A tea party.

Foster knocked on the door. I opened it fully without the cursory, suspicious inch first. I was clean, immaculate - a far cry from my disheveled, wild self when my anxiety took over. My gaze was fixed straight ahead for an instant, a brief look of surprise crossing my face before I looked down. I didn't smile, but I had a look of fondness softening my expression. "Hello, Eloise."

"Hi Mister Gabriel. Wanna come over for a tea party? Uncle Foster said it was okay." And she pointed at him as if to clear up any confusion regarding who she was referring to.

Foster gave an amused kind of shrug when I looked at him. "I said it was okay to invite you over for tea. Not so much the party part."

"I didn't even bring Fluffy Pants with me today," Eloise pouted from where she was planted in front of my apartment. "And I don't have any ribbons, either."

Now I just stood there looking baffled. "Fluffy...Pants?"

Foster couldn't quite suppress his laughter. "Her stuffed rabbit. He suffers through quite a few tea parties. And I told her she wasn't allowed to put ribbons in your hair." He said, then adding, "She will try if you let her."

"That was our Christmas card last year! I put lots of ribbons and stuff in Uncle Foster's hair and we took a picture. We didn't know you yet, Mister Gabriel, or you would have gotten one too."

"Indeed." Was all I could think to say.

Foster shook his head. "Eloise? Mister Gabriel can't accept your invitation if you keep talking his ears off."

She clasped both hands over her mouth and looked up at my with huge, pleading eyes.

"I am honored by your invitation," I told her, eminently formal even as I was fighting down the urge to smile at her.

"Eeee!" came the excited squeal from behind Eloise's hands, and she tore back into Foster's apartment.

"I guess she figured that was a yes." Foster took a moment to steal a kiss while Eloise wasn't looking. "She really missed you. And I thought you might like to spend some time with her."

I nodded, cheeks going red at being kissed in front of an audience, even if the audience hadn't been paying attention at the time. "She has improved since the last time I saw her."

"So have you."

Before I could respond to that, Eloise piped up from the kitchen. "Uncle Foster? You gonna come make some tea or what?"

"Man, you're bossy today," he called back, making his way to the kitchen with me following closely behind. "Why don't you keep Mister Gabriel busy and I'll deal with the drinks?"

"Okay." She turned her full attention on me. "When it snows, can you stand on top of it without leaving footprints?"

Foster didn't fully cover his snicker under a cough as he pulled out a few mismatched mugs and some tea bags.

I wasn't at all offended, settling myself in one of the kitchen chairs so I was closer to her level when I replied. "I have a heavier bone and muscle structure than you do. I am, in fact, more likely to leave footprints in snow than you are."

"Oh." She crawled up on my chair, her feet balancing on the rung and her hands on my knees for support. "Do you sing at trees?"

"Elle? Did you ask before you invaded Mister Gabriel's personal space?" Foster piped up.

"I'm not invading! I'm balancing," she informed him.

I waved off Foster's protest. "Her dismissal of personal space is not in the least bit bothersome," I assured him, then answered her question before she could ask him to translate. "There are very few trees where I come from. However, there are several songs dedicated to the deserts and the mountains. My mother was always fond of the Mountain Lullaby."

"My daddy likes the Alabama Lullaby."

"Sweet Home Alabama isn't a lullaby," Foster told her, setting a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. "And there's your tea."

I raised an eyebrow. "That is not-"

"It's tea," Foster interrupted me, giving me a stern look. "Tea for picky four year olds, anyway." He set another mug in front of me. "We're drinking the grownup kind."

Eloise wrinkled her nose at it. "That stuff smells like daddy's doctor bag."

"Which is why you get special tea and not regular tea," Foster told her, kissing the top of her head before sitting in the other chair.

"Hmph." She took a sip from her mug and then continued her interrogation with me. "You wanna know what my daddy calls you?"

Foster clearly sensed danger. "Elle-"

"He calls you a gobhoblin. Hobgoblin. Somethin' like that. They have green blood. Do you have green blood, too?"

My eyebrows were raised again. Foster tried to do some damage control. "That's just how he operates. If he's thought up some kind of derogatory nickname for you, that means he likes you. He calls me an idiot all the time. It's a sign of affection coming from him."

"He calls me a brat!" Eloise added cheerfully. "And ibnosh... obnosh... ignosis," she tripped over the word.

"Obnoxious," I corrected her.

"Yep, that one. Do you have green blood?" she asked again, trying to keep us easily distracted adults on topic.

I took a long sip from my mug, trying to compose myself. "I do not."

"Does blood come in other colors, too?"

Foster was saved from his explanation by a knock on the door.

"Daddy!" Eloise squealed, dropping her mug back on the table and making a beeline for the door.

I looked distinctly uncomfortable, my gaze darting from my own mug of tea, to the living room, then back again. I had been fairly composed during Eloise's rapid-fire questioning, but now I was taking on that familiar, anxious look. "I-"

Foster scooted his chair closer, wrapping his hands around mine on my lap, trying to project whatever level of calm he could. "That'll be Jayden coming to pick her up," he said, unnecessarily considering Eloise's squealing. "You don't have to leave the kitchen if you don't want to. I can head out there and deal with him alone. But he would like to meet you, if you're okay with that."

I couldn't look at him, my eyes fixed but unfocused on our hands in my lap. I was silent for a long time, concentrating on something I knew Foster couldn't perceive. "He is not here for a medical visit?" I finally asked.

"He's here to pick up his daughter. But he's a doctor - he'll probably go a little medical on you even if he's not here for that purpose. He still wants to help you."

I swallowed, my fingers trembling faintly under Foster's.

"He's not here to poke or prod at you, if that was what you were asking," Foster continued. "He'll probably ask a few questions, maybe make a few suggestions, and then he'll take Eloise home. It's not a big involved medical visit, I promise. And if he starts turning it into one, I'll kick him out." He said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, relieved when I didn't twitch away from the physical contact. "He's not going to storm in and judge you. He just thinks that you should be able to handle your emotions without losing it all the time."

It took an age, but I inclined my head in the briefest of nods. "Very well."

Foster stood and offered a hand to me. "I'll be there with you. And you're welcome to leave at any time if you need to freak out in the bathroom or something. No one will mind, I promise."

I nodded again, fitting my hand into Foster's and allowing myself to be pulled from the chair. I didn't let go of his hand when we entered the living room, instead I kept a firm grip on him as if Foster was holding me together through the touch of our fingers. "Hey Jayden," Foster said, going for casual, I was certain he was failing.

"You fed her ice cream," was the accusing response, Eloise balanced on his hip looking anything but innocent.

"What makes you think so?" Foster replied.

"She has chocolate breath."

"That's from tea, Daddy," Eloise informed him, licking her lips. "The ice cream was strawberry."

"Eloise, you are the second worst secret keeper I've ever met." He tried to change the subject before he went on a rant about his daughter's sugar intake. "This is Gabriel, by the way. Gabriel, this is Jayden."

I made no move to pull my hand away to shake Jayden's, and it took a moment before Foster remembered how horrified I was when it came to shaking hands. "Foster speaks of you a great deal," I said, my gaze not quite meeting his.

"Bullshit."

"Daddy!" Eloise admonished him, looking scandalized.

"As if you haven't heard worse comin' out of your mother's mouth," he muttered, setting her back on the floor. "Do me a favor. Head back to Foster's room and make sure you know those ballet positions by heart. All eight of 'em. I'll call you when I'm ready to go."

"There's five," she corrected, but she took off toward the back of the apartment anyway.

"Teaching her some interesting vocabulary for a preschooler," Foster made fun of his parenting skills.

"Shut up. Amy is worse and you know it." He grabbed a medical file from his bag and shifted the conversation toward me. "Here's what my colleague and I have been researching in our off-duty hours. Based on your symptoms, she thinks you should be sleeping and meditating a hell of a lot more, but I hear Foster told you that already."

I blinked, looking as thrown off as I felt. "Affirmative."

"Affirmative," Jayden grumbled to himself before continuing. "So if that doesn't work fast enough for you, there's another option. You know what a benzodiazepine is?"

I squeezed Foster's hand, the first outward sign I'd shown of anxiety. "It is a anti-anxiety drug." The hand in Foster's squeezed tighter and Foster could feel the fingers shaking in his own. "I am unsure of the specifics, as medicine was not one of the focal points of my studies, but it is my understanding that it temporarily slows brain activity until the individual has his or her mental controls and shields back in place."

Jayden scanned through his pages a few times, apparently making sure that he and I were talking about the same drug. "Right," he said once he had confirmed it. "We're thinking we could start playing around with it, see if it helps you out. Not at full strength, obviously." He closed the file, focusing on me instead. "The thing is, we have no way of knowing exact numbers unless we experiment with it a little. Now, I know you're not a fan of medics. But if you're up to it, I'd like to try tinkering with some dosages to see if they help. If not we can ditch the whole idea, but I think it's worth a try."

"I..." I trailed off, my stoic expression was gone and replaced with the dreaded fight-or-flight response wavering in my eyes. "I do not..." I looked at Foster for help, my hand squeezing Foster's hard enough to leave bruises.

"We don't have to discuss this now," Foster assured me. "It's just something to think about. We can figure it out later, if you want. Or not at all."

"You do not..." I tried again, directing it at Jayden this time. But I couldn't get the words out, the trembling spreading up my arm and into my shoulders. The bones in Foster's hand creaked in protest at the pressure being exerted against them.

"Bathroom's free," Foster whispered in my ear, giving me the exit I so desperately needed. "I'll get Jayden and Eloise out of here and I'll be there in a few minutes."

I didn't look at either one of them as I pulled my hand away from Foster's and almost ran for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.

Foster locked the door of his apartment before heading to the bathroom, knocking on the door quietly. "Hey Gabriel? They're gone now. And I can't get in there unless you unlock the door."

I shuffled across the tile floor and unlocked the door. I was leaning heavily against the wall when the door opened, my skin pale and sallow. "Eloise," I explained hoarsely.

"Oh, right. Hadn't thought of that." The last thing Eloise needed to see was me in the midst of an episode, and the last thing I needed was Eloise as an audience. "You need to stay in here for a bit? Or can you come out?"

I looked past Foster's shoulder for a moment before shaking my head. "I..." I gave up on speaking, heaving my body from where it was supported by the wall and sitting in front of the toilet again, my limbs limp and exhausted.

Foster let out a long, shaky breath, moving to sit beside me. He sifted one hand into my hair, massaging my scalp and the back of my neck while he spoke. "Sorry about Jayden. He turns into an information dump when he goes into doctor mode. And he's not exactly known for his table manners."

"Indeed." It was choked out more than anything, but I was leaning my head back into Foster's hand, soaking up the comfort. "I did not expect such...insistence."

"Sorry," he said again. "Now you know where Elle gets it from. I was surprised you didn't get more flustered over all her questions."

I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it as my face paled. I swallowed down the urge to puke again, closing my eyes and leaning bodily against Foster. "She is... She is nothing like the children I g-grew up with," I explained, stuttering on some of the words. "It is...comforting, in a way, to speak with her."

"Were you bullied a lot as a kid?"

"They were...were wary of a person who is...different. I was, for the most part, ignored rather than abused."

"For the most part?" Foster repeated, having latched on to what he considered the important part of that sentence. "Was there anyone who didn't treat you like crap?"

"I was not completely alone." The trembling eased slowly as I spoke, leaning my head and body further and further against Foster's until Foster was almost cradling me against his side.

Foster waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. He kissed my temple, nuzzling into my hair. "Feeling better now? Can we go somewhere else? My ass is sore from sitting on this damn tile."

I didn't crack a smile, but the corners of my mouth twitched faintly because I wished to, but I just couldn't expend the energy. "I believe....I believe the worst of the nausea has passed."

"Good. You wanna go to bed? Rest for a little while? I know it's early, but..."

"No." I opened my eyes, staring at the latch on the bathroom door. "I do not feel the need to sleep. Perhaps...the window?"

Foster's fond grin took over his face, kissing my cheek. I loved the view from that window. "Sure, let's go."

Sitting on the carpeted floor wasn't a whole lot better than sitting on the tile, but we had a few cushions left from when we'd last sat there so it wasn't quite as bad. And Foster certainly wasn't going to complain when he had me seated between his legs, the heat of my back warming his chest, our fingers tangled together in a simple desire for touch.

Foster traced his fingers over my knuckles and watched me shiver at the sensation. "It just doesn't sit well with him to see someone suffering when he can help. I know he came off as a gruff jerk, but his heart's in the right place."

"I should hope so, considering he is a medical professional."

Foster laughed at the unexpected joke, muffling it in the back of my head. "And you said you didn't have a sense of humor."

Foster kissed the tips of my ears to soften whatever blow he might inadvertently make when he responded. "So I guess...I guess the question is, is it better to medicate yourself to get past this? Or is it better if you try to do it on your own, but it takes a lot longer?"

"I do not know," was the defeated answer, I sagging against him as if the discussion had stole all of my energy. I went silent again, my fingers sliding along Foster's in an unconscious display of affection. Foster pressed his nose into the tame black of my hair, letting me think for awhile.

"Foster?"

"Hmm?"

"I would like to meditate on this. May I..." I stopped, started up again. "Is it acceptable if I remain here?"

Foster smiled against the back of my head. "I should've said this awhile ago, but you have an open invitation to be here whenever you want, for as long as you want. No restrictions. Even if I'm off somewhere else, you're welcome here. I'll give you a key for the door."

I relaxed even further against him, squeezing his fingers gently. "Then, if you are not otherwise occupied...will you remain here?"

It took Foster a moment to respond. "While you meditate, you mean?"

"Yes. I find...I find it is significantly easier to achieve a meditative trance when you are nearby, an ease magnified by your increased proximity."

"You meditate better when I'm around? Even when I'm touching you?"

"I believe I said that."

He suppressed a laugh. "I'm surprised all my unorganized thinking doesn't distract you from what you're trying to do."

My hand unfolded from Foster's, shifting until our hands were pressed with our palms and fingers flat against one another. There was a sudden projection of warmth, affection, security, unity flowing through me. "I have found your particular type of mental activity quite gratifying, if different from my own."

He couldn't suppress the laugh then. "So you're saying you love me for my mind?"

I said nothing in response, though the affection written on my face had a distinctly amused look to it before I closed my eyes, dropping into his meditative trance within moments.

"That's one way to avoid a discussion, I guess," Foster muttered, nuzzling back into my hair and waiting for me to return.


Gabriel.