hey friends! it's been eight days, so it's time for a new chapter :)

callie's pov is back, and i really hope you like the reunion! we got some more olive in this one, too, just because i luh her so. happy reading!


Thin white terry, bars of soap, and a couple little plastic cups
Old Gideons' Bible in the nightstand drawer saying "Go on, open up"
Well, I'll kneel down on the carpet, here, though I never was sure of God
Think tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt

~ Vienna Teng, "Homecoming (Walter's Song)"


"You wanna listen to the radio?" Olive asks.

I shake my head.

"You wanna grab a bite to eat?" she asks.

I shake my head again and pull my leg up to my chest, heel resting on the seat beneath me.

My companion sighs - not very loudly, but I have good ears. One of her hands dangles out the window of the pickup cab while the other loosely clutches the steering wheel. She seems relaxed, but something's bothering her.

"I'm sorry you had to babysit me," I say softly. She waited with me at Wyatt's until he got home, so I could say goodbye. I gave Granny the groceries and said goodbye to her, too. I'm really gonna miss them.

"It's not babysitting." Her voice is callous, but her lips curve upwards. "Besides, I'm long overdue for a kiddo snuggle."

"Tell me about your family," I ask, trying to make my voice sound offhand.

"Well, I have one older sister and one older brother," Olive says. "My sister lives in Atlanta, and my brother, obviously, lives in Indianapolis. My sister is the oldest, but she didn't want kids."

"Why not?"

Olive shrugs. "Same reason people do want kids, I guess. Just the right fit."

"Do you want kids?" I ask suddenly.

"Yeah, I think so," Olive replies with a grin. "But not for a while."

"I'm not having kids," I declare.

"Why not?"

I smile uncomfortably. "Didn't you just answer that?"

"Well, even my sister had specific reasons. What made you decide that?"

"I don't want to risk it," I answer truthfully.

"What's the risk?" she asks, and she sounds believably puzzled.

"Well, what if something happened to me, and I couldn't take care of them? They'd end up in the system, same as me," I say. "Plus, I don't have a future. I'm gonna be working low-level, minimum-wage jobs for the rest of my life. Kids shouldn't have to live with that."

"That's bullshit," Olive laughs, after a beat. I hug my knees to my chest, hurt, but she continues. "C'mon, Callie. First of all, I'm sure that your parents would take care of your kids if something happened to you. They love you, and grandkids are like an extension of that. And if something had happened to them, one of your brothers or sisters would take them. I mean, I couldn't stand my brother growing up, to be sure, but if something happened to him and his wife? I would gladly adopt my niece and nephews. That's what family does," she explains.

I sit there in silence, still feeling wounded from her laughing at my bleak circumstances.

"I don't believe for a second that you have no future, by the way," she says, flicking her blinker and merging into our exit lane. "If you had no future, you'd still be stuck in my precinct right now with Alex, trying to convince him that you weren't a truant. You're smart, and passionate, and you have something to fight for. You're not dying, Callie. You're gonna make it."

I hold tightly to my shins as we near our destination. On the one hand, I want to see Stef and Jude and Lena and everybody so bad it physically hurts. On the other, I want to make Olive pull the car over and let me escape. I've never been good at confrontation, and knowing that I might actually have to participate in this one, instead of lying down and taking what's handed to me, scares me to pieces.

"You're gonna make it, kid," Olive whispers, and she weaves into the pick-up lane at Indianapolis International Airport. She parks, and gets out of the car. I am frozen. I feel Olive staring at me through the windshield, and then I hear my door yanked open.

"Get out of the car," she tells me. I bury my face in my knees.

"Callie, for god sakes, get out of the car!" She says, frustrated.

"I can't," I mumble. "I'm scared."

I feel a hand on my arm, and I am tired of being pitied.

"Stop it, Olive! I don't want your sympathy! I'm too fucked up, okay? Just take me back to Fort Wayne, I'll grab a train or a bus or something. Can't you see that I'm a disaster waiting to happen? Please, let's just go!"

"Callie." My angry force-field dissolves at the sound of that voice. Because it isn't Olive, grasping my arm. It isn't Olive Cho, no - it's Stefanie Marie Elkins Foster. And I am Callie Jacobs, used-to-be-soon-to-be Callie Jacobs Foster, and I am an idiot.

I don't want it to be her. I don't want to look up and see the hurt and betrayal I've put into her eyes. I don't want to listen to her say I'm no longer welcome in her family. I don't want to feel her touch, light and delicate, that burns like hellfire on the flesh of my soul.

"Look at me, love," she commands, and I am helpless but to obey.

I turn my head away from my knees and meet her gaze. Her eyes are filled with tears, and a cold hand grips my heart and squeezes. Ever so carefully, she reaches across my huddled mass and unbuckles my seatbelt. As it springs back into place, she tugs me out of the car. I am a limp noodle - I have no strength left to fight. So I let her bring me to a standing position, and I mentally prepare for the attack soon to come. I try to remember the mantra I had before Jude and I came to the Fosters - the one that kept me strong through beatings, harsh punishments, starvation, and even Liam. No matter what happens, don't let them see you cry.

I blink slowly, savoring the feeling of my eyelids pressed together. I stand ramrod straight, willing my body to convey poise and courage I do not myself feel. And I stare straight ahead, as if daring Stef to come at me.

It happens so fast. A blue and blonde ball speeds towards me, clutching me to her chest and hugging me fiercely. Stef did come at me, but not how I expected. Her arms are wrapped around my waist, one hand sliding up to cradle my back and shoulders. There is no air space between us, but if I'm being honest with myself, I don't mind at all.

I used to think I didn't like being touched - my dad was violent. Jim hit me, as did so many foster dads before him. Liam raped me. Innumerable situations that were out of my control involved inappropriate personal contact. The only person I liked to have close to me was Jude, and he was always a touchy-feely kid - ruffled hair, arms wrapped tight around my waist - so I didn't mind indulging him most of the time. But once I came to the Fosters…

Lena has little strokes. A hair pat here, a wrist touch there. Stef's gestures are more bold - a shoulder squeeze, several kisses on the cheek or forehead right in a row. Brandon has side-hugs and knee-knocking; Jesus is all over the place, and will bear hug you and pick you up off the ground as soon as he will just give you a little smile and a fistbump. Mariana is sensitive...I know that, now. She is afraid of rejection, so she acts bratty and mean to make up for it. But when she is sure you're not gonna dump her, she's very affectionate. A little hair twirl, a quick shoulder nudge, and sometimes even warm hugs that rival her twin's and Mom's.

Thinking on that, I wonder what her reaction will be. We had gotten close, being roommates and all, and she made me promise that I understood her when she said,

"You know we've got you. Right?"

I try to yank myself out of Stef's grasp. It's easier to hide than to face your problems, and I am all for the easiest out right now. But she won't let go.

"Let go," I moan weakly. I feel my nose tingle with suppressed emotion. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. "Please, Stef, please!"

"Never again. Never again, my love. Oh, my baby, don't you know you belong with us?"

I notice how she says "with us" and not "to us." I am confused.

"I don't belong to you, I belong to me. I belong to Jude!" I say, trying to get her to admit her mistake.

"Honey, no…you may belong to anybody you choose, or not," she murmurs into my hair, her warm breath tickling my scalp. "But when I say you belong with us, I mean Jude, and Brandon, and the twins, and Lena and me. I mean that you're a part of this family now, sweets, and we're not letting you go ever again. We're in this forever."

I remember Stef's words to me on the phone earlier. She keeps saying she'll never let me go, but she doesn't know the real me. I can't have this conversation in front of Olive, though, so I nod into Stef's shoulder and she slowly loosens her grip. She still has an arm firmly across my shoulder, and I know she's ready to tackle me like a perp if I run again. I take a deep breath and try to look relaxed.

"Thank you for bringing me down, Olive," I say quietly.

"It was really nice to meet ya, kiddo," she says, and I honestly feel like she means it.

"Thank you so much," Stef says, and steps us forward so she can shake Olive's hand. "If you ever need anything from the SDPD, please give me a call," she says, handing Olive a business card. "Or really, anything at all. You brought my wife and me back one of the five most important creatures in our lives, and we will forever be grateful."

I swallow hard, trying not to let those words affect me. I am so preoccupied with telling myself it's okay that Stef soon won't feel that way that I miss the farewells. When next I'm aware of my surroundings, we're in a central food court area of the airport.

"I would normally try to get settled first," Stef is saying, "but I'm so hungry right now that finding a hotel is a next to impossible goal. What are you in the mood for, sweets?"

"What?" I ask, completely bewildered.

Stef looks at me strangely. "I was just saying that before we find a place to crash tonight, I'd like to get some food in our bellies. I'm starved - aren't you?"

Before I think about it, I shake my head. I need to talk to her first. "No, not really," I say, lying through my teeth. I haven't eaten at all today except a few slices of toast at breakfast. My stomach decides that it doesn't appreciate lying, because it chooses that exact moment to gurgle and roar like I haven't heard since before the Fosters.

"You and Mariana are such a pair, I swear," Stef is muttering under her breath, and I have no idea what she means, but it doesn't really matter because she's dragging me across the lobby to the little burger stand in the middle of the hall.

"You're gonna have to eat something," Stef says, "so either you can pick, or I'll pick for you."

I let Stef order first - double patty, cheese, tomato, onion, no lettuce, extra pickles - so she can't interrupt when I order my plain burger, no fries, and a small water. Glaring at me, Stef goes to pay, and I quickly grab the numbered stand the cashier holds out to us and scurry to an empty two-seater booth.

"Oh-ho, you think you're so clever?" she asks me, but I think it's a rhetorical question. "Never try to outwit the Mom, my friend." She plops the receipt down in front of me, and I groan. She went ahead and got my burger with lettuce, double onions, no pickles, and mustard, no ketchup.

"How do you even-"

"You're my kid, Callie," Stef says, and she looks almost...hurt? that I would question how she knows what I like on my burger. "We've gone out for burgers a couple of times, and you always get the same thing. I also got you onion rings."

"But those cost extra," I say nervously.

"Like a dollar," Stef shrugs. "No biggie."

"But...Stef, I-"

The cashier is standing by our table, two red baskets of greasy road food in his grasp. He sets our food down in front of us and takes the number away, and after pulling a wad of napkins from the dispenser, Stef tucks in. But I'm nauseated at the sight. I can't eat - I feel far too guilty.

"Eat, Callie," Stef directs, her mouth full of french fries.

"I can't," I say. "I have to talk to you first."

At that, Stef sets her burger down. She wipes her fingers off, sits back, and looks at me. "Okay," she says slowly. "Go for it."

I take a breath, completely unsure if I'm doing the right thing. "I have to tell you about the reason I ran away. I...well, I made a promise to Jude. I promised him something I knew would be devastating for me, but I did it anyway because I ruin everything for him. He deserves to be happy. I...Jude, at your wedding, he-" I begin to stutter, suddenly terrified of Stef's reaction. But I look at her, and her posture is relaxed. Her face is calm. And I know what I have to do.

"When I was trying to figure out if I was going to go through with the pre-trial, Brandon talked to me a little. And he said that I deserved justice. And I wanted to thank him for that, for...believing in me, because he almost always has. And we were talking, and then all of a sudden-" I can't believe it, but I'm starting to cry.

"I kissed him, we kissed, and I-god, I know it was wrong but it happened anyway, and then Jude saw us and yelled at me and I just want him to be safe and happy and loved, something he'd never really known before we came to you, and if I can't be with you, I shouldn't be with him, because he truly deserves a family like yours."

Stef is just sitting there, and I'm crying, wiping my nose with my sleeves, and Stef hands me a folded Kleenex from her pocket quietly so I can blow my nose. I blot my eyes with some napkins, and I have calmed down significantly.

"I'm not entirely sure what you expect to happen, Callie," Stef says measuredly. "But I can tell you one thing - there is no way in hell that Lena or I are letting anyone take you and Jude away from this family."

I clench my fists, because I am so tired of being misunderstood. "No, that isn't what I mean," I say tensely. "It's not me and Jude anymore, okay? It can't be. You have to keep Jude, and I'll go wherever they throw me. It's not that big of a deal as long as Jude is with you."

Stef looks mad, and I worry that maybe I've crossed a line. I know she doesn't appreciate smart-mouthing, but that wasn't what I was trying to do!

"Of course it's a big deal, Callie! You are a big deal! You think I would've come six hours by plane - eight, if you're counting the time difference - just to turn around and leave you here because you made a mistake? Which I already knew about, by the way, because Brandon felt so guilty by the next morning that he told me the whole thing. He has a slightly different version of it, though - he says that he kissed you."

I'm flustered and upset, and so I lash out. "Well, typical Brandon! Trying to spin it so he takes most of the blame. It's not true, Stef - I kissed him. I am the seductress. I am the law-breaker. Send me to a group home, send me back to juvie; whatever, okay? I screwed up! It's what I do."

Stef exhales. "It's what teenagers do, honey. And here's what parents do: love their children regardless. And that's what Lena and I will do for you, if you let us."

"But one day, you won't," I say, and my voice is barely a whisper. "One day, you'll change your mind. I'll do something wrong again, and Jude's gonna have to suffer the consequences too!"

I see understanding in Stef's eyes, now, and fall back against the vinyl-covered bench.

"Nothing you do will ever reflect badly on Jude," Stef says slowly. "That much I can guarantee. But I can also guarantee you this, Callie: nothing you could do - could do, have done, or have had happen to you - would make us think less of you or love you any differently. You ran away, and I came to get you. If you failed a test, Lena would help you study for the next one. If, god forbid, you killed somebody - I'd have to arrest you, but we'd pay for the best damn lawyers around, and make sure that jury knew he deserved it!"

Stef and I are both laughing at the absurdity of this statement when a sudden memory makes me falter.

"What's wrong, Callie?" Stef asks softly, rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb.

"Nothing," I say, not ready to share my past in the middle of an airport in Indiana. "I mean, um, I'll tell you later, I just...I don't wanna do this here." I look around, hoping she'll understand my hesitation, and to my relief she does.

"That's fine," she nods. And then, acting as if we haven't just had a life-altering conversation, she picks her burger back up and resumes eating with relish. "Eat," she commands, and with a joking sigh, I do.


The motel is sleazy as I've ever seen, but we're only staying the night. Stef asked for only one key, and I think she's afraid I'll try to run again if she lets me out of her sight. Though the independent spirit in me is annoyed at her lack of faith, there's a small, childlike flicker of warmth in my heart that she cares enough to want me to stay. I follow her inside, and plop down on the bed face-first.

Stef drums on my back. "Don't go to sleep," she says. "We've got to talk."

I roll over, and my head ends up in her lap.

"Hi," she smiles down at me.

I blush and sit up quickly, distancing myself from her by crossing my legs and sitting with my back against the wall.

"So, what was wrong earlier?" she starts, once it's clear that I am not gonna say anything. "What were you thinking of?"

"Did Bill tell you what happened to our mom?" I ask her.

Stef shakes her head. "No, not really. He just mentioned that she died when you were ten, and that your father was out of the picture."

I nod slowly, trying to figure out my next words. "Okay. That's...yeah, okay," I give a hollow laugh at Bill's description of the situation. "Well, my dad was out of the picture because he's in jail. Or, I mean, he was - I'm not sure if he still is." I look at Stef, and she seems to be waiting for me to give more information. "He's in jail because...because he was the one driving the car that killed my mom. And he crashed into another car, and everyone in that car died…so he got charged with manslaughter for driving drunk."

"Oh, Callie, I'm sorry," Stef whispers, reaching out a hand to me. I squeeze it, but I can't have her pity me or I'll break down and I won't be able to finish.

"Jude thinks that he just made a mistake, a really big mistake," I say, pulling my hand from Stef's and running it through my hair. "He would always be really excited to go visit him - he'd say that when Dad got out, we could be a real family again. I knew that was never gonna happen."

"Why not, sweetheart?" I notice that Stef uses endearments more often when we're visibly upset, and somehow that breaks my heart even more.

"Because what Jude doesn't know about our dad is that he's just as bad as every foster dad we've ever had. Only, I think it's worse, because he's our real dad, and he beat us up too."

"Beat who up?" Stef asks, and though her voice is still quiet, it's steely.

"Me and Mom," I croak. "Jude was just a baby, so little that he probably doesn't remember much of anything. I try to tell him about Mom as much as I can, but...I don't want him to know about the bad parts."

"Oh, honey," Stef's voice is breaking too, and it tears me up inside. I never wanted to tell anyone about this - I don't want them to hurt for me.

"I guess protecting Jude by myself was easy when we went into the system, because I'd been doing it my whole life. Sometimes Mom would be too tired to care for him, so I'd play with him and feed him and give him his bath at night. Then we'd crawl into bed with her, while Dad was still out drinking, and she'd sing to us before we went to sleep."

"I used to take punishments for him," I say tiredly, as if the memories themselves are draining me of energy. "He was so small for a six-year old - he wasn't very healthy, and he wasn't very strong. So anything he did wrong, I'd take the fall for."

I can't bear to look at Stef's face. I just barrel on.

"I was thinking about the night Mom died," I say. "I was thinking about how I'd heard that my father was the one driving from the cops that were milling around the ER. And I remembered something I'd heard him yell at her when they were fighting - he told her that anything he did to her, she deserved. That we got beaten because we deserved it."

My voice is cracking, and I'm trying not to remember being that ten-year old in a hospital waiting room, having to take care of my distraught little brother as well as myself. I'm trying to remain calm, but I'm not doing a very good job. I loved my mom, so very much, and I have held onto the belief that I could've done something to stop my dad. I'd give anything to see her again - to tell her I'm sorry.

"And maybe that's carried with me all this time. Maybe subconsciously, I hear his voice in my head telling me that I deserve what happens to me in life. I don't wanna listen to it anymore, Stef," I say, my eyes blurry with tears. "I don't want to hurt anymore. I want to be happy, but I can't!"

Stef is wrapped around me before I can blink. "Shh, my baby," she murmurs in my ear. "It's gonna be alright. You are so loved, my sweet girl, you know? You have three brothers and two mothers and one sister who all love you more than this whole world. Shh, now, it's okay."

For some reason, though I'm not sure why, I don't have any trouble believing her.