Please find part 2. I initially sent this on Saturday, but then withdrew it due to the website problems. Apologies for the delay. I had originally intended this to be a one-shot, but your wonderful reviews (thank you) spurred me on.

Enjoy and please review. Regards CC.

2

They tell me I'm too young to understand.

They say I'm caught up in a dream.

Well life will pass me by if I

don't open up my eyes.

Well that's fine by me

(Avicci)

Stef stepped back and to the side and allowed Callie to enter, which she did with pride-damaging haste - the five-second locking of blank faces at the open front door had impacted on her resolve some what. However, she still had enough of her earlier positive attitude to her new life to keep from embarrassing herself.

"I have a pot of coffee on," Stef said as if welcoming a friend for a morning chat. "Come through and we can chat," she added, hammering home the image. The older woman walked ahead and entered the kitchen before Callie was able to take her coat off. Should she take it off, she wondered.

Coffee was for adults. For equals. For two people to discuss grown-up...stuff. Right now Callie yearned for a Coke.

She recognised the tone of Stef's voice from other adults she had faced. It was one of several they adopted for different occasions. There was Anger. There was Disapproval and its cousin, Disappointment and the black sheep of the family, Disinterest. And then there was that tone which indicated they were not bothered; that your actions had not affected, upset or annoyed them; it declared 'we will carry on where we left off'. Worse, it meant they had been carrying on as normal without you there.

Most people were Jacks-of-all-tones. Stef was master of them all, especially the last one.

If Stef said she wasn't angry, just disappointed, Callie would break something. Or, perhaps less petulantly, she would leave again. Or, perhaps not – been there, done that. If Stef had to emote, Callie wanted it to be anger. It would be vaguely heartbreaking if she were just disappointed.

Out of interest – an insane desire to know in fact, Callie wondered if anything upset Stef, made her angry and lose the calmness-under-presure she exhibited. What would breach her wall and cause her to charge forth, sword in hand and battle-cry sounding? Callie found herself actually creating mental scenarios and wildly creative causes. It felt like it might be fun.

She was pregnant. No, that would prompt too many questions and require some pre-planning. For example, she would have to secure Wyatt's co-operation in the charade, unless she kept him in the dark to add his surprise to the general enjoyment. Of course, Stef would immediately think of Brandon. The whole game could backfire horribly and become a hideous tangled web.

She had become a Scientologist. That would worry her, certainly, but not anger. The two moms respected all their children's beliefs, including Callie's already-declared non-belief. She didn't think she could show enough devotion to carry it off – and the reading requirement alone would make it less than enjoyable.

She had put her name down to become a Young Republican. Callie let out a short, quick blast of laughter before clasping her hand over her mouth. She filed that under 'too cruel' and followed Stef into the kitchen. She then looked behind her at the base of the stairs.

"Jude slept over with a friend last night," Stef said reading Callie's mind. "So did Brandon and the twins. Lena is on Saturday morning detention duty."

So it was just her and Stef, Callie thought. Perhaps it was for the best, although she sorely wanted to see Jude. A large part of her also wished she could get all the reconciliations over with in one go rather than piecemeal, one person at a time.

"Are you OK?" Stef asked, her back to Callie as she poured two cups of coffee.

"Yes, thank you. I was with Wyatt all the time I was away."

"I know."

OK, thought Callie. "We stayed at a motel."

"I know." Stef stretched over the large kitchen table and handed Callie one of the cups. "We found you after a couple of days."

Callie found herself solidified, cup in hand, eyes wide and unblinking and levelled at the woman in front of her. Stef matched her stare, but with no give-away indication of what tone she would adopt when the duel ended. Callie caved first of course. It had been no competition really. She looked down and to her right – the supposed non-verbal indication of guilt. Then she looked up again and desperately sought for a glimpse of what Stef was thinking, but found nothing.

"Mike traced you by Wyatt's car number plate," Stef added.

"Then, why didn't you..."

"You both seemed well and contented. We figured we'd let you return in your own good time, although we did set a four-week limit. Lena said any longer would cause questions to be asked by the school governors."

Callie rubbed her eyes, then her brow, then dragged her hand through her hair from front to back. She looked away from Stef's calm gaze and tried to collect her thoughts into some semblance of order. Stef's calmness was freaking her out. It wasn't a smug-calmness or a calm-before-a-storm. Both options would have actually been preferable. Callie could lash out in anger at the former or stand ready for the latter. However, she couldn't react to the unreadable. "How did you know I would return?" She asked weakly and knew it.

Stef tilted her head and gave Callie a 'seriously?' expression which made her feel stupid.

"Brandon loves me," she blurted out.

"I know."

"I don't love him."

"I know."

Callie let out a scream of exasperation. "You keep saying that! Are we all so easy to read?"

"I'm a parent," Stef offered as explanation. "The twins are like open pop-up books and Brandon wears his heart on every sleeve."

"And me?" Callie had felt momentarily upset that Stef had only mentioned her original three children, but immediately discarded any thought that she wasn't loved as childish – Stef loved all her children.

"Actually, you're a closed book mostly," Stef said. "But Jude's different. He wasn't upset when you left. We knew you'd be back because he knew." Callie smiled at the thought of her strong, brave all-knowing brother. "Mind, you," Stef added, "he was angry as hell."

Callie's expression changed and this time Stef did show an emotion, which the younger woman read to be satisfaction; Jude would be the method of punishment.

xxxxxxx

Callie laid back on Jude's bed. She had a broad grin on her face. Not brought on by feeling triumphant – there was nothing to feel triumphant about. She felt too uneasy, guilty...cripplingly nervous. Not brought on by relief either, even if she was overwhelmed by that particular emotion. No, it was a continuation of her life-is-actually-not-all-that-bad attitude from earlier.

Stef's revelation that she and Lena had known all along where she had been the last three weeks prodded her thoughts relentlessly. At the time it had felt like being two fugitives on the run and hiding; a less morally-corrupt Bonny and Clyde. To discover that Stef and Lena had known where they were most of the time was a bit deflating. It dashed her thoughts of being an adult onto the rocks of absurdity, which was quite right of course – she was still a child. And as much as she wanted to feel angry, she couldn't help feeling admiration for the two women. They had been crafty and manipulative, patient and understanding while, at the same time, had risked a lot by not immediately reporting her absence – across a state line, no less.

What wonderful people they were! Her two moms.

Over the preceding months they had helped her connect to a part of herself she thought she would never experience again – the ability to love herself and to love somebody else. It had been a long time; her own Dark Ages.

She hadn't always been like that – negative and defeatist..

Unlike the other residents of the children's home – her competitors in life, she used to flourish and thrive amid trying times. She used to smile when she greeted people and at the end of every sentence. At the time it must have been difficult for others to judge whether she thought life was all good or if it was her default expression. Whatever. Not for her the frown or melancholy focus into the distance with sad-slow music playing as a soundtrack. Nor the hunched weighed-down look of others of her generation, who reacted instantly and negatively, as though every knock-back or frustration was the end of the world, and every adult was 'so unfair'.

In fact, Callie had considered most adults to be quite reasonable actually. After all, being inflicted with arrested development and foisted with responsibilities at the same time must have sucked. And having to pay taxes.

However, she had also found out very early in life that it was fun to break or bend every rule in the numerous books adults had. Perhaps because, being in the system, there had been so many to break. She had wanted the freedom she supposed every regular kid had, and had indulged accordingly; swimming naked at night in the sea, things like that. She had been anti-establishment, anti-authority or, at least, anti-mindless authority. It probably explained her atheism.

As much as she respected adults in general, she had often had problems with people in authority who showed little or no experience of their role and responsibility. She had hated risk-averse junkies. She recognised the unpredictability of life was its greatest danger, but chose to back her own judgement and respect her environment and not take instinct out of the process.

Life was about risk.

All that changed with Liam.

Her world-view was worth jack-shit after that. There had been no fucking Blurred Lines that day!

She had started a new calendar the day Liam entered her life – BC/ AD replaced by pre Liam, post Liam.

One late-night sojourn on the beach, post Liam, she had screamed into the night – howled with fear and anguish. She had even contemplated entering the sea and swimming to the horizon. Only Jude had anchored her. But even he had not prevented her from becoming a robot, going through a set program written by others; a zombie.

Until the day Lena picked her up from Juvie and introduced her to a life she had not realised existed – the Fosters were one continuous group hug;

Until two new boys treated her like porcelain – not because she was fragile, but because she was beautiful;

Until her epiphany on a doorstep.

Jude had saved her life. The Fosters had made it worth living again.

Her new life was good, dammit. She looked forward to resuming her rule-challenging. Perhaps she would invite someone along the next time she skinny-dipped.

She didn't hear the front door close or Jude climb the stairs.

To be continued.