The hospital at Forks was usually very quiet. Sometimes, Carlisle welcomed the quietness of it. It was nice not to have to rush around like a madman, and nice to know that there weren't as many people here getting hurt. On days like this though, he couldn't deny how he ached for a little bit more. He ached for the thrill of saving lives, ached to be useful and save as many people as possible. He was hundreds of years old, and if he were honest with himself, this was about the only thing that thrilled him any more. He derived pleasure from his family, of course. They were all that Carlisle really had, and he loved them all dearly. He supposed that the excitement of welcoming Bella into the family had worn off after the first 5 years though. Sometimes, he missed Esme, even though she had left him nearly 100 years ago. Esme had not been exciting for him, even though she was angelic and very sweet. They had been very close, but neither of them could deny the general lack of passion in the relationship. Normally, he wouldn't reminisce about her, but today was different.
Today, he was bored.
He'd only seen a few patients, and had spent the better part of the day doing paperwork and checking on patients in an effort to stay entertained. He was in the middle of doing just that when his pager went off. He tried not to feel grateful that he was finally getting a distraction.
When he got to the patient on the other side of the hospital, he found the boy screaming and thrashing around on the bed. It seemed at first that it might have something to do with the broken wrist, but Carlisle quickly noticed that the little boy was thrashing that arm about too, despite how much pain it might have caused him. He knew from centuries of experience that children tended to go completely quiet and still when they were seriously injured, but this child was defying that expectation, which must mean that he felt threatened enough not to care about the pain. Carlisle felt stumped, but tried to stay calm as he jogged to the bedside, where the nurse shot him a look. He pretended not to notice the way that her heartbeat sped up and her pupils contracted, or the whiff of disgustingly sweet perfume from her. He never had enjoyed the sweet, floral aromas that women sprayed themselves with.
"What's going on here?" He asked her. The boy was still struggling against the nurse, who seemed to be getting increasingly irate. He scrambled to try and remember his colleague's name- Brinkley? The boy's cries became more desperate. Carlisle could hear feet pounding down the hallway behind him, but paid no mind to the sound, focusing on the patient. "Nurse Brinkley, I said what's going on here?" He repeated.
"I'm not sure Doctor Cullen, he's been behaving like this since he came in."
"Peter!" It was a woman's voice. Carlisle connected the dots quickly; it must be the boy's mother. The stranger shoved past him to the nurse, grabbing at the nurse's hands. "Stop it! Stop touching him!" She yelled, voice filled with wild distress. Like she had been electrocuted, the nurse let go of the boy.
And the boy stopped struggling instantly, though his crying only got louder.
Carlisle took a moment to take the mother in. If his heart had been working, it might have jumped into his throat. She couldn't be older than 18- perhaps his assumption about them being mother and child was wrong. It looked as though she had come straight from work, she was wearing a chef's uniform. She was cooing at the little boy now, her voice straining as words fell uncontrollably from her mouth. "Peter, bubba it's alright. I'm here. No one's going to touch you Bubba. It's okay. I'm right here." She looked like she was trying desperately not to touch him. She took a breath and seemed to try to collect herself, and when she spoke again it was a lot calmer. "Peter, breathe honey."
The nurse had recovered from her shock, it seemed. "Ma'am, what on earth do you think you're doing? How did you even get back here?" The nurse's tone was stern and unfriendly, but the woman didn't even look away from the little boy. "Ma'am." The nurse said, again, even more unfriendly.
The young woman didn't look away from the boy as she snapped at the nurse. "Peter's autistic. He doesn't like being touched. Just please give us some space."
It was a real eureka moment, as Carlisle suddenly grasped what was happening. The little boy- Peter- was autistic, and had been lashing out because a stranger had been trying to touch him. He instantly understood the woman's rude behaviour- she was trying to minimise the damage to the child, to get to him quickly so that Peter would stop thrashing. The nurse didn't cotton on so quickly, unfortunately. "Ma'am, you need to leave. This is a hospital, you can't just go shoving Doctors and Nurses around."
"It's alright, Nurse Brinkley. Let's give them a little bit of space." His voice was level and calming as it came out, not betraying the swirling thoughts in his head.
For the first time, the young woman looked at him, and he saw her face clearly. Her grey eyes were accompanied by bags and dark shadows, and her face was filled with a kind of exhaustion you don't often see on people's faces. She looked completely drained and exhausted, like she hadn't slept for days. Her hair was dry and unhealthy, full of split-ends, as if she had dyed it too many times.
And yet, she was somehow breathtakingly beautiful.
Then her smell hit him, and it felt like he was swallowing hundreds of hypodermic needles. She smelt like coconut shampoo and smoke and rain and temptation embodied. He fought to keep control of his own expression, to keep control of the instinct to sink his teeth in and taste her, to see what the rain and smoke tasted like. He fought down the growl as he visualised the taste on his tongue, wishing not for the first time that he had followed Alice's advice and gone hunting yesterday. Had she known that he'd find her today? The one whose blood sang to him?
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the woman who smelt of smoke and rain speaking to him. Her deep voice, now that she wasn't shouting, sounded like melted butter in his ears. "Thank you. I apologise for reacting so strongly. I know that Peter gets overwhelmed easily. I was worried he was going to hurt himself more." If Carlisle's appearance bothered her, she showed no signs of it. It was quite a relief not to see her swooning like the nurse had been. Her attention was only passing, in fact, and her eyes went straight back to the little boy. Carlisle noticed faintly that the boy was now only whimpering, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "It's alright Peter, Sissa's here. I'm here." She said, barely above a whisper.
"Sissa?" The little boy whimpered, looking at her like he'd only just noticed her.
She stayed back, though the relief was clear in her body. Her shoulders dropped and Carlisle could smell her adrenaline levels had fallen. Her voice was warm and calming when she spoke again. "Hi Peter. Everything's fine now. You're safe."
Panic started to spread across Peter's face, and his voice raised in pitch. "Sissa, the lady touched me and it hurt. My hand hurt!"
The young woman's hand twitched, as if she were resisting the urge to reach out to him. Or perhaps not to hit the nurse, if the sliver of anger deep in those grey eyes were anything to go by. "I know bubba, she's not going to touch you again, I promise. I'll keep you safe."
Nurse Brinkley did not seem to appreciate her tone. "Ma'am, we are going to have to touch the patient. In case you hadn't noticed, his arm is broken. We need to put a cast on it. And I'm going to have to ask you to wait in the reception area like everyone else does." The nurse reached out to the little boy, as if to prove a point, but the young woman snaked her hand out to catch the offending hand.
The young woman's voice was toneless and chilling when she spoke again. She spoke evenly and quietly, not breaking eye contact from the nurse. "Touch him again, and I will hurt you. Do you understand me?"
"Ma'am-."
"I said, do you understand me?" Her voice was still toneless, her grey eyes swimming with dangerous intent. It was obvious that she wasn't joking around.
Carlisle knew he should be de-escalating the situation. He should intervene, do something to put the brakes on and regain control of this runaway car. Clearly, the young woman's emotions were running high, and she was being thrown into protective parent mode against her better reason. He himself knew how it felt to be protective of one's children, to be ready to do anything and everything to those who dared to harm them. She clearly wasn't thinking of the consequences of her words or actions. Yet, he stood there voiceless, because the danger in the young woman's eyes made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Aroused.
He found himself sucking in a breath of air that he didn't need, purely out of habit, and instantly regretted it when a fresh bout of her scent hit his throat. This time, he could smell an undercurrent of cinnamon in her veins. It was maddening. He could feel lust building in his stomach, completely against his will, and with it came a wash of guilt.
Nurse Brinkley seemed to react before his lust-addled brain could. "Excuse me?! Did you just threaten me, Missy?"
Rather than be cowed by the nurse, the girl drew herself to her full height, steely eyes brimming with a silent storm. It almost made Carlisle moan. He couldn't believe he was getting off on this, getting off on this stranger's anger. "You hurt my boy. You are not going anywhere near him without my permission." Despite her obvious youth, she seemed to have a powerful and dangerous aura about her, and the nurse seemed to finally pick up on it.
Mumbling under her breath, Nurse Brinkley stormed out of the room, leaving him alone with the young woman and boy.
Those steely eyes turned to him next, silently challenging him to make a move. For a moment that seemed to stretch on, he couldn't find his voice. He certainly didn't feel threatened by her, there was no way that a human like her could hurt him, even if she wanted to. No, he was unbelievably turned on by her aggressive display, painfully hard just from the tone of her silky voice. He cleared his throat as he tried to clear his head of the images, slipping successfully back into his role as the boy's doctor. He could hardly believe his lack of professionalism. "I assure you, Ma'am, that I have no intention of hurting your son. I won't go anywhere near him unless you let me. Let me know how I can help." He tried to keep his voice level and calm, to keep the strain out of it. It wasn't her fault that he was feeling this way, he needed to get control back.
After a second or two, her grey eyes softened. She cast her eyes to the ground, suddenly looking sheepish. "Sorry, Doctor. I know I can be a little overprotective where Peter is concerned." Her voice was coloured with obvious shame. He almost felt bad for how grateful he felt for that shame. Any lust he'd been feeling died in an instant, giving out to his compassionate side.
"It's alright. I'm overprotective of my children too. It's perfectly normal." He said gently, walking around to the other side of the boy's bed.
He wasn't sure what he had said wrong, but it was like a sheet of glass seemed to rise above her eyes, and a barrier was suddenly between them. Her face transformed to something more businesslike, almost blank and somehow quite hard. Her voice changed when she spoke, like all the colour was drained from it. "It may be a challenge to put a cast on Peter. He really doesn't like anyone but me touching him, and he doesn't even let me when he's in pain." The young teen in question was almost completely quiet now, looking at the young woman as if he was seeing through her body. "I'm not sure how we should go about this. Perhaps you would let me put the cast on it?"
He glanced at her, seeing the calculating expression on her face. He tried to let her down gently. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. It's possible that you could set the bone at the wrong angle and cause permanent damage. It would be preferable if we could find a way for me to work with Peter."
Those calculating grey eyes settled on him, seeming to weigh up what he had said. "You're right, of course." Her eyes landed on the boy, her hand twitching again as if she wanted to ruffle his sandy hair. "Peter, bubba. The Doctor needs to touch you to fix your arm. Be a good boy and stay still, okay?"
Peter didn't meet her eyes when he spoke, looking out of the window at something only he could see. Carlisle realised his eyes were more silvery than grey, but the two of them were obviously related. They were closer in age than he'd first thought. Now that Carlisle was looking at him properly, it was clear that Peter was in his early teens, just small for his age. "It's okay. He's dead, he can't hurt me." His voice was quiet and faraway, and it sent a chill down Carlisle's spine. The child couldn't possibly understand what he was saying, or the implications of it. Or could he?
His attention turned to the young woman, trying to gauge her reaction. The young woman looked incredulous, wondering if she had misheard him, no doubt. Relief washed through his system. Clearly, they weren't vampire hunters. "Sorry bubba?"
"I said he can't hurt me Sissa." The boy's voice was a little stronger this time. He looked at Carlisle now, his gaze somehow both fixed and distant at the same time. Peter proffered his arm silently, watching Carlisle with an air of expectation.
Carlisle glanced at the young woman, silently asking her permission. Her face looked a little more pale than it had a moment before, and although she nodded, her eyes were somewhere far away. He wished he had Edward's gift in that moment. He would give anything to understand the haunted look in her eyes.
Refocusing on his patient, he slowly reached out for the boy's arm, holding it with a gentle grip. He ran his finger over the site of the breakage, feeling the crack underneath the swelling. An Ulnar Styloid fracture, reasonably severe but miraculously the Radius wasn't also broken. Still, it had to be incredibly painful for the little boy. Peter stayed very still, not really looking at anything in particular. He let out a little sound of pain that made the young woman go completely stiff, and Carlisle obediently took his hand away, trying to show that he didn't want to hurt her boy. "I think that Peter is going to need an x-ray. He seems to have fractured his ulnar. It will need a cast."
She looked at him, nodding silently. Even though he had shown her his intentions, she was still wary, the calculating look never once subsiding. He spoke directly to the boy now. "Peter, I need to take you for an X-ray now. Do you want Sissa to come with you?" At this, the corner of the young woman's mouth tilted up, but she didn't say anything.
"Yeah." He said in a little voice, unsurprisingly a little bit squirrelly and shy.
She reached out her arms to lift the boy down to the floor, and he didn't put up much resistance.
Taking the x-ray went by without any hitches, and soon Carlisle had put Peter's arm in a cast.
"Okay Bubba, now what do you say?" The young woman said to Peter.
"Thank you." Peter said, not paying even a little bit of attention to what was happening around him.
"You're welcome, Peter. I hope your arm starts to feel better very soon." He wrote a prescription for some painkillers and handed it to the young woman. "These are in case Peter has any pain. The fracture should be healed in a few weeks, and he can then return to light activities using that hand. If you have any issues or questions please don't hesitate to call."
The woman whose blood smelt of wood smoke and rain looked at him, her eyes still detached somehow. "Thank you Doctor...?"
"Cullen." He supplied.
"Doctor Cullen." She looked between Carlisle and her boy quickly, before hesitantly adding. "Do you think it would be possible to make you Peter's Doctor? It's just, he never lets anyone go near him. I'm floored at just how easily he's taken to you." She didn't let that on in her tone, still completely flat and devoid of colour or expression. Carlisle couldn't help but want to know what had happened to her to make her this way. Her eyes showed only the barest spark of emotion, and Carlisle couldn't place what it was.
He smiled warmly at her, showing his teeth. "Of course, though I hope- and please don't take this the wrong way- that he won't need to see me all too often."
She smiled just a little at that, and it was the first time that he'd seen her even come close to smiling. He knew instantly that he wanted it to make it happen again. God help him, he was totally smitten. He had waited for such a long time to find his better half, and now here she was. If he hadn't recently watched Edward and Bella find each other, he would have waved off Alice's suspicions about mates smelling so tantalizing. He would have waved off the idea that this girl could be meant for him. "Knowing just how accident prone Peter is, I'm sure that we will be seeing you soon." She ruffled the boy's sandy hair just a little as she spoke.
"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs...?"
That got a little bit of a reaction out of her. "Oh, where are my manners? Diana. Diana Carter." She extended her hand, and he took it. Diana. With those pale grey eyes, he felt that the name fit her, named for the Roman moon Goddess.
"Mrs Carter." He shook her hand gently, trying not to break the fragile little bones in her hand.
The smile that had been lingering on her lips died away, and he could see that she took another emotional step away from him, her grey eyes somehow creating a kind of distance from him. "Miss. My mother was Mrs Carter."
Was. Her meaning was clear. Her late mother. Her late mother who he had, however unintentionally, bought up into conversation. Well, the damage was done. There wasn't much he could do about it now. Even though he wished he could go back in time a few minutes and undo it.
A phone started to ring, and she nodded her head at him curtly. "Excuse me, Doctor Cullen. I need to take this call."
"Of course." He said, smiling and nodding at her in return. He turned, giving Peter a short wave before walking down the corridor. Of course, with his hearing, he could hear the whole conversation. He told himself he wasn't straining to hear it.
"Yes boss?"
"Where the hell have you been?! You can't just take off from work like that!"
"I'm sorry sir, my little bother-." Well, that confirmed one of Carlisle's suspicions. Diana and Peter were siblings. Carlisle wondered distantly why Diana hadn't called their father, and settled on the unsettling possibility that perhaps he wasn't in the picture. Was she raising Peter? He knew it wasn't that uncommon these days for people to have children young, but he couldn't help the flash of concern.
"Sorry doesn't cut it, kid! I have cut you so much slack in the past, and this is how you repay me? You know what, don't come into work tomorrow! You've earned yourself a permanent vacation!"
Carlisle felt his feet stop, and was glad that he had turned the corner so that she couldn't see him. He desperately wanted to turn around, to go to her side and comfort her, but he wouldn't be able to explain his above average hearing. Steeling his resolve to walk away, he started to move on. "Shit..." He almost didn't hear the word as she muttered it under her breath, sounding tired and frustrated.
He drifted through the rest of his day without paying much mind to what he was doing, lost in his thoughts about the grey-eyed girl who smelt of smoke and rain.