DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction for which we will receive no compensation, especially since all characters belong to a different Stephenie. But this story helped save the babies, which we are all for.

Happy New Year, friends. Some sobering news from the BitterLady camp: our dear BitterHarpy has COVID :(

As essential personnel, she has been working non-stop since the pandemic started – often double shifts – and her body is plum worn out.

PLEASE keep her in your prayers and send her your best thoughts and wishes. If you wanna stay updated on her condition and other things, feel free to join her BitterHarpy Fanfiction group on Facebook. We'd love to see you there.

There's important info in the closing A/N, so please check that out. For now, please enjoy this little update.

Chapter 35

NOTE: This chapter begins the morning after Emmett's arrival, Emmett's basement "makeover" with Rose, and Drunkward's exploits at his trailer. Those events were spread out over the last three chapters, but they all happened on the same day.

Edward woke up the next evening, dazed and confused. He was tangled in his bedsheets, which didn't make sense because he didn't remember coming home. He popped one bleary eye open and noted it was dark. He'd slept all day—and through the worst of his inevitable hangover, thankfully—but his body ached, his stomach queasy, and his tongue felt like it was wearing a burlap sweater.

He rolled over in bed and strongly considered calling in dead. He felt like hammered shit, but beyond that, he didn't have the mental bandwidth to deal with Emmett today. Just knowing that man was in the hospital—breathing his air and talking to his Bella—made Edward angry enough to want to punch holes in the wall.

Edward flexed the hand he'd decked Emmett with yesterday and felt something silky in its grasp. He realized immediately what it was and couldn't stop himself from bringing delicate fabric to his nose, taking a deep whiff. He hummed contentedly as the familiar bouquet of Bella's scent flooded his senses...

... which was weird because Bella hadn't worn this negligee in weeks.

He sat up with a start, his whole body protesting the rapid movement. With a groan, he looked around, his confusion growing by the second. The countertops were clutter-free, the dishes clean and drying in the rack, and his medical journals and magazines were stacked in neat piles on the swept floor.

"What the hell?" he muttered, rubbing his forehead. He'd never been one to 'drunk clean' as one of his sisters often did, but stranger things had happened. Like his former best friend showing up at his job and talking to the woman he lov—

Edward shook his head, derailing that train of thought. He had no idea what was going on with his trailer, but if he didn't get his ass in gear, he'd be late. Yesterday's incident burned up whatever favor he'd had with The Chief, and it would be a long while before Edward returned to Dr. Carlisle's good graces. The least he could do was be on time tonight.

With a weighted sigh, Edward clambered to his feet and shuffled to his shower intent on washing all of yesterday and the stench of scotch out of his hair.

***STYB***

Cleaner and sober-ish, Edward pulled into the Olympic Med parking lot with fourteen minutes to spare. He'd had to take the truck today because, according a missed text from this morning, his Volvo was in the parking lot at Sam's.

"Thanks for getting me a lift home," Edward texted him.

"It's not me you should thank," Sam replied.

"What?" Edward asked aloud, sending Sam a string of question marks in answer.

Sam's reply was slow in coming, but he eventually wrote back, "Glad you got home safe."

Edward didn't have time to decode Sam's meaning, so he stuffed his phone in his coat pocket and got out of the truck, turning his attention to today's caseload. He wouldn't be operating tonight, giving the pounding in his head more time to subside. But he had several patients to check on, a teleconference with the head of neuro at Johns Hopkins about an upcoming symposium, and a meeting with the hospital CFO about the cost-effectiveness of leasing a...

"Morning, Cullen!" someone bellowed, causing Edward to wince.

"What the—" Edward turned around and found Dr. Black jogging toward him. "Why the fuck are you yelling at me?"

"Am I yelling?" Jake yelled. "Sorry! Just wanted to make sure you could hear me."

Edward groaned, his headache returning in triplicate. "What do you want?"

"Nothing! Just wanted to say hey!" Jake slapped him on the back. "So hey!"

"Hey," Edward muttered, wondering if it were too soon to take another dose of codine. As Jake walked beside him, annoying Edward to no end, he started whistling. Edward tried to tune him out, but the melody caught his ear, and he grimaced at Jake.

"What?" Jake smiled. "I Am Henry VIII, I Am is a great song! Unless you're more of a Good King Wenceslas kind of guy."

"What?"

"Nothing, man." Jake chuckled, jabbing Edward in the shoulder again. "Be easy, Cullen!"

Jake jogged ahead, and Edward huffed. "Interns."

Edward entered the hospital and noticed the not-so-subtle stares from staff. He'd foolishly hoped his outburst would be yesterday's news by now, but it wasn't every day an attending decked a fellow physician in the lobby.

No matter. That was then, and this was now. Emmett may have ruined Edward's life in New York, but Edward would not allow him to do so here. With their specialties seldom crossing paths, Olympic Med was big enough for the two of them never to run into each other. And until Edward could see Emmett without wanting to bury his fist in his face, avoiding him would be the best move he could make.

The thought made Edward smile as he headed upstairs, a smile he kept in place as Chief Carlisle approached him.

"Morning, Chief!"

The Chief raised a brow. "Dr. Cullen. You seem well this evening."

"I am very well, thank you."

"No residual effects from yesterday?"

"None whatsoever. Just ready to get to work."

"Good. Because I have a special assignment for you."

"Really?" Edward perked up. "I'm all ears."

"I need you to provide a neuro consult for Senator Murray."

Edward's stomach dropped. "Senator Murray?"

"Yes. Dr. McCarty has requested a second, more comprehensive workup, which includes a neuro exam."

"I see. And Dr. Mallory is..."

"Off this week." The Chief folded his arms. "Will that be a problem?"

"A problem? No." Edward cleared his throat. "It's just that..."

"I hope you're about to say, 'It's just that after yesterday's disaster, I was hoping to make a grand gesture to prove that I've pulled my head out of my ass, and I don't know if a basic neurological exam is enough.'"

"Well, that..." Edward swallowed hard. "That's what I was going to say, yes."

"Good. Because any other response would have forced me to tell the disciplinary committee that you haven't learned anything and could benefit from suspension." The Chief eyed him. "Or worse."

"That won't be necessary," Edward said, keeping his voice steady. "I just need to move some things around, then I'll head straight to Senator Murray."

Chief Carlisle slapped Edward on the back. "You do that."

The Chief jogged ahead to catch up with the Peds attending, and Edward stared after him, rubbing his tender shoulder. "What is with everybody hitting me today?"

Edward continued to his office, his good mood souring by the second. He couldn't refuse a direct order from The Chief, but the idea of working with Emmett made his heart sick.

His thoughts ran back to New York when things between them had been good. When Emmett wasn't just a trusted colleague but a collaborative partner with sharp mind, a best friend with a sympathetic ear. Edward had vented to Emmett a great deal in those days about his work concerns, his sisters' drama, his wife.

His wife.

Edward shook his head as a different pain throbbed in his temple. This was why he never thought about New York, why he couldn't speak to Emmett for more than a few seconds. Because no matter where his train of thought began, all tracks led to Emmett's betrayal. And beneath the anger and shock lay a pain so deep Edward feared he might drown in it.

He unlocked his office and spotted a chart on his desk. Snorting at The Chief's boldness, he shut the door behind him, opened the senator's chart, and got to reading.

***STYB***

At first, Nurse Webber had thought it odd that Dr. Crowley had pulled her from the fourth-floor info desk for a so-called "special project." VIPs were assigned their nurses at the beginning of their stay, and those rotations were reserved for nurses with the most seniority. Angela had only been at Olympic Med for ten months, and though she'd never been reprimanded or even called out sick, to be selected to attend the senator was a surprising honor.

But as Angela watched a quartet of doctors straggle into the senator's room, she understood why Crowley wanted her here. had asked her to be here. He'd wanted a witness, an impartial presence, and if needed, a referee.

She was checking the senator's temperature when the first doctor arrived. Dr. Cullen seemed surprised to find the senator alone, save Angela herself, and he offered them a genuine smile. Angela noted the senator's temperature, three-fourths of a degree higher than the last check, and was about to update Dr. Cullen when voices in the hall floated into the room.

When Drs. Swan and McCarty walked in, together no less, Dr. Cullen couldn't suppress his immediate reaction. His jaw clenched, his polite smile slipped, and on his face, Angela saw flashes of rage, confusion, and pain.

Pain longest of all.

The newly arrived doctors greeted everyone politely, though Dr. McCarty's direct eye contact with Dr. Cullen was not returned. Dr. Swan's cheeks flushed as she looked at Dr. Cullen, and his gaze trailed toward her more often than he probably realized. His eye often wandered to Dr. McCarty as well, though only when Dr. McCarty was looking elsewhere.

Dr. Hale arrived in the middle of Dr. Cullen's conversation with the Senator, smoothing her lab coat while apologizing for her lateness. She met Dr. Cullen's gaze with a even smile, one that brightened when she looked at Dr. Swan. But she refused eye contact with Dr. McCarty, speaking to him in clipped, business-only tones. Dr. McCarty took this in stride, his eyes almost amused by her conduct, something that seemed to irritate Dr. Cullen.

With all the tension in the room, Angela thought it was a wonder they ever got around to discussing the senator's case.

But discuss it they did, starting with Senator Murray's arrival at Olympic Med. Her husband had finally appeared during Dr. Swan's recap, and he demanded the intern start again from the beginning.

"Maybe you can explain why my wife has been here for three days and hasn't improved," he snapped.

The senator sighed, "James..."

"Don't 'James' me, Vicki. This little vacation of yours is going to cost me a fortune, and I'd like to at least get my money's worth." He glanced at Dr. Hale, giving her a leering once-over. "Though I suppose there's more than one way to do that."

"I understand your concerns," Dr. McCarty said, moving closer to Mr. Murray and subtly blocking the creepy man's view of Dr. Hale. "We have our suspicions about what is ailing your wife, but we want to be sure before saying anything."

"And why is that?" he asked hotly.

"Because armed with minimal information, people often jump to the worst conclusions," Dr. McCarty said. "Once formed, those conclusions are difficult to disprove, even in the face of facts."

Dr. Cullen snorted loudly, causing everyone to look at him. He belatedly covered his slip with a throaty cough, patting his chest for effect. "My apologies."

Dr. Swan looked at Dr. Hale, their eyes wide, and they glanced at Dr. McCarty before pasting identically awkward smiles on their faces.

"My point, Mr. Murray," Dr. McCarty continued, "is that we are all here to provide your wife with optimal care, and we hope you can trust our judgment as we do that."

"Fine." Mr. Murray came to his feet. "I expect an update when I return."

"You're leaving already?" the senator asked.

"No sense in both of us sitting around doing nothing," he said, pulling out his phone. "Besides, your parents are in town, and I'm sure that lapdog you call an assistant, Enrich or Alvin or whatever his name is..."

"Eric," she said.

"Yeah, Eric," he repeated derisively, leaning over his wife until they were nose-to-nose. "I'm sure he will be more than happy to cater to your every need."

He kissed her quick and hard on the mouth, and Angela suppressed a shudder. Drs. Hale and Swan were equally disturbed, Hale glaring at Mr. Murray while his back was turned.

"Thanks for your time, docs," Mr. Murray said as he headed toward the door, pausing to look back at Dr. Hale. "I hope to see you again soon."

Dr. Hale fixed him with a blithe stare. "Your concern for your wife is touching."

Mr. Murray laughed, wagging his finger at Dr. Hale. "I like you."

"We'll take good care of your wife," Dr. McCarty said forcefully.

Mr. Murray turned to him. "Somebody should."

With that, he left the room.

Senator Murray sat up and sighed, looking at Dr. Hale. "I'm so sorry. James doesn't always think before he speaks..."

"Never apologize for someone else's choices," Dr. Hale said, her words firm but kind. "Even if that person is someone you once loved."

The senator nodded, her eyes watering as she looked down. "Thank you."

"We, uh..." Dr. Cullen began. "We could do the neuro exam a little later if you'd prefer."

"No need." Senator Murray said, tossing her flaming hair back. "James's ignorance has never stopped me before, and it won't today."

Dr. Swan winked at her. "Attagirl."

"We're going to run some tests," Dr. Cullen said, his gaze trailing again to Dr. Swan. "And take some pictures to rule some things out."

"Do you expect to find anything?" Senator Murray asked.

"No," Dr. Swan said. "But at least, we'll know."

"And knowing is half the battle," Drs. Cullen and McCarty said at the same time.

The men looked at each other, surprise etched on their faces, and the senator smiled. "I guess that's what happens when you spend a lot of time together," she said.

"That's one thing that can happen, yes," Dr. Cullen said coolly.

A tense silence descended, and Dr. Hale cleared her throat. "We will take our leave now," she said. "And return in the afternoon when we know more."

"Thank you all so much," Senator Murray said. "For everything."

"It's our job and our pleasure," Dr. Swan said, patting the senator's blanket-swaddled leg before leaving the room.

"I'll ensure everything is ready then have Nurse Webber bring you down," Dr. Cullen said.

"Sounds good," the senator said.

Dr. Cullen nodded at her then rushed out of the room to find Dr. Swan.

"I will see you later, Senator," Dr. McCarty said as he trailed after Dr. Cullen.

"Okay." Senator Murray turned to Dr. Hale. "Wow, what an eager team you all are."

"Yes," Dr. Hale said as she headed to the door. "We're quite something."

Dr. Swan had ducked into an unoccupied patient room next door, easing the door closed. She went still as Dr. Cullen reached the hall, barely daring to breathe.

Dr. Cullen looked up and down the corridor, wondering where Dr. Swan could have gone so quickly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. McCarty approach and groaned.

"Dr. Cullen?" Dr. McCarty asked.

"Yes?"

"May we speak?"

"About what?" Dr. Cullen asked as Dr. Hale came into the hall, closing the senator's door behind her.

Dr. McCarty lowered his voice. "You know what."

"I see," Dr. Cullen turned to him. "This is about the Senator's case."

"No."

"A different case?"

"No."

"Something to do with The Chief?"

"No, it's—"

"Then I'm afraid I don't have time to speak with you, Dr. McCarty." Edward pulled out his pager and frowned at the number. "Ever."

Dr. McCarty sighed. "Edward..."

"Great job in there, Dr. Hale," Dr. Cullen said, turning toward her. "Keep it up."

"Uh... thank you, sir," Dr. Hale said, staring after Dr. Cullen as he headed down the hall.

Dr. McCarty shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"Keep it about business," Dr. Hale said.

"What?" Dr. McCarty asked.

Dr. Hale looked at him. "You heard me."

She walked away without another word, leaving Dr. McCarty to rub his forehead on a heavy sigh.

Angela watched it all from the senator's room and wondered what she'd just witnessed. And how she would explain it to Dr. Crowley.

WHEW. Those four...

Thanks for sticking around, peeps. I think it's pretty clear that RL is kicking our collective butts right now, so sticking to an updating schedule is impossible. We are NOT abandoning this story though, so put "Scars" on Story Alert to get the next chapter as soon as it drops.

Love and light to you all – hope to see you soon :)