AUTHORS NOTE: IMPORTANT!

Oh I feel so dimwitted. I should have done more research before I wrote as if I was truly medical savvy. D; I knew it couldn't have been dead on, but I really messed up my information in Harper's blood type and what comes along with it. (huffs) Rather than shifting around my story… bare with me? It won't really be relevant eventually. So for any of you that know my information is wrong… I'm so sorry that I foolishly published something about what I know nothing of. And to the rest of you who didn't know, I'm sorry to mislead you. D;

…..

Tink. Tink. Tink.

I idly tinkered with the witch balls that hung from my hospital bed backboard. Skillfully crafted, chilled, and hung, the glass balls were some of my past that I clung to. I used to have a total of eight but over the years a couple had broken, leaving me with only four. Each of them was a different color and each of them was sized differently. Each was made at a different time and each was equally dear to me.

It was going to be a quiet day. Nothing ever happened on Thursdays. I usually sat in my room, curled up with a book. Other times Mrs. Robinson would have her nurses send me her journals. She kept a journal like a mad woman. It was a wonder why she never went into novel writing. Her stories are gorgeously spun, and never dull. Even with the long lulls in her life, she had a way to spice things up. Once she sent them to me, I would keep them. I had them all stacked under my bed.

I wondered why she didn't give them to her kids or even her grandkids. For some reason she chose to lend them to me for reading and safekeeping. I hadn't gotten one since a few days before my old doctor left. She had probably filled a good chunk of another leather bound journal.

Never sloped, her handwriting. Always tall, skinny, and tightly looped. I sighed deeply, flipping my threadbare blanket off of me. The building was quiet and a lot of patients were still sleeping. It was early in the morning in late November. Only a few more days until December. Thanksgiving had passed on one of the past seven days, I must have ignored it. Although, I did vaguely remember the slimy turkey dinner that they tried to force down my throat.

The building was so cold but I found myself warm. I shifted in my hospital gown, feeling crowded. After shifting between the gown folds one too many times, I got frustrated and threw it over my head with a grunt. I reached over the side of my bed and searched until my hands found a small satchel. I brought it next to me and managed to find a beige tank top and red shorts that were stitched together with thick aqua thread. I fingered them and wearily sighed at the memory that they brought. I tossed the satchel back carelessly.

I had bought them at Block Island when my ex and I traveled to meet his family who lived there. My other clothing had either been well-worn or muddy with mineral soil from the bluffs. He and I had slipped away from his mother and her sisters, his father and younger siblings, to find a shop. Mud lined our legs and smeared across our smug faces. Our boots were long gone, transformed into brown muck cakes with laces. We slipped them off before we dodged into the store, ignoring the shocked counter keeper. Before he could start unleashing his angry words, he and I had our clothes on the counter and cash wads wedged in our hands.

I shook my head and, on instinct, brought my hand out to tinker with my IV. However, I was shocked to find myself unsupported by my IV, my hand waving and pawing at the air without relief. Puzzled I looked at my bandaged wrist. I hadn't realized that my IV had been removed. It had been in for several months. It had been there the night before. No one had been in the room. I must have done it myself sometime during the night. I glanced up toward the small closet in my hospital room. The door was ajar, just wide enough that I could see my IV stand. It only made sense that I did it when I was half asleep the night before. I must have been both really tired and really uncomfortable.

"Miss Connor…"

I gasped and spun so quickly on my heel that my head spun. I gripped my shirt to my chest and stood in shock to see my doctor. His chipboard hung limply in his hand and he was only a half step into the room. He looked directly at me and I at him, our bodies stayed frozen. I noticed that his cell phone had been ringing, even before he opened the door. It rang four more times before it stopped, the caller giving up. It was then that I snapped out of my shock and turned a bright, angry red.

"Get OUT!" I roared. As quickly as I had spun, he was out the room, and the door clicked softly behind him. I was thankful for my blinded window walls as I gripped my head in a panic. I had been in my underwear and bra. 'No big deal,' I told myself, 'He's a doctor.' One that I was stuck with. One that didn't mean any harm.

One who was just as startled as me, if not more so… Or so I hoped for the sake of my own pride.

Quickly, I tossed on the clothes and pushed the door open for the doctor, a ripe scowl sitting on my lips. He edged into the room, his pristine lab coat right behind him. As always, the coat was spotless. He was looking at his cell phone in light thought. Or perhaps he was avoiding me and my glare. 'Hell, I would too if I were him.' I turned my back to him and tiredly made my way to my bed, propping myself up and into the covers. I was suddenly very cold and I nested into them, keeping my narrowed eyes on my toes that peaked under the blanket.

He cleared his throat, "Good morning Miss Connor."

"G'morning Cullen. You know, I took you for an oddly normal person who had a serious case of OCD," I drawled, "But I never took you for a pervert."

For once in the past several days that I had known him, he looked dismantled.

Well, having him walk on me partially nude was one way to knock him off his high horse, I knew that much.

"I did not mean-" he began. I cut him off with a small and mocking laugh. He was my doctor, no matter how much I detested the thought. He would see it all- all of me- sooner or later, I was sure. Walking in on me changing? Well, I decided that it wasn't something that I should have gotten on him about. I was sure there would be other things. Other and better things to ride him about.

"Forget it. I was just giving you shit," I shrugged, throwing off the blanket again, fanning my neck lightly with my hands, "Who was the call from? "

He looked at me and I could see his composure returning and his always pale face smoothed out of what had been an uncomfortable embarrassment, "My daughter Alice."

My eyebrows shot up, "You have a daughter?" I couldn't help but be surprised. Mindlessly, I tugged the blanket over me again. He was so young, "And she's old enough to dial a phone?"

He laughed pleasantly, "I actually have three daughters and three sons. All of them are old enough to dial a phone. Old enough to own phones, in fact."

At this I furrowed my brow and shook my head, "You've got to be joking."

He humored me as he moved around my bed. I threw off the blanket again and wiped the sweat off of the back of my neck. I mumbled something about opening the windows and scrunched up my nose when he insisted on taking my temperature. He stuck the thermometer in my mouth and I paid close attention to him. His hair was looking neater than usual. It was odd, he was so clean cut to begin with.

I considered the time. He was abnormally early. My nurse hadn't even arrived. 'He must of just gotten to the hospital,' I thought offhandedly.

"I'm not joking. I have six teenagers," he paused and watched my reaction of wide eyes and then apprehension. He then continued with a grin, "I adopted them all. The oldest are the twins, a boy and a girl. Jasper and Rosalie who are Seniors now that go by their original last name of Hale. Then there are Emmett and Alice who are Juniors and have decided to take my last name. And finally there are my youngest who are both Sophomores, Edward and Renesmee Cullen. The last two are siblings by blood as well. They all go to the high school downtown."

He took the thermometer from my lips and inspected it.

"How in the world do you handle six teenagers, who I am sure want to be out and about all the time, possibly getting themselves into trouble like we used to at their age? And on top of that, you have your time, attention, and energy sapping job," I fought off a shiver. I threw my blanket back onto my lap and curled my arms into it and hissed, "I hate heat waves almost as much as I hate the chills."

"You have a fever," the doctor said.

"Great, that's the second bad day in the past seven days," I slurred with a frown. I flopped back with closed eyes and flipped the blanket right off of the bed. I listened to him shuffle around the room. I listened to the drawers that opened and closed.

"You are very dramatic," he commented lightly as he appeared by my bed again. I peeked up at him and considered him for several moments before I settled with sticking my tongue out at him and taking the plastic cup and pills that he held out to me. He let out what I thought to be a scoff, but that wouldn't fit who he was.

Or who he wanted me to think he was.

My mind lit up and I looked up at him with a cocked brow. I shifted up dizzily and took the pills dry, not bothering with the water.

"Hm," I murmured mischievously. He motioned to my water as he jotted something down on the paper attached to his clip board. He brought his tree sap infested eyes up to mine when I ignored him. I repeated myself, "Hm."

"Oh?" he enquired. I sat cross legged.

"I may be the dramatic relief, but you seem to be the actor here."

He casually leaned up against the wall closest to the bed, "If you drink the water I'll listen to this theory that you seem to have."

I rolled my eyes but threw back the water into my mouth, swished and swallowed. I tipped the cup upside down to gain his approval. Before he could indicate it though, I tossed out the cup into the wastebasket- nearly missing- and delicately dabbed the corners of my mouth with my wrist.

"I think," I pondered my own thoughts momentarily before leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees, "That you aren't always as calm and collected as you seem. I think that because you have put yourself into the position of authority, be it in your home with your kids or here at the hospital, you have trained yourself to be this way. The hospital where you took the place of Dr. McCorston, one of the best doctors of the hospital. Of the state, in fact. That's a lot of responsibility, but you like the thrill of that, don't you?"

I stopped for a moment, tapping my fingers on the sheets in front of me.

"You're a very wordy woman."

I jetted my head up and scowled. I opened my mouth to snap at him but a good natured smile was graced on his face. I swallowed my words, took a breath, and wagged a finger at him. Finally, I was scolding him for once.

"Now, now, Dr. Cullen. Let's not interrupt, I'm playing one of my favorite games. I wasn't done. Wait for your turn," I managed to say in good time before he burst into a short round of chuckles. I tucked my dull auburn hair behind my ears- the very same auburn hair that used to curl gorgeously. I used to straighten it everyday when I was younger. When I became a patient at the hospital I was unhinged by how my hair curled because I could no longer straighten it. When my hair stopped curling on its own and became flat and lifeless, I missed the unruly curls which I spent most of my life hiding with a straightening iron.

I emerged from my thoughts and continued, "I sense that being calm and collected is in your nature, that much is obvious. There is a lot more to you than that, though, isn't there? Just how much do you have to force your nature to have it cover your personality full time? I think that you only stretch your nature in the way that you do because of your authority. Your authority puts you in a position where you need to keep those around you calm as well. To lead by setting the example seems to be your method. I'll admit that I approve; it's an effective method."

I tapped my chin.

"Where did you start, Carlisle Cullen?" I asked the question to myself more than to him. I tilted my head at him. I snapped my fingers and he looked at me expectantly. I provided my words, "You started somewhere similar to where you are now. I think you're a creature of habit. But at the same time, you've come a long way and you've evolved, no? Similar in the way that you were in a position of power. However, I feel like your career counteracts your childhood, or early adulthood. Your father most likely was the head honcho, which is why you fell into a leading position. You want to do better than the previous blood, perhaps? Let me take a wild gander… A police officer, or judge.

"Your job now I suspect is your counteraction, or your response to your father's job. The job that he probably sucked you into. The job that you believed, at the time, to be alright. Correct. Just. Later though, you realized otherwise. You learned that you were in fact wronging more people than you were helping. That's why you save so many people. You think that you've hurt so many people that you now need to save just as many. Probably more."

He waited as I rubbed the back of my hand against my face in thought. My hand came back wet with sweat.

"I feel like you recently went through a change. Someone recently left you."

His eyes gave nothing away.

"Was it one of your kids, or possibly a friend? Perhaps a lover? Let's not get into the grit of it, we're all entitled to a personal life. You are trying to do what will keep you together, or what you think will keep you together since it was how you lived before this change. But the change has moved you, hasn't it? It's changed you. You aren't ready for change, I don't think. What do you think? You still have attachments. When are you going to let those old things go?"

"I've let plenty go," he said evenly.

I nodded, "I suppose you you think so. You have made too many achievements in your life. I can see it in the way you walk and talk. The way that you regard people like myself, the nurses, and even Mrs. Robinson. You've seen a lot. You're far too old for your body. An old soul…" I looked for better words, my rambling didn't seem to make sense, "You'll grow into the change I think."

I scratched my chin.

There were people walking outside of my room.

My nurse had yet to arrive this morning.

My window had been closed sometime during the night before. I had opened it before I went to bed. I hadn't gone to bed until I knew that the nurses and doctors rounds were done for the eve. No one came to my room in the morning. Not a nurse anyway, by the time nurses made rounds I was sleeping lightly. I would have woken up if someone had been in my room, someone like Masha. I furrowed my brow but ignored it. I looked back at the doctor who stood quietly and watched my every move. My eyes darted to the window again before I kept speaking.

"But let me go back to the original point. You are a master actor. I wonder how many of your kids realize. I wonder how many of your coworkers know. I wonder if you have even admitted it to yourself yet. How long are you going to let yourself think that you are acting to keep the people around you together?"

I knew I had gone to far. It's what I usually would do. When I met someone new that was my superior, I would push them to their limits. I tested their patience. I tested my own. It was actually a horrible quirk. It was self destructive, it left me with very few people who cared to know me. I blamed my father, who insisted that I become a psychologist for the good pay. He said I had the natural talent, I just needed to quit my 'silly art' and pursue a real career.

It was also a horrible gift I had, to so deeply psychoanalyze those around me.

"Perhaps you should just realized that you are trying to keep yourself together. But maybe you should also realize that they don't need you take so much from yourself the way you do to protect them. Behaving to benefit everyone else disables parts of you, parts that need attention. You need to feed yourself sometimes too. Maybe you need to realized that by giving them time to grow themselves and by letting yourself relax, you can strengthen everyone around you. And maybe, just maybe, you can let yourself be free…" I trailed off.

We were both silent. That day he was wearing dark purple socks and a yellow tie. 'How nice,' I thought, 'He is wearing complimentary colors.' His shirt had navy buttons and was buttoned to the very top and I let a smile slide onto my face.

"If I could be any sort of fastening device, I would be a silver boot clasp. Mostly because boots are taken on the most amazing adventures and usually taken the best care of because to go anywhere barefoot is not only a crime sometimes, but it's also usually very comfortable."

He was still for several passing moments at the sudden change of topic and tone, "What an odd thing to say."

I nodded, "Typically, things like that stay in my head. I just felt like sharing." I hoped he knew that I was not just talking about my fastening device chatter. More droplets of sweat beaded at my temple.

We lapsed into another absence of conversation.

"If I could be any sort of 'fastening device', I would be a zipper."

The doctors face was serious and I decided not to ask him why. I had picked enough at his mind and his past that day. Instead I smiled and accepted his words.

Suddenly he kicked off the wall that he had been leaning on and collected himself, "I've got to start my rounds and your nurse will be in soon." I watched as he made quick work of taking another medication out of his pocket and handed me more water.

"This is if your fever doesn't go down soon," he said, "It will help with the sweating, too."

My head bobbed again and it seemed like it had become my signature move. Just sway your head up and down. Agree. My other reactions were hanging in a closet, shut away. I felt numb. I felt new. I felt like I needed to find myself again.

"See you around Doc," I muttered as he left.

My room felt empty. There was so much feeling. It attacked me from all sides.

I was feeling reflective, over all. Far too reflective. The doctor was changing me, just as much as I was planning on changing him. That doctor, my doctor.

My doctor.

Gruffly as ever, I racked my hands through my hair. I needed to get out. I needed a smoke.

My nurse came and went twice in the next five hours and then the doctor- my doctor- didn't show up for his second round. I put on a pair or old sun beaten red leggings and a large white shirt that reached my mid-thigh.

As I readied to slip from my room, something clicked in my mind.

My doctor hadn't asked about my IV.

…..

While in the supply closet that was at the end of my corridor I grabbed several useful things. First I made an effort to find a pair of clean scrubs that would fit. I managed to find a light green pair that were just snug enough that I wouldn't look suspicious. I would also be comfortable.

Next I found an empty clipboard. I clipped some old cleaning records that I had snatched from the visitor bathroom and several other blank papers onto it and deemed it convincing. To me I looked like a nurse. Especially with the addition of the scrub cap. I had found a tie and pulled my hair up. And then I capped it. Only my roots and wisps of my hair could be seen. Next I scrounged around for matches or a lighter. Sadly I found neither, which didn't disappoint me too much. The janitors sometimes kept them with the supplies, but it was against hospital policy to leave them around.

I was feeling a bit giddy and terribly adventurous. I had never gone outside for a smoke. Usually I stole cigarettes from the unexpecting and would save them until I could hang myself out of a window somewhere, usually in my room. And when I went on my adventures, I was never as ballsy as I was right then. I usually stayed undetected, and if someone noticed I was gone, I would know. Gossip spread like wildfire in the hospital. It would be easy to sneak back toward the room and hide out until the room was vacant from searchers. Then I would slip in and play innocent, insisting that I had only gone to the bathroom down the hall for one reason or another. Or I had actually traveled to the sun room. Or I had gone to return a book that a nurse had brought me.

Though people got suspicious, they didn't do anything. Not only did my doctor at the time defend me, but when they found me in my room pulling off the puppy dog eyes, my IV was reattached and everything seemed in order. Everything was unharmed and no one had seen me.

This time was different. I was going to test my ability to blend in.

I put on my best game face and held my chin high. And then I strolled out of the closet. I passed several people. I passed nurses who didn't look at my face but still chose to wave or ask how my patients were doing. I would grin and respond positively. I was thankful for the medicine that my doctor had told the nurses to put me on. The chills and heat waves had stopped and my head felt like it was screwed on the right way. I had no fever to speak of and walking was simple enough.

I hadn't been expecting anything to be as easy as it was. Only when the front desk receptionist called me back did I go stiff.

"Miss!"

I halted and sleekly made my way over to her and her desk.

"Yes…" my orbs bolted to her desk plate, "Yes Wendy? Is there anything I can do for you?"

She was graying around the ears and she looked vaguely familiar. I convinced myself that it wasn't the same receptionist that was employed and working the front desk when I first arrived years ago. She could have been though. I hadn't been this close to the exit in years. This also gave me comfort, because she was looking directly at me. I watched her carefully and was relieved when the words out of her mouth were not accusing.

"Oh, it's nothing. Nurses just usually leave clipboards here," the woman patted a pile of boards next to her. I sucked on the inside of my cheek before pulling up my smile again. The receptionist, Wendy, had no idea.

"Of course. I'm a little new here, sorry about that."

"Oh no, it's perfectly fine. I thought you didn't look familiar," Wendy said simply, "Anything else I can help you with dear?"

I shuffled my clipboard into the pile, under one or two and regarded Wendy.

"No I think that's it," I chirped, "See you in a bit."

Wendy hummed and went to her computer and started clacking away. I breathed a laugh. Things were so simple around there. It was another one of my reasons that my doctor didn't belong in the hospital. Simple, readable, only skin deep; all of the qualities of the hospital that my doctor did not share. I wondered how that piano was coming along, or if he had thought of it at all since I had asked. I dismissed the doctor from my mind and focused on finding my smoke. I stepped closer to the exit before I stopped. Again.

"Actually, Wendy…" I decided, "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette on you, would you?"

…..

A very special thanks to …

OpiumCakes who has reviewed twice and put me on their favorite story listing. (: It's kept me moving, albeit slowly. And I DO plan on finishing it, hopefully in the next year and a half at most. Pester me for updates and they will come!cleo nightingale who corrected me with the lovely review. Even though I feel ridiculous, I couldn't be more thankful. :D I'm going to keep writing even though the beginning and the cause of the characters placement is all screwy, just as you advised. PhysicsMaster17 who took the extra few minutes to send me a message! It made me grin and dance around with glee, aha. Someone who shares my views! Finally! IrishGem88 who put me on their author alert.Renrinrin and Aerea Valentine who put me on their favorite story listing.

…And to all of you that put me on your story alert.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter~ Love, SribblerInNotes