Lena smiled as she shut the cell; her wife's quick-thinking sentimentality never ceased to amaze her. She patted Jude's hand softly and slipped out of her seat quietly. The boy was consumed in an animated conversation with Conner, concerning the merits of Halo in comparison to Grand Theft Auto, two games which his new parents would never concede to purchase, and he didn't seem overly concerned about his mother and sister's previous departure, which filled Lena with heartening gratitude. He was such a resilient young man. She couldn't be more proud of how he handled each hurdle. After receiving his sibling's blessing and some reassuring hugs from his mama, he had bounded back to his friend, reenergized and unencumbered. Glancing at her son once more as she moved to locate the clerk, Lena sighed in recognition of how much Callie must have sacrificed in order to preserve Jude's sweet and unsullied soul. The adolescent deserved at least this simple gesture in return.

When she met them at the courthouse door five minutes later, Callie was visibly subdued, but Stef detained a familiar fire in the custody of her eyes. Lena knew that look. Her wife burned to set the streets ablaze in righteous protest; she wanted to march down the boulevard blocking their daughter's happiness, flag waving and remonstration spewing. And, although it warmed Lena's heart, she realized that it was her responsibility to prevent reckless behavior, on the part of both her protective wife and her impulsive child. It had always been her role to temper the flames. This time, though, Stef had the right amount of heat in her altruism. It had been easy to agree.

Lena ushered the pair into the waiting conference room now, slipping her arm through Callie's as they crossed the short distance, her heels clapping on the granite tiles.

"What's going on?" The teen inquired as the door clicked closed behind them, her eyes flitting around the four walls, finding the center and focusing. A formidable, scarred mahogany table spanned the width of the room, facing the trio, at which the clerk and a stranger were already settled in authoritative comfort. "Does Jude need to be here?" She questioned shakily, after only a beat of silence, perplexed by the sudden attention. Her heart had clearly filched a spontaneous vacation, and her stomach was forming an angry rebellion. How could today possibly worsen? Callie tried to prepare herself for a fresh horror, to steel her fatigued nerves.

"No, Callie. Jude's hearing isn't for another 15 minutes. The judge always asks the family to arrive early. Why don't you all take a seat?" The clerk replied, signaling the available chairs in front.

Obviously stunned, Callie didn't register the moment passing until she felt her foster mothers' fingers, a hand resting on each respective elbow, gently tugging her down into the place between them.

"First of all, Callie," the clerk resumed, "your moms and I have discussed a few possible options in regards to expediting the adoption process, and we have found one viable alternative to tracing Robert Quinn, assuming that you find it to be a favorable course of action." She paused to take note of the girl's reaction. When Callie nodded in passive awareness, she continued with formality, "We can petition the court. Technically, even if Donald Jacob is not a blood relative, he did have a significant hand in raising you. If there is no memory of Robert Quinn, and no acknowledgment of his paternity on the birth certificate, then, by all extensive rights, Mr. Jacob is Callie's legal guardian and should be able to freely extinguish all holds. We will, of course, have to involve Mr. Jacobs in the proceedings, and there is no guarantee that the judge will consent, but I think that we have a strong case here." The clerk clasped her hands on the pile of manila folders before her, peering kindly at Callie.

Lena laid her palm on the teen's slightly hunched shoulder, rubbing in soothing, infinite circles. "Do you understand what she is suggesting, sweetie? Is it something that you would like to pursue?"

The girl looked up at Stef, who was leaning back in the adjoining chair, her arm looped lazily across the back of Callie's seat, and then up at Lena, whose eyes were so patient and so endlessly deep that she wished for a camera to capture the reflection. She would hide the expression in the bookshelves of her memory, in the thin file labeled "Love."

"Yes, I understand. You want to talk to Donald, to see if he can relinquish rights as my father instead of Robert Quinn. We're looking for a loophole. I think that it's a good idea." Callie straightened in her seat and spoke with the confidence that she held in reserve.

"When did you get to be so smart?" Stef chuckled, tousling Callie's hair affectionately and causing the teen to redden in response.

"That's great. We'll contact Donald right away and put things in motion. Now…" the clerk made a show of shuffling through her open briefcase, handing a few papers to the unknown male in the corner. His eyes were a piercing green, an indiscernible jungle, and Callie involuntarily shuttered when they landed on her. Who was he, and what did he want? "… your moms have asked me for some additional goodwill, which I was happy to provide. I daresay, this has to be the most official, unofficial document that I have ever had a hand in creating. You're a lucky girl, Callie. I hope that you know that." The government worker grinned now, emphasizing the laugh lines on her genial features.

Before the teen had a chance to choke on the irony of her previous statement, the clerk slid a fancy piece of parchment across the table, and Stef caught the edge, positioning it so that Callie could read the square paper. It was ornately bordered in blue, and embossed with the judicial markings of San Diego. In the center, letters looped to shape this message:

"You are our daughter, for today and for every tomorrow.

You belong to us, and our hearts belong to you."

There were three neat lines under the text, two for the signatures of her mothers and one for her own. Under those lines, there were two more, but Callie wasn't sure of their purpose, and her eyes were too full of sudden tears to conduct more of an inquisition.

"You should think about it very carefully before signing, kiddo," Lena whispered in the girl's ear, recommencing her maternal massage, "you know how your mom gets sometimes…"

"LENA ELIZABETH," Stef grunted in loud disbelief, "Did I hear you correctly? You listen to me…"

Callie knew that her mom was still ranting with lively abandon, but she lifted her gaze to meet the clerk's in interruption. "May I have a pen, please?" She asked shyly, a small smirk dancing on her lips.

The noises swirled around her, the laughter ebbed and flowed; Callie had found the eye of her hurricane, and she felt anchored in the chaos, safe in this harbor.

She watched as her mothers took turns penning their names in pretty script.

She watched herself scribble on the dotted line: Callie Adams Foster.

She watched as the man emerged from shadows and notarized the paper with a flourish, signing and dating the remaining placeholders.

She watched his wild eyes tame in innocent generosity.

She watched herself learn to trust again.

She watched as Jude appeared at the door, calling his family in youthful excitement.

Callie's feet found the floor.

She tucked her security in the folder they had provided.

She followed.