Foster's Haven Chapter 5 - Doctor's Orders, a fosters fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own the Fosters, only the plot and any characters you don't recognize from the show.

Author's Note: So, this chapter is actually a continuation of the last chapter, which got really, really long, so I cut it in two. Next chapter, you'll see Haven and meet some new people, I promise! As always, please review!

Trigger warning: Flashbacks of rape and abuse.

~~~o~~~

Chapter 5: Doctor's Orders

Callie opened the door of her exam room, revealing the winter sun of a southern California day to Becky. "Let's get back to the house," she said. Becky nodded. The past couple hours had been hard on them both, but much worse for Becky, who was already exhausted, lost, and confused, as well as suffering both the physical and psychological effects of the trauma. They traipsed the short distance, but Callie stopped her at the door.

"Everything you told me is under doctor-patient confidentiality. You know that, right?" Becky nodded. "That means I can't, and won't, tell anyone, even my moms. If it happens that you do want me to say something, you have to tell me specifically what. I tell you this only because they are going to want to talk to you about what happened, and I know that can be tough. I encourage you to be honest; they're great people, but even if you decide not to take my advice and lie, I won't say anything to the contrary. I can't. But if you want them to know, and want me to tell them, so you don't have to, I can do that to. It's up to you, Becky. It's in your control."

Becky thought about this. "They opened their home to me. I should tell them."

"You're under no obligation to. I want you to understand that. You're under no obligation to tell them anything more than you already have. What you have said already has validated your presence here, and their protection."

"Oh." She was quiet. "I don't have to?"

"Nope. But I believe it might help you process, and heal, if you do."

"I will. I'll tell them. I should. But, not now. I'm really tired."

"That's fine, and perfectly understandable. You've been up all night and you've dealt with some huge life changes. You'd have to be superhuman not to be affected by it all. You should sleep, to heal body and mind."

"But Lena wants to talk and take me on a tour of Haven, which I really want to see because I don't understand it, and I really really want a real shower -"

Callie laughed. "How about this? Doctor's orders: shower and a nap. When you feel refreshed, they can take you on the Grand Tour."

Becky smiled shyly. "That would be wonderful." The adrenaline that had powered her this far had run out, and the events of last night and this morning were really catching up to her. Now that she felt safe, her body was demanding its due.

"Why don't we figure out what room you're in, and I'll show you the bathroom so you can shower. I'll hang out long enough to talk with my moms and see how my kids have fared in my absence, so if you need a hand, you can just holler. After, I'll change your bandage, and you can hop into clean clothes and between clean sheets, in a dark room, and take a nap."

"You just changed it. I feel bad making you do it again."

"Don't. Really. Don't feel bad. It's really no problem at all, and honestly, I'd rather do it so I can keep an eye on it myself."

"Alright." Becky agreed.

Callie opened the door to the house. "Hello?" she called out.

"Sunspace!" A voice called back. Becky thought it may have been Lena's voice, but she wasn't sure.

Callie grinned. "You'll like the sunspace," she said. "It's my favorite." She led Becky to a part of the house she hadn't seen yet, and out a set of French doors. Becky soon realized why Callie had said this was her favorite room. One wall was completely windows, floor to ceiling. There were windows on both sides as well, and a sunlight overhead. It was bright, and airy, and had a magnificent, sweeping view of the land. Becky could see some tiny – cabins? houses? buildings? – nearby. It held some plants and patio furniture, and Stef was lounging in a hammock to one side. Lena was sitting on the floor, playing with the twins.

"Mommy!" They yelled in unison upon seeing Callie and ran over to her. Callie got down on her knees so she could embrace them both.

"Hi, my babies! Were you good for Nana and Gammy?"

"Uh huh," Noah said. Becky noticed that he seemed to be the more talkative of the two.

"So?" Lena asked, after greetings were finished.

"Well, as a doctor, I'm going to have to prescribe...a shower and a nap," Callie said, winking at Becky.

"A serious prescription," Stef commented, not at all seriously, from her spot on the hammock.

"We put your backpack in the room you'll be staying in," Lena said, with a glare at her wife. "I'll show you," she said, starting to rise from the floor.

"That's okay, I will," Callie said quickly.

"Thanks, sweetie. It's the one to the left of the stairs. Do you need clean pajamas, Becky? We have a bunch of spare clothes laying around."

"I packed pajamas, but thank you."

"Yeah, sure. But, Callie, show her the closet anyway. That way you'll know where it is if you ever do need something. Just grab whatever you need, no need to ask or anything. It's what it's there for."

"Thanks."

Callie led Becky out of the sunspace. "Quick tour, just to orient you. Kitchen, dining room, you saw, living room's over there, pretty obvious given the couches, I'd say. The computer in the kitchen is for anyone to use for anything. Well, not quite anything – no downloading porn, alright?" She winked at Becky. "There's a bathroom with a tub down that hall, the one upstairs has only a shower. The door next to it is that closet Lena was talking about." She led Becky upstairs, where there was a hallway containing five doors and a railing that overlooked the living room. Callie turned to the right. "First door is Stef and Lena's room, the second is the bathroom, and the other three are bedrooms. You're in this one," she said, motioning Becky through the only door to the left of the stairs.

Becky saw a room that held a single bed, a night-table, a desk with a chair, and a closet. Her backpack sat on the chair. "I get it to myself?" she asked, wonderingly.

"Yeah, you do."

"Am I kicking someone out?"

"Nope. It was empty."

"But I thought other kids lived here too? Lena said there were eight, nine with me."

"Did you notice the little buildings nearby?"

"Yeah..."

"We call them bed-cabins. Lots of kids, different backgrounds, little house – space became an issue fairly quickly. And so, bed-cabins were born. The older kids get them. There's some younger kids in the house, but after you've been here a little while, and you're not waking up screaming from nightmares every night, as some do, and you're about thirteen or more, you get the option of your very own bed-cabin."

"Oh. That's cool."

"That's what most teenagers think. It's not a system that would work in the city, but out here, everybody's happy with it. Show that you're not responsible enough, and you get put back into the house, where you might have to share a room. That doesn't usually happen. Most of the kids here are fairly responsible, and while they might test at first, to see what they can get away with, they usually respond to Stef's warnings and her laying down the law." Becky nodded. It made sense.

"So, bath or shower? A bath might be easier, you could soak the bruises, just be careful about your wound..."

"A bath would be nice."

"Grab your stuff," Callie prompted. She led Becky back downstairs and to the bathroom, and showed her where to find towels, soap, and things. "When you're done, let me know, and I'll do your bandage. Or holler if you need something sooner, alright?"

"Okay." Satisfied with Becky's answer, Callie left.

Becky turned on the water, letting it warm before filling the bathtub. As she carefully undressed, she wondered when she last had a bath. There had been a bathtub in the master bathroom, but her mother almost never let her use it. She said it was a waste of water, but Becky knew that her mother took a bath many nights after work, if she wasn't...entertaining someone. She tested the water again, and turned the dial to make it slightly cooler. As much as a hot bath sounded good to her bruises, she knew not to push her luck with the open wounds.

She slipped into the tub, having undressed with care for her bruises and removed the dressing Callie had put on the wound on her hip. A slight hiss escaped her lips as her wound came into contact with the warm water, but it stopped stinging quickly. She was long past feeling any shock about seeing her body black-and-blue, although the analytical part of her mind distantly noticed that this was probably the worst it had ever been. She lay her head back and relaxed into the tub's contours, closing her eyes in exhaustion.

A flash of memory, walking into the kitchen for a glass of water, brought out by the prolonged silence that usually indicated two passed-out drunks. Her wrist being suddenly grabbed and pulled into the living room. A leery grin, a lewd comment. Trying to twist out of the way and being hit with an empty beer bottle. Becky sat up in the tub, hugging her knees, trying to make the visions stop. She was unsuccessful. Ending up on the floor of the living room. Being kicked in the sides. Her clothes being ripped off. Seeing her mother's open eyes and drunken, sleepy smile as she lay on the couch, bottle still in hand, as he brutally thrust inside her. "You like that, don't you?" he said to her, before turning to her mother. "You like that, don't you?" he repeated to her watching mother, with a smile.

She could still feel him on her, could feel his tongue licking her face and chest. She took soap and a washcloth and began harshly scrubbing her body, paying no mind of her injuries as she tried to scrub the memories away, over and over again. But memories have a way of being caught inside your skin, unable to be washed away like dirt. And no matter how many times she scrubbed, despite the soap and the scalding hot water when she turned on the shower both to rinse away the memories and to cover the sound of her crying, she still felt unclean. Maybe I'm just a dirty person, now, she thought to herself. Maybe I'll never feel clean again. Maybe I don't deserve to be.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Becky? It's Callie. Do you need anything? Are you ready for my help with your bandage?"

"Just a minute," Becky called. Hurriedly, she dried herself off and pulled on her clean underwear and pajamas, the long sleeves and pants hiding her bruised body. She wrapped the towel around her damp hair, and checked the mirror to see if she looked like she'd been crying. She didn't, much, but her skin was pretty red from the water. Maybe Callie won't notice?

"I'm ready," she said finally, unlocking the door. Callie came in, her hands already holding a first-aid kit. Her keen eyes didn't miss much, from the redness of Becky's skin, to the puffiness around her eyes, and the heavy steam that hadn't yet dissipated. Becky lifted the side of her shirt and pulled down the elastic of her waistband to allow Callie access to her wound.

"Do you always like hot showers?" she asked, conversationally.

"I just wanted to feel clean," Becky said, hanging her head.

"And do you?" Callie knew they weren't talking physically.

"No," she whispered, ashamed.

Callie nodded knowingly. "It takes time."

"I've heard that before."

"'Time heals all wounds' is a cliché for a reason."

"How much time?"

"As long as is needed. No more, no less." She finished the dressing. "Finished. Ready for a rest?"

Becky continued staring at her feet. Finally, she admitted, ""I see him when I close my eyes. I feel him on my skin."

"I could offer you a sleeping aid, but I can't promise you a dreamless sleep. Dreams are part of how we process what has happened to us. Allowing our subconscious that time can actually help speed the process up a little. I can promise you that you'll be safe in this house while you sleep and that you won't be alone."

"Maybe I'll wake up and this will all be a nightmare."

"If only. But know that if your memories invade your dreams, that will just be a nightmare. You are safe. You are secure. You are protected. No one will hurt you here."

"Promise?" She sounded so much younger than her age. Callie knew that trauma could cause regression, and made a mental note to watch out for it.

"I promise. Now, it's time to sleep. Your body requires it. Your mind will also do better for it."

"Alright." Becky allowed Callie to lead her back upstairs. Callie pointed out the laundry basket and towel hooks in Becky's new room before tucking her into bed like she was one of her twins.

"Now, repeat after me. I am safe here."

"I am safe here."

"Nothing will hurt me while I sleep."

"Even if I have nightmares of what happened, it's not happening again."

"Sleep well, Becky."

"Will you...will you be here when I wake up?"

"I can't promise that. I may be needed. But I can promise you that someone will. You will not be left alone. Alright?"

"Alright." Becky watched as Callie closed the blinds and hit the lights, making the room fairly dark for all that it was midday. It was not, however, pitch black, and for that, Becky was thankful. She had always been afraid of the dark. Hidden things could come at you out of the dark, and Becky's monsters were unfortunately not of the bogey-man-under-the-bed variety. They were very real.

As much as her mind feared falling asleep, her body had other plans, and very soon, she slipped into slumber, holding Callie's words in her mind like a prayer.