Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
A/N: As always, I love the reviewers! You make my day. (-:
Three
Juliet didn't have to wait much longer before Doctor Cullen was stepping out of the unmarked door, clad in scrubs. A mask the same color as his blue scrubs was tied around his neck and now hung about it loosely as he strode into the room. It was obvious that he just came from the surgery.
His presence caught the attention of everyone in the waiting room. Juliet's family stood and followed him to another room he beckoned them too, for privacy. It was a small space with two long couches, making for cramped quarters considering the amount of family there was present. They managed to fit just fine, all sitting on the edge of the seat, eagerly awaiting the news. Now that they knew it was good news, any sort of foreboding feeling had left them, replaced by simple giddiness.
Juliet sat in the middle, beside her mother. She stared at Doctor Cullen raptly. Unlike the others in the room, she was still tense. When his eyes shifted to meet hers, she wondered if she looked like a madwoman. He gave her a smile that made her feel relaxed and settled her taut shoulders. She stopped pinching the skin at her wrist.
"Senator Young went through the surgery just fine," he began in a soothing voice. Juliet felt like he was only looking at her, that the words were only meant for her. Was it that obvious how fretful she had been? Then his eyes left hers and scanned the others in the room as he spoke. "Actually, it was outstanding. I've never seen a patient take to the change so well. His heart is accepting the lungs, and his other organs seem to be doing just fine. Of course he'll remain at the hospital until we clear him to leave. I thought there might be some questions."
"Does recovery take very long?" Juliet's mother asked, her voice timid and shaky. Juliet wasn't the only one who'd remained tense. She placed her hand over her mother's.
"It depends on the patient," Doctor Cullen explained. "If all goes as well as the surgery, he could be out of here within a week to recover at home. But if there are some minor problems, nothing that's ever too serious, he could be here for more than a month."
There were nods around the room.
"So he's normal again?" Daniel asked, much to Juliet's surprise. Her brother never seemed to show much interest in their father. "He'll be able to do normal things?"
"I wouldn't say 'normal' exactly," Doctor Cullen said. "There's never truly a full recovery for something like this. He'll be able to do things that he couldn't before, but there will also be many restrictions. He has to take care of his new lungs meticulously."
"Can you tell us anything about the donor?" The question came from one of Juliet's aunts, a woman she secretly despised. They weren't supposed to know anything about the donor. Nothing. At least not yet. Juliet wasn't ready to hear about the person who gave their life for her father's. She pinched the skin at her wrist again, as tight as she could. In her peripherals, she could see everyone else was just as eager for an answer as her aunt was. She closed her eyes and tried to fill her lungs with air.
"All I can tell you is that they were young. It's the donor's family's choice if they want to give you more information or not. It could be weeks or it could be years when they want to get in touch with you."
All Juliet had heard was young. Juliet's eyes opened. Her vision had faded to black on the edges and seemed to pulsate with her heartbeat. Young. Someone young had died yesterday. While everyone in this room was smiling and happy and celebrating, a young person's family was mourning a death. It made her sick. The room began to tilt and the air felt too thick—too, too thick. She stood abruptly and crossed the room, straight past Doctor Cullen, and slipped out the door. Everyone stared after her—she could feel it on her back—but she didn't care about that.
She only made it past two corners before her legs gave out from under her and she was left gripping the wooden side rail that lined every corridor, gasping for breath. Unstoppable tears fell from her eyes. A confluence of different thoughts ran through her head—How young? 20? Younger? Older? What were they like? What did they do? How did they die?
Cold hands caught her wrist gently and pulled her upright. Her legs still felt like jelly, so she fell against her savior. Then she caught sight of blue scrubs, blonde hair, and chips of amber eyes and felt worse. She was supposed to be strong. The doctors weren't supposed to see her like this.
Doctor Cullen pulled Juliet against him, keeping her from falling to the ground. He internally reprimanded himself for disclosing the little information about the donor. Maybe, he had thought, knowing that her father got a healthy, new set of lungs would be reassuring. But it was obviously quite the opposite for understandable reasons.
A sob escaped Juliet.
"Let's sit," Doctor Cullen said gently.
Juliet nodded hastily as she pulled away from him and slid down the wall to sit on the cold linoleum. She buried her face in her hands to keep from looking at him.
Doctor Cullen sat down beside her silently. He wasn't sure what compelled him to do it, but he placed his hand on her forearm, trying to comfort her. It was the same odd thing that had made him wordlessly promise her that her father would be all right, when he wanted to reassure her. She was a delicate creature—he could see it just in the way his hand looked on her arm; his icy, impervious hand and her soft, warm skin. He shouldn't touch her like this. He didn't stop.
"I'm so sorry," Juliet managed to say without choking on her words. "I'm not like this—I'm really not."
"You have nothing to be sorry about. I should be apologizing," Doctor Cullen said, his eyes on the floor. "I shouldn't have mentioned anything about the donor. It's common to feel guilt over the life lost in order for another to live. I should have considered that."
She shook her head, still refusing to look at him. "I just—how could I ever repay them? The donor? Their family? How could they possibly be okay with this?"
Doctor Cullen was silent for so long, the only way Juliet knew he was still there was because his hand still rested on her arm. She peeked at it through her fingers.
He finally spoke softly. "The way I look at it, the family will know that part of their loved one still lives on. And your father… he's a great man. When they discover that they gave him this gift, they'll know it'll be put to good use. I think they would find that comforting."
Juliet brushed away the tears on her cheeks and met Doctor Cullen's eyes. She blinked several times, absorbing what he just said. Could it be true? Could they actually find it comforting instead of dreadful and horrifying? "Thank you," she breathed. "But—how can I ever repay you, Doctor Cullen?"
He smiled. "You shouldn't feel entitled to owe me anything. And please, call me Carlisle. I'm certain I'll see you again. The surgery is over, but I'll still be your father's main doctor."
"Carlisle." She returned his smile. "I will find some way to do something for you, someday. You gave me my father's life. I would be obliged to give you mine in return." She glanced down the hallway with a frown. "I should get back to them. They'll need me."
Carlisle watched as she gripped the wooden side rail and pulled herself to her feet. She gave him another smile, one that even lit up her bright blue eyes, before she headed down the hallway and disappeared behind a corner. They were grave words coming from her, and he knew she had meant them. She was much stronger than she realized.
The ICU's waiting room at least had comfortable enough chairs to get a few hours sleep in. Juliet yawned as she woke and stretched. Unfortunately, they were not comfortable enough to avoid the painful feeling of too-stiff muscles.
Anywhere else in the hospital, she would have been sent home. There were visiting hours to abide by, she knew, but when it came to Intensive Care, they're waiting room was always open. For this, she was thankful. She checked her cell phone. It was six a.m.
After leaving Doctor Cullen—Carlisle, she remembered to call him—in the hallway the previous day, she'd had to return to tending to her family. There had been much concern for her reaction about the donor, but there had also been almost a lethargic feel to that concern. No one would understand the way Carlisle had.
The nurse hadn't cleared her to enter her father's room last night. She had informed Juliet that it wouldn't be until morning, at least, when she could see him. She didn't want to leave until she saw him and sent her family back to her apartment in the city. It was morning now. She made her way to the check-in desk to let the nurses know that family was there, waiting. A woman in her mid-fifties sat in the black chair before a computer. There was a sweet smile on her face as Juliet approached, one of welcoming and warmth.
"Can I help you, sweetie?"
Juliet returned her smile. "I was wondering if I could see my father yet," she said. "Robert Young. He got out of surgery last night."
The woman's eyebrows rose. "Ah, you mean the Senator. Can I see your ID?"
This surprised Juliet. There was security placed all around, especially near her father's room, and the hospital made certain to check their foot traffic like they were in the Pentagon. Still, she offered the older woman her ID and waited patiently for it to be returned. She knew the press was pushing anyone—technicians, nurses, janitorial staff—for information on her father's wellbeing. This was just another rationality.
She was pleased that it only took fifteen more minutes until she was stepping through the manually locked door of the ICU and headed to see her father. Though those fifteen minutes had been nail-biting and nerve-wracking, they were over. She could finally see him again when, the last time she saw him, she thought she never would another time. Her stomach twisted into nervous knots.
The ICU was alive even as most would be asleep at this hour. She dared not to peek through the windowed rooms of other patients, but couldn't help catching glances. Most still had tubes affixed to them, running down their throats as if they were comatose. Machines beeped from every direction. Loved ones trickled in and out of rooms; some happy, others tearful. Her ears couldn't help but pick up the wracking sobs from a room she passed as a woman was saying goodbye to a man on life support. Juliet had to pinch the skin at her wrist and suck in a deep breath, like her father would have done. These things happen.
Nurses, upon seeing and recognizing Juliet, began chatting animatedly. She hated this. That feeling like everyone was looking at her, talking about her, exchanging gossip. Especially right now when the attention was supposed to be settled on her father. But it came with the territory, considering she grew up knowing the way reporters worked, seeing her father on television, and now seeing herself and her books out there.
Shutting these distractive thoughts away, she focused ahead of her. Her father's room was in sight. The lights were on and the curtain drawn. She stopped just before it and took a tiny peek inside.
She had to numb herself immediately as she swiftly turned away and stared at a grey cupboard above a pink-clad nurse's head. Don't let it get to you, she thought in a confluence. You knew it was never going to be pretty. It's supposed to be like this.
Then when she heard a deep moan of pain, her composure broke. She was beside her father in a flash. When it dawned on her that he was awake, her heart began to speed up. No, no, no. How could he be awake so early? The incisions had to be so terribly painful—the replacement of an organ had to be agonizing. She wanted to be sick. There were so many things sticking out of him, running to machines that hadn't been there before or had been dormant.
Her father's eyelid's fluttered open and closed. He moaned again, mumbling something that was blocked by the tube running into his throat.
Juliet sucked up her strength.
"Dad?" She asked in a whisper. His eyes fluttered again, but this time, she caught those deep brown eyes like her brother's looking at her with a flash of recognition. It made her want to cry. Even in this state, he was himself. He knew who she was.
"Dad," she said again, trying to quell the shakiness of her voice. "Can I put my hand on your arm? Is that okay?"
He gave the smallest nod. Juliet clenched her teeth as she rested her hand on his arm, away from an IV running into the crook of his elbow. She couldn't stand anything of the sort. His skin was warm—hot. Too hot. She worried that he had a fever. Where was the nurse?
"I'm so proud of you," she said, leaning against the bar pulled up on the bed to be closer to him. "Dad, you did amazing. Doctor Cullen said you took to things really well. I've been here the whole time, okay? I love you."
He opened his eyes again and she could see the struggle it took him to keep them open. But he looked right at her and mouthed "I love you too", back. Tears surfaced in her eyes as she smiled down at him.
Suddenly a machine above her head began beeping manically. Her heart started to beat crazily as she looked from her father to the machine to the door. Where was the nurse?
A man in green scrubs rushed in a moment later. When his eyes landed on her, they were angry. "You shouldn't be in here," he said quickly, pushing her out. "Where's security? You," he said to a technician on a computer across the hall. "Get security back here now! And call the doctor back!"
"But—but—"Juliet stammered, at a loss for words. What was happening? Was her father okay?
She slid down the wall—like she had with Carlisle only hours before—and buried her face in her hands. This all seemed like too much. Could she handle it? Could she be strong like her father wanted her to be?
Juliet was terrified.
A/N: There will be more Carlisle to come! I know it's sort of a process, but it'll get there, most definitely. I'm thinking of switching between point of views more predominantly. Good idea? Bad? How was this chapter? I really love to hear from you guys! (-:
