My success continued as good ol' Wendy, who was more than happy to help, handed over a stick. Outside I lured in a male nurse who, judging by his timely patience as he tried to wiggle out information about me and what ward I worked in, must have worked with the elderly. I wondered offhandedly if he worked at all with Mrs. Robinson at the time. After chitchatting with him for several minutes, I had taken out the cigarette and tucked it between my lips. His eyes followed me as I began to search my pockets for a nonexistent lighter.

After witnessing my troubled search, he offered to light it for me. I thankfully took him up on the offer, and we shared our— his— break time smoking. I learned that his name was Roger. I was sure that if I was careful enough, I wouldn't encounter Roger again. I was more confident in this fact because he expressed to me his wishes to move to Florida to work at one of the hospitals there. He, like many of the nurses, wouldn't be around long. Especially since he aspired to work elsewhere.

Being a perfect gentleman, he didn't ask me for my name until I put out the butt of my smoke in the pavement beneath me. We had been crouched on the side of the hospital for at least fifteen minutes.

"I didn't catch your name," Roger said as we walked in together. We made it to Wendy's desk and I almost didn't hear him. I was glancing around the room, more than thankful to see that none of my nurses or my doctor were in the foyer. I blinked and looked up at him. He was older, perhaps thirty, and he had hazel eyes. HE had hazel eyes.

I felt bad, I had used him for a light up.

I didn't feel bad for long though. It had been so worth it.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I laughed, throwing him off. I slipped my clipboard out from the others and sauntered off. I didn't bother to looked back to see if he was following or if he was watching. It didn't matter to me as long as I got back to my room uncaught. Once out of sight of the foyer, I edged around the hallways, greeting other nurses courteously once more. As I neared the closet that I had changed in, I saw a familiar face. Masha's blonde hair and small stature stood out among the other nurses and patients. She was linked at the elbow to a patient that was linked to an IV. The patient was inching his way toward a room, the room that must have been his.

I was only a few paces away from the closet and my hand twitched in anticipation. I wasn't sure if I should have dodged into the closet when she wasn't looking or not. I was sure that if I did, than she would have looked up just in time to see me disappear and I would be caught. Masha was coaxing him into conversation when she glanced down the hall. He eyes met my face and she looked back to the patient, continuing to speak.

I almost let out the breath that I hadn't realized that I was holding. But then she did a double take. I stopped walking and stood limply. She opened her mouth to say something but then it seemed as though her patient demanded her attention because she immediately looked to him.

I took advantage of her distraction and, as calmly as I could so I would not alarm the other by standers in the hall, entered the closet and shut it snugly behind me. I caught the breath that had been stolen from me by alarm and thrashed out of the scrubs. I tossed them into a laundry sack and dissembled my clipboard. It was well after visiting hours and I feared that, in the worst case scenario, that either Masha would be waiting for me outside the closet or that someone would pull me aside and ask me why I was wondering after visiting hours.

Figuring that it was then or never, I slipped out and made my way to my room. I made it to my hall and my heart beat in my chest harshly when I saw Masha open my door and stick her head in. She didn't investigate. As soon as she saw that I was gone she was reeling off to the break lounge. I traced my lips with the pads of my finger tips and scurried into my room. I bit my nails in thought. The break lounge, where other nurses were. Roger wouldn't be in there, his break was long over. But my doctor could be. I ended up biting my thumb to the nub. I would regret that later, for there would be a dull sting in my thinking habit's wake.

I looked around the room. 'Escape,' I thought, 'I need an escape. I need an excuse. Closet. No. Bed. No.'

'Bathroom.'

Saying that I was getting ready for a shower was a lot more believable than saying that I was in my closet. Why in the world would I be in my closet? Playing hide and seek? I didn't think so. For a similar reason, I couldn't say that I was under my bed. The last thing I needed was a ward transfer due to my sudden symptoms of whatever neurologically atypical condition that the scientists had come up with that week.

Bathroom. My face lit up and I could feel the light bulb switch on behind my eyes. And into the shower I went. I didn't have time to let the water warm, so I had to stick it out in the freezing water.

I had an excuse. I basically had an alibi in that shower. My whole body felt warm even though the water remained cold and I began to lose feeling in my fingertips. A smile that stretched across my numb face felt as though it would break me. My breath smelt, I realized, and I began rinsing out my mouth fervently. I heard my door open just as I got through with scrubbing some shampoo into my hairline. I hopped out of the shower, threw on my white shirt and tights, and walked out with a few lonely suds still lingering in my hair.

When I exited the bathroom, both Masha and Dr Cullen were there. Although I was nervous to lie to my doctor for the first time, it was thoughtless. My autopilot was switched on. I knew I had been caught by Masha, but there was no proof. It seemed as though I had been in the shower the whole time. After all, she hadn't checked at all in my room. I could have been anywhere.

I played innocent, "Can I help you two?"

Dr. Cullen fixed me with a long and strong stare. I wasn't sure if I could fool him.

Masha looked baffled, "You weren't in your room."

I cocked my head to the side, "No I wasn't."

"Exactly, you were in the hallways, dressed in scrubs. What were you thinking Harper, you're going to overexert yourself like that! You can't go around impersonating nurses, it's against the law in fact!" Masha scolded me, worried and furious.

I shook my head, "Masha. I was in the bathroom. I thought I heard someone open the door, but when I didn't hear you call my name or come in I figured that you knew. So I jumped in the shower," I looked between my doctor and the nurse, with furrowed brows, "Is everything okay?"

Dr. Cullen brought himself into the conversation, "Masha was just worried, she thought she saw you and then when she went to go check on you, you were not on your bed."

I huffed, "I'm already practically locked in this room, don't tell me that you want me chained to the bed as well. I was only in the bathroom."

Masha dropped it and quietly apologized. She was embarrassed and knowing her, she didn't want to believe that she had made a mistake. Nonetheless she admitted the fault that I made her believe, though I knew it was only because my doctor happened to be around.

She departed and it was only my doctor and I. I refused to meet his sappy eyes and instead I straightened out my ginormous shirt and tossed my towel over my head and started to rub it dry. Like I had thought before and I would think several more times, Carlisle Cullen was a wise man. I was afraid that if I looked at him too soon, he would wiggle the truth out of me, making me break my own lie.

"I have a question for you Doc," I mentioned, "Have you given a thought to the piano at all since I mentioned it?" I waited, but he didn't reply as I worked with my hair.

I finished and walked past him, slinging my towel over his shoulder in a gesture of familiarly. I hopped on my bed and instantly got to the chore of piecing apart and combing through my hair.

Sometimes I would wonder why we had our times of complete silence. Or rather I wondered why he would be so quiet. I knew that when there was no words spilling from my mouth I was either ignoring him and busying myself with something else or I was in thought. I knew that he would sit there and watch me, as if waiting for something to happen. As if he were waiting for my mysteries to unfold before his eyes.

Speaking of mysteries, there were plenty that I was sure that my doctor was keeping. As if your everyday average man didn't already have enough skeletons in their closets, my doctor was not normal. I knew that my doctor was far from it, I just couldn't put my finger on it.

I was done working on the back of my head and I had move one to one of the sides when my doctor spoke.

"If I could be a word, I would be charisma."

I looked up through my damp hair, confused. I swept most of my hair over as I worked on the last chunk of untouched and tangled hair, "What?"

He didn't answer and instead took my towel from his shoulder and hung it over a chair before taking his usual spot on the wall, leaning back with his arms loosely folded over his chest.

"Oh!" I suddenly got it, "If I were a word I would be vivid."

I wasn't sure when it had become a game, but I could see it happening. It was endearing. I finally met his eyes and I knew he wasn't fooled. But he did not look upset.

He looked amused, "How was your shower?"

I raked through my hair, done with my job and responded, "Rather cold."

He laughed, "Do you often take cold showers in the middle of winter?"

I leaned back, "You know, I'm finding that I feel pretty tired. I think I'm going to sleep."

"Of course," he stepped from his place on the wall and made his way to the door, "Before I go, I have a question for you."

'I'm so caught.' I looked at him expectantly, "Go ahead, shoot."

"What's so important about the piano? You don't play, do you?"

My shoulders loosened and I grinned widely, "No, I don't. But Mrs. Robinson used to and she wants to play again at least once. Her ninetieth birthday is this Christmas and I was hoping that I could get some help finding her a piano, even if it would be for the day."

He was content with my answer because he did not ask for further explanation, "I see. Goodnight then. Sleep well."

"You too," I then called out an addition, "Oh, and Doc?"

"Yes Harper?"

"It's Miss. Connor to you."

He walked away, and I swear his shoulders were shaking slightly in mirth.

…..

My four witch balls were all so different. I know, I keep mentioning this, but it's important to me. The four that had broken were not my favorite, but they were dearly important. I couldn't be too sure of the order that they were broken, but I do remember the order in which I made them. Each of the eight that I had saved was created right after a large event in my life- an event that I wanted to remember or cherish. Or perhaps it was a memory that I wished to renounce.

One of the balls that was broken was the very first witch ball that I had blown. Now, I did all sort of glass blowing through my shortly lived career, but witch balls were my specialty. I created my first witch ball when I was nine. It was the first time I had been introduced to the art. It was very plain and simply made of a clear glass and it was only about the size of my adult hand if I remembered correctly. My mother had saved it until I was fourteen, and that was when she gifted it back to me. No matter where I resided, I always hung it close to my sleeping area. I skipped out on the dream catchers, I didn't need them. I had my witch ball.

The second one of the original eight was the one that I made right after I dropped out of high school at seventeen. Since school was never important to me, I thought it would be ironic if I made my milestone witch ball with the color of my high school and the school's rival school. So I made a witch ball that was a golden yellow, my school's home color, and a royal purple. The colors contrasted almost perfectly in my eyes when I made it. The tiniest bit of symbolism rung in my mind at the time. Clashing colors, brilliantly rebellious.

Next out of the four that I broke was a bright lime green one that was from when I had just turned eighteen. It was made right after I found out I was pregnant with my second conception, the son who would have been Tony Clark.

The most recently broken witch ball was also the one that I had made the most recently. I was five months pregnant with the daughter who would have been Layla Clark. It was the most brilliantly colored, for when I had made the glass I was in the most optimistic mood. It was completely caste with bright, warm colors. Red, orange, and yellow.

The ones that I had left were usually the first things that I saw when I woke up. Ever since I became a resident at the hospital, I had begun sleeping on my back rather than my side. Most every morning I would wake up to a dimly lit room because it was hardly ever sunny where the hospital was located in Portland, Oregon. I also would wake to the sight of my hanging possessions.

That morning was no exception. I was laying on my bed, listening to a nurse stop by and check up on me before being on her way. As soon as my door shifted closed I blinked the sleep away and rubbed the corners of my creaking eyes. Sure enough, when I was alert and awake I looked up and saw all four of them.

I had slept like a rock and I was so much more serene after having my cigarette. It was the end of the week and I was more then excited that Friday. Mrs. Robinson would be visiting and I yearned for her company.

I sat myself up after looking at the ceiling in thought for several moments. And, closely following my morning routine, I plucked five Smarties from my stash. Twirling one open and stuffing all fifteen tablets into my mouth, I found myself humming a happy little tune. I munched happily. It was usually how I got rid of morning breath; Smarties. I mean, I brushed my teeth too, after breakfast. But the first priority once I woke up every morning was to get the stale taste of sleep out of my mouth.

"Sugar for breakfast, Miss Connor?"

I dropped one of the candy rolls in shock, but I only mourned for it momentarily. I shot a glare at my doctor, "You need to learn how to knock!"

"I can assure you that I am well aware of how to knock Miss Connor," the man said as he wrote something on his clipboard. He was early, once again.

When my doctor shows up in the morning, he does not show up before lunch like he is supposed to. It had happened twice before that day. It wasn't normal and for someone who seemed to be such a perfectionist, he sure didn't keep to a strict schedule. My old doctor was never late and he never skipped around with his rounds.

"Then perhaps you should utilize that knowledge," I said curtly, opening another Smarties roll since the other one had opened when it hit the hospital floor, shattering some of the chalky tablets. There was silence, which wasn't uncommon, and I ended it the best way I could, "You know, if I were a gemstone I would be an opal."

I watched him crouch down and pick up my mess wearily. He was always going out of his way to keep the place tidy when he looked after me. He straightened out and tossed the reminisces of my treat into the waste basket, "And why is that?"

I blinked, thinking for a moment. He had never asked me to elaborate on my comments. He took my wrist, unwrapping the bandages from when my IV was removed. Taking a alcohol wet nap, he gently cleaned my wrist. He was so close and my skin jumped at the realization. He looked up at me while he took out new bandages, "Well?"

"I never really gave it much thought. I guess it's because although it's a gem it's an extremely soft one compared to the others. Most gems can be many colors, but only a few colors at a time. An opal comes in different colors and has a plethora of colors within itself regardless. We both have all different sorts of colors."

He nodded and began wrapping. "I supposed I would be a diamond," he started, "They last forever."

I arched a brow. I hadn't expected that, "I don't believe you."

"Oh? Care you elaborate Miss Connor?" My annoyance ticked at his over use of my name, but I couldn't place why.

"Diamonds might last forever, but they are plain. Everyone has diamonds, they're ordinary little things. You, sir, are far from ordinary and I'm sure you know that," I took care to not get caught in his sappy eyes, "Besides, you and I both should be aware that ordinary things don't ever survive in this world. And with today's ambitious styles, traditions won't last much longer in most places either."

"Miss Connor, I didn't think tradition had anything to do with the topic. I think you may be reading into it too much," he laughed and tucked the wrapping to perfection. He let my wrist go and I inspected it. Talk about precise.

"Well now it does. I don't care how much you like the idea of being a diamond. I demand that you be more creative with your stone," I ignored his watchful eye and began feasting on my Smarties again, "Don't look at me like that, my breakfast will be here soon and I'll eat that too."

He shook his head, "I didn't know that was allowed. To demand more from an answer, that is."

"Well I just added it to the rule book of our little game. Once per round a person can be asked to rethink their answer."

"Then I get to make a rule too. That sounds fair to me, wouldn't you agree Miss Connor?" he drawled teasingly as he took his place on the wall.

Blood rushed to my ears in frustration. I couldn't tell for certain if he realized that he was saying my name constantly or not, but I had the itching feeling that he knew and that he was trying to make a point, "Go ahead then."

"I believe that explanations should be required."

"Well that's easy enough," I gave in before hopping back on his case, "So what will it be Doc?"

There was a small beeping and my doctors hand instantly went to his belt. It was his pager. He sighed, "I've got to go, I won't be around later for my afternoon rounds today."

I looked at him curiously.

"Don't look so disappointed Miss Connor, I'm taking a half day. It's promising to be sunny today," he explained. I looked out my window to see a thick clouds and a heavy drizzle. My eyebrows raised at him and he grinned, "It's going to clear up and my family and I are going hiking."

Hiking. It sounded really nice, I hadn't really been outside in years. Sure, I had been on the hospital roof and the day before I had gone out for a stoge. But I hadn't really been outside. I wished that I could have been hiking with him and his family instead of sitting in a pale room. I smiled at the thought, "You'll have to tell me more about your kids sometime."

He returned the gesture, "I will," To me, it sounded like a promise, "Remember to eat all of your breakfast."

"Don't think that you are going to weasel your way out of this round Cullen! I'll get you for this," I shook my balled fist playfully with a withheld smile.

Then he left and I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. Having him as a doctor was turning out to be pleasant. I occupied myself with a notepad and a pen, doodling. I loved to doodle. None of them were good though. I did glassblowing, not various other mediums of art and for obvious reasons too; my drawing skills were seriously lacking. My doodles only really consisted of shapes and shading and stick figures.

Soon my breakfast arrived and not to long after that, so did Mrs. Robinson. I was messing around with the oatmeal that had been presented to me. It looked more gray than any color and I was not looking forward to eating it. I could have rejected the meal, but putting myself through eating was far better than being force fed. Which, believe me, I had been through before and it is not at all fun. I took my fruit cup and peeled off the plastic wrap on it and dumped it into the bowl of slop.

Mrs. Robinson was wheeled into the room by Masha, who looked at me guardedly. I gave her an apologetic smile. "Good morning Mrs. Robinson, good morning Masha," I offered and took a bite of the oatmeal, grimacing at the bland taste and off texture.

Mrs. Robinson's face broke out in a grin and she giggled, "You look lovestruck. I should have known that it wouldn't be long." I choked on my spoonful and started hacking. Masha was the first one to react well as she handed me the plastic cup of water that was on my tray. I wheezed a thank you and struggled to drink my water.

"Excuse me?"

She shrugged and sent me a knowing look, "I guess you haven't realized a lot of things yet about your unordinary doctor."

She sounded like she had also noticed the extraordinary traits of my doctor. I scowled and pushed my meal away from me for a bit. I watched Masha ask Mrs. Robinson if she needed anything else. Mrs. Robinson shook her head and Masha left as quickly as she could.

"You're a crazy old coot," I finally said.

"I'm your favorite crazy old coot though," she replied easily.

"…I guess you've got me there," I admitted, rubbing my feet that were suddenly feeling sore.

…..

Another filler chapter, but it's about to speed up. New chapter we'll reveal more about Harper's old relationship and Carlisle will share about his family. I think I might bring Edward into the next chapter as well~

This story is going painstakingly slow! For me anyway. I don't know about you guys. And then we, myself and a very helpful character, can let Harper in on the secret. ;D

acarly, I'm glad that you appreciate Harper! I try to put little hints in to show just how sick she it without plain out writing 'I'm so very sick but I like you pretend that I'm not'. Let's face it, that wouldn't very much be Harper's style, now would it? I hope you keep reading and I'm glad that you like it. There definitely will be more. OpiumCakes, I'm working on updating more often! I really do appreciate that you keep reviewing, each review that I get makes me work more quickly, ahaha. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I have the best OC, but I defiantly do my best to make her a rounded character. I don't like OC's that fall to their knees at the sight of the heart throb, you know? Blitzwings, thank you for the reviews and for reading both of my stories, I'm glad that you are enjoying reading them!

Also, to all readers, I put up a new story called A Vow Of Silence. Go check it out! Love, ScribblerInNotes

PostScript. Review me, maybe?