Author Note:

Almost 100,000 words! Thanks so much for sticking around and for your encouragement. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect IUW to go this far—but writing it has been so good for me (and you all have been so good to me) that I hope to enjoy it for as long as I can. I have so many goals for it before it ends, like trying new writing techniques and increasing my confidence. I did some experimenting with this next installment and hope it turned out okay. And if it's a flop, hope it's not too unforgivable.

To clarify, Stef and Lena are aware that physical and emotional abuse happened (Chapter 4) but do not know many of the specifics. This will all come to light soon. As well, a heads up that we won't hear from Callie in the next chapter (things just got too long and the chapter needed dividing). Take care of yourselves, ~b'shert

Chapter 27: A Difference of Opinion

After the day they'd just had, Stef was consumed with worry. Callie had been exceptionally quiet throughout dinner, blending seamlessly into the background of the rest of the family. Jude, who loyally followed in his sister's footsteps, had also withdrawn and was much less talkative than his usual self. For the first time in a month, he had shaken his head and politely turned down seconds when offered. Not even Jesus's goading could change his mind.

Though it was discouraging to have her daughter shy away from her mere hours after opening up about her Mom, Stef figured that the experience had probably overwhelmed her. In the garage, she had wiped away the girl's tears and held her until she stopped crying. However, shortly after, Callie had asked to be alone and she relented.

In the post-dinner routine of kitchen cleanup, lunch prep, and backpack checks, Callie managed to slip away unnoticed. Peering into the dark room, Stef cursed under her breath at the missed opportunity to check in on how she was doing and to tuck her in. It was something she and Lena had done for their newest kids each night without fail. But lately, it seemed like they couldn't hang on to the stability of routine no matter how hard they tried.

What made things worse was not having Lena to confide in. Having reached an impasse on the incident report, resentment only continued to brew between them. Interactions were strained, punctuated by snide remarks and petty arguments, and dishes that were placed into the sink a little too loudly. It was the longest fight they'd ever been in—one that left her feeling hurt, worried for their relationship, but beyond that, isolated and unwanted in her own home.

Stef, who had been relieved when Bill finished the interview with the siblings without any concerns, couldn't fathom why her wife wouldn't budge on her stance in spite of the concerns laid out at the family meeting. While Stef fully accepted Callie's right to tell her Case Worker that she'd received a spanking while in their care and would fully support her if that's what it came to, this was not a process the cop was willing to initiate on her own. Given the Parole Officer's current scrutiny, Stef wouldn't risk additional repercussions on her daughter's behalf if they could be avoided.

"We're supposed to document everything—appointments, even field-trips and haircuts. If you believe you did nothing wrong, what are you afraid of?" Lena argued, staking out the garage from the window. The thought of Callie being left alone in her grief upset her but they'd promised her space as long as she asked and they couldn't renege on that.

"I already told you, I'm afraid that it wouldn't be in her best interest. DSS is not going to be overly concerned over what happened, especially not when they hear of the precipitating factors—what Callie was doing right before. You heard Bill! Her PO is already watching her closely. If we report this, we give ammo to his case that Callie should be remanded into custody. Is that what you want?"

"Of course that's not what I want!" Lena shot back, annoyed. "But fearing what might potentially happen shouldn't preclude our obligation to abide by the rules and to do the RIGHT THING, which is to be honest about what's taken place. If there are legal consequences to Callie's actions then we stand by her, like we are anyways."

"The right thing to do for WHO? Callie—or you?" Stef demanded impatiently. "The only one at a disadvantage by reporting is Callie. You gotta trust me on this, Lena. I know what's at stake; I've worked as a beat cop for over two decades. Of course we'll stand by Callie no matter what, I never ever disputed that, love. But we might not have that right if we lose custody of her, or if she goes back to youth detention."

"Our support can only go so far. Ignoring that is naive. It's ludicrous," she explained softly, hoping she would be heard.

She sighed as her wife wiped away tears. "Lena, where is this coming from? I…I just don't understand why we can't agree on this. It feels like you're making a moral argument without accounting for the facts of the situation," she gently pointed out. "I'm not prepared to throw Callie to the wolves so we can say we followed the rules to a T. I'm just not, Lena! I'd never be able to sleep at night knowing that we pulled the rug out from under her, not when she and Jude finally have some stability in their lives. You SAW how terrified she was when Bill brought up her probation…I don't want to put her through more of that."

"And you're saying that I'd sleep soundly over this? I KNOW she's scared, but by hiding this, we've essentially sent Callie the message that she has no voice!"

"She has a voice! She chose not to disclose!" Stef shot back.

"It's not on Callie to make things right! Callie isn't the adult here! And you know just as well as I do that her choice to keep this from Bill wasn't one that was informed," Lena countered bitterly. "What's unfair is that we wouldn't be in this mess had it not been for you! You know what the procedure is; we're both mandatory reporters. If this comes out later, it won't reflect well on us."

Stef slammed the dirty serving spoon down on the countertop she had just scrubbed. She was done. "That's a bit rich, coming from you! You had NO problem with me sweeping everything she's done under the rug up until now. But now that you disagree with how I've handled things, you want that documented! Being a parent is about doing things we don't like for the sake of our children's wellbeing!"

"EXACTLY, Stef! Being a parent is about doing the right thing even when we don't necessarily like it because that's what's best! I'm essentially in agreement—"

"Exactly which part are you agreeing with, Lena? You don't get to pick and choose when we go by the rules and when we don't, then turn around and tell me that procedures need to be followed!"

"This is different! Callie is used to being mistreated. She's scared and she's confused. You need to make it clear to her that you were wrong."

The cop threw her hands up in the air in abject frustration. "You know what? Fine! I was wrong! I should've reported her for the marijuana the first time I caught her with it! Then we wouldn't have had to deal with the running away or her going into the gun safe. None of that would've happened, because she wouldn't have been able to stay with us—she would've been booked for possession and breach of parole, then and there. But since we're telling Bill, we might as well be honest about everything. THAT'S what following procedure looks like, Lena! THAT'S what you're saying is in her best interest!"

Stef tossed and turned that night, unable to shut her mind off. Her worry over the mess Callie had gotten herself into and her frustration with the Parole Officer had only mounted. The more time she had to process, the more she perseverated on the information that had been discussed at the family meeting. She also knew that the entire experience had probably left Callie shaken as the repercussions started to sink in.

As a cop, she understood why any disregard of the conditions of release would be a concern to the Department of Juvenile Justice and knew the urgency in getting Callie to toe the line. But she disagreed with the notion that a remand into custody was the right thing to do. In this case, it felt like more time in the correctional system would do more harm than good.

Unfortunately, it looked as though this was what they intended to pursue. The devil was in the details. Wanting an updated risk management plan that included increased monitoring. Highlighting non-participation in group intervention and insinuating low potential for success. Requesting assessment for a behavioural disorder to justify potential recommendation for a school that was more facility. All of this was intended to show Callie needed more management and to build a case that she was not appropriate for living in the community.

Admittedly, Stef had her own biases of the youth criminal justice system. It wasn't just because it was Callie, who was now a member of the family. She had a fundamental issue with youth incarceration knowing that outcomes were poor in the transition to reintegration. Youth with mental health issues and learning difficulties were overrepresented in secure facilities. That was a fact. There was now growing recognition that incarcerated youth, as a whole, formed one of the most vulnerable populations in the United States.

Juvenile delinquency programs that were supposed to prepare inmates for reintegration focused on education, life skills training, and counselling—while failing to acknowledge that youth would often return to the same, disadvantaged situations they were used to. Not having a warm, nurturing environment made everything harder. It made what little skills they'd been taught in juvie virtually useless.

At work, these observations would unfold in realtime. Minors she needed to have a discussion with or detain often already had a criminal record, time served, or were those she'd encountered as young versions of themselves. They were more likely to have lived in chaotic households, been exposed to domestic violence, lack a cohesive support system, and have complex trauma. It wasn't difficult for these factors to surpass a youth's limited capacity to cope, resulting in unhealthy behaviours to deal with the stress.

Stakes were even higher for youth trying to escape violence at home—trying to survive. Cutting, substance use, running away, stealing, prostitution, and trafficking were some examples of poor coping and poor coping. Caught up with more pressing stressors, school and graduation were often pushed to the back burner. No one had consistently emphasized the importance of attendance and supported their educational goals, and youth—children—couldn't look far enough into the future to see benefits.

It was a vicious cycle. These behaviours increased the risk of repeated encounters with the police who, like the courts, were more likely to be harsher on those with records and arrest them. This contributed to high rates of recidivism, which shunted youth back into the system where they would be traumatized all over again.

There were success stories but over decades of policing, there weren't many that stood out. For the most part, it was the same story—just different people playing different parts at any given time.

It was a narrative the cop no longer wanted Callie to have a part in. She'd fight to make sure of it.

Taken within the context of the last five years, Callie had displayed remarkable resilience. She took pride in her schoolwork, made strong grades, and though adamantly against college, did want to finish high school. Her social group was small and it appeared as though Callie had distanced herself from nearly everyone in the court-ordered group except for a handful of peers. It made Stef nervous but Callie had never asked to hang out with any of them outside of group and she wasn't going to encourage it.

In no way was Stef naive, however. There were risk factors that took the form of having an incarcerated parent and having done time herself; premature loss of parents coupled with unresolved grief; a likely abuse and neglect history; and the trauma related to each and everyone of these.

Callie also had a bit of a disobedient streak but she was not malicious or violent by any stretch of imagination. Had it not been for her record, skipping and experimenting with pot wouldn't have been considered breaking parole. Rather, they'd be seen as things most kids end up being guilty of at one time or another. Often it seemed that her misbehaviour occurred because she felt threatened; faced with limited coping skills and lack of foresight, she avoided and would deal in the only ways she knew how. A part of Stef couldn't fault her for that.

What was needed was consistent direction in a safe, loving environment where Callie could feel secure enough to practice, make mistakes, and grow. None of those were things detainment could offer.

Lost in thought, the footsteps making their way into the bedroom hadn't registered until Stef felt a hand shaking her shoulder.

"Callie's having a bad dream or something." Sitting up, she saw Mariana waiting to subsume her spot under the covers. The cop sighed, letting her head drop back onto the pillow one last time before getting up to fumble for her pyjama bottoms. Ever since becoming parents, it seemed as though a good night's sleep had consistently evaded them.

Considering all the talk about parole and the emotions around the discovery of Colleen's tapes, Stef had suspected that this would happen. She silently berated herself for bragging that the children's nightmares had begun to clear and having to eat her words.

Lena also started to get up. "Honey, I should go this time," she offered. "Why don't you get some rest?" It was probably the kindest she'd been toward her wife all day.

Her intent was to allow Stef a break since she had always been the one doing night shift with Callie. Not having been in the garage with them earlier, she also wanted to spare her wife's feelings in case their daughter's wariness returned.

But there was insecurity there, too. All day, Lena had wondered how much her taking the back seat with Callie had contributed to the situation. The one in which Stef felt like she had no choice but to settle for a parenting decision she wasn't happy with in order to manage the escalating misbehaviour. Trying to convince her wife to stay behind would be far from easy, however.

"Mama, nooo. I always stay with you!" Mariana whined sleepily.

"Geezus," the cop muttered under her breath. Her youngest daughter's rejection instantly brought on worries that Callie might not accept her or worse, let her help her. In the midst of her own self-doubt, Lena's well-meaning words were anything but. Determined to see Callie through her nightmare, she walked out of the room before Lena could get dressed.

The door had been left wide open. As she entered the room, Stef could make out Callie's outline sitting up, huddled against one of her pillows.

"Sweetheart. Let's turn on your lamp," she murmured. She fumbled around for the face towel she kept on the bedside table for the sole purpose of placing over the lampshade to mellow the harsh bulb.

In the dim light, the woman saw the matted eyelashes and puffy, flushed cheeks that were partially obscured by the pillow. Callie's body trembled and she was desperately trying to catch her breath in between gasps. It was then that Stef spotted a dark fluid stain all over the front of her pyjama top, side of pillow, and sheets. Judging by the smell, it was vomit.

"Did your other pyjama set not make it into yesterday's wash?" she muttered to herself as she went through the messy dresser drawer. "Oh no—we're good—found them," she said with relief. She pulled a freshly laundered sleep-set from the dresser before approaching the bed.

"Hey, it's okay. These things happen," Stef reassured as Callie hung her head in embarrassment. "It's not your fault and you're not in any trouble, love, I promise."

After many, many nights of this, Stef understood where the girl's consternation came from. Sitting further down on the bed to avoid crowding her, she placed the clothes between them before reaching over to feel her forehead. It wasn't unusual for her daughter to throw up after a bad nightmare but she always checked for fever out of habit, anyway.

Callie nestled up closer to the pillow as she rubbed the skin right under her sternum. Her heart was like a hammer against the cavity of her chest, making her incredibly nauseous. She closed her eyes, finding it hurt to keep them open; they were grainy as they usually were when she woke at night.

Although she recognized only concern in the look her foster mother had given her, she couldn't bring herself to face her. Not only had she woken people up on a school night, but it was after her actions had resulted in Bill having to come visit.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she apologized sincerely, her voice thick with sleep.

"There's absolutely no need to be sorry, Bug. We've talked about this. Mama and I are available to each and every one of you—yes, including you, even at night," Stef replied sympathetically. Her heart sank when Callie simply shook her head and drew in a shuddered breath.

It dawned on her that Callie assumed she was in trouble. In the span of a few hours, her daughter's insecurity had somehow returned in full force. And it probably meant she'd be unwilling to let the cop give her a hand.

Stef was grateful when Lena appeared at the door. Help, she mouthed, finally accepting she needed help with the situation. Night air was coming in through the window; Callie had begun to shiver from the damp shirt against her skin and beads of sweat on her skin that were quickly cooling. Fairly certain that her daughter wouldn't allow her to come any closer, Stef decided not to push it.

As her wife helped Callie into fresh clothes, the cop distracted herself by searching for new sheets. It hurt that Callie had returned to keeping her at arm's length, so much so that she refused assistance from her even when she needed it.

Since Friday, Stef had accepted that her daughter's cautiousness around her wouldn't be resolved easily. Still, it was disappointing after having a couple good days together—to go from Callie making fun of her age and opening up to her in the garage. Like getting her to eat something each morning, both of those events had been big steps. Unfortunately, Callie was afraid of her all over again.

Needing to get Callie out of bed to strip the sheets, the women managed to coax her downstairs with a Milo as incentive. Lena had originally balked at the idea until Stef pointed out that a cup of hot milk and malt were full of nutrients and would help bring on sleep. It was how the cop ended up in the kitchen—following strict instructions to microwave milk at fifteen second intervals to avoid curdling it.

Lena fluffed the pillow before holding up the corner of the sheet so Callie could get in. Noticing that the girl had socks on, she piled on an extra throw and pulled the sheets up high around her shoulders before sitting on the couch to face her. She'd become increasingly concerned at her daughter's body language. Callie had kept her head ducked, avoiding every single attempt she made at eye contact. Not only that, but as she transformed the couch into a bed, the girl had awkwardly approached then retreated a few times. Now tucked in and captive to Lena's full attention, she looked more uncomfortable than ever as she settled into the pillow and curled her arms underneath the blanket.

"Do you feel comfortable telling me what your nightmare was about?"

"Talking about it won't make it real…in fact, it might help you feel better," she tried again when Callie only shook her head slightly and gave her a shy smile. "Whatever happened wasn't real, no matter how much it may have felt like it."

"You're safe here with us," she soothed. "You know that, right?" Her stomach plummeted as the young girl scrutinized her, frowning in uncertainty. For the first time, she noticed her distress and the unshed tears. When did her daughter start mistrusting her, too?

"I can't help if I don't know what's going on, honey," Lena encouraged. Things were far from okay. She reached for the Kleenex as her daughter began to cry softly. Quickly, Callie buried her face in both hands before curling onto her side to face the back of the couch.

"Don't do that, don't hide," the woman said. She gently maneuvered Callie by the shoulders to bring her back towards her and help her sit up. Folding a tissue in half, she handed it over to Callie, who in her usual endearing way, crumpled it before using.

"What's this about? What's this about?" Lena murmured, completely at a loss. Whatever this was, seemed like it was more than a nightmare.

"Is it something to do with Bill coming over?" she ventured a guess. She was relieved when Callie nodded reluctantly, glad to have at least narrowed down the source of her daughter's unhappiness.

"I don't want to go back," Callie whispered fearfully, breaking Lena's heart with the disclosure. She had fully expected Callie to be afraid of being taken back into custody but was surprised to hear the admission.

"I know. I know," she empathized. She swept Callie's hair away from her forehead before taking the soggy tissue from her. The tears came steadily, trickling down her face and dropping onto the blanket faster than they could be wiped away. "Here, let me help you honey…" she fussed, pulling a fresh one from the box.

God it upset her that she wasn't able to give Callie the finality she was looking for at this moment. "You're going to take it one step at a time but you're not going to be alone in this, alright? We will be there to walk alongside you as long as you want us to—even if you don't want us too," she admitted, smiling painfully. It was the best she could offer at this time, though it was far from being good enough.

As much as Lena wanted to quell the young girl's fears, she couldn't promise her that she wouldn't go anywhere without knowing what would happen. For the first time, she felt scared and nervous for Callie. Things truly felt like they were out of their hands.

She could see her wife's point now—the one about how she'd been painfully dogmatic about the incident report. Her daughter had just told her that she didn't want to go back to juvie and she wondered if it was Callie telling her, in her own way, that she didn't want to leave their home.

She sighed, knowing then that it was time to put her feelings aside. Stef was right; it wasn't worth disrupting Callie's sense of security any more than it already had, just so that she could tell herself she had done the right thing. Doing the right thing now wouldn't erase what had happened. In fact, it'd likely do more harm.

"Stef's mad at me," Callie mumbled in a discouraged tone. She felt overwhelmed. Her heart pounded hard against her chest and she felt completely discombobulated as she always did when she woke up after having slept only a few hours.

"You think Mom's mad at you?" Lena reflected, utterly confused. She was certain that they'd already reminded her several times that neither of them were upset with her. And even though Callie had been fairly cautious around her wife, she also knew that they two of them had shared several lighthearted moments over the weekend. She had heard her laugh and seen her spontaneously poke fun at Stef for her age, even before their time out in the garage.

Then she remembered how livid she and Stef had become when they learned about the PO's intentions, jumping all over Bill for being the unfortunate messenger. How Callie had more than happily sprang from the couch to the Case Worker when he decided to close that part of the conversation. She understood how it could've appeared that they were angry at her.

Callie nodded. "You too," she accused, becoming tearful before Lena could figure out what she could possibly say.

Realizing she didn't need to have an answer just yet, Lena held out her arms tentatively, somewhat afraid of being rejected. After a slight hesitation, Callie relented. Gathering her daughter into her arms, she rubbed her back, humming and shushing to try to calm her down.

"Oh—no, honey. No, no, no…" she consoled. She rocked the both of them slightly as Callie's chin rested in the crook between her neck and shoulder, trying to keep it together. It was always hard for her as a parent to see her children in any sort of pain. The youth's distress was palpable; hot tears traced down her neck and her own body shook as Callie's breaths came out in gasps.

"That must have been so confusing and scary to sit through all of that…I am so, so sorry that Mom and I let it get as far as it did," Lena apologized. "Now that I think about it, we did let it get out of hand. We were a bit caught off guard and responded without thinking about how you might have felt. That wasn't right."

She was grateful when her wife appeared, steaming mugs in hand. Stef needed to hear this.

Catching the tail end of the response, the cop gave Lena a questioning look. She perched on the end of the coffee table closest to the pair, confused at having heard the high-pitched, hiccupped sobs while in the kitchen. Callie, who her wife had managed to console long before heading to the living room, was upset all over again. What had happened in fifteen minutes?

She understood when Lena continued. "Mom wasn't mad at you, Bug. I know it looked that way but I bet you she was frustrated with what Bill was telling her. You can ask her, she's right here."

"Oh, Callie. Is that what you think? That I'm upset with you?" Stef questioned, smiling sadly when she caught Callie's gaze from the mass of curls she was hidden behind. "Because I'm not, I promise you, love. I was not mad at you, not once, at that meeting. Got it?" Reaching out to rub Callie's hand affectionately, she was dismayed when her daughter shrank away from the physical contact.

"What have we said to you before?" she asked. "We may have been upset over some of your decisions but all of that has been dealt with. It's over and we're not upset anymore. No matter what you do, no matter how angry we may get with you does not mean we won't support or love you. Never, baby."

Hurt by the girl's reaction, she forced herself to steady the tremor in her voice to mask her feelings. "It's our job to go to bat for you. That's why I got so worked up during our meeting today. I wasn't mad at you—not even at Bill—just at the situation like Mama said. I should've been more careful with my words and thought about how they were coming across. I'm sorry, Bug."

Callie's reaction to her words left the cop unsettled. The girl had stared vacantly at her before closing her eyes, causing a fresh bout of tears to roll down her cheeks. It wasn't just tiredness; it was that whatever little fight left in her had dissipated. She had given up.

Lena, too, had a feeling that something was gravely wrong. While Callie still had her arms wrapped around her, their grasp had loosened considerably. In fact, she had started to halfheartedly try to extricate herself from the hold the woman had on her.

Callie hardened her heart against the cop's words as she tried to quiet down. Earlier, she'd overheard her foster mother say she regretted not having turned her in sooner. After that, Callie told herself that she'd try harder so she wouldn't make Stef regret her even more than she already did.

The women's voices got progressively louder as she walked back to the house. Callie sighed, deciding to head to the front of the house instead and enter through the living room. She already felt embarrassed enough at breaking down in front of Stef and plus, she didn't want to interrupt. It sounded kinda bad and experience had taught her better than to get in between arguing foster parents. Hearing her name, she paused on the stoop and pressed her ear against the door.

"That's rich! …sweeping everything she's done under the rug up until now… you disagree with how I've handled things! Being a parent is about doing things we don't like for the sake of our children's wellbeing!"

"EXACTLY, Stef! …that's what's best! I'm essentially in agreement—"

There was a period of muffled voices before she was able to discern what they were saying again.

"You don't get to pick and choose when we go by the rules and when we don't!"

Callie swallowed. Against the door, it echoed loudly in her ear. She couldn't make it all out but she'd heard enough to understand. Before she could peel herself off the door, Stef's voice came through. This time, there was no mistaking her words.

"I was wrong! I should've reported her for the marijuana the first time I caught her with it! Then we wouldn't have had to deal with the running away or...the gun safe. None of that would've happened, because she wouldn't have been able to stay with us—she would've been booked for possession and breach of parole, then and there…since we're telling Bill, we might as well be honest about everything…THAT'S what's in her best interest!"

In Callie's mind, it didn't matter that Stef and Lena weren't angry with her anymore. Stef had wanted to send her away—and that had the same time, it was a relief to hear them finally say it out loud. That fear had persisted since moving in; having it confirmed meant that she'd no longer have to go back and forth, doubting the validity of whatever they told her. Sussing out if they were trustworthy.

That the women maintained their story that they'd support her no matter what just made her feel worse. Ashamed, because now she knew that they wished they didn't have her. Callie wondered how annoyed they were now, knowing they were stuck adopting her because it was probably too late to back out.

She bit her lip to internalize a sob as the thought struck her that Stef and Lena were probably looking into reversing the adoption. It had happened before. Adoption Day was just a notation that could be erased from a calendar.

Another tear coursed down her face. That would suck. Because as much as she hated to admit it, she had come to depend on them, and knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to make things better.

She was nothing but a fuckup. Un-encourage-able or in-courageable…something. Whatever her PO had called her once. She never did succeed in looking up the word but had been able to tell by the way he'd spat it out that it wasn't a label people were fighting to have associated with them.

It was something you called someone who was unworthy. Undeserving or unwanted, or whatever.

Thinking Callie might be afraid of the darkness of the bay window, Stef kept the stove light on and stayed in the living room. She left the window open a crack, knowing that cooling the room temperature even by a few degrees would be conducive to sleep.

Her night shot, she decided to try to get some work done while Lena went back upstairs to clock a few more hours of rest. Every so often, she'd glance over the screen of her ToughBook. Each time, without fail, her heart broke at the sight of silent tears lulling her daughter off to sleep.

When she was sure Callie had finally drifted off, Stef went over quietly. In the dim light, the youth looked more vulnerable than ever with a frown in her brow and cheeks freshly tearstained.

The cop sighed as she adjusted the blankets, gently kissing Callie on the forehead.

"Why can't you have peace even when you're asleep, baby?" she murmured.