[serpent / dove]
"Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves."
— Matthew 10:16
. … .
one: for words
Edward Cullen sat alone in the waiting room of Stonehill Medical Center with his head tilted back against the wall and his eyes closed. Carlisle had wanted to see him, but he had failed to mention that he was treating a patient and was at the time unable to meet him. His thoughts were drifting to the most random of subjects, everyone else's thoughts turning into a dull static, when he heard someone walk from the hallway (from someone's room!) into the waiting room. He opened his eyes and looked up when he realized that he couldn't hear this person's thoughts—or anyone else's, for that matter. The static in his mind had been replaced with a restful silence.
And then, he heard it: a tiny voice, very soft, almost inaudible, said, I'm scared! Oh my gosh, I'm scared I'm scared I'm—, and then it was interrupted and drowned out by a louder version of the voice: Hush, it said, because being scared isn't going to help Gran get better. The only thing that can help is time, and a little bit of prayer. Then the tiny voice responded, almost sarcastically, I don't believe in God. Not really, only to be answered with a thought so selfless and stubborn that it almost scared Edward; he was too used to hearing selfish thoughts. I'll believe in anything that can help Gran.
Edward's eyes widened slightly. Was this girl really willing to put aside her own beliefs to find solace for her grandmother? He looked up, gazing at the girl now instead of the air just over her head. She was young, sixteen at the most, and she had olive skin and fine facial features—wide dark eyes and a thin nose and full lips suggesting an Indian heritage—and long black hair that was pulled up in a messy ponytail that was held in place by a braided chord. She was dressed in all black, too, and wore heavy hiking boots that were scuffed with mud.
She saw him looking and her expression immediately hardened. Her thoughts were easy to read in the silence—her thoughts could actually penetrated his mind and forcibly make him hear them: Oh, great, another guy for the girls to drool over that really couldn't give a damn about his flavor of the week. There was such a hostility that Edward couldn't help but wonder what kind of girl this was.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, drawing Edward away from his thoughts with a heated defensive that would have made Carlisle—and nothing in the world could ever bothers him— jump out of his skin. Her arms crossed over her chest and her lower lip stuck out in a scowl… but her lip was quivering, only slightly, like she was on the verge of tears.
Like she might lose the only person she loves, Edward had to think. Instead, he didn't answer for a long while, actually pondering what to say. At first, he hadn't been looking at her: he'd been looking at the wall, which suddenly and unexpectedly had become very interesting. He couldn't say that, of course. This girl was the first he'd met whose mind wasn't immediately clogged with lusting and fanciful thoughts, and he most definitely didn't want her to think of him as… well, as a freak. Granted, the vampire thing was a given, but she most definitely wasn't going to know about that.
That was when she cleared her throat, tapping her foot against the linoleum impatiently. That was also when he realized that he was going to have a hard time dealing with this girl—because Edward Cullen was always able to keep his cool around humans, particularly human girls; it was becoming painfully obvious that this dark beauty could easily get under his skin, force him to spill all his most painfully kept secrets if she wanted to—of course, that meant Edward would use everything in his repertoire so that she wouldn't want to.
"Are you deaf? Mute?" She was closer now, standing almost directly in front of him, her venomous defense still in her voice. That quiet, sensible voice in her head was spinning circles now, because deep down she probably knew that there was a perfectly plausible reason for Edward's silence—and there was—but the voice was starting to make Edward's head hurt, hearing an obnoxiously persistent mind-voice fret and complain about a million things at once.
"No." Edward said, turning golden eyes and worried frown onto the girl whom he didn't even know but still insisted on making him worry and fantasize and a million other things about her.
There was a pause, and then, "So you were ignoring me?" The scowl and lip-quivering pout vanished in an instant to be replaced by a vicious smirk. She was obviously good at hiding her emotions, at least from anyone who couldn't read minds. Her arms dropped to her sides, bending at the elbow so that her hands could settle in her pockets. The fluorescent lights caught the amber gem on her wrist and it seemed to crackle with a glow like the anger he saw in that smirk.
She wants to be comforted but refuses to admit it… Edward thought and sighed, looking down. From the corner of his eye he saw her expression changed, and almost heard her think, I knew it. He isn't worth my time, but then he decided he'd imagined it. "Of course not. I was trying to think of something to say, and you distracted me—," he began saying, then cut himself off with his own thoughts: Distracted? Where the hell did that come from? I'm not distracted.
She laughed then, expression changing (again) to something of amusement. "You're kidding," she said with a sigh. "I'm not interesting enough to distract people." She looked away, the paw print-shaped amber pulsing on her wrist as the blood rushed to her cheeks, coloring them.
Edward rolled his eyes. "You seem interesting. I mean, who else can laugh like that when she's about to cry?" he asked, voice coming out a little loftier than he'd wanted it to—what was with this conversation anyway? He was the equivalent of Rosalie: the Ice King! And she had him making conversation as if he was a normal person with an interest in other people's lives. Worse yet, he had her blushing, and she had him wondering what it would be like to change her—already! Edward shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He most definitely didn't need blood or biting or (he inwardly shuddered) changing on his mind.
Her dark eyes immediately widened and her breathing hitched slightly in shock. "Is it that noticeable?" she asked, voice coming out in a whimpering squeak that threatened tears. Adriane, Adriane, calm down… don't cry. You don't want him to think you're some soft loser, she thought rapidly, trying very hard not to break down right then and there.
Edward nodded. "You look like you've been here all night and didn't sleep a wink." Funny, you talking about not sleeping, his thoughts said, running away as soon as his mouth closed.
She bit her lip, debating whether to tell him her story or not. He stayed silent, too, trying to shut his thoughts up—he didn't want to say or show something that could jeopardize whatever this was (this meeting with this girl whose name may or not be Adriane). He also didn't want to rush her.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was soft, barely louder than a whisper: "My gran's in the hospital. Something's wrong with her lungs. The doctor was pretty optimistic, but the nurse said she probably wouldn't make it."
Edward swallowed a lump in his throat—great, now I'm feeling sentimental, too?—and his fist clenched. He couldn't think of anything to say and he could sense that there was more—her mind was full of memories now, and he could see that her grandmother was the only real family she felt she had. That was especially painful to him—his family was different and massively dysfunctional on the best of days, but he loved them. And, there were six of them. Adriane was all alone, abandoned by her parents, with her grandmother in the hospital. Finally, he got up the nerve to break her reverie. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and he meant it. For reasons unknown, he cared for this girl deeply and felt like he knew her even though in reality he didn't—she seemed so strong, so untouchable, but at the same time frightened and vulnerable. At that moment, realization dawned on him that he hadn't asked her name. He knew it, yes, but it would be regrettably awkward for him not to ask. So he did:
He asked, "What's your name?"
She answered, "Adriane."
There was a painfully long silence, during which he stared at the wall because he was too used to being stared at and undressed by girls' eyes, but he could tell she was staring at him with a hungry curiosity that didn't involve anything at all sexual. He became increasingly aware that it was Adriane's turn for questions.
Her first: "So who are you, Mr. I-Can-See-What-You're-Thinking?"
He hesitated, then said wonderingly, "Edward Cullen," and remembered that he didn't know her last name; he could always as later. Where had that nickname come from? Could she, somehow, notice that something was different about him? Or was it simply a strange coincidence?
During his reverie, they lapsed into silence again—but a contented, amiable one, in which Edward paid attention to his thoughts and Adriane to hers. Edward, however, also indulged in listening to her thoughts some of the time, as well. It wasn't until Adriane actually knew his name that she allowed herself to stare at him and admire him—but it was in a subtle, polite, I don't think he's that into me sort of way. It was actually kind of flattering, actually.
Then, again, the silence was broken. They both spoke at the same time:
"It was really—"
Adriane blushed, looked at the ground, then said, "You first."
"It was really nice meeting you, Adriane." Edward said with a purposeful politeness that would make most girls swoon. Adriane, as he expected, was better than that. his tone actually gave her the courage to look into his eyes and not pass out.
"Yeah. Me too." She smiled one of her odd little smiles. Edward could tell it was a rarity, and when it happened he could see a small dent in her cheek near the corner of her mouth.
Edward returned her smile in generous proportions before looking up at the door when he felt Carlisle's presence in the doorway. When the blonde doctor cleared his throat, Adriane jumped and looked up, her thoughts actively rambling protests about anything happening.
"Edward," Carlisle said with a warm smile. "Are you ready to go?"
Edward stood up and nodded, trying to make it seem like nothing about this girl fazed him at all. He smiled at Adriane, then glanced down, "I… ah… I guess I have to leave you here."
Adriane blinked, then her eyes widened as the realization came to her: Cullen. Her smile faded, but her eyes kept that cheerful sparkle in them. "It's no big deal," she said, although her mind was screaming that she didn't want him to leave. "I mean, it's perfectly natural for you to hang out with your dad." She paused, then as an afterthought, she added, "I have to go and check on the Preserve anyway."
The two Cullens shared a glance, and Carlisle nodded. "I think the medication I gave your grandmother today should clear up the liquid in her lungs," he said, reaching out and touching Adriane's shoulder gently. She almost flinched away, but didn't. "Just keep yourself busy, and try not to dwell on this. She'll be good as new before you know it."
"Thank you, Doctor Cullen," she said, eyes still smiling. "I'm sure she'll be better soon." She gave an awkward, twittering little wave before turning and stalking out the door quickly, almost blushing again.
As soon as she left, Edward shot Carlisle the darkest glare he could muster before walking wordlessly out to the parking lot, getting into the car and looking out at the woods behind the hospital. As Carlisle pulled out and turned onto the interstate, Edward could have sworn he saw a girl all in black, running towards the trees with a black wolf at her side. That got him thinking about a certain tribe of Indians he knew… but of course, that was completely unlikely. They wouldn't leave their territory, and their reservation was on the other side of the country. There was too much land between La Push, Washington and Stonehill, Pennsylvania for that to be possible.