Thanks to all who are still reading!
"A miracle."
Dr. Franks slammed his hand into Carlisle's back with such force that Carlisle worried about broken bones.
"That little girl comes into this hospital," the good doctor continued, "barely responsive and now look at her."
Alice still wasn't very talkative by any definition of the word, but she was engaging and interacting with people, eating food and drinking, capable of responding to questions – although her answers were usually Yes or No – even capable of using logic to solve problems. Her social skills were well below what any normal child would have at her age. Clearly uncomfortable with people being too close, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Her reading level was years behind her biological age, as was the rest of her schoolwork – all things that could be easily attributed to her having spent her life institutionalized. Carlisle could only hope that she didn't have a sense of what she had lost in those last seven years. He fought the anger that threatened to rise up again. What had happened, happened, and it would be better for all of them to move forward, concentrate on the future.
She was a strange mix of naive and world-weary.
Of course Carlisle had told her to say as little as possible to anyone other than himself – too much of a risk – inadvertently discussing the weather to come as opposed to the current. Too easily to slip, as he well knew. He had over three hundred years of constant practice, was hyper-vigilant, and yet more times than not, suspicions would be raised.
"I knew you were a keeper as soon as I laid eyes on you, young Carlisle." Dr Franks gave him another thump, and this time Carlisle was prepared enough to appropriately flinch. "Good work."
"I thought I might try introducing her to some kids closer to her own age – see if that helps the talking." Carlisle suggested.
Dr. Franks tilted his head. "Could help. I don't think we have any younger patients here right now that would be appropriate, though."
"Hmm…" Carlisle agreed. "I was thinking I'd ask my children to stop by."
At Dr. Franks surprised expression, he elaborated. "My children, as you know, have all been in the foster system at various points, have lost their families, parents at young ages. I think they might be able to relate to Alice, and besides it might be good for them to meet her – in this town especially, where there just aren't that many kids in their same position – I think they feel a bit like …. Freaks."
"Well…" Dr. Franks frowned. "If you're sure."
Carlisle nodded. What he didn't say was that his children were more than a little interested in Alice for a lot of other reasons than their shared 'foster status'. Edward in particular had barely let the topic rest, asking about her constantly. He had been the one to suggest that perhaps even if Carlisle didn't recognize her, one of them might. It was an interesting idea, and not one Carlisle had considered.
At four in the afternoon he was paged to the front desk and was pleased to see his three kids waiting.
"How was school?" he asked like any other parent.
"Fine," Rosalie and Emmett chorused back.
"Awful," Edward muttered, sulking like the teenager he was pretending to be and sometimes still was. "Music was today. I got assigned the piano."
Carlisle laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder. Edward hated having to dumb down his talent – but nor did the family want the attention of a musical prodigy in their midst.
"I'll write you a note." Carlisle said. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome was usually a good out for the piano, even if it had the unfortunate consequence of eliminating a lot of other instruments as well. Carlisle would never forget the expression on his son's face when he came home with a didgeridoo that one time.
The four of them walked down the hallway and Carlisle tried to ignore the stares and whispered comments. He hadn't been completely lying when he spoke to Dr. Franks earlier. Even if they had been human their presence was an anomaly in this small town. Adopted kids? So old? They must be troubled – they must have problems – they must have done something.
Then there was their appearance. Being - as Emmett once joked – ridiculously good looking – meant that one attracted both unwanted attention and petty jealousies. Carlisle tried to downplay his looks each day in the hospital with unflattering hair styles and occasionally particularly ugly glasses and ill-fitting clothes - but Rosalie made no such effort, and if anything swung in the opposite direction with designer labels. He didn't make a fuss about it – partly because he understood it - her looks, her appearance was a giant Fuck You to the males who had hurt her, to any male who would try to hurt her. Her appearance was both a shield and a sword, protecting her and giving her power over them. But it didn't help them blend in. As for the boys – well there wasn't much Emmett could do about his large size, and paradoxically, Edward seemed to attract more attention the less work he put into his appearance.
Carlisle's anxieties about attracting unwanted attention were proven founded as Dr. Franks' bellow reached his ears. "And won't you introduce me to your charming children?"
Unlike most men, Dr Frank's attention did not seem focused on Rosalie – but on Emmett. They did look startling similar, Carlisle supposed. Emmett a clean shaven, younger version of the older man. More likely to be father and son than himself and Emmett. Indeed it was only after a few sentences of small talk that Dr Franks threw a burly arm around Emmett's equally burly shoulders and said, 'So son – have you ever thought on entering a little thing called the Eastern Washington Lumberjack circuit?"
Emmett looked bemused but trying to be polite. Carlisle gently excused himself and abandoning Emmett to his own devices, led the other two to Alice's room. Quietly requesting they stay in the hall for now, he knocked as was his habit, and then entered. He crossed over to Alice's bed and accepted the awkward one arm hug that was given as enthusiastically as possible.
"How are you?"
"Bored." Alice replied.
She wasn't allowed to watch television by herself (Carlisle's rule) and her reading level meant the books she could read didn't interest her. The hospital magazine collection was a pitiful mix of medical journals, ancient Sports Illustrateds, and home decorating magazines of dubious quality that Carlisle suspected Esme wouldn't allow cross her door.
"Well I have something that might help. A surprise."
Alice looked up – interested.
"There are some people here who want to see you. They're my children."
Alice bounced. "To see me? They want to see me?"
Carlisle nodded, relieved to see she didn't look frightened.
"Alice – there's more - they know your secret."
Her face fell at this. Her good hand returning to pluck at the threads on the hospital blanket.
"No Alice – its okay – they don't care, and they believe you. They'll keep your secret."
She still didn't look up. Carlisle lightly tapped a finger under her chin.
"You know I have a secret too, don't you?"
It was the first time he had spoken it. But she had made those drawings … she knew certain things.
Alice nodded. "That's why I can trust you."
"Well they have the same secret – so you can trust them, too." He lowered his voice, making her pay extra close attention. "You can talk to them without worrying."
A hint of a smile crept back onto her face. "I'd like that."
Carlisle patted her leg, made sure she understood, then standing, turned back towards the door. "Rosalie, Edward?" Carlisle called, then watched as his two children shuffled their way into the room and stopped just inside the door. "Come closer. I'd like you to meet Alice."
Alice took one look at Rosalie and, with all the innocence of a little girl years younger, asked: "Are you a princess?"
Edward gave a snort.
Carlisle took Rosalie's hand, pulling her forward, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
"Yes she is. Don't you know, Alice? That every little girl is a princess?"
Alice shook her head, the odd maturity returning again. "No," she said softly, "I don't think I knew that."
"Well," Rosalie cleared her throat, "it's true." She glared at Edward. "Every little girl."
Edward rolled his eyes at his sister but stepped forward. "Would you like to be called Princess Alice?"
She turned her ice-blue eyes to his, studying him. "No," she said after a second, "better not." Edward risked a quick, confused look to Carlisle who replied with a small shoulder shrug.
"Well," Edward said, "that's okay, because honestly – between you and me, I think Princesses are over-rated – they talk about themselves all the time, they hog the bathroom, they leave their things out, so when someone tries to brush their teeth there is crap everywhere - they're noisy –"
"I am not noisy, and taking appropriate time for personal grooming is not 'hogging'. Not that I expect someone with your standards to understand that."
"My standards? The standards of a rational individual without a narcissistic complex? Is that what you mean? You stare at that mirror like you're trying to mind-meld with it!"
"Don't use your scientific language on me! Beside at least I've looked in a mirror recently … you … you … have you seen your hair? I'm surprised a particularly desperate squirrel hasn't tried to mate with it."
"For you to wear make up is ridiculous!"
"Do I attack your personal choices? Do I? Since when is a little eye-liner such a crime – BESIDES who destroyed six nail guns trying to pierce his ear? Mr. Holier-than-thou."
"I told you a million times – THAT WASN'T WHAT I WAS TRYING TO DO!"
Carlisle was about to interrupt this well-tread battleground when he caught a look at Alice's face.
She didn't look afraid, she didn't look scared, she looked – fascinated, enchanted. Like a child watching an egg hatch, or a rose bloom – her eyes following the exchange like she was watching a tennis ball bounce back and forth. He felt his heart break a little bit more for her, then he quietly got up, leaving Edward and Rosalie to their own devices.
"Alice," he heard Rosalie ask as he reached the door, "don't you agree with me? Doesn't Edward's hair look like something large, and unfortunate, sat on it? Good God, for all we know, it could still be in there. I think it could hold at least a squirrel. Maybe two. That hair could have its own zipcode. At least it should have its own health code violation!"
He didn't hear Edward's comeback, but he heard Alice's giggles filling the room as clear as day.
He risked a glance back and got to see the extra reward of both Edward and Rosalie biting back smiles.
Dr. Franks was on his way home with am unexpected shriek caused him to poke his head into Alice's room. There was Dr. Cullen's giant of a son, carefully holding the little girl upside down by her ankles. Emmett – that was his name - tipped her right side up so that she stood on the bed. There, with her good hand on her hip, looking like an irate Tinkerbelle, she lectured the giant about something, causing him to laugh and glance at his siblings who were nodding in agreement.
He had to admit - she didn't appear to be having any problems interacting with kids closer to her own age.
That Dr. Cullen was clearly a genius – under the right guidance, of course.
a/n: Will the good times last? For a little while longer I think!