Disclaimer: I do not own The Fosters or any of the characters

"Um, is it okay if I talk to Brandon alone for a minute?" Callie asked, folding her arms over her chest, and glancing back at the door to his hospital room.

"I don't see why not," Lena replied.

"Go ahead, honey," said Stef. "Well wait in the hall."

"Thanks," Callie nodded, noticing the dark circles under her moms' eyes. Their pain was written all over their faces.

Callie's heart felt like it was in a tug-of-war match over Brandon. The whole family took it hard when they found out several days ago that he'd been badly beaten, and was in the hospital, in a coma. But Callie was possibly the one who had been hit the hardest by the news. She herself had been the one to answer the call with shaking hands, the final blow to the worst day of her life. And with that phone call came the regret of looking him in the eye and telling him she didn't have feelings for him, and the guilt of knowing that while he was being beaten to a pulp, she was kissing Wyatt, telling him nothing had changed, all while holding that damn guitar; the guitar Brandon gave her. She wished she'd gone with him to Mike's instead of staying home. Maybe then he'd be okay? She could have called someone, done something... anything. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the door and went inside.

When Callie entered the room, her hand flew to her mouth, and she turned her head, diverting her eyes for a moment. It has so hard to see him laying in that hospital bed; the heart rate monitor and dripping IV the only signs he was still with them. Especially when she approached his bedside, and got her first good look at his right hand. His beautiful hand. Just days ago, it played music that stirred her very soul. But now it lay stiffly at his side, bandaged and broken.

Sitting in the chair placed beside his bed, Callie gently touched her fingers to his bare chest, just above where the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his mid-section ended. His skin was cool and dry, and his breathing was soft and slow. His perfect face was that of a bruised angel, with long, dark eyelashes framing his purplish eyelids. And he had a busted lip, much like the one she had the day they met.

"Hi Brandon," she quietly began, rubbing his arm. "It's me. Callie." Her eyes filled with tears as she faced him, overwhelmed by his appearance and her grief.

"I can't stand seeing you like this," she sighed. "That's why I haven't come to visit you until now. But I really need to talk to you, and the doctor told us you can still hear us, even though you're out of it. So, I'm going to tell you something important, okay? You need to know how I really feel."

She thought she saw a muscle twitch at the corner of Brandon's mouth, but she couldn't be sure if her eyes were just playing tricks on her, so she watched him for several moments, waiting for some other small movement. When there was none, she went on.

"Brandon, I lied to you at the dance, and at your dad's apartment the other day. And I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have pretended that everything we had didn't mean anything to me, because that's not true. It was just me, doing what I always do; pushing everyone who cares about me away. But I know now that no one will ever love me like you do."

She wiped a stray tear away with her thumb, then continued her one-sided conversation. "The truth is, I'm not over you, Brandon. I do feel the same way you do. And I wish I could take back all the things I said, because I know I hurt you, and you didn't deserve that. But I want you to know, if you make it through this, I'll never do anything to hurt you again. I mean, if you still want me. I don't blame you if you don't." Why should he? she thought to herself. She broke his heart.

Sighing, she toyed nervously with her necklace. "I don't care about Wyatt. I never really did. Not the way I care about you. I... I love you, Brandon." She recalled the expression her father- or should she say, Donald?- had used when she visited him. "And you can take that to the bank."

She blushed at her own confession. "There. I said it. And you know how hard it is for me to tell people how I feel, so you know it's true. When you get better, I hope I'll get to hear you say it back again. I miss that."

Standing up, she bent over Brandon, and pressed her soft lips to his; they were dry, swollen, and tasted faintly metallic, like blood. She felt fresh tears sting her eyes as she pulled away, and she let them fall. Then, gently, trying her hardest not to hurt him, she lay her head lightly against his chest, shaking as she wept.

As she cried, she didn't feel it at first, when fingers wove through her hair. She didn't notice when an arm wrapped around her. She was so used to crying on Brandon's shoulder, and the familiar, comforting touches that came with it, that the significance of what was happening didn't hit her right away. Then it did. She lifted her head, alarmed, and was met with the gaze of Brandon's green eyes. They were filled with tears.

"Brandon," she gasped, her lower lip quivering. "Brandon... you're awake."

He smiled slightly, peacefully, holding her with his uninjured arm. "Say it again."

"Say what again?" she asked, cradling his head in her arms as she listened to him speak.

"Say you love me again. Please."

Callie nodded, sucking in a punch of air as she sobbed. "I love you, Brandon." Tilting her head down, she kissed him again. "I love you so much."

Brandon nodded feebly, holding her gaze. "I love you, too."

Note: this is inspired by a story idea I've had for a while, and initially put aside... originally, Brandon was going to get into some kind of accident after having a fight with Callie. However, the finale's ending painted a better picture. Not sure what I'll do with this- keep it as a one or two-shot, expand it into something longer? What do you guys think... any ideas?