'Toward the Light' [Callie Jacob/Cole]
Title: "Toward the Light"
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: "The Fosters"
Pairing: Callie Jacob/Cole
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6,300
Summary: This is the story of what would have happened if Callie never went into the convenience store that night, and of how she met Cole under very different circumstances.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me; I use them respectfully but without permission. Some elements taken from "The Fosters" 1x11, 1x12, 1x13, and 1x14.
Author's Notes: Google Docs informs me that I started writing this on February 8, 2014, so, um... two-and-a-half years late is better than never? (Also, this is cross-posted to AO3 and FF.net.)
---<---<---@
Callie is familiar with the concept of hitting rock bottom. It's something she associates with drug-users or alcoholics, people spiraling out of control who wake up one day and realize they have nobody and nothing left except the hole they dug for themselves. So when she boards a bus in the middle of nowhere and has to get off in the pitch-black darkness at the end of the line, the name of the stop is unfamiliar, but she knows exactly where she is.
--
It's hard for Callie to choose a direction in which to walk when she has no idea where she's going. She'd left her phone at the Fosters' so nobody could track her whereabouts, but she could really use Google Maps right about now. She stands at the side of the road where the bus had left her, hoping a motorist will take pity on her and give her a ride, then remembers she'd already done that with the truck-driver at the motel when she'd been running from Stef and Lena, and all she'd accomplished was getting even more lost.
Finally, she catches sight of the neon glow of a convenience store in the distance and starts walking toward the light. There, she can find a phone to call her dad, apply for a job, or at least curl up outside for the night.
She's so focused getting to the store itself that she doesn't see the women in their short skirts and high heels until she's less than a block away. One leans through the open window of a passing car, talking business with the driver, and Callie, embarrassed, averts her eyes. She looks back at the road she'd walked down, fully aware that there's no salvation waiting if she turns around but unsure what else to do.
The shop door opens with a jingle to reveal a girl who can't be more than a few years older than Callie, decked out in a miniskirt and a low-cut shirt that showcases her ample cleavage. She's munching on a chip when she sees Callie.
"Looking for the shelter?"
Callie shakes her head.
"Good. Stay outta there unless you want real trouble."
The girl holds out the bag of chips, and Callie waves her off.
"You got a place to stay?"
Callie shakes her head again.
"You don't talk much, huh?"
"Sorry, I just…"
"Don't worry. I get you." The girl gives her a wry smile. "Hell, I used to be you. If you need a place to crash, me and some of the girls - we've got a place. You can hang with us."
Callie figures they'd probably let her sleep there for a couple of nights free of charge, then expect her to get her into hustling to pay her own way. "Thanks, I'm cool."
As the girl starts to walk away, Callie remembers what Wyatt said about her father.
"Hey, um - sorry, do you have a phone I could use?"
The girl does - stashed between her boobs - and when Callie takes it, it feels warm from body heat. She calls Lompoc Federal Prison, her heart beating hard, and when the voice on the other end of the line says her father was released more than a year ago, it feels like she's been punched in the chest.
"Everything OK?" the girl asks as Callie hands back the phone.
"Yeah."
To Callie's ears, her own voice sounds husky with unshed tears. She hopes that's less obvious to a stranger.
"Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me."
The hooker walks away, her tall heels clicking against the sidewalk, and Callie feels as if she's watching the bus drive off all over again, leaving her alone in the darkness. She glances at the convenience store. She could go in, but it's not like she has any money left for food, so she'd have to either beg the clerk to take pity on her or grab something and not pay for it, which could land her back in juvie. Neither option sounds awesome.
"Hey!" she calls again.
The girl turns, looking unsurprised. "You rethinking my offer?"
Callie shrugs in defeat. "Maybe just for tonight."
--
Callie's not sure what she was expecting from a place that a bunch of prostitutes call home, but it isn't this. The apartment is clean and well-kept, not huge but not tiny either - although more people obviously live here than are meant to, judging by the air mattresses visible through the open doors of the rooms.
"You can put your toothbrush and stuff in there," says the girl, who'd introduced herself as Roxy on the walk back from the convenience store. She points in a direction Callie assumes leads to the bathroom.
There are five other toothbrushes crammed into a cup by the sink, and when Callie opens the medicine cabinet to look for toothpaste, she comes face to face with a row of ampoules and a pack of syringes.
"Um…"
Roxy peers into the bathroom. "Oh, that's just T."
"Huh?"
"It's testosterone, not drugs. I mean, it is a drug, but not the kind you were probably thinking."
Callie stares at her blankly.
"They're Cole's," Roxy offers by way of further explanation. "He's working right now, but you'll meet him later."
"You live with guys?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"...What does that mean?"
"He'll tell you himself." She glances at her watch. "I have to get back to the corner now, OK? But I'll let everyone know you'll be crashing with us so they don't come back and freak out when they see you." She indicates one of the bedrooms. "You can put your stuff in there."
Callie nods resolutely, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.
--
Callie falls asleep as soon as her head hits the air mattress - fully clothed, still wearing shoes and everything - and doesn't regain consciousness until she becomes aware of a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. She opens her eyes to a strange face and bolts upright, jerking backward and hitting the wall with her elbow.
"Who are you?!" she gasps, trying not to wince.
"I was about to ask you the same question."
The stranger has curly, blondish hair, brilliant blue eyes, a baby face sprinkled with freckles, and a gender that isn't immediately obvious. He or she is trying to look intimidating, but Callie's not buying it.
"Roxy told me I could stay here," she says defiantly. "She said she'd tell everyone else, but I guess that didn't happen."
"I haven't seen her all day."
Callie sighs, then sticks out her hand. She can't afford to isolate herself any more right now. "I'm Callie."
The stranger eyes her suspiciously but eventually takes the proffered hand, giving it a perfunctory shake. "Cole."
Callie cocks her head. "You're Cole? So that stuff in the bathroom is yours? The T?"
"Why?" Cole asks suspiciously.
"...Because Roxy told me it belonged to someone named Cole."
"Oh." Cole's tone relaxes. "OK, yeah. I thought you asked because you could tell."
Callie narrows her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a boy. The T is to help make my body match who I really am."
"So you want to be a girl?" Callie asks curiously.
"No."
"...So you were a girl?"
"I've never been a girl."
Callie huffs in exasperation. "OK, so you're physically a girl, but you feel like a guy?"
"I don't feel like a guy. I am one."
"But…" Callie sees annoyance in Cole's eyes and decides to concede the point. "Are you a, um, a prostitute too?"
"No, the testosterone fairy just flies in here from time to time and drops off my T, free of charge."
Callie takes that as a yes.
--
It turns out that Roxy and the rest of the girls - plus Cole - are actually pretty cool. Roxy apparently has a reputation for taking in strays, which is how Cole came to live with them in the first place, but as long as everyone eventually contributes toward living expenses somehow, the others don't mind who she brings home. Callie freaks out at first, thinking she'll have to sell her body, but Cole says he makes almost as much from reselling stolen goods as he does from prostitution, and a couple of the other girls run drugs for a local gang on the side. The options aren't exactly stellar, but once Roxy explains how small Callie's chances are of finding legal employment given her situation, Callie figures stealing is the most palatable choice, which is how she comes to find herself standing guard while Cole breaks into a house.
--
Cole has a contact, a guy he calls his "fence," who buys whatever he steals and sells it at a profit. Cole still primarily handles the theft part of the process himself, but he uses Callie to keep watch and help carry stuff. They split the proceeds seventy-thirty, and pretty soon, Callie's buying groceries for the house and cooking meals for her roommates. In light of their unorthodox schedules, breakfast is around two in the afternoon, followed by a communal catch-up of the primetime shows they'd missed while working the previous night, and then everyone minus Callie heads out around five to catch the after-work crowd.
Cole tags along sometimes, although he has to part ways with his roommates soon enough because, as he phrases it to Callie, "there are different corners for different interests." On other days - particularly if he and Callie are flush from the proceeds of a recent theft - he'll stay home to do chores with her, watch TV, or sometimes just chat. As the days go by, they settle into a routine of domesticity that's imperfectly perfect, vacillating between stealing from strangers and trying to cook the perfect spaghetti bolognese.
--
Callie likes Cole and the others because they don't push her. Even at the Fosters', there had been school and group therapy and Brandon, and she's sick of being put on the spot, of having to answer everyone's questions. When Cole asks how she ended up on the street, she's more surprised than defensive.
"I ran away from my foster home," she says casually, trying to maintain as aloof a tone as possible.
Cole processes this with a slow nod. They're sitting in the living room at either end of a threadbare couch, a pile of laundry between them, and he picks out his plaid pajama pants, folding them neatly before putting them aside.
"I ran away from home, too," he tells her after a beat.
Callie folds the skirt Roxy was wearing the night they met. She'd been wondering about Cole's background for a while, but never wanted to bring it up. "How come?"
"My parents think me being a boy is just code for me being a lesbian, which they're not cool with either. They told me to act like a girl or get out." Cole takes his best shot at relaying this information without emotion, but Callie can tell it hurts. "You?"
Callie sighs. "Things just weren't working out. Why did they think you were a lesbian?"
"Uh…" Cole gestures to himself. "Are you kidding? Look at me."
"That doesn't mean anything. Stef and Lena, my, um… my foster moms, I guess, although I don't really know what to call them now - they're lesbians, and they look normal." She catches herself. "I mean -"
"I know." Cole pulls a sock out of the pile. He sorts through until he finds its match, then says offhandedly, "They also walked in on me kissing a girl one time, so there's that."
Callie shoots him a grin. "Uh, yeah, there's that."
Cole shrugs, but he's smiling. "Minor detail."
"So how long have you been on your own?"
"Nearly ten months."
"Do you, um." She takes a deep breath. "You don't have to tell me, but do you actually… you know... with guys? I mean, on the street. Do they know you're…?"
"Some of them prefer it." Cole shrugs. "That way, they can tell themselves they're not gay."
"I'm sorry." Callie doesn't quite know why she's apologizing, but she feels Cole deserves better. It doesn't escape her notice that he failed to answer her first question, and she thinks maybe it's better not to know.
"It's not so bad after a while."
Cole meets her eyes, and she knows her expression probably betrays the fact that she doesn't believe him.
"Really," Cole insists. "You just shut off your brain, you know? You think about other stuff until it's over."
Callie shudders, trying to repress the memories of Liam that come flooding into her mind. "I don't think I could."
Cole gives her a crooked smile. "You don't have to."
--
The following week, Cole disappears.
It happens out of nowhere - one moment, he's heading off to sell a watch to his fence, and the next he's just… he's gone.
Callie spends a lot of time staring into space after that. The little apartment she'd been so fond of goes back to feeling like a house instead of a home, and she feels displaced and adrift, like a ship lost at sea. Roxy doesn't go to work for three days afterward, electing instead to comb the streets with Callie at all hours of the day and night, searching for Cole to no avail. They try the hospital too, and Callie even brings herself to call the morgue because Roxy's hands are shaking too hard to dial the number, but the boy seems to have disappeared without a trace.
A couple of weeks after that, Callie finds herself in the convenience store by her roommates' corner, defiantly chomping on a sandwich she refuses to pay for as the clerk threatens to call the police.
--
Everything is pretty much a blur after that. Callie goes back to juvie, meets her new probation officer, appears in court and listens numbly as Stef and Lena tell the judge that although she'd made great strides while living with them, they aren't prepared to take her back. In lieu of a real place to live, she'll be shipped off to a group home, where she figures she'll probably stay until she turns 18 and can finally get out of the godforsaken system for good.
--
"How long do I have to be here?" she asks her P.O. as she reluctantly follows him up the wide concrete steps to the Girls United house.
"Until the judge is convinced you won't run away again," Ed responds, and his non-answer tempts her to make a run for it right then and there.
The woman who answers the door is a heavy-set brunette with a kind face who greets Callie by name, shakes her hand, and introduces herself as Rita. Callie silently follows Rita into the house, rolling her eyes and trying not to look as intimidated as she feels.
"I'll show you to your room after you meet all the girls," Rita says as Callie eyes the front hall's sweeping staircase and gleaming wood floor. "There are seven girls who live here full-time. Actually, one just went home yesterday, so your timing was kinda perfect."
Callie doesn't return Rita's smile.
"We appreciate you taking Callie on such short notice," Ed tells Rita before turning to address Callie. "Your foster moms worked very hard to get you in here."
Callie ignores him and turns to Rita. "Do I have to share a room?"
"Yes, you will."
"Why are there no bars or security gates? How do you lock us in?"
"We don't," Rita answers matter-of-factly. "We trust that you won't leave the premises, but if you violate that trust, then you go back to juvie or you're placed in a more restrictive group home. The choice is really yours." She glances past Callie to a room that looks like a kitchen. "Hey, girls, come meet Callie."
Callie's new housemates sidle past her one by one, eyeing her up and down while she does the same to them. She recognizes the girl who beat her up the day she got out of juvie the first time, and she's still reeling from that coincidence when she's confronted with an even bigger one: There, standing in front of her with an inscrutable expression on his face, is Cole.
--
Callie's desperate to pull Cole aside, but as soon as her P.O. leaves, Rita demands they all sit down for group. The girls introduce themselves one by one, listing their names, ages and offenses, but all Callie can think about is Cole. She stares at the girl currently talking and wills herself to focus.
"I've been in this home for six months, and in juvie three times for gangs, drugs, uh… what else?" the girl says. Callie thinks she said her name was Carmen.
"Kidnapping," Kiara - the one Rita said would be Callie's roommate - helpfully volunteers.
"Really?" Rita chastises.
"She asked!" Kiara protests.
"OK, zip it," Rita tells her firmly. "Cole, you're up."
Callie's heart starts beating double-time in her chest.
"My name's Cole. I'm fifteen. I've been here three weeks. I hate it."
Cole looks straight ahead the entire time, addressing Rita rather than Callie, and Callie recognizes the flatness in his tone from when she was just getting to know him - a time that feels like months ago but was just a few weeks back.
"Why are you here?" Rita prompts.
"Stealing and prostitution," Cole says cockily, looking over at Callie for the first time. His gaze is unexpectedly cold, and she squirms.
After the girl who attacked Callie in juvie introduces herself as Daphne, Rita clarifies the home's no-tolerance policy for violence, but the words wash over Callie without taking root. Why is Cole treating her this way? Is he mad at her, or simply trying to hide their previous affiliation? Her stomach churns, and of course it's then that Rita calls on her, right when her throat is dry and the beginnings of tears are pricking at the back of her eyes.
"I'm sixteen," she tells the group, forcing her voice to stay steady. "I ran away. I stole a sandwich. I don't belong here."
--
"Uhhh, yeah, this needs a touch-up."
Callie knew she and Cole would end up exchanging words at some point, but she hadn't expected him to break the silence while everyone was cleaning the kitchen after dinner.
"Why?" she asks, doing her best to match his blank affect.
"It's sticky," he responds without meeting her eyes. "You've gotta wipe it again."
"It looks clean to me."
He lifts his gaze from the offending countertop, and she's shocked by the rage she sees in his eyes.
"Well, I'm kitchen foreman, and if you don't do your job, I get a UA."
"Cut the newbie a break, Nicole," Becka - who's in for drugs, if Callie's memory serves her correctly - chips in from over by the sink.
"That's not my name," Cole says frostily.
"Really?" Becka shoots back. "Because that's what it says on your birth certificate. But it also says you're a girl..."
"I'm a transgender male. Look it up, bitch."
It's almost a relief when Carmen asks Daphne to take Callie outside and show her where the trash is.
--
There isn't much that's stayed the same in Callie's life since the day her mother died in a drunk driving accident with her father at the wheel, but one constant has been her hatred of group. She's never seen the point in collaborative therapy - or individualized therapy, come to think of it, but at least then she doesn't have to speak in front of a roomful of people who want to be there about as much as she does. She figures she's safe when the conversation turns to addiction during her second session at Girls United: Becka and Carmen have drugs in common, and Rita reveals that she beat speed but struggles with a lifelong addiction to food, but Callie's pretty sure she and the rest of the group are exempt. She knows for a fact that Cole doesn't do drugs - unless T counts, she muses, remembering when Roxy first brought her back to the house and she saw the ampoules in the medicine cabinet.
Cole hadn't objected when Callie sat next to him at the beginning of the session, and she's tempted to turn and offer him a smile as Gabi refutes Rita's assertion that everyone has an addiction, but she doesn't want to push her luck.
"What about Cole?" Gabi asks then. "He's always saying he's not addicted to nothing."
Callie sneaks a look and recognizes Cole's locked jaw and exaggeratedly casual demeanor from when they cased houses, trying to determine the optimal time to break in.
"She's addicted to being a boy," Becka says snidely, and Rita reminds her to use male pronouns.
"I am a boy," Cole corrects her, and although his tone is calm, Callie knows him well enough to hear the anger simmering underneath. "And you know what? I belong in an LGBT home."
"As I told you, I'm working on that," Rita assures him.
"What about you?" Cole demands of Callie.
It seems as if he poses the question out of nowhere, arms still crossed defiantly over his chest, although his tone is no longer as sharp or standoffish. She's not sure how to interpret the fact that when he'd wanted to get the room's attention off himself, he'd turned to her.
"What's your addiction?" he persists.
"Uh…" She only lets herself be caught off-guard for a second before responding smoothly, "I've never done drugs. I've had a couple beers."
"Well, Callie, your addiction doesn't have to be drugs or alcohol," Rita points out.
Callie smiles tightly. "I really don't know. I feel like I have to tell you that I'm addicted to something so I can get my privileges, but I would just be making it up."
"Why'd you run away from your foster home?" Kiara asks, and Callie's stomach lurches.
"I kissed my foster brother."
The girls all stare for a few moments before Becka breaks the silence with an "Oh, snap." Callie feels Cole bristle next to her.
"You want your privileges so you can see your boyfriend?" Carmen asks.
Callie sneaks another look at Cole, then wishes she hadn't. Betrayal is written across his face, and his wounded expression is too much for her to take at a time when she can't exactly explain the whole story in front of everybody.
"No," she corrects Carmen, trying valiantly to keep her voice from wavering. "I need to see my little brother. He needs to know why I left."
--
It had sucked opening up that much in front of Cole - like, totally and completely sucked even more than it would have otherwise. When Becka comes into the room Callie shares with Kiara and talks about how Callie had "turned on the waterworks" in group, something in Callie snaps.
"Fortunately I don't care about the opinions of a drug addict," she snipes, making a dramatic exit and storming toward the bathroom.
It doesn't occur to her that one of her housemates might be in there until after she pushes open the door. Cole's in the middle of binding his chest - something she'd never seen him do the whole time they'd lived together, although she'd noticed the outlines of Ace bandages under his clothes.
He looks at her like he's been scalded, and she's barely able to stutter out an apology before he yells at her to get out and pushes her across the threshold. He'd never touched her in anger before, and perhaps it's the shock that makes her do what she does next, or maybe she's already on edge because of Becka or group or all manner of reasons, but whatever her motivation, she pushes him back.
--
Callie really didn't mean for the shower door to shatter.
As she sits on the couch next to Cole, squirming under the gazes of Rita, Michelle, and the other girls, she mentally congratulates herself on her uncanny ability to alienate everyone who's ever been nice to her or given her a chance.
"All right, Callie." Rita sounds disappointed, and Callie can't really blame her. "Why don't you go first?"
"I accidentally walked in on Cole in the bathroom," she begins, trying to make the story sound as reasonable as possible.
"I heard yelling," Michelle interjects.
"I told her to get out," Cole explains.
Rita looks searchingly at Cole, as if she's unsure he's telling the truth. "And then what happened?"
"Nothing." Callie hates how her voice goes up at the end of a word whenever she lies.
"Nothing?" Rita repeats skeptically. "Cole?"
"I slipped on some water and fell back into the shower door."
Rita raises an eyebrow. "That was a pretty hard fall."
"Pretty wet floor," Cole counters smoothly, and Callie barely manages to repress a grin. She missed Cole's snappy retorts.
"Well, Callie, we have a solution when two girls don't get along in this house," Rita continues.
Callie can't help but frown at the use of female pronouns, but what Rita says next makes her forget about that altogether.
"We make them roommates."
--
Callie figures now that she and Cole are living in the same room, he has to talk to her, but the first night she moves her stuff out of the room she shared with Kiara, she comes back from the bathroom to find Cole either already asleep or doing a damn good acting job. The following morning, his bed is already empty by the time she awakens.
She remembers the relief she felt when she realized Cole had ended up at Girls United - until then, she'd honestly believed he'd been abducted off the street or worse - but now she feels more alone than ever. The fact that she lost her privileges as a result of the whole shower incident only makes her feel worse, because she won't be able to participate in Family Day.
When she sees Brandon through the bedroom window, she doesn't trust her own eyes at first. She assumes it's finally happened, that she's lost her grip on reality and started to hallucinate, but after she blinks a couple of times and the image of him doesn't go away, she takes a closer look. He's standing uneasily on the sidewalk, wearing a shirt she's never seen before and looking older somehow, even though it's only been a couple of months since they last saw each other. Her heart twinges at the memory of kissing Brandon behind the house at Stef and Lena's wedding, and before she knows it she's running down the stairs, through the front door, across the street, and into his arms.
--
It isn't as if they'd really been on speaking terms before, but there's more vitriol to Cole's silence after Brandon showed up unannounced. Cole doesn't sneak any glances at Callie in group that afternoon, nor does he pretend to be asleep after everyone retires to their rooms in the evening. Rather, he lies in bed with his back to Callie, nose buried in a book.
Callie hugs her arms to her chest, wondering whether she should wait until Cole's asleep to creep downstairs and retrieve the cellphone Brandon had given her, but if Cole can't even acknowledge her presence then he's hardly likely to follow her out of the room. Wordlessly, she extricates herself from the sheets.
--
Callie's crouched outside by the wall of the house, her face illuminated by the phone in the darkness, when she hears a creak behind her.
"I'll take that," Cole says calmly, and she freezes.
"No."
"Do you want me to go call Michelle?"
Callie doesn't respond.
"Fine, you'll get caught with it. No more sneaking out to see your boyfriend, and sure as hell no Independent Living Program. Give it?"
She does.
"Smart." He slips the battery out of the back, and the luminous screen goes dark. "I'm gonna toss this," he tells her blankly, as if he's delivering a weather report. "It's for your own good."
--
The next day, Cole gives Callie the silent treatment as usual. She wonders why the others haven't noticed, then figures Cole must not talk a lot at the best of times. The Cole she knows at Girls United is such a stark contrast to the boy she befriended on the outside, the boy who would tell her about his life and his family and his hopes for the future, and the dichotomy makes something hurt deep inside her chest.
As she gets ready for bed that evening, she expects more of the same disengagement, but Cole surprises her once again.
"Family Day's tomorrow," he notes stoically. "You finally get to see your brother. Nervous?"
"No," she says icily, hoping she sounds believable.
"Who else is coming?"
"My, um… foster moms. I don't really know what to call them anymore. Um… their kids, I guess."
"What about Brandon?"
She can tell he's trying to make the inquiry sound casual, but it's not really working.
"Well, I don't know, seeing as somebody took my phone," she says pointedly, walking over to her bed. "I doubt it."
Cole doesn't respond, and she shuts off the light with a firm click, hoping he drops the subject. When he speaks again, she's in that half-awake state between consciousness and sleep, and her eyes fly open with a jolt at the sound of his voice.
"Why didn't you tell me you had someone?" Cole asks quietly. "That whole time we lived together… you never talked about him."
Callie rolls over, and the sheets rustle as she moves.
"Like I said in group, I ran away because I kissed him. I couldn't exactly… you know, pursue it. Because of Jude."
"But now that you're going into the Independent Living Program, you won't have that problem anymore. Is that why you're doing it?"
Callie exhales forcefully. "I'm sick of answering to other people. I want to be on my own."
"But that way you'll be able to date him, right?" Cole persists.
"I guess," she responds noncommittally.
He laughs bitterly and doesn't say anything else.
"Why do you even care?" Callie demands. "You've been nothing but hostile to me since I got here, and I don't even know what I did. I feel stupid for searching for you after you disappeared. Roxy and I were frantic, you know that? We called the morgue, Cole."
There's a pause.
"Why would you do that when you were the one who turned me in?"
"What?" Callie snaps, sitting upright. "Are you out of your mind? Why would you think that?"
"The cops who picked me up told me my partner in crime had ratted me out as part of a plea deal."
"Um, what about your fence, you dumbass?! When we were looking for you, Roxy tried to track him down and couldn't find him. I bet he got picked up and figured he could use you as leverage."
"...Oh, shit," Cole says quietly after a beat.
"Uh, yeah." Callie flips on the light, wanting Cole to see her face. "I never would have done that to you. Are you kidding? You were like, my favorite."
Cole's face twitches, and she realizes he's biting back a grin.
"Yeah?"
"Oh my God, yes." Callie laughs in relief. "I really missed you."
He actually looks happy for a moment, but then a shadow passes over his face and the moment is broken. "Too bad about your boyfriend."
"Wait, what?"
He rolls over so Callie can't see his face. "Nothing."
--
Callie didn't expect to feel so nervous about her first Family Day since she got her privileges. Of course, she's terrified to face Jude after the way she'd left him, but she's almost as fearful about the prospect of seeing the Fosters again. After all, she'd lived with those people - shared a room with Mariana, sat across the kitchen table from Jesus, helped Stef with gardening, washed dishes with Lena… and kissed Brandon.
"I wish someone would bring my boyfriend to Family Day," Becka mutters darkly as the Foster clan walks up the path to the house, which is so not helpful.
But then Jude's there and he's hugging her like he's not mad at her, and Mariana gives her a tight squeeze that almost knocks her off her feet, and Jesus gives her one of those awkward one-armed guy hugs, and Stef and Lena hold her at the same time and Stef calls her "beautiful." Brandon's the only family member who hangs back, and Callie guesses she can't blame him given that everyone else is there. Jude in particular is watching her like a hawk, so she shrugs off the sting of disappointment and leads everyone into the living room.
--
When she finally gets time alone with Brandon in the kitchen, she doesn't exactly expect his first words to her to be "Why are you breaking up with me?"
"I'm not," she responds, mystified.
"Uh, texting 'I can't do this, it's over' doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for interpretation."
She feels sick. "I didn't write that!"
"Well, someone did."
"I don't even have my phone!" she protests. "Somebody took it from me - I thought he threw it out. I'm going to kill him. I'm so sorry."
"No, it's OK, I'm just - I'm happy you… um, you don't want that."
"I don't," she whispers, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "but we have to stop this. I don't want to do the Independent Living Program just so we can be together, Brandon. If I'm with you, I lose my chance of having a family. It's - it's not fair. It's not fair to choose you over Jude, over your moms..."
If Lena and Stef hadn't come in when they did, she might have kissed Brandon goodbye right there in the Girls United kitchen.
--
Later that evening, Callie's taking out the trash when she hears a rustling from the bushes. Cole emerges with a bag and freezes when he sees her, eyes huge and round, and the expression on his face reminds her of the time a homeowner came home unexpectedly while they were in the middle of targeting a house and they barely made it through the back window in time.
"What's in the bag?"
Cole says nothing and keeps walking, but she stops him from pushing past her.
"OK, I know that you didn't throw my phone away, and I know that you've been texting Brandon."
"I was doing you a favor," he says frostily.
"I don't need any favors," she retorts, matching his tone.
"You can't have a boyfriend while you're in here."
Callie doesn't want to get into the whole Brandon situation right now.
"You can't do drugs either. That's what's in your bag, right?" She shakes her head. "I didn't think you were into that stuff. Here's the deal: You give me my phone back, or I'll get Rita."
"It's not what you think."
She turns back to the house.
"OK," he says, sounding defeated. "Here."
He hands over the phone without another word, and she smirks at him before going back inside.
--
Callie's doing laundry in the basement the next day when Cole sidles down the stairs after her and leans against the chipped concrete wall.
"I'm not an addict."
She looks up from the clothes she's loading into the washing machine. "OK."
"Those weren't drug-drugs. They're hormones. Like what I was taking back at Roxy's."
Callie stops loading.
"I can't wait any longer to be put in an LGBT home or turn 18 and get a doctor to prescribe them."
Callie's familiar enough with the attitude Cole's parents have toward their "daughter" to know not to even bring up parental consent as a potential solution.
"I've been off them since I got picked up, and my body is…" He tugs at his shirt uncomfortably. "It's freaking out, reverting back to… Look, I need to use your phone to call my hookup so I can get back on the hormones. The Brandon thing was just me being a jerk. I'm sorry."
Callie feels her coldness for him melt away and knows she can't stay mad at him. All she sees in Cole at that moment is the friend who helped her fold clothes and chop vegetables when they lived with Roxy and the other girls. The shower thing, the phone thing… they don't matter when you have the kind of love for someone that Callie has for Cole.
"Are they safe?" she asks. "The hormones?"
"Yeah. They're exactly what I was getting on the street."
"Well, just tell me when you need to use the phone and I'll give it to you. No more impersonating me."
Cole's smile is wide and brilliant and makes Callie feel warm deep inside her chest. "Deal."
--
When Callie, Kiara, and Daphne return from the apartment Daphne got through the Independent Living Program, there's an ambulance outside the group home and an expression on Rita's face that Callie's never seen before. Cole's lying on a gurney with an oxygen mask on his face, and everyone's gathered outside, watching him get wheeled into the ambulance.
"Becka found Cole unconscious in the bathroom," Rita tells them, her voice taut with worry. "There were needles on the floor, and this next to him."
She holds up an ampoule that Callie recognizes from the medicine cabinet back at Roxy's place, and Callie's stomach churns.
--
The first thing Callie says when Cole gets back from the hospital is "What the hell, Cole?"
The second thing she says is "Listen, I broke up with Brandon."
The third thing she says is "God, I thought I lost you for good this time."
Then Cole kisses her, so she doesn't say anything after that.
---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: "The Fosters"
Pairing: Callie Jacob/Cole
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6,300
Summary: This is the story of what would have happened if Callie never went into the convenience store that night, and of how she met Cole under very different circumstances.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me; I use them respectfully but without permission. Some elements taken from "The Fosters" 1x11, 1x12, 1x13, and 1x14.
Author's Notes: Google Docs informs me that I started writing this on February 8, 2014, so, um... two-and-a-half years late is better than never? (Also, this is cross-posted to AO3 and FF.net.)
---<---<---@
Callie is familiar with the concept of hitting rock bottom. It's something she associates with drug-users or alcoholics, people spiraling out of control who wake up one day and realize they have nobody and nothing left except the hole they dug for themselves. So when she boards a bus in the middle of nowhere and has to get off in the pitch-black darkness at the end of the line, the name of the stop is unfamiliar, but she knows exactly where she is.
--
It's hard for Callie to choose a direction in which to walk when she has no idea where she's going. She'd left her phone at the Fosters' so nobody could track her whereabouts, but she could really use Google Maps right about now. She stands at the side of the road where the bus had left her, hoping a motorist will take pity on her and give her a ride, then remembers she'd already done that with the truck-driver at the motel when she'd been running from Stef and Lena, and all she'd accomplished was getting even more lost.
Finally, she catches sight of the neon glow of a convenience store in the distance and starts walking toward the light. There, she can find a phone to call her dad, apply for a job, or at least curl up outside for the night.
She's so focused getting to the store itself that she doesn't see the women in their short skirts and high heels until she's less than a block away. One leans through the open window of a passing car, talking business with the driver, and Callie, embarrassed, averts her eyes. She looks back at the road she'd walked down, fully aware that there's no salvation waiting if she turns around but unsure what else to do.
The shop door opens with a jingle to reveal a girl who can't be more than a few years older than Callie, decked out in a miniskirt and a low-cut shirt that showcases her ample cleavage. She's munching on a chip when she sees Callie.
"Looking for the shelter?"
Callie shakes her head.
"Good. Stay outta there unless you want real trouble."
The girl holds out the bag of chips, and Callie waves her off.
"You got a place to stay?"
Callie shakes her head again.
"You don't talk much, huh?"
"Sorry, I just…"
"Don't worry. I get you." The girl gives her a wry smile. "Hell, I used to be you. If you need a place to crash, me and some of the girls - we've got a place. You can hang with us."
Callie figures they'd probably let her sleep there for a couple of nights free of charge, then expect her to get her into hustling to pay her own way. "Thanks, I'm cool."
As the girl starts to walk away, Callie remembers what Wyatt said about her father.
"Hey, um - sorry, do you have a phone I could use?"
The girl does - stashed between her boobs - and when Callie takes it, it feels warm from body heat. She calls Lompoc Federal Prison, her heart beating hard, and when the voice on the other end of the line says her father was released more than a year ago, it feels like she's been punched in the chest.
"Everything OK?" the girl asks as Callie hands back the phone.
"Yeah."
To Callie's ears, her own voice sounds husky with unshed tears. She hopes that's less obvious to a stranger.
"Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me."
The hooker walks away, her tall heels clicking against the sidewalk, and Callie feels as if she's watching the bus drive off all over again, leaving her alone in the darkness. She glances at the convenience store. She could go in, but it's not like she has any money left for food, so she'd have to either beg the clerk to take pity on her or grab something and not pay for it, which could land her back in juvie. Neither option sounds awesome.
"Hey!" she calls again.
The girl turns, looking unsurprised. "You rethinking my offer?"
Callie shrugs in defeat. "Maybe just for tonight."
--
Callie's not sure what she was expecting from a place that a bunch of prostitutes call home, but it isn't this. The apartment is clean and well-kept, not huge but not tiny either - although more people obviously live here than are meant to, judging by the air mattresses visible through the open doors of the rooms.
"You can put your toothbrush and stuff in there," says the girl, who'd introduced herself as Roxy on the walk back from the convenience store. She points in a direction Callie assumes leads to the bathroom.
There are five other toothbrushes crammed into a cup by the sink, and when Callie opens the medicine cabinet to look for toothpaste, she comes face to face with a row of ampoules and a pack of syringes.
"Um…"
Roxy peers into the bathroom. "Oh, that's just T."
"Huh?"
"It's testosterone, not drugs. I mean, it is a drug, but not the kind you were probably thinking."
Callie stares at her blankly.
"They're Cole's," Roxy offers by way of further explanation. "He's working right now, but you'll meet him later."
"You live with guys?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"...What does that mean?"
"He'll tell you himself." She glances at her watch. "I have to get back to the corner now, OK? But I'll let everyone know you'll be crashing with us so they don't come back and freak out when they see you." She indicates one of the bedrooms. "You can put your stuff in there."
Callie nods resolutely, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.
--
Callie falls asleep as soon as her head hits the air mattress - fully clothed, still wearing shoes and everything - and doesn't regain consciousness until she becomes aware of a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. She opens her eyes to a strange face and bolts upright, jerking backward and hitting the wall with her elbow.
"Who are you?!" she gasps, trying not to wince.
"I was about to ask you the same question."
The stranger has curly, blondish hair, brilliant blue eyes, a baby face sprinkled with freckles, and a gender that isn't immediately obvious. He or she is trying to look intimidating, but Callie's not buying it.
"Roxy told me I could stay here," she says defiantly. "She said she'd tell everyone else, but I guess that didn't happen."
"I haven't seen her all day."
Callie sighs, then sticks out her hand. She can't afford to isolate herself any more right now. "I'm Callie."
The stranger eyes her suspiciously but eventually takes the proffered hand, giving it a perfunctory shake. "Cole."
Callie cocks her head. "You're Cole? So that stuff in the bathroom is yours? The T?"
"Why?" Cole asks suspiciously.
"...Because Roxy told me it belonged to someone named Cole."
"Oh." Cole's tone relaxes. "OK, yeah. I thought you asked because you could tell."
Callie narrows her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a boy. The T is to help make my body match who I really am."
"So you want to be a girl?" Callie asks curiously.
"No."
"...So you were a girl?"
"I've never been a girl."
Callie huffs in exasperation. "OK, so you're physically a girl, but you feel like a guy?"
"I don't feel like a guy. I am one."
"But…" Callie sees annoyance in Cole's eyes and decides to concede the point. "Are you a, um, a prostitute too?"
"No, the testosterone fairy just flies in here from time to time and drops off my T, free of charge."
Callie takes that as a yes.
--
It turns out that Roxy and the rest of the girls - plus Cole - are actually pretty cool. Roxy apparently has a reputation for taking in strays, which is how Cole came to live with them in the first place, but as long as everyone eventually contributes toward living expenses somehow, the others don't mind who she brings home. Callie freaks out at first, thinking she'll have to sell her body, but Cole says he makes almost as much from reselling stolen goods as he does from prostitution, and a couple of the other girls run drugs for a local gang on the side. The options aren't exactly stellar, but once Roxy explains how small Callie's chances are of finding legal employment given her situation, Callie figures stealing is the most palatable choice, which is how she comes to find herself standing guard while Cole breaks into a house.
--
Cole has a contact, a guy he calls his "fence," who buys whatever he steals and sells it at a profit. Cole still primarily handles the theft part of the process himself, but he uses Callie to keep watch and help carry stuff. They split the proceeds seventy-thirty, and pretty soon, Callie's buying groceries for the house and cooking meals for her roommates. In light of their unorthodox schedules, breakfast is around two in the afternoon, followed by a communal catch-up of the primetime shows they'd missed while working the previous night, and then everyone minus Callie heads out around five to catch the after-work crowd.
Cole tags along sometimes, although he has to part ways with his roommates soon enough because, as he phrases it to Callie, "there are different corners for different interests." On other days - particularly if he and Callie are flush from the proceeds of a recent theft - he'll stay home to do chores with her, watch TV, or sometimes just chat. As the days go by, they settle into a routine of domesticity that's imperfectly perfect, vacillating between stealing from strangers and trying to cook the perfect spaghetti bolognese.
--
Callie likes Cole and the others because they don't push her. Even at the Fosters', there had been school and group therapy and Brandon, and she's sick of being put on the spot, of having to answer everyone's questions. When Cole asks how she ended up on the street, she's more surprised than defensive.
"I ran away from my foster home," she says casually, trying to maintain as aloof a tone as possible.
Cole processes this with a slow nod. They're sitting in the living room at either end of a threadbare couch, a pile of laundry between them, and he picks out his plaid pajama pants, folding them neatly before putting them aside.
"I ran away from home, too," he tells her after a beat.
Callie folds the skirt Roxy was wearing the night they met. She'd been wondering about Cole's background for a while, but never wanted to bring it up. "How come?"
"My parents think me being a boy is just code for me being a lesbian, which they're not cool with either. They told me to act like a girl or get out." Cole takes his best shot at relaying this information without emotion, but Callie can tell it hurts. "You?"
Callie sighs. "Things just weren't working out. Why did they think you were a lesbian?"
"Uh…" Cole gestures to himself. "Are you kidding? Look at me."
"That doesn't mean anything. Stef and Lena, my, um… my foster moms, I guess, although I don't really know what to call them now - they're lesbians, and they look normal." She catches herself. "I mean -"
"I know." Cole pulls a sock out of the pile. He sorts through until he finds its match, then says offhandedly, "They also walked in on me kissing a girl one time, so there's that."
Callie shoots him a grin. "Uh, yeah, there's that."
Cole shrugs, but he's smiling. "Minor detail."
"So how long have you been on your own?"
"Nearly ten months."
"Do you, um." She takes a deep breath. "You don't have to tell me, but do you actually… you know... with guys? I mean, on the street. Do they know you're…?"
"Some of them prefer it." Cole shrugs. "That way, they can tell themselves they're not gay."
"I'm sorry." Callie doesn't quite know why she's apologizing, but she feels Cole deserves better. It doesn't escape her notice that he failed to answer her first question, and she thinks maybe it's better not to know.
"It's not so bad after a while."
Cole meets her eyes, and she knows her expression probably betrays the fact that she doesn't believe him.
"Really," Cole insists. "You just shut off your brain, you know? You think about other stuff until it's over."
Callie shudders, trying to repress the memories of Liam that come flooding into her mind. "I don't think I could."
Cole gives her a crooked smile. "You don't have to."
--
The following week, Cole disappears.
It happens out of nowhere - one moment, he's heading off to sell a watch to his fence, and the next he's just… he's gone.
Callie spends a lot of time staring into space after that. The little apartment she'd been so fond of goes back to feeling like a house instead of a home, and she feels displaced and adrift, like a ship lost at sea. Roxy doesn't go to work for three days afterward, electing instead to comb the streets with Callie at all hours of the day and night, searching for Cole to no avail. They try the hospital too, and Callie even brings herself to call the morgue because Roxy's hands are shaking too hard to dial the number, but the boy seems to have disappeared without a trace.
A couple of weeks after that, Callie finds herself in the convenience store by her roommates' corner, defiantly chomping on a sandwich she refuses to pay for as the clerk threatens to call the police.
--
Everything is pretty much a blur after that. Callie goes back to juvie, meets her new probation officer, appears in court and listens numbly as Stef and Lena tell the judge that although she'd made great strides while living with them, they aren't prepared to take her back. In lieu of a real place to live, she'll be shipped off to a group home, where she figures she'll probably stay until she turns 18 and can finally get out of the godforsaken system for good.
--
"How long do I have to be here?" she asks her P.O. as she reluctantly follows him up the wide concrete steps to the Girls United house.
"Until the judge is convinced you won't run away again," Ed responds, and his non-answer tempts her to make a run for it right then and there.
The woman who answers the door is a heavy-set brunette with a kind face who greets Callie by name, shakes her hand, and introduces herself as Rita. Callie silently follows Rita into the house, rolling her eyes and trying not to look as intimidated as she feels.
"I'll show you to your room after you meet all the girls," Rita says as Callie eyes the front hall's sweeping staircase and gleaming wood floor. "There are seven girls who live here full-time. Actually, one just went home yesterday, so your timing was kinda perfect."
Callie doesn't return Rita's smile.
"We appreciate you taking Callie on such short notice," Ed tells Rita before turning to address Callie. "Your foster moms worked very hard to get you in here."
Callie ignores him and turns to Rita. "Do I have to share a room?"
"Yes, you will."
"Why are there no bars or security gates? How do you lock us in?"
"We don't," Rita answers matter-of-factly. "We trust that you won't leave the premises, but if you violate that trust, then you go back to juvie or you're placed in a more restrictive group home. The choice is really yours." She glances past Callie to a room that looks like a kitchen. "Hey, girls, come meet Callie."
Callie's new housemates sidle past her one by one, eyeing her up and down while she does the same to them. She recognizes the girl who beat her up the day she got out of juvie the first time, and she's still reeling from that coincidence when she's confronted with an even bigger one: There, standing in front of her with an inscrutable expression on his face, is Cole.
--
Callie's desperate to pull Cole aside, but as soon as her P.O. leaves, Rita demands they all sit down for group. The girls introduce themselves one by one, listing their names, ages and offenses, but all Callie can think about is Cole. She stares at the girl currently talking and wills herself to focus.
"I've been in this home for six months, and in juvie three times for gangs, drugs, uh… what else?" the girl says. Callie thinks she said her name was Carmen.
"Kidnapping," Kiara - the one Rita said would be Callie's roommate - helpfully volunteers.
"Really?" Rita chastises.
"She asked!" Kiara protests.
"OK, zip it," Rita tells her firmly. "Cole, you're up."
Callie's heart starts beating double-time in her chest.
"My name's Cole. I'm fifteen. I've been here three weeks. I hate it."
Cole looks straight ahead the entire time, addressing Rita rather than Callie, and Callie recognizes the flatness in his tone from when she was just getting to know him - a time that feels like months ago but was just a few weeks back.
"Why are you here?" Rita prompts.
"Stealing and prostitution," Cole says cockily, looking over at Callie for the first time. His gaze is unexpectedly cold, and she squirms.
After the girl who attacked Callie in juvie introduces herself as Daphne, Rita clarifies the home's no-tolerance policy for violence, but the words wash over Callie without taking root. Why is Cole treating her this way? Is he mad at her, or simply trying to hide their previous affiliation? Her stomach churns, and of course it's then that Rita calls on her, right when her throat is dry and the beginnings of tears are pricking at the back of her eyes.
"I'm sixteen," she tells the group, forcing her voice to stay steady. "I ran away. I stole a sandwich. I don't belong here."
--
"Uhhh, yeah, this needs a touch-up."
Callie knew she and Cole would end up exchanging words at some point, but she hadn't expected him to break the silence while everyone was cleaning the kitchen after dinner.
"Why?" she asks, doing her best to match his blank affect.
"It's sticky," he responds without meeting her eyes. "You've gotta wipe it again."
"It looks clean to me."
He lifts his gaze from the offending countertop, and she's shocked by the rage she sees in his eyes.
"Well, I'm kitchen foreman, and if you don't do your job, I get a UA."
"Cut the newbie a break, Nicole," Becka - who's in for drugs, if Callie's memory serves her correctly - chips in from over by the sink.
"That's not my name," Cole says frostily.
"Really?" Becka shoots back. "Because that's what it says on your birth certificate. But it also says you're a girl..."
"I'm a transgender male. Look it up, bitch."
It's almost a relief when Carmen asks Daphne to take Callie outside and show her where the trash is.
--
There isn't much that's stayed the same in Callie's life since the day her mother died in a drunk driving accident with her father at the wheel, but one constant has been her hatred of group. She's never seen the point in collaborative therapy - or individualized therapy, come to think of it, but at least then she doesn't have to speak in front of a roomful of people who want to be there about as much as she does. She figures she's safe when the conversation turns to addiction during her second session at Girls United: Becka and Carmen have drugs in common, and Rita reveals that she beat speed but struggles with a lifelong addiction to food, but Callie's pretty sure she and the rest of the group are exempt. She knows for a fact that Cole doesn't do drugs - unless T counts, she muses, remembering when Roxy first brought her back to the house and she saw the ampoules in the medicine cabinet.
Cole hadn't objected when Callie sat next to him at the beginning of the session, and she's tempted to turn and offer him a smile as Gabi refutes Rita's assertion that everyone has an addiction, but she doesn't want to push her luck.
"What about Cole?" Gabi asks then. "He's always saying he's not addicted to nothing."
Callie sneaks a look and recognizes Cole's locked jaw and exaggeratedly casual demeanor from when they cased houses, trying to determine the optimal time to break in.
"She's addicted to being a boy," Becka says snidely, and Rita reminds her to use male pronouns.
"I am a boy," Cole corrects her, and although his tone is calm, Callie knows him well enough to hear the anger simmering underneath. "And you know what? I belong in an LGBT home."
"As I told you, I'm working on that," Rita assures him.
"What about you?" Cole demands of Callie.
It seems as if he poses the question out of nowhere, arms still crossed defiantly over his chest, although his tone is no longer as sharp or standoffish. She's not sure how to interpret the fact that when he'd wanted to get the room's attention off himself, he'd turned to her.
"What's your addiction?" he persists.
"Uh…" She only lets herself be caught off-guard for a second before responding smoothly, "I've never done drugs. I've had a couple beers."
"Well, Callie, your addiction doesn't have to be drugs or alcohol," Rita points out.
Callie smiles tightly. "I really don't know. I feel like I have to tell you that I'm addicted to something so I can get my privileges, but I would just be making it up."
"Why'd you run away from your foster home?" Kiara asks, and Callie's stomach lurches.
"I kissed my foster brother."
The girls all stare for a few moments before Becka breaks the silence with an "Oh, snap." Callie feels Cole bristle next to her.
"You want your privileges so you can see your boyfriend?" Carmen asks.
Callie sneaks another look at Cole, then wishes she hadn't. Betrayal is written across his face, and his wounded expression is too much for her to take at a time when she can't exactly explain the whole story in front of everybody.
"No," she corrects Carmen, trying valiantly to keep her voice from wavering. "I need to see my little brother. He needs to know why I left."
--
It had sucked opening up that much in front of Cole - like, totally and completely sucked even more than it would have otherwise. When Becka comes into the room Callie shares with Kiara and talks about how Callie had "turned on the waterworks" in group, something in Callie snaps.
"Fortunately I don't care about the opinions of a drug addict," she snipes, making a dramatic exit and storming toward the bathroom.
It doesn't occur to her that one of her housemates might be in there until after she pushes open the door. Cole's in the middle of binding his chest - something she'd never seen him do the whole time they'd lived together, although she'd noticed the outlines of Ace bandages under his clothes.
He looks at her like he's been scalded, and she's barely able to stutter out an apology before he yells at her to get out and pushes her across the threshold. He'd never touched her in anger before, and perhaps it's the shock that makes her do what she does next, or maybe she's already on edge because of Becka or group or all manner of reasons, but whatever her motivation, she pushes him back.
--
Callie really didn't mean for the shower door to shatter.
As she sits on the couch next to Cole, squirming under the gazes of Rita, Michelle, and the other girls, she mentally congratulates herself on her uncanny ability to alienate everyone who's ever been nice to her or given her a chance.
"All right, Callie." Rita sounds disappointed, and Callie can't really blame her. "Why don't you go first?"
"I accidentally walked in on Cole in the bathroom," she begins, trying to make the story sound as reasonable as possible.
"I heard yelling," Michelle interjects.
"I told her to get out," Cole explains.
Rita looks searchingly at Cole, as if she's unsure he's telling the truth. "And then what happened?"
"Nothing." Callie hates how her voice goes up at the end of a word whenever she lies.
"Nothing?" Rita repeats skeptically. "Cole?"
"I slipped on some water and fell back into the shower door."
Rita raises an eyebrow. "That was a pretty hard fall."
"Pretty wet floor," Cole counters smoothly, and Callie barely manages to repress a grin. She missed Cole's snappy retorts.
"Well, Callie, we have a solution when two girls don't get along in this house," Rita continues.
Callie can't help but frown at the use of female pronouns, but what Rita says next makes her forget about that altogether.
"We make them roommates."
--
Callie figures now that she and Cole are living in the same room, he has to talk to her, but the first night she moves her stuff out of the room she shared with Kiara, she comes back from the bathroom to find Cole either already asleep or doing a damn good acting job. The following morning, his bed is already empty by the time she awakens.
She remembers the relief she felt when she realized Cole had ended up at Girls United - until then, she'd honestly believed he'd been abducted off the street or worse - but now she feels more alone than ever. The fact that she lost her privileges as a result of the whole shower incident only makes her feel worse, because she won't be able to participate in Family Day.
When she sees Brandon through the bedroom window, she doesn't trust her own eyes at first. She assumes it's finally happened, that she's lost her grip on reality and started to hallucinate, but after she blinks a couple of times and the image of him doesn't go away, she takes a closer look. He's standing uneasily on the sidewalk, wearing a shirt she's never seen before and looking older somehow, even though it's only been a couple of months since they last saw each other. Her heart twinges at the memory of kissing Brandon behind the house at Stef and Lena's wedding, and before she knows it she's running down the stairs, through the front door, across the street, and into his arms.
--
It isn't as if they'd really been on speaking terms before, but there's more vitriol to Cole's silence after Brandon showed up unannounced. Cole doesn't sneak any glances at Callie in group that afternoon, nor does he pretend to be asleep after everyone retires to their rooms in the evening. Rather, he lies in bed with his back to Callie, nose buried in a book.
Callie hugs her arms to her chest, wondering whether she should wait until Cole's asleep to creep downstairs and retrieve the cellphone Brandon had given her, but if Cole can't even acknowledge her presence then he's hardly likely to follow her out of the room. Wordlessly, she extricates herself from the sheets.
--
Callie's crouched outside by the wall of the house, her face illuminated by the phone in the darkness, when she hears a creak behind her.
"I'll take that," Cole says calmly, and she freezes.
"No."
"Do you want me to go call Michelle?"
Callie doesn't respond.
"Fine, you'll get caught with it. No more sneaking out to see your boyfriend, and sure as hell no Independent Living Program. Give it?"
She does.
"Smart." He slips the battery out of the back, and the luminous screen goes dark. "I'm gonna toss this," he tells her blankly, as if he's delivering a weather report. "It's for your own good."
--
The next day, Cole gives Callie the silent treatment as usual. She wonders why the others haven't noticed, then figures Cole must not talk a lot at the best of times. The Cole she knows at Girls United is such a stark contrast to the boy she befriended on the outside, the boy who would tell her about his life and his family and his hopes for the future, and the dichotomy makes something hurt deep inside her chest.
As she gets ready for bed that evening, she expects more of the same disengagement, but Cole surprises her once again.
"Family Day's tomorrow," he notes stoically. "You finally get to see your brother. Nervous?"
"No," she says icily, hoping she sounds believable.
"Who else is coming?"
"My, um… foster moms. I don't really know what to call them anymore. Um… their kids, I guess."
"What about Brandon?"
She can tell he's trying to make the inquiry sound casual, but it's not really working.
"Well, I don't know, seeing as somebody took my phone," she says pointedly, walking over to her bed. "I doubt it."
Cole doesn't respond, and she shuts off the light with a firm click, hoping he drops the subject. When he speaks again, she's in that half-awake state between consciousness and sleep, and her eyes fly open with a jolt at the sound of his voice.
"Why didn't you tell me you had someone?" Cole asks quietly. "That whole time we lived together… you never talked about him."
Callie rolls over, and the sheets rustle as she moves.
"Like I said in group, I ran away because I kissed him. I couldn't exactly… you know, pursue it. Because of Jude."
"But now that you're going into the Independent Living Program, you won't have that problem anymore. Is that why you're doing it?"
Callie exhales forcefully. "I'm sick of answering to other people. I want to be on my own."
"But that way you'll be able to date him, right?" Cole persists.
"I guess," she responds noncommittally.
He laughs bitterly and doesn't say anything else.
"Why do you even care?" Callie demands. "You've been nothing but hostile to me since I got here, and I don't even know what I did. I feel stupid for searching for you after you disappeared. Roxy and I were frantic, you know that? We called the morgue, Cole."
There's a pause.
"Why would you do that when you were the one who turned me in?"
"What?" Callie snaps, sitting upright. "Are you out of your mind? Why would you think that?"
"The cops who picked me up told me my partner in crime had ratted me out as part of a plea deal."
"Um, what about your fence, you dumbass?! When we were looking for you, Roxy tried to track him down and couldn't find him. I bet he got picked up and figured he could use you as leverage."
"...Oh, shit," Cole says quietly after a beat.
"Uh, yeah." Callie flips on the light, wanting Cole to see her face. "I never would have done that to you. Are you kidding? You were like, my favorite."
Cole's face twitches, and she realizes he's biting back a grin.
"Yeah?"
"Oh my God, yes." Callie laughs in relief. "I really missed you."
He actually looks happy for a moment, but then a shadow passes over his face and the moment is broken. "Too bad about your boyfriend."
"Wait, what?"
He rolls over so Callie can't see his face. "Nothing."
--
Callie didn't expect to feel so nervous about her first Family Day since she got her privileges. Of course, she's terrified to face Jude after the way she'd left him, but she's almost as fearful about the prospect of seeing the Fosters again. After all, she'd lived with those people - shared a room with Mariana, sat across the kitchen table from Jesus, helped Stef with gardening, washed dishes with Lena… and kissed Brandon.
"I wish someone would bring my boyfriend to Family Day," Becka mutters darkly as the Foster clan walks up the path to the house, which is so not helpful.
But then Jude's there and he's hugging her like he's not mad at her, and Mariana gives her a tight squeeze that almost knocks her off her feet, and Jesus gives her one of those awkward one-armed guy hugs, and Stef and Lena hold her at the same time and Stef calls her "beautiful." Brandon's the only family member who hangs back, and Callie guesses she can't blame him given that everyone else is there. Jude in particular is watching her like a hawk, so she shrugs off the sting of disappointment and leads everyone into the living room.
--
When she finally gets time alone with Brandon in the kitchen, she doesn't exactly expect his first words to her to be "Why are you breaking up with me?"
"I'm not," she responds, mystified.
"Uh, texting 'I can't do this, it's over' doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for interpretation."
She feels sick. "I didn't write that!"
"Well, someone did."
"I don't even have my phone!" she protests. "Somebody took it from me - I thought he threw it out. I'm going to kill him. I'm so sorry."
"No, it's OK, I'm just - I'm happy you… um, you don't want that."
"I don't," she whispers, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "but we have to stop this. I don't want to do the Independent Living Program just so we can be together, Brandon. If I'm with you, I lose my chance of having a family. It's - it's not fair. It's not fair to choose you over Jude, over your moms..."
If Lena and Stef hadn't come in when they did, she might have kissed Brandon goodbye right there in the Girls United kitchen.
--
Later that evening, Callie's taking out the trash when she hears a rustling from the bushes. Cole emerges with a bag and freezes when he sees her, eyes huge and round, and the expression on his face reminds her of the time a homeowner came home unexpectedly while they were in the middle of targeting a house and they barely made it through the back window in time.
"What's in the bag?"
Cole says nothing and keeps walking, but she stops him from pushing past her.
"OK, I know that you didn't throw my phone away, and I know that you've been texting Brandon."
"I was doing you a favor," he says frostily.
"I don't need any favors," she retorts, matching his tone.
"You can't have a boyfriend while you're in here."
Callie doesn't want to get into the whole Brandon situation right now.
"You can't do drugs either. That's what's in your bag, right?" She shakes her head. "I didn't think you were into that stuff. Here's the deal: You give me my phone back, or I'll get Rita."
"It's not what you think."
She turns back to the house.
"OK," he says, sounding defeated. "Here."
He hands over the phone without another word, and she smirks at him before going back inside.
--
Callie's doing laundry in the basement the next day when Cole sidles down the stairs after her and leans against the chipped concrete wall.
"I'm not an addict."
She looks up from the clothes she's loading into the washing machine. "OK."
"Those weren't drug-drugs. They're hormones. Like what I was taking back at Roxy's."
Callie stops loading.
"I can't wait any longer to be put in an LGBT home or turn 18 and get a doctor to prescribe them."
Callie's familiar enough with the attitude Cole's parents have toward their "daughter" to know not to even bring up parental consent as a potential solution.
"I've been off them since I got picked up, and my body is…" He tugs at his shirt uncomfortably. "It's freaking out, reverting back to… Look, I need to use your phone to call my hookup so I can get back on the hormones. The Brandon thing was just me being a jerk. I'm sorry."
Callie feels her coldness for him melt away and knows she can't stay mad at him. All she sees in Cole at that moment is the friend who helped her fold clothes and chop vegetables when they lived with Roxy and the other girls. The shower thing, the phone thing… they don't matter when you have the kind of love for someone that Callie has for Cole.
"Are they safe?" she asks. "The hormones?"
"Yeah. They're exactly what I was getting on the street."
"Well, just tell me when you need to use the phone and I'll give it to you. No more impersonating me."
Cole's smile is wide and brilliant and makes Callie feel warm deep inside her chest. "Deal."
--
When Callie, Kiara, and Daphne return from the apartment Daphne got through the Independent Living Program, there's an ambulance outside the group home and an expression on Rita's face that Callie's never seen before. Cole's lying on a gurney with an oxygen mask on his face, and everyone's gathered outside, watching him get wheeled into the ambulance.
"Becka found Cole unconscious in the bathroom," Rita tells them, her voice taut with worry. "There were needles on the floor, and this next to him."
She holds up an ampoule that Callie recognizes from the medicine cabinet back at Roxy's place, and Callie's stomach churns.
--
The first thing Callie says when Cole gets back from the hospital is "What the hell, Cole?"
The second thing she says is "Listen, I broke up with Brandon."
The third thing she says is "God, I thought I lost you for good this time."
Then Cole kisses her, so she doesn't say anything after that.
---<---<---@