Stepping up to the slightly open door of Angela's bedroom, Carlisle looked in and smiled softly at the sight of her sleeping in the bed. She had been with his family for almost a week now and he, as the rest of his family, found her presence to be soothing. He watched her shift slightly, heard the soft whimper and moved inside. He was quiet as he came to sit by her side, brushing the backs of his fingers down her cheek before leaning down and kissing her forehead.

Whispering to her softly, soothing her gently, he watched as she calmed. Her skin was warm, too warm and he frowned at the thought that she may have a fever. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, pain filling the brown depths and he shushed her gently when she grew concerned.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Carlisle told Angela as she stared up at him. "Are you in pain?" She nodded quietly and he smiled reassuringly. "Do you feel ill at all, you have a fever," he clarified at her look of confusion.

"It's the migraine medication," she said softly, unable to hide the wince of pain. "It's always given me a fever."

"The Treximet?" he asked and she shook her head.

"All of them," she said softly and he frowned.

"You didn't mention that before," he said with a curious tilt of his head.

"I thought it was normal," she said tiredly, her eyes shifting to look over his shoulder when Emmett stepped into the room. "Emmett?"

"Hey, Half Pint," Emmett greeted softly and moved to sit on her other side.

"What time is it?" Angela asked softly as Emmett settled beside her and silently wrapped his arm around her.

"Late," Carlisle said softly as he watched her curl against his son. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he told her softly and smoothed his hand down over her hair. "I'll bring in some morphine for you."

"You don't need to fuss," she said softly, an apology for waking him uttered at the end.

"It's not fussing," he told her gently and frowned at Emmett when his son began to growl softly. "What are you doing?" he asked Emmett too low for Angela to hear.

"It calms her," Edward said from the doorway. "The sound of us growling calms her. Jasper noticed it too the other night when he was with her in the backyard. He said that when she was telling him about the texts he started growling and she calmed almost instantly."

"She's asleep," Emmett said a moment later and looked down on the girl tucked against his side. "The things that marks us as being different or dangerous, those are the things that bring her the most comfort."

Nodding once silently as he tugged the blankets up around her shoulders, Carlisle stood from the bed and moved to his office. He returned shortly with a pencil thin syringe. Sitting down on the side of her bed once more, he smiled softly when Emmett uncovered her arm, and injected the drug into Angela's arm. She didn't stir once, only sighed heavily and curled once more against Emmett when her arm was released.

He watched her sleep for a moment longer, noticing that anytime she stirred Emmett would growl and she would calm with a contented sigh. Standing from the bed, he made his way back downstairs and into his office, disposing of the used syringe in the red and white sharps box in the cabinet. He had been worried about telling Angela, concerned that she may not be accepting of his family or be frightened by the truth. A smile curved his lips as he sat behind his desk and opened his journal. Lifting his fountain pen and shaking it gently before uncapping it, he brought the pen to the page and began to write.

April 22, 2009

I do believe that tonight has assuaged any worry or doubt that I may have previously had in regards to revealing the truth of my family to Angela. She had seemed distracted for most of the day and I found myself concerned when she had disappeared upstairs only a few minutes after dinner without reappearing. It was Jasper who told me that she had been suffering a rather powerful migraine all day, one he was only barely able to keep under control for her. She is very careful in taking her medications, making certain that; if at all possible, no one sees her taking it.

The underlying reason for her behavior concerned me but when I approached Edward, he had no answer to offer. He told me that either the behavior has become so ingrained that she no longer remembers the reason for it, or that the memories are ones in which she actively chooses not to think about. That bit of information only fueled my desire to protect her, reaffirming the troubling suspicion that she has been mistreated for her migraines.

When I went up to her room to check on her, I found her to be almost sleeping. Esme was with her; I could hear my wife's gentle voice through the door as she quietly encouraged Angela and helped her into a more comfortable change of clothes. Her concern was evident when I stepped into the room a moment later, her observation that Angela seemed to have very little muscle control worrying her. Esme wasn't certain if it was due to Angela's exhaustion or her migraine, but whatever the reason, my passionate and loving wife had become a protective mother bear. If there is one truth I have learned about my wife in all our years together, it is this: never get between her and one of her children. She will fight to the death to protect them.

I received a call this afternoon from Julia down in the records room. All of the medical files that I requested concerning Angela have come in and are waiting for me. I will be gathering them tomorrow and reviewing them here at home. I had originally planned to work this weekend, but on my last shift I was informed that I have almost two months of vacation time and I either need to use it or lose it. I have no need to take it all right away and have only opted to use three days of that leave right now. It will be nice to spend a bit of quality time with Angela. I look forward to getting to know her better.

Closing his personal journal and opening the drawer to his left, Carlisle removed the journal he had set aside specifically for Angela. Opening it to a clear page, he frowned and lifted his pen.

Medical Journal of Angela Webber – April 22, 2009

Angela has been in my home with my family for only six days. In that time, Jasper has informed me that she has been in varying degrees of pain. He has told me that she has not had one migraine a day, or suffered only a headache… No, Jasper has told me what Angela won't. She is in constant pain. There is no relief from it, instead she has had moments when it isn't so bad and others where it's bad enough that she can't focus enough to speak. Throughout all of it though, she refuses to give voice to her pain at least any that humans would be able to hear.

My family and I, save Bella, are able to hear the soft whimpers she does her level best to hide. It troubles me to note that I have seen her look around rooms and walk slowly into places that she has become familiar with almost as though she is having trouble seeing. She hasn't said anything about her migraines causing vision problems, nor has Edward mentioned anything to me about the matter, but I have my suspicions.

I found out this evening, only a few moments ago, that Angela's migraine medications bring on a fever. From what she said, they have all done this. While a slight raise in temperature – ninety-nine to one hundred degrees would be in the acceptable limits, I am quite certain that her temperature was nearing at least one hundred-two degrees. I did not physically take her temperature, but I have been a doctor long enough to know the accuracy of my estimation. For her temperature to be this high it would mean that there is some common element in each of the medications that her system is rejecting, something that she may have a sensitivity or allergy to.

Tonight was the third time this week that I've found her in pain while she's slept. If it wasn't before, it is clear to me now that her Treximet – the most recent of her medications – is completely ineffectual at relieving her pain. She hasn't been eating much either. I do not know if her seeming absence of an appetite is due to her migraines, the medications, or if she is naturally a light eater. She is underweight that much is clear. A few nights ago she was dressed in a borrowed set of sleeping clothes from Rosalie, the tank top and shorts revealing her slender build. If I had to guess, I would say she is at least twenty pounds under what her weight should be, possibly more.

"Carlisle?"

Looking up from his journal at the sound of Esme's voice, he smiled and offered his wife his hand. She gave a soft smile, her expression of love tinted with worry as she stepped close enough to kiss him.

"Did you read to Angela the other night?" Esme asked as she stood beside his chair and played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Two nights ago, yes," he answered with a slow nod. "Why?"

"Edward said that her dreams are broken up by her memories of your voice. He thinks she wants you to read to her."

Smiling and standing from his chair, Carlisle kissed Esme slowly. "And so I shall."