A light show worthy of the Fourth of July played through the thin curtains of the Adams Foster house, accompanied by the booming bass drum of thunder. The heavy storm was right on top of them, sound and sight nearly simultaneous, rain pelting the roof like little missiles. Inside, the family slept soundly: Mommy and Mama in their big bed, Brandon in his bed, and Jesús in his. Well, most of the family. Mariana, on the other hand, sat upright in her own bed, blankets pulled up tightly to her armpits, stuffed bunny firmly embraced, eyes wide. Every noise and flash of lightning caused her to jump, her small brow furrowed in fear.

Mariana squeezed her eyes shut tight and clenched every muscle in her little body, hoping beyond hope that the childish trick of "if I can't see it, it isn't there" would work. Alas, another rumble of thunder shook the house in its foundation, and the flash that accompanied it was visible through her eyelids. A fearful little yelp sprang from her lips involuntarily, and she shuddered just like the house. Why wasn't someone coming to save her? Where were her moms? Her brothers? Her heart jumped with the next thunderous boom, and finally she could stand it no more. Springing up from her bed, she raced out of her room, down the hall, and stopped cold at the doorway to her moms' room. She stood there, trembling, weighing her options: wake up Stef and Lena, wake up her brother, go back to bed alone. Before she had made a choice, one of the shadows in the bed began to stir, sitting up in the darkness.

"Who's there?" asked the shadow, wiping at her eyes with a silhouette of a hand. "Mariana?" A little whimper of fear confirmed Lena's suspicions (for Lena was the shadow), and she leaned over to click on her bedside lamp. "Come here, baby," she invited soothingly, and Mariana didn't waste a second responding. She leapt across the carpet and into Lena's embrace, where she could tremble through the next burst of thunder with a set of comforting arms holding her tight.

"Wha's goin' on?" Stef asked sleepily, rolling over to face the light and the quiet crying, her sleep disturbed by the only thing that could ever rouse her - a child in trouble.

"Miss Mariana came for a snuggle," Lena replied, keeping her voice light and even as she rubbed one hand up and down her daughter's tense back. It was clear the little girl was terrified, and there was no reason to inflate her fear with any kind of panic in her own voice. Brandon had had his own phase of storm anxiety, and this felt routine, a baby in their bed while the lightning raged outside. Stef, well-versed in the ways of their sweet, shy, nervous foster daughter, reached over and caressed Mariana's hair.

"Well, hello there, Miss Thing," she greeted cheerfully. "Mama and I were hoping you'd visit us." She tickled her daughter's side, hoping to prompt a giggle, a smile, any deviation from the expression of terror on the girl's face.

Mariana didn't respond verbally, but she slowly reached out a hand, which Stef took in her own and squeezed. Over the course of the next minute, Mariana began to relax, couched firmly in the comfort of her mothers. Eventually, the three readjusted so that Mariana was lying in between her moms, Stef's arm clasped tightly to her chest like a stuffed animal, and Lena's draped across her, stroking her side comfortingly. The next flash of lightning startled her again, prompting another scared squeak, but the gentle touches of her loving moms helped her to creep ever closer to sleep.

The next morning, Lena's alarm rang its usual cheery tune, and she leaned to turn it off without disturbing the child who was using her chest as a pillow. Mariana's flushed face and harsh breathing had both evened out during the night, and now she rested soundly, her head on her Mama and her feet uncomfortably poking into her Mommy's back. The sight made Lena smile, and she stretched to tap her wife so Stef could see it too. This life they had was pretty darn perfect.