Nightmare in a Dream World
"Callie woke up with stinging eyes and a racing heart. She sat up and tried to catch her breath, cursing her subconscious. She had dreamt about Jude." Missing scene from the Pilot. Stef and Callie bonding. Oneshot.
I do not own The Fosters. However, I would love to own it along with Mariana's wardrobe.
Callie always found it awkward being at a new house. Sure, she'd been shipped around dozens of times, but she had never really gotten used to the discomfort of it all. You were barging into other people's lives, suddenly thrown into the mix of their daily routines, and most of the time you weren't even wanted.
Everything was new, especially the things people with steady homes took for granted. The way you turned on the shower, flipped on the stove, opened a window. Nothing was ever quite the same as the former house she was in, and it was a constant adjustment. A temporary adjustment. Always temporary.
But that awkwardness was magnified even more when it came time to sleep.
After being interrogated about toothbrushes and avoiding a close call with an emotional breakdown in front of Lena, she was finally left alone in the Foster's converted office space, complete with a desk and a futon, but sans a lock on the door.
She always locked the door. Between creepy foster fathers and shrill foster mothers, she had learned that privacy was the best policy. And while she still really would have preferred some sort of barricade between her provisional space and the rest of the house, the lock didn't seem as urgent here.
She felt okay. Not safe exactly, she couldn't remember what that felt like, but not fearful. Just numb. And she supposed that was better than being terrified.
So while the situation wasn't exactly comfortable, it wasn't completely unbearable, and she figured she would at least attempt to get a little sleep considering tomorrow she would be starting at some fancy private school where one of her foster mothers was the vice principal.
She rolled her eyes at the thought. Although this family didn't seem especially evil, they did seem incredibly fake. And she knew fake. She'd been with them all. The rich couple with two perfectly blonde, perfectly white kids, whose dog even had perfect teeth. The super-religious wholesome family with nine kids and enough food for six. But the Fosters were a different kind of fake. It was less obvious. They hid it very well, but the façade couldn't be real, right? There was no way parents could be that patient. No way kids could be that genuinely happy. It was on the surface, and she wondered if she would stick around to see them for who they really were: no different from the rest.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think of how disappointing people always turned out to be. Tried not to get lost in all the dark crevices of her haunting past. And more importantly, tried not to think of Jude.
FOSTERS
Callie woke up with stinging eyes and a racing heart. She sat up and tried to catch her breath, cursing her subconscious.
She had dreamt about Jude.
Well, not dreamt exactly, she had had a nightmare. A nightmare that was all too real. The reoccurring scene of the worst night of her life. She had had a lot of bad things happen, but this was by far the worst.
Their foster father had walked in his bedroom to find Jude in a pair of his ex-wife's heels and a dress, and all hell broke loose. He started beating him. Powerless little Jude, who didn't even realize he was doing anything wrong. Who wasn't doing anything wrong.
Callie had walked in the door, quickly dropping her backpack when she heard the unmistakable, unfortunately familiar sound of a snapping belt and a gruff, hateful yell. She sprinted up the stairs to come to Jude's aid, but it was already too late. She was always covered in welts and bruises, and Callie had let it happen.
She should have been there for him. She never should have left him alone, even for a second, knowing what that beast was capable of. She was stupid to think he wouldn't turn on Jude too. She had let him down, and in turn let herself down as well.
The only thing she could do was help him clean up his excruciating wounds and ice his aching bruises once their foster father had gone to sleep. She could remember his innocent little body, covered in undeserved wounds, twitching as she softly hummed him to sleep, stroking his hair and internally kicking herself, an emotional wound forming to match the physical one on the outside of her stomach.
The rage was burning and uncontrollable, and she had taken it out on her foster father's car. Her rage at him, and even more prominent, her anger at herself, for doing the one thing she swore she would never do. She had let him get hurt. She had let him down.
Callie stood up, noticing that her shirt was sticking to her skin, sweat permeating her entire body. She needed a distraction; she had to get away from this suddenly cramped, confining, restrictive room.
She had enough sense and self-awareness to open the door slowly in case it squeaked. She was satisfied that it had opened without a fuss, and that she had escaped the room in virtual silence. She stood outside her room for a few seconds, making a plan.
She still didn't know her way around the house very well, the layout and floor plan still too new and fuzzy in her mind to go much of anywhere. She racked her brain, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen, taking a chance and deciding to go left.
She tiptoed down the hall, past the myriad of framed photos of Jesus, Mariana, and Brandon, past a small, decorative coffee table with a vase of fresh flowers, by some painted inspirational quotes that said things like "Home is where the heart is" and "FAMILY: Forget About Me, I Love You."
It didn't look too familiar, and she cursed herself when she peered into the room at the end of the hall, seeing the figures of Stef and Lena illuminated by the tiny red light on the fire alarm hanging on the ceiling in the hall.
She quickly spun around and went right at her room, finding the stairs and slinking down them as quietly as humanly possible. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful she had apparently gotten away with not waking anyone despite the mix-up.
She opened a few cabinets until she found the one containing cups, grabbing one and heading over to the sink. She didn't realize until she tried to turn on the sink that her hands were shaking terribly, no doubt a mix of adrenaline from running down the stairs and the fear still coursing through her veins from the nightmare.
"Hey," she heard a voice say out of the darkness, surprising her so much her already quivering hand lost control of the cup, it falling to the sink with a plunk. She was suddenly extremely thankful she had chosen a plastic cup, knowing the repercussions of a glass one would have been far more severe.
She put a hand to her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat, and spun around, spying Stef, clad in oversized sweats and a t-shirt, her hair falling in loose, blonde waves. Stef seemed the more severe of the two moms, not harsh or callous, just less delicate, less frail than Lena.
For a moment neither woman said anything, just staring at each other. Callie tried to put on a poker face, figuring she'd need to regain the fierce demeanor she used to face the world, figuring that Stef would most likely hurt her or at least throw some insults her way. However, she was faced with the opposite reaction. Instead of the rigidness she expected to be met with, there was softness in her eyes.
She saw Stef eye the sink. "Let me get that for you," she said, and before Callie could get over the shock of her sincerity to tell her that she was more that capable of getting a glass of water, thank you very much, Stef took the glass and effortlessly filled it before handing it back to Callie.
"Thanks," Callie managed to say, her hands still trembling. Seeing this as well, Stef wordlessly helped Callie guide the cup to her lips.
"Sure, of course. But can I ask what you're doing up at," she looked over at the digital clock on the stove, "3:23 in the morning?"
Callie avoided her eyes, instead taking a sudden interest in the kitchen floor.
"Why don't we sit for awhile, huh?" Stef said, again, taking charge before Callie could resist or argue it. Not that she was in any condition to argue, but she could if she needed to. She had plenty of practice doing that.
Stef took a seat across from Callie, which Callie was secretly relieved about. She wasn't really comfortable with being in very close proximity to people, let alone physical contact.
"Sorry I woke you up," Callie mumbled, playing with the cup on the table.
"Ah, don't worry about," Stef shrugged it off. "I'm a light sleeper, comes with being a cop. Lena, on the other hand, could sleep through the apocalypse," Stef said with a small laugh.
"So," Stef cleared her throat before speaking again, realizing she wasn't going to get anything out of Callie without some prying, "what's, uh, what's going on?"
Callie shook her head, "Just couldn't sleep."
Stef nodded. "Any reason?"
Callie shrugged, "no. Just being in a new house I guess. Kinda weird."
"I can see how that could be difficult," she sympathized. "That's why Lena and I are going to make sure that this is the last stop before you find someplace permanent."
Callie nodded halfheartedly, still looking at the cup. That's what they all said, that is, when weren't yelling or bothering to take the time to say anything to her at all.
"Hey, are your eyes okay? They seem a little red," she said, moving closer to examine them.
"Oh yeah, probably just tired I guess," Callie lied, knowing they were sore from the unintentional crying she had done in her sleep.
"Yeah, probably," Stef said, seeing right through the lie, but letting it go, not wanting to push Callie into anything.
"Well, let's head back to bed, shall we?" Stef asked. "Big day tomorrow, I wouldn't want you falling asleep on your first day at a new school." she said. Any other time Callie would have found a statement like that annoyingly demeaning, but coming from Stef it seemed rather genuine. As if nothing would upset her more than if Callie felt tired tomorrow.
"I'll just wash this out," Callie said, standing and lifting the cup off the table.
"Oh, I can do it," Stef said, about to intercept the cup.
"Really, I got it," Callie said, hardness in her voice. She didn't want Stef getting the upper hand. Didn't want her to feel like she was doing Callie a favor. She didn't need Stef gaining any leverage.
"Okay," Stef raised her eyebrows and put her hands up in surprise at the forcefulness, crossing her arms and waiting until Callie had put the cup back in the cabinet.
"Ready?" she asked, smiling as Callie nodded and crossed her arms, making her way up the stairs, Stef on her heels.
A few steps away from Callie's makeshift room, Stef placed a hand on the younger girl's back, guiding her back to the room.
Callie didn't necessarily enjoy this, but figured she could suffer through it a few more steps back to her space.
As they walked into the room, Callie was bombarded with unwanted emotions all over again as she spied an old backpack in the corner of the room. Skippy the Turtle. The same backpack that Jude had.
"Callie?" Stef said, feeling her tense up under her hand. "Callie? Callie, sweetheart?" she shook her shoulder a little when she didn't get a response.
"What?" Callie practically jumped out of her skin and away from Stef's touch.
"I was just going to say goodnight," Stef asked, more stunned and concerned than before.
"Oh. Goodnight," Callie replied quickly, looking like a deer in headlights. She speedily headed over to her bed and pulled the covers over her, hoping Stef would leave so she could deal with all of this alone.
Stef rubbed her forehead, unsure of what to do. It had been substantially easier with Mariana and Jesus. They had been younger, and significantly less damaged. Plus, they hadn't yet acquired the skills to so effectively hide their emotions. But Callie, she was something else. And her tough exterior made things substantially more complex and difficult.
God, she wished Lena wasn't such a sound sleeper so she wouldn't be doing this on her own. She considered waking her up, but she knew this should probably be addressed immediately, and she didn't want to overwhelm Callie. Plus, it would just be plain mean to interrupt her wife's well-earned hours of peaceful slumber.
She uncertainly made her way over to the bed and slowly sat down. It was dark in the room, but she could feel Callie's silent sobs under the blanket, and it broke her heart.
"Callie, is there something you want to talk-"
"No," Callie replied quickly, cutting her off.
"Well can I get you something to-"
"No."
"Okay," she sighed. "If you need anything. Anything at all, even if it's just more water or something, you know where to find me."
"Yes."
"Okay. Good. Well, I'll leave you alone now to-"
"I'm sorry," Callie whispered so quietly that Stef didn't catch it.
"What, honey?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered a little louder.
"For what?" Stef asked, confused.
"I don't know. Everything I guess," Callie closed her eyes, suddenly angry at herself that she had messed up this badly. She knew she wouldn't be spending another night in this house. Sure, Stef took pity on her now, but tomorrow she'd be a whole new person. Once she realized just how selfish and horrible Callie was. And then it would be back to square one. It was a real shame too. Jude would probably have been taken care of here. Better than his current arrangement at least. But she had let him down once again. What else was new?
"Hey, don't be sorry," Stef shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Callie let out a humorless laugh. If only she knew how wrong she was.
Stef vaguely heard the grave laughter and sighed, knowing it was going to take more that just tonight to change her mind. She kissed Callie's forehead even after she felt her flinch away. She needed that. A small sign of affection to know that she was safe here. That she wasn't alone. That she was loved.
"Now let's get some sleep, huh?" she said, rubbing Callie's arm and pushing herself off the bed.
She got all the way to the door before turning around, "Callie?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you want me to stay with you awhile?"
"No," Callie said, "that's okay."
"I don't mind," Stef said honestly, offering once more.
"No. I just kind of want to be alone," she said. And she did.
Kind of.
Sure, it would be kind of nice to have someone with her, but she wouldn't allow herself to get too attached. Plus, what would Lena think if she saw her in there? Spouses always got crazy jealous about everything. No. The risks were far too great.
"Okay," Stef smiled. "Goodnight then."
"Goodnight," Callie replied, and for the first time she could remember, she meant it. And even though she knew tomorrow would go back to being Cinderella, the carriage would once again return to being a pumpkin and she would be shipped off to another horrifying household, more burdens placed upon her shoulders, she allowed herself this moment. She allowed herself this little sliver of being taken care of instead of taking care. Because for a second she felt okay. For a tiny bit of time there was some hope. And that made for a very good night indeed.
Feedback would be awesome! Thanks for reading! =)
And special thanks to justliziam for being my beta!