102.5 and she was shivering on the couch, knees drawn to her chest and a blanket draped around her shoulders.

After talking with Callie directly for a few minutes, April had Callie give the phone back to Stef. She explained to the mother that, because Callie was getting Neulasta shots, they weren't particularly worried about her white blood cell count, and since there was also no visible sign of an infection, there was no need to rush to the emergency room. They were, however, going to phone in a prescription for an antibiotic just to be on the safe side. In the meantime Stef should give Callie some Tylenol to bring her temperature down.

xxxxxx

By the time Lena and her siblings, save for Brandon who was going to his dad's for dinner, came traipsing through the door later that afternoon, Callie had taken her first dose of the antibiotic and, the Tylenol, while not having completely taken care of the fever, had at least dropped her temperature low enough that she was no longer shivering uncontrollably.

She was sitting on the couch with the blanket still draped over her shoulders, playing cards with Stef when the group plodded into the living room, bags getting tossed in every which direction.

"Sister!" Jesus greeted with a grin, flopping down in one of the living room chairs. Ever since the adoption, he'd taken to greeting Callie this way.

"Brother," Callie smiled back, shaking her head in amusement at him and setting her cards down on the coffee table.

Jude moved into the room and took the seat beside Callie on the couch. She smiled and poked her arm out from under her cocoon of blankets, draping it around his shoulder and pulling him into a side hug. "How was school buddy?"

"It was good," Jude said as he leaned into Callie, suddenly frowning, "You're warm." These days Callie was usually freezing, so the temperature of her skin completely surprised him.

Lena moved over to the couch and placed the back of her hand on Callie's forehead to try and get a gauge for her temperature – she did feel warm. "When did you take Tylenol last?" She asked Callie, although her eyes drifted towards Stef for an answer.

Stef looked up at the clock, "She still has another hour before we can give her another dose."

Jude's frowned deepened at the exchange, "What's going on?" He looked up at Callie from where he was still tucked under her arm, expecting an answering.

He wasn't the only one frowning. Both Jesus and Mariana looked confused too, and Callie sighed. "It's nothing, buddy."

"Callie just has a bit of a fever, that's all," Stef jumped in, not comfortable with Callie implying that nothing unusual was going on. Although they were careful not to unnecessarily worry their children, they'd decided early on to always be honest with them about Callie's treatment and what was happening with her cancer. Their children needed to know that when they asked questions, they were going to get truthful answers. Otherwise, they'd never trust anything they were told and that would just lead to the worrying they were trying to prevent in the first place.

Jude's eyes widened and Callie rushed to stamp out the fear she saw in his eyes. She was supposed to be his protector not the creator of his fear. She hated a lot of things about cancer but she was pretty sure that having to see this fear in Jude's eyes might be the thing she hated the most. "It's nothing the awesome antibiotics they gave me won't take care of."

Jude looked unsure and his eyes drifted towards Lena for confirmation, relaxing when she nodded at him.

Once upon a time, Jude would have trusted anything that she said and Callie almost sighed when she realized that now he needed someone else to reassure him that she was indeed okay. It was just another reason for her to hate cancer.

"Well…" Stef said after a few minutes of silence, "I think I'm going to go start dinner. Why don't you take over for me Jude?" She motioned towards her pile of cards on the coffee table as she stood up. "We were playing Crazy Eights."

"Sure," Jude nodded easily, untucking himself from under Callie's arm and reaching for both Stef's stack of cards and Callie's – carefully handing the latter to his sister.

"Deal me in," Jesus added as Stef left the room.

xxxxxx

Mariana left her siblings to their game in the living room, following Stef into the kitchen. "Mom?" She asked.

Stef turned to look over her shoulder at her daughter, "Hi, Miss Thing. Did you come to help with dinner?"

"If you need help," Mariana shrugged, moving closer to the counter and leaning against it. She bit her lip, thinking a minute before revealing the real reason she'd come into the kitchen. "Is Callie really okay? Fever is bad, right?" She hadn't wanted to say anything in front of Jude but as soon as she heard that Callie had a fever she'd been worried.

Stef had been pulling things out of the fridge but she stopped what she was doing at Mariana's words, turning her full attention towards her daughter. Throughout these last months, all of her children had needed reassurance when it came to Callie's cancer at some point or another. The theme of this conversation wouldn't be a new one for them. "Well," Stef started carefully, "Fever could be a problem if it's ignored…but we're on top of it. Callie's taking antibiotics and we're monitoring her temperature to make sure that it doesn't get to high. Plus, you know that Callie takes shots to boost her white blood cell count? Yes? Well, that will help her fight off any infection as well."

Mariana searched her mother's face carefully before slowly she nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

Stef moved closer to her daughter, wrapping her up in a hug. "So, to answer your question, yes, Callie really is okay," she added the extra reassurance.

Mariana leaned into the hug, soaking up the reassurance and love that her mom was offering. "I just get scared sometimes," she admitted quietly, her words muffled by Stef's shoulder. Sometimes she would lie awake at night listening to Callie breathing from the bed beside hers and wonder what she would do if Callie didn't get better. Callie had become her sister – and not because there was now a piece of paper that said she was – and Mariana needed her.

Stef pulled back so that she was looking Mariana in the eyes as she spoke, her hands resting on the girl's shoulders, "I get scared sometimes too baby. It's okay to be scared sometimes. But…just promise me something…if you're scared, you have to make sure you tell me or mama. Yes? Because…you know what? When I get scared, talking about it makes me a lot less scared."

Mariana took in Stef's words before nodding slowly in agreement, "Talking helps me too."

"I'm glad to hear that," Stef smiled gently, placing a kiss on Mariana's forehead before stepping back, about to head back to the refrigerator.

"You know what else helps?" Mariana asked, stopping her.

"What?" Stef asked.

"You and mama. You make me a lot less scared," Mariana said, her hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Stef had been expecting some joke about retail therapy so Mariana's response genuinely got her off guard. She was still trying to form an answer when Mariana continued, tilting her head as she spoke thoughtfully, "And Callie…she…she makes it a lot harder to be scared than I think it probably could be. Like, sometimes I think…if she can be so strong, why can't we?"

"You, Miss Thing, are pretty smart. You know that?" Stef smiled softly at her.

Callie might worry that she was going to be the crater that swallowed her family but the truth was quite the opposite. She was keeping them aloft.

xxxxxx

In the end, it took a few days but the antibiotics did do their job and Callie's fever disappeared, allowing her to emerge from Chemo Side Effects Land once more, although perhaps a little more scathed than usual.

Eight treatments down, four more to go. She was starting a countdown.