Disclaimer: I don't own the Fosters, only the plot and any characters you don't recognize from the show.

Author's Note: Sorry this is such a short chapter but I don't know for sure when I'll update again, and I didn't want to leave you hanging too long, especially after that bomb I dropped in the last chapter...

Chapter 8: Aftermath

"What? What did I say? Did I say something wrong? What's going on?" Becky asked, her voice cracking.

"You didn't say anything wrong, sweets," Stef found her voice first.

"But..."

"This family has a history with that name, that's all, so it's kind of a shock to hear it now. Why don't I take up you to bed? You look exhausted," Callie said. And indeed, Becky did look completely exhausted – mentally, physically, and emotionally. She wasn't trying to keep her past a secret, but now was not the time to put more on the poor girl's shoulders. She squashed all her feelings – anger, rage, shock – into a tight ball until her patient was squared away.

Becky did not look any less confused, but she allowed Callie to lead her up the stairs, feet dragging. Her nap that afternoon did not make up for the sleeplessness of the night before, and being dumped in a new environment and having to relive the past would be tiring for anyone on a full night's sleep. Callie passed her pajamas and directed her to the upstairs bathroom to brush her teeth, then tucked Becky into bed.

"I'm sorry?" Becky said sleepily.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I feel like I just brought a whole heap of trouble on you and you don't deserve that."

"It's not your fault. It's the fault of the people who did this to you. You have nothing to be sorry for. Shh, rest. You're all but asleep." It seemed like it was mere moments before Becky was asleep, and Callie got up from her perch on the bed. She was closing the door when Becky called out.

"Wait!"

"What? What is it?"

"Don't leave me in the dark!" The teenager's tremulous voice sounded ten years younger.

"I know just the thing," Callie said, making sure to leave the door wide open as she left. She was back in a minute, and plugged something into a wall outlet. A soft glow banished the darkness without making the room too bright. "How's that?"

"Perfect. Thanks..." Becky's voice trailed off as she succumbed to her exhaustion.

Callie went downstairs. Stef and Lena were still exactly where she left them. "How is she?" Lena asked.

"She fell asleep pretty quickly. She's afraid of the dark, so I stole the nightlight from your dresser drawer."

"That's what it's there for."

"How are you?" Stef asked, motioning for Callie to sit down.

"Kind of shocked. Lots of old memories coming back. Her attacker, my attacker...you don't think they could be the same person, do you? I mean, there's probably lots of tall, blond guys about that age named Liam, right?"

"Statistically, yes, there probably are. But between you and that girl, Sarah, Liam Olmstead started showing a pattern of interest in younger girls and that's not something that would likely go away over time," Stef said regretfully. She had seen it too many times before.

"So, it could be him. And even if it wasn't, he could still be out there doing it to other girls." Callie paused. "And it's my fault."

"Woah. Back up. Your fault? What makes you say that?" Lena asked, shocked at the turn in the conversation.

"Well, I failed to put him away when he did it to me, and now he's out there hurting other girls."

"This is not your fault, Callie. Not your fault. And we don't even know for sure if it's the same person."

"Lena's right. We don't know. Tomorrow, I'll start doing some digging into Becky's case, and I'll also try to track down Liam Olmstead. For all we know, he's been dead for years."

"I thought I put all this behind me. I thought I could move on with my life. I'm a doctor. I love my job. I have a great family. I have a husband and twins that I adore. And now this happens, and I feel like the sixteen year foster kid you took in all those years ago."

"You certainly have come a long way," Stef said warmly.

"Are you guys alright? I know this brings up a lot of memories for you, too."

"It does, but we'll be okay," Lena assured her.

"I think I'm going to go home, if that's alright. I have this sudden need to look upon the faces of my children, and make sure they're okay."

"You go. Give them a kiss for me."

Callie started to leave, but turned around at the door. "If it is him – I'm not saying it is, but if it is him – we better nail the bastard this time."

Stef gave her a feral smile in return. "We will. We certainly will."

As Callie left, she saw her moms collapse in on each other, sinking into each other's arms in a practiced way that spoke of a long partnership. She was not so caught up in her own emotions that she did not worry about them. It wasn't like they were still young...but they weren't old either, she reminded herself. They'd get through this.

As she walked through the brisk night air, she repeated to herself what she had just told her moms – doctor, family, husband, twins. Her wonderful life that she adored. Liam Olmstead had not taken that away from her. He may have bent her, but he had not broken her. She had moved on, but she had not forgiven nor forgotten. The sound of the judge's voice as he declared Liam not guilty still rang in her ears. And now the knowledge that he might have done it again, perhaps not once but many times since it had been many years since she'd last had any contact with him, made her angry all over again.

Wyatt was lazing in their bit of a living room, one hand wrapped around a mug of steaming tea. "Hey babe," he said. "Everything okay?"

"No," she admitted softly. She poked her head in the kids' room, and saw that they were sleeping soundly, mirror images of each other, both curled up on their sides with tiny fists pressed against their mouths. She brushed curls back from their faces, and laid gentle kisses on their foreheads. The anger inside of her loosened, for who could stay angry when faced with a picture of such perfect innocence? She let their peace, and her love for them, wash over her, calming her.

She joined Wyatt on the couch, settling comfortably into the circle of his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I will be," she said.

"May I ask what happened, or does that fall under doctor-patient confidentiality?" She had trained him well.

"I'm going to tell you something, Wyatt, because you should hear it from me. I need you to remember that there are sleeping toddlers in the next room and not get too upset or they will wake and we'll have a devil of a time putting them back to sleep."

"Okay..." he said warily.

"There is a possibility that Liam Olmstead might reenter our lives," she said carefully, knowing that she did not have to remind him who Liam Olmstead was.

"What?" Though his shock was evident, he managed to keep his voice down.

"He matches the description, and the first name, of a man who hurt a teenage girl of my acquaintance. Stef is going to look into it. I can't really tell you anymore than that at the moment."

"I see. I thought we were done with him."

"Me, too. But I guess fate is tricky that way." She paused, not quite knowing if she wanted an answer to her next question from her Buddhist husband. "Am I terrible person for wanting to nail him to a wall for what he did to me, even after all these years? And what he may have done to this girl?"

"If you are, then I am, too. I wanna kill that man." He paused, and for the first time in a long time, she sensed a great deal of anger from the normally gentle man. "I guess that just means we're both human," he finally said ruefully.

He held her tighter, and she snuggled into his shoulder. "We'll get through this," she said, not quite sure which of them she was trying to convince.

"Sure we will," he said. He paused, and his voice took on a deadly tone. "But if he comes anywhere near you, our kids, anyone in our family, he'll wish he was never born."

Callie turned wide eyes on him. This was a new side of Wyatt. "It may not be him," she offered weakly, trying to diffuse the anger she sensed inside him.

"Perhaps." He didn't sound convinced. And, given the sinking feeling in her chest, she was not convinced either.