A/N: I'm honored to say that The Lemonade Stand (tehlemonadestand dot net) has featured Wisp in its "Fic of the Week" poll. Today's the last day to vote, so I'm supposed to tell you to go and vote for your favorites on the list. :-)
Aaaand one more note. Okay. In this story, as I said, we won't have flashbacks to Bella/Wisp's past. BUT for those of you who want to know now rather than later, I'm writing it. HOWEVER, I'm not posting it here. It's available at The Writer's Coffee Shop; my name there is judo_lin. I was emailing the document to people, but not anymore. It's easier just to send everyone over there. :)
Wisp
DHS went all out. They sent a psychologist from Child Protective Services and a caseworker from Adult Protective Services, since no one could say for certain how old the girl was. The psychologist was an older woman, blond and sharp, with the drawn face of someone who had smoked for years. She introduced herself as Dr. Marcia Lawton, and she did not look particularly pleased to see the crowd of people already in the home.
Edward liked the caseworker better. He was young-ish, not too long out of school, and he handed everyone a business card so they could keep in touch. "Scott Williams," he said, reaching for Carlisle's hand, then Emmett's. "Is this our new case?"
Edward's heart beat unsteadily and out of rhythm as he saw Dr. Lawton assess the sleeping girl. She had a pad of paper in a leather cover, which Edward had always hated. Maybe it was prejudicial thinking, but he'd always found people who carried those leather covers to be full of themselves.
"Where's the doctor?" she asked abruptly, turning away from the sleeping girl.
Both Carlisle and Jasper stepped forward. Edward stood his ground, but it was difficult. He wanted to push between Dr. Lawton and the girl on the couch, keeping the psychologist at bay. There was absolutely no reason for it—she was here to help, after all—but he couldn't help the odd, proprietary instinct that swelled in his chest.
"Who found her?" the social worker asked, settling to the floor where he could see the girl's sleeping face better. "We got a sketchy outline of the story, but maybe you could tell me in your own words?"
Edward also sat on the floor. He put his near hand on the couch cushion next to Wisp's blanket-covered knee, not touching. She must have been deeply asleep—she didn't stir a muscle. Poor thing needed it, he thought, glad that she didn't have to face two new strangers quite yet. He began to talk, telling Scott everything he remembered about meeting James, the poker game, and Emmett's decision to buy the truck for gambling money. He told about driving it home, and how he'd opened the camper shell purely on a whim, to see what might be back there. Emmett and Rose joined them near Wisp as Dr. Lawton continued firing technical questions at Carlisle and Jasper about the girl's physical and mental state.
"Do you think he knew?" Scott asked. "Maybe it's a question more appropriate for the police to ask, but do you think he knew she was in there when he agreed to sell the truck?"
"You mean, do you think he was trying to get rid of her?" Emmett scratched his head. "Shit, I don't know, man. I mean, he'd have to know we'd come after him. Doesn't seem like the best way to get rid of evidence, if you ask me."
"I don't think he knew," Edward said, thinking back to the night before. His memories were a little fuzzy from lack of sleep, but at least he'd been sober. He couldn't say the same for every poker night. "When he showed up at my door today, he looked...not panicked, exactly, but definitely nervous. He wanted to get her before anyone figured out he had her."
Scott wasn't writing anything down, but that didn't bother Edward. He wasn't much of a note-taker himself, preferring to listen and watch. "What do you know about him?"
"James?" Edward shook his head. "Not much. He's a cousin of one of our poker buddies. We didn't even know he was coming until they showed up together."
"He didn't exactly fit in with our group," Emmett added, "you know? We play friendly-like, and he kept trying to up the ante, be more competitive and cutthroat. We just like to relax and have fun, just the boys."
"So you'd say you don't really know him?" Scott pressed.
"Nah." Emmett shook his head regretfully. "I got a couple of detectives out at Mike's place trying to get information." He barked out a short, mirthless laugh. "I can't decide whether I was a hero or just fucking stupid, buying that piece of shit truck. Rosie here likes vintage cars, so I thought it would be a nice present. But when I think that she might have been the one to find the girl, or that we might not have opened the back until it was too late..."
"It's a good thing I was nosy, then," Edward said, moving his fingers to brush Wisp's knee through the blanket. Emmett didn't need to feel guilty. It wasn't a good present—that thing was too far gone even for Rosalie to restore—but he might well have saved a girl's life by buying it.
"So you opened the back to see what was in there," Scott urged. "What then?"
"It stank," Edward said flatly. "I thought something might have crawled in there and died. And then when I saw her, I thought she was dead. I called Carlisle in a panic—he lives in the big house you passed on the drive here—and told him there was a dead girl in the truck I'd driven home."
"But she wasn't dead."
"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was close. You'll have to ask Carlisle for the specifics—I have a doctorate, but I'm no doctor. She was freezing cold, and so small..." Images of how he'd found her rose up before his eyes. Pale as death, cold and unmoving...he'd really thought she was dead. "Carlisle told me to get her inside and warm her up instead of calling for an ambulance. She woke up and I put her in a bath, and—"
"You stripped her?" Dr. Lawton said suddenly, breaking off her discussion with Carlisle and turning to stare accusingly at Edward.
"No," he said, trying to keep hold of his irritation. She was used to working with abused children, he told himself. She needed to ask these questions. "She was naked when I found her."
The psychologist narrowed her eyes, but she didn't interrupt again as Edward continued his story. He told about the girl's confusion, her apparent incomprehension, her skittishness and fear. Carlisle corroborated that she had panicked when she first saw him, but her response to hearing the name James was much, much worse. Edward added that she had no body hair except on her forearms, and he explained that she didn't seem at all anxious or embarrassed about being naked. She had hugged his clothes when he put them on her, though, and that image was burned into his mind—so grateful over such a little thing. Her reactions continually amazed him.
The discussion became more technical again as Carlisle explained about his limited assessment of the girl, Emmett adding that he had video they could watch if they wanted to. Edward then said that he'd put her to bed in the spare room, and described how he'd found her hours later, sleeping in the closet. Wisp shifted in her sleep, her knee pressing more firmly against Edward's fingers, and nuzzled into her curled arm. Edward couldn't hide his smile—she really was a fetching little thing. He told about their toothbrush adventures, even stuttering through her assumptions about what he wanted from her. The girls added their interpretation of meeting her, and everyone seemed to agree with Rosalie's opinion that Wisp had never seen—or didn't remember—another woman before.
"Now," Carlisle said finally, "the obvious question is, where should she stay? With whom? We are more than happy to keep her here while law enforcement tries to figure out if she has any family looking for her. In fact, in my professional opinion, that would probably be best. She is anxious and very afraid, and she doesn't understand more than a handful of words so you can't exactly reason with her."
Edward could have kissed Carlisle in that moment.
"I agree," Jasper said. "With two doctors and a police officer watching over her, she'd be well taken care of."
Scott glanced at Dr. Lawton, who pursed her lips. She folded her arms, standing tall and almost looming over the group sitting on the floor. "Under other circumstances," she started, "I might agree. But you have to understand that this is highly irregular."
"The whole situation is highly irregular," Carlisle said. "How many times have you found a naked girl near death in a vehicle?"
If psychologists gave the stink-eye, Carlisle was definitely getting it. "I'm most concerned about Jane Doe's interaction with the younger Mr. Cullen."
Edward flinched inwardly. What had he done wrong? He'd tried to give her food, shelter, warmth, and comfort—everything he possibly could. Was there something wrong with that? He also didn't like hearing her called Jane Doe. Though she'd only been with him a day, she had a clear personality all her own. Jane Doe was a blank slate, a person literally unknown. To him, Wisp was anything but.
"He's admitted to highly improper contact with someone who might well be a minor," Dr. Lawton went on. "I'm not inclined to permit it to continue. She clearly isn't capable of legal consent."
"You've got to be kidding!" Emmett boomed. "Because he gave her a bath? Because he dressed her when she didn't have any clothes?"
"Or because she tried to repay him maybe the only way she knows how?" Rosalie added. "You have no idea how fucked up her life has been—none of us do. Sex could be the only commodity she has that she knows men want."
"Is there video of the event?" Dr. Lawton demanded.
"In the bathroom?" Edward tried not to look at her like she was crazy, but it was hard. Anger washed through him—anger that anyone could accuse him of taking advantage of the girl he'd saved. Yes, he'd touched her. Someone had to. But it hadn't been like that. Not at all. He wasn't at all interested in molesting someone who couldn't fight back. "Of course not."
"You were here alone with her?"
"Yes," he said tightly. "I live here."
"And you are..." She flipped through her notes. "...an author?"
"A sociologist." Carlisle spoke for Edward, his voice quiet but clearly strained. "He graduated magna cum laude from Dartmouth. I assure you, Edward would never dream of doing what you're implying."
"The assertions of family members are not reliable evidence," she retorted. "Your assessment of the younger Mr. Cullen is biased."
"The younger Doctor Cullen," Carlisle said firmly. "He has a Ph.D. He's earned the title."
"A doctorate does not immediately bestow innocence. Plenty of university professors have been arrested for possession of child pornography or soliciting sexual favors from students."
Edward glanced at Scott, hoping he'd stand up to the psychologist, but Scott was watching her worriedly. Classic, Edward thought. Just classic. The rookie fresh out of school was too afraid to go against a seasoned professional, no matter what he thought.
"She likes Edward," Alice said fiercely, glaring daggers at Dr. Lawton. "She trusts him. When she's scared, she reaches for him. You can't take that away from her! What will she do without him?"
"She'll find another security blanket," the psychologist said with a shrug. "She's been here less than twenty-four hours. It isn't possible for a strong bond to have formed in that time."
Edward begged to disagree. It was impossible to know how strong or deep the bond went on Wisp's side, but she had already found her way into his heart. He wanted to protect her, help her, see her smile. He wanted to be there when and if she started talking—walking. To meet her family, if they could be located, and tell them what a strong young woman she was. Hell, he'd love to know her real name.
"My diagnosis at this point is severe mental retardation," the psychologist said, writing on her notepad. "Possible brain damage. Likely Disinhibited Attachment Disorder as well, as evidenced by a willingness to socialize indiscriminately and inappropriately with relative strangers."
"You can't diagnose her!" Jasper protested. "I realize she doesn't talk, but you haven't observed her! Not even Emmett's video."
"My diagnosis will only stand until the doctors at West Highland can make a full assessment."
"West Highland?" Jasper snapped. "The psychiatric hospital? Isn't that a little extreme? She's not a danger to anyone, even herself. Look at her—she couldn't hurt a fly. She can't even walk."
"That particular problem may be psychosomatic," the psychologist said with a shrug. "She's a difficult case. She needs to be monitored."
"West Highland is full of dangerous schizophrenics and other people who are involuntarily committed," Jasper argued. "Put her at Harborview or another medical hospital for a little while to monitor her physical health if you must, but she doesn't belong with the crazies."
"I find that term offensive."
"I find it offensive that you think she belongs in a place that's more jail than hospital!"
"Jasper," Carlisle said gently, taking the younger doctor by the shoulder, "yelling won't help. Look—you're waking her."
Edward heard his father's words, but his eyes were on Wisp. She shifted on the couch, her eyes fluttering. He reached out and traced his hand lightly across her cheek, wondering if this would be the last time he ever touched her. He ached for her—Jasper was right. She didn't belong in a psychiatric hospital. She wasn't dangerous. She just needed some stability, medical care, and time.
Her eyes opened, blinking sleepily, and settled on his face.
And, to Edward's utter shock, she smiled. The expression ripped him in two.
"Hi," he said quietly, trying to smile back. "How do you feel?"
Only then did she realize she was lying on the couch, and she swiftly scrambled off of it. With a small whimper, she tumbled into Edward's lap.
"Easy, little Wisp," he said, settling her in his arms and brushing her soft hair away from her face. "You're fine. It's okay. I wouldn't put you on the couch if I was going to get mad at you for it."
Her eyes lifted, searching Edward's beseechingly. Once again, he wished he knew what to offer her.
"See?" Alice hissed. "She needs him!"
"She needs a structured environment where she can be monitored by psychiatric professionals," Dr. Lawton said firmly.
Wisp's head whipped around at the unfamiliar voice, and her fist grasped Edward's sleeve. She ducked her head into his shoulder, not taking her eyes off the newcomers.
"Hi," Scott said, waving slightly from his spot on the floor. "I'm Scott. Did you have a nice sleep?"
She sucked her lip into her mouth, chewing nervously. Her brown eyes were big, an anxious frown settling on her smooth forehead. Edward felt her fist tighten on his arm.
"Scott is nice," he said slowly, deliberately not including Dr. Lawton. "He wants to help you."
"I do," Scott agreed. "I want to help you feel better."
"There's no point in talking to her like that if she can't understand you," the psychologist snapped. "I think we're just about done here."
"Which means...?" Carlisle folded his arms.
"That we'll be going, and taking her to West Highland. Don't worry about your clothes, Mr. Cullen. We'll have them mailed back to you."
"I don't care about the clothes," Edward said tightly. He looked at Scott once more, but it was clear that the young man wasn't going to challenge his superior. In a way, he understood. But this wasn't like an assistant questioning a financial investment—this was a girl's life they were talking about. Wisp sat in his arms, a small, warm ball of girl. She was so vulnerable. So fragile. Who knew what she would think of a place like that, where the staff was used to dealing with violent, dangerous patients?
"Maybe it really is for the best," Scott said, sounding more hopeful than anything else. "Her captor has to know she's here. People get out of jail on technicalities all the time and, if he does, this will be the first place he comes."
"If you'll be so kind, Mr. Cullen," Dr. Lawton said, motioning toward the door.
Edward froze. Did she really expect him to walk the girl out the door? Physically place her in the car that would take her away? He tightened his arms slightly around her warm body, not at all sure he was capable of doing that.
"Think of Wisp, Edward," Carlisle said softly. "Keep her calm as long as you can. Be what she needs." He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bite-sized piece of banana, then deftly hid a little white pill that Edward suspected was Ativan inside the fruit. Wisp would not accept the morsel from Carlisle's hand, but she swallowed it quickly when Edward offered.
"I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair. "I'm sorry, little one."
A/N: Please don't hate me! I promise, it will get fixed. Otherwise, how would we have more of the story? I wrote a caring social worker in ACAP, and I can't just do the same thing all the time.
If you're at all interested in reading about a real-life case of a child raised without language, check out the article "Genie (feral child)" on Wikipedia.
