Early bird and all that...

Please review!

That should have gone better.

Now sat by another tree in God knows which distance, I run my shoe over a patch of moss. My weight does not crush it though I do nudge it a little with my toe, wait for a crawling vertebrae to come slinking out.

Doing as I did from the circle of drunken faces.

I consider waiting here for several hours, till I know they're asleep. Better, I could simply slip to the car, hide, shut the doors, link the exhaust… Instead I sigh, squeeze my wet hair. At least I am breathing steadily now. At one point it'd gotten so bad I had verged on fainting.

'Carlisle?'

I cringe, fill my palm with my chin, debate whether to answer or not.

'Carlisle?'

'Over here, Kid.'

He jumps as his eyesight adjusts to me perched tiredly against the roots of an oak. The riveted wood is cold enough to feel like glass and shuffling does little to relieve the discomfort. I hail him over.

Edward looks relieved, his hair disarrayed.

'We were worried you went home.'

I look up but he doesn't correct himself.

'Here,' he holds out his hand, waits for me to place my forearm into it and when I refuse, frowns as though he has years on me. It is fair, I am sulking.

'You shouldn't be here,' I mutter. 'You should be enjoying your evening.'

He smiles inadvertently.

'Well, we needed to know you're okay.'

'Embarrassed, mostly,' I admit.

He shrugs, 'Tensions rise, people argue…'

I wait for the correction.

'People were drinking,' he amends.

'I wasn't drinking.'

Another sad excuse because while yes, alcohol was likely at fault too, considering I did the accusing without a hit of a drug within me, I do not have a leg to stand on.

'We didn't mean it to come to that,' he whispers.

'I know you didn't.'

'He didn't mean to-. I mean, Emmett, he didn't. We didn't-'

'It's okay, Edward.'

He sighs, shakes his head to himself. I squeeze my eyes with a thumb.

'When was the last time you slept?' He falls to seat himself next to me, copies my movements and crosses his arms over his knees.

'Earlier today,' I mutter. Edward looks hard at me. 'I had a powernap before I came.'

'Okay but when was the last time you slept.'

I rub my face, shrug a little. 'This Morning. I caught a few hours in the on-call room.'

'And before that?'

'I can't remember,' I admit.

'You do realise the less you sleep, the more paranoid you're going to feel?'

'It's not like I'm not trying, Kid.'

'Have you taken anything? We have sleeping tablets-'

'I chucked them out,' I answer.

'Why?'

He knows why. It was too risky at that point. Too risky for disposable razors, open blades, hidden scissors, medicine...

'Did you get any sleep on Thursday?'

Yes, three hours.

'You've already made your point,' I whisper ashamedly. 'I get it, it's not good.'

'Is it…'

'Is it what?' I ask.

'Is it since then…?'

I put my lips together tightly.

'I've humiliated myself enough tonight, I'd really rather not have to think on that, too.'

'You're not shutting off,' he accuses, the fog of his breath clouding past him.

'Not, easily, no.'

'Not at all,' he corrects. 'I don't get it you were… you were fine then you just blew up.'

'Are they hurt?'

He knows what I am really asking and yet decides not to provide comment. Instead, he grimaces, sniffs the night air like a bloodhound.

'They certainly want you back, that's what matters.'

'You know you shouldn't speak for your own benefit...'

He snorts, shrugs. 'In whatever form you come in, they want you back.'

'Then they are fools.'

He sighs again, shakes his head. 'You're just tired, Carlisle. Get some rest and you'll feel better?'

I doubt I can face going back but wording such sentiments is more difficult than I like and hanging back in a cold forest will only wind me up to more self-bullying. And I was already foaming at the mouth.

He leads me back In silence. The fire is still going, crackling and crunching with the edges seeping into the dark. Thankfully the faces are in bed, behind four walls of fabric.

'Coming?'

I shake my head, settle in Esme's absent spot, extend my body.

'You'll get cold.'

'I've got blankets.' I say, touching the folded squares beside me.

He sighs, disappears into his tent and returns with my own sleeping bag. I hear them now, faintly snoozing. Emmett mostly, Jasper too.

I tug off both shoes, catch the bundle thrown at me and spread it to the heat.

'Are you sure this is wise?' he mutters. 'If you catch fire, I'm not convinced you'll wake up to notice.'

I smile, weakly, pulls the fabric closed and wrap my arm behind my head.

'You'll feel better tomorrow.'

I roll my heavy eyes.

'Goodnight, Edward.'

He grins, slips past into the tent, noisily pulls it closed. I wait till I can be sure they're not going to come out to fish around for the tablet. Eventually I find it safely tucked away in my own bag and opening the notes again, consider falling asleep to studying.

The forced consciousness does well. The exhaustion from the water more so and staring intently into words and then the flames, my eyes soon close and silence is granted.

If only for two hours.

Given I have gone without interrupted sleep in so long, the lone hours slipping past leave me as rested as if I had curled up on a sofa wide cushion on an exotic plain by the equator. The breeze slips over me comfortably, the fire crinkling as the rustling pulls me from my daydream.

And then less rustling, and more urgent fidgeting.

Pulling myself forward, Esme tumbles dizzily into the dark. She has a hand pressed to her mouth, tripping over the ground with clumsy feet.

'Es?'

She runs a little further out into the dark, hurrying.

She looks like she's going to-.

Ah.

Ripping material from me, I grab water from the side and try to follow the sounds of her expelling what I presume to be creek-water.

'Esme?' I call again.

I hear her gasping now, bent over the roots of another oak tree as if hiding herself from it. She's shivering, coughing though still makes an excuse to flap her arms at me.

'Es?'

'Go away-'

The splatter echoes, her shoulders shaking as she spits her tongue free several times.

'Here,' I say, passing the plastic over. She takes it quickly, puts it against the damp, stringy hair on her forehead, drops to branches. I wait for her to catch her breath, staying further enough away to neither threaten my clothing nor invade her space.

With eyes closed, she slips her head back and twists her hands chaotically together as she breathes.

'I'm sorry for waking you.'

I shrug it off, squint a little. She's rubbing the burn of her throat, frowning in concentration, pressing white lips together.

'Are you oh-'

She partially lunges forward again, tries to excuse herself the privacy. Weakly I put my fingertips on her shoulder, pull her hair back.

'-uck off,' she groans, drooling the colour from her lip. Her hands are shaking now too, violent vibrations as she tries to settle herself down.

'You're okay.'

'I know,' she mutters and then tiredly. 'I know. You can let me go.'

'Careful of your feet.'

She glares at me, swishes the water around in her mouth, spits again. I pull her gently towards me, further from the tree until she's dragging the air to her lungs. It didn't look much like she was bringing up water, though I guess she could've quite easily overexerted herself with today's thrashing around.

And the cider of course.

'Are you okay?'

'Stop asking,' she pleads weakly.

I've moved my arms around her now, in case she wavers again though she surprises me in slipping both clasps over the sides of my index fingers, treating me as a trusted wall. She's frowning still, using the extension of the angle to keep still. The slip of sweat prickles on her forehead, the heat radiating from her like boiled water.

I feel like a statue.

'It's the water,' I presume. 'Or the alcohol.'

'I had one drink.'

'It could've mixed…' I shrug.

'It was likely Emmett's uncooked food.' She complains, wincing at the reminder. 'Asshole.'

The food wasn't uncooked to my knowledge but I've fought enough with Emmett this evening that I don't wish to engage in further criticisms that I felt suited to him.

'Can you stand?' I ask.

She shakes her head, leans further into my arms, drooping slightly, I go to pull her up but she groans and I stop.

'No, please. No movement.'

'Let me get you back?' I request, softly. 'I'll be careful.'

Her hair shakes, the weight slipping, I try to gather her straighter except she whines again.

'Stop.'

I stop, wait for time to pass.

'Are you cold?'

She shivers though shakes her head. I've already pulled a jacket to her shoulders, shifted it under her hair.

'Okay, come on-'

'No don't, I'll vomit on you.'

'It wouldn't be the first time.'

She snorts, wavers and moves roundly into my arms. Okay, good. Carefully, I lift her more under my arm and direct her back towards the fire. I shake the blankets free from soil, wrap it around her arms.

'Where's your toothbrush?'

She shrugs, places her hands to her eyebrows and stutters.

I hunt around for my wash bag, empty out a rogue cup from the table and pass her the mouthwash. She swishes it tiredly, lips barely moving.

'Spit?' I indicate, handing her the cup. She does so, lets it dribble a little down her chin before swiping it off. I hesitate at first then chuck it to the edge of the fire so that the flames engulf somewhat.

'Show off.'

'Feeling any better?'

'A little,' she admits, sighing. 'I'm really sorry, Carlisle.'

'Don't mention it.'

'All you ever seem to do these days,' she murmurs. Her arms are around her stomach, her focus pointed to her bare feet. 'Look after someone…'

No really, I urge to say. Don't mention it.

Her posture is slacking again now, the heat pressing against the jacket like a wall she wishes to rest on.

'You should really get some sleep.'

She drops her head in a lazy roll, combs her hair back and shudders. I nod in the direction of the tent, wondering if the girls have since awoken but she keeps her eyes squinting on the fire. She looks very small hunched between the grass and my sleeping bag. Her features are very still, fragile I suppose.

'Why don't you get in?' I murmur, unzipping the bag open. She winces from the sound, slowly edges over till her toes meet the lining.

'What about you?'

'Nevermind me,' I say shortly.

The sleep is written on her face, her lips loose in their attempt to hold the words. She hesitates, simpers in carefully. I pull the blankets back over her, move the pillow under the elbow against her cheek.

'Don't leave without me,' she murmurs.

'Never.'

With her drooping eyes on the light, she recedes deeper into the scent of my bedding, buries her face and after a few moments, lulls her weight forward as she sleeps. I stay sitting next to her though I don't return to reading as planned. Instead I follow the knotted wave of her hair like an intricate labyrinth of wires. I likewise press my cheek to my forearm, match the rhythm of her breaths and with my thoughts on the dark, the pinpricks of stars above, I conk out long before I plan to.

Contrary to what alarms I had set, I don't awake the next morning until the scent of food reaches my nose. Something grilled I think and my stomach growls in agreement. There's voices murmurings, careful not to wake the rest of us.

My shoulders are stiff when I come to move them and the light of day bursts so brilliantly within my eyes, I imagine it is summer. In fact, it takes me a while to gather where I must be, what I must be lying on.

And then I find an eager sprite jumping into view.

'Morning, Daddy.'

I groan weakly and groan again when she jumps her weight on my arm playfully, pulling me up like an engineered pulley system. Blinking several times and then squinting between the bursting light of the trees and a pale-faced nuisance, I sway my head back, put my hand to my hair.

'What time is it?'

My voice is thick, unrecognisable almost so I'm grateful for Bella coming to my side and passing me a steaming mug of bitter coffee. The grounded burn under my nose does enough.

She's extra chipper this Morning. In fact, she's made a few comments regarding the icy water depths last night, falls into explanations of cliff-diving to a confused looking Alice.

If I had anyone considered for cliff-diving, it almost certainly would never have been Bella…

'Eleven,' Edward complains, stretching out his spine in a similar display of recently awaking. I roll a little to my side, look amongst the faces to gather who is missing.

'Es and Rose went to go find a shower,' she explains, watching my furrowing face count. 'Jaz went with them. Em is refusing to get up.'

'When did it get so late?' I ask, looking around them again.

The fire had long since died out given the smoke in my nose nevertheless I am grateful for the camping grill. More grateful for Bella operating it.

She shrugs.

'We've been awake for ages. We'd presumed you came back for a nap, not that you've been sleeping all this time.'

'I've been sleeping?' I pull myself up properly now and realise I'm tangled in blankets and cushions I don't remember. Alice is looking strangely at me. 'I mean; I didn't wake up?'

She shrugs, 'No I don't think so. How come?'

I try to focus now. I try to consider how I feel compared with the last few days. The buzzing is still there, though I suppose it's less disorientating. Most of all I feel hungry.

'Where'd you say they are?'

'Showering.' Alice reminds me with a smile. Edward thumps down to my right now, yawns.

'Well rested?'

I check the watch on my wrist, my pager, my tablet. It really is late. I'd slept for just over ten hours. Consecutively.

'Yeah,' I murmur.

'You seem lost,' he notes and then grasping a plastic cup from Bella, he smiles widely, eyes trailing accusingly down her shirt to the khaki shorts.

'I don't remember going to bed last night.' I shrug my hair back, trying to pinpoint what I do remember. Esme, I think. In the water? And yelling at Emmett… though I'm half hoping that that addition is a dream.

He shrugs his shoulders, sips from the cup and frowns. Cautiously he takes another sip, pulls away disgustedly.

'Why does this cup taste like toothpaste?'

I sip my coffee. I can hear birds, sparrows I think, jumping along the branches, leaves twitching overhead, rounded triangles splitting the rays of light. I'm also surprised that I'm not particularly cold. Not yet anyway. I tilt my jaw to the sun, sigh a little.

The trio return then, all freshly washed and cleansed, Rose looking notably bitter. She wakes Emmett up when no one else is brave enough and together, we eat and make light conversation.

Given, I suppose, the clarity in mind, I find it somewhat easier than usual to watch Es from afar. She offers a reserved smile my way, and then drops her eyes to her shoes, turns away. Emmett and I are a lot better behaved today, too. We wish each other a pleasant Morning though mostly keep to ourselves.

We break after lunch time. Jasper, Alice, Rose and I take a detour round to the thickest edges of the park. Alice tries to drag Esme along but she claims tiredness instead puts charcoal to the sketchbook. Once back, I read for an hour or so, looking again through the notes in case I spot something the doctors have missed though with dinner looming and the voices complaining, my good mood is quickly traded for solemnity.

I look to the notes made on the paper.

I had crossed out six different forms of treatment and was now wearing thin on experimental options. Clinical trials were looking like the last option. The only ones listed had unfavourable results in children under seven.

'Care to play?'

I jump a little, look up to where Edward is beaming at me wildly.

'You always win,' I complain, referring to the travel game in his hands. He wiggles his hands on the top, makes a clacking sound.

'Go on?'

'It's a bit of a bad time,' I grimace, and I look pointedly to the raised fountain pen in my hands.

'It's meant to be your weekend off.'

And I'm meant to be studying, least of all trying to consider this… My eyes come to my watch, back to Edward's extremely wide grin, the colourless game in his hands and finally Bella.

'Give me an hour?'

'Ten minutes,' he negotiates.

'Forty minutes. A break included?'

He shakes his red hair.

'Thirty?' I attempt again. 'I need to make a phone call.'

'You always need to make a phone call,' he complains. I look at my watch again, he sighs. 'Fine, thirty minutes.'

The unfortunate signal means it takes me closer to twenty minutes just to connect the call. I wander on the edge of grass now, pacing idly as I wait to be connected and then at last, the Doctor in question. Doctor Reeba seems surprised to be getting a phone call on a Saturday.

'What did you say your name was?' he asks impatiently. We've been on the ring road for the last fifteen minutes now. Every time I suggest an exploration for the Gharbi child, he demands to know my credentials and his thick Boston accent doesn't ease over the line.

'Carlisle Cullen.' I repeat for the umpteenth time. 'Sir, the type of surgery suggested will only buy him a couple of years, whereas if we combine the surgery with Doctor Fingrasse's clinical trial-'

'He is under age.' It's a bad excuse and I can't quite get the reason for his stubbornness.

'Yes but with the addition of an intestinal transplantation-'

He sighs, fidgets. 'It's hard enough getting a donor for an adult, for a kid of his blood type-'

'Yes, I gather that-' A hand comes on my shoulder, the fabric indenting softly. When I swizzle, I'm surprised to find Es looking up at me. My pager is going off apparently. I nod and thank her, sufficiently bemused to have forgotten where I am.

She walks quickly away from me, eyes on her trainers.

'I gather that,' I say again, struggling to relocate my train of thought. 'But Fingrasse's results suggest that even in spite of his age-'

'Look, it can't be done. You know it can't be done-'

I knew it was a risk however not without merit.

'Buying the family even four months-'

'Have you even looked at the notes?' he hisses. 'Doctor Cullen, I have been in your position. I have been young and foolish and dreamed of the possibilities medicine can grant but at risk of the hospital, I'm not going to advise-'

He continues to chatter, voice shuddering weakly. Risk of the hospital?

'I won't discuss this over the phone.' He mutters.

Es is touching my shoulder again and not surprisingly, I jump forward several feet.

'Sir I- thank you, Es- Sir-'

I click the pager off for her. Alistair is hurtling abuse down my throat though again, with Es in my eyeline and my calculations on her, I'm not sure why.

'Don't thank me, I'm not promising you anything. Any of this. Did you even consider the risk to your career?'

'Doctor Reeba, the implication that I am threatening either careers at simply a proposal-Well, it's strikingly odd-'

'Have your people call my people,' he demands. 'And don't call this number again.'

I swipe the visible meeting of my brows, sigh lowly. Least I needed was to be upsetting applecarts.

'Difficult call?' she asks.

I hadn't realised she'd returned again. Perhaps her curiosity plagued her. I smile in gratitude and then worry that actually she is feeling nauseous again and look towards her trainers, the bend of one knee to the other.

The block starts to vibrate.

'I'm sorry. I've got to make yet another one …'

'Your brother's patience is wearing thin,' she teases, her eyebrow curved deliberately.

The lump in my throat thickens. It's been a while since she'd called him that. A while since I thought it, too. References to a happier time… If she still considered him a brother, then what did she consider me?

I nod guiltily, stroke my eyebrow again. Her hands come twiddling amongst themselves.

'Tough case, too?'

'Tough attitude,' I mutter, confusedly and forgetting myself and thinking only on Esme, the explanation falls easily from me. 'I don't really understand why. He acted as if I were offering backstreet services-'

'Are you?' she smiles, the curve lifting her cheek.

I feel my heart thump heavily, my eyes taking in the length of her dungarees. She's pinned her hair up now. The plaits clipped tightly against her head with her cheeks pink.

'No, not yet.'

'It sounds like you're getting told off…'

The pager buzzes in my hand again and she nods to it illustratively.

'I better call back,' I apologise.

I return Alistair's call first.

He's demanding to know what the fuck I've done. He calls me a pretentious twit and threatens to sue my ass if I step a foot into his office. I'd already had variations of this same threat though he'd admittedly not mentioned it in a while.

'You've rearranged two of my surgeries, Cullen. Two. What the fuck do you think you're playing at?'

'You asked me to check on the blood work for Mrs O'Callaghan.' I remind him cautiously. 'The wound is septic, the risk of scheduling a second operation is-'

'So you cancelled my surgery-'

'Sir, I emailed you regarding this. As for Rebecca Brown, she's decided to re-schedule.'

'You sack of shit- you fucking two-faced, lying shit- who the fuck gave you the authority-'

'Doctor Denali tried to contact you on this, too.' I murmur. 'You said yourself to rearrange at the hint of trouble and unfortunately she had to give the final say-'

'Septic?' he quotes now. 'The wound wasn't septic. That was a perfect case-'

'It's the abrasion under the popliteal fossa on her left side. She said she caught it on a school gate.'

He snorts loudly into the phone.

'You left emails?' he accuses, sceptically.

'I've left you voicemails, also.' I correct. 'As her lead surgeon, Denali doubted you'd have reason to disagree.'

'Conniving bitch, you tell her she wants to play games, she comes directly to me. Troglodyte cow-'

'You're still listed as the acting resident,' I sigh. 'The case isn't being taken off you, Sir. Just rescheduled.'

'You should've notified me the moment you had the bloodwork. The second-'

'I did.' I repeat. 'Nothing further needs to be done.'

'You better pray you get into a car accident before you return, Cullen. You do this again and I'll have you- '

'Yes Sir.'

I end the call to more expletives hanging down the line.

'Good news or bad news?' I warn into the next call. The noise of the hospital is coming through the now, just as I imagine the silence from my end is taunting him.

'If you're about to warn me about Alistair, Kate's already on it.' I hear the smile in his voice, if not the testing grumble. 'In fact, she had quite a few choice words for you.'

Uh oh.

'Tryna muscle in on my woman, Cullen?'

As far as I knew, he'd yet to score that date yet.

'The Good news-'

Another hand is on my arm, she spins me towards her, palms holding out her creative handwriting on padded paper.

Maddison called- wants urgent call back.

Voicemail- correct procedure, the right call. You did good.

The smiley face to the right, I presume, is her own endearing addition.

'The Good news, Cullen?'

'Whose the voicemail from?' I ask her curiously, covering the receiver with a hand. She shrugs with angled shoulders; no one she recognises.

'Oi, stop your sunbathing and answer me, the call is likely costing me a fortune.'

'I'm calling you.' I remind him, my eyes still longing cautiously on her retreating spine. Garrett huffs. I drag myself to the call. 'Anyway, I've spoken to Doctor Reeba-'

'You did? Holy heck, well done you.'

'Well, he's not impressed,' I explain carefully. 'He said he's willing to open discussions but quite heavy handily warned that the threat to his career wasn't one he favoured. Whatever that means.'

Garrett grows uncharacteristically quiet.

'He's asked the meeting to be set up, I'll send you the emails-'

'Yeah, that isn't going to be an option…'

'Are you looking at your computer?' I wander back towards the bench of faces. They're playing some kind of card game now. Betting with neon-coloured candy. I move around them, hunt for my tablet, various writing materials.

'It's a great idea,' he commends. 'Really intuitive Carlisle- risky,'

'I gathered the risk of not acting was worse than waiting,' I murmur, callously. He snorts back, agrees.

In the corner of my eye, Emmett rolls his eyes. I'm searching for the pen I had just a moment ago before Esme passes it to me. She'd appeared under my arm again, features composed in thought, though with her artist's hand held out towards me.

I see the black smudge of charcoal. It's on the inner edge of her thumb, tainting the lines of her palm like ribbon.

'The procedures ahead are far too expensive for any family-'

What was I saying?

'And while I can respect your optimism, the transplant list is just not going to be a reliable use of funds-'

Her perfume is a lot stronger in the warm weather. Sweeter almost. Though as delicious as always…

'W-which is why the charity clause-'

'Aha, that's not going to work either,' he sings.

'I really don't see,' I start to say, roughing my fringe back in stress.

The smallest of us slams a hand fiercely on the table. Es flinches so hard, she jumps several steps, away from Alice's fighting hands.

'No fair Edward, you're cheating!'

'Alice, you're cheating, you're looking at my cards.'

'You're looking at my cards-'

'You're either breaking up or have started a brood- the heck is going on where you are?'

'Nothing,' I dismiss, pulling the notepad free from Bella's elbow.

'Oops, sorry, Carlisle.'

'Yes, sorry Daddy!'

'Daddy?' Garrett repeats and I can visually see him pressing his lips together.

'Put the marijuana away, Daddy, it's so bad for you-' Rose joins in, shouting loudly towards the cell microphone with a giggle. I don't even attempt to shh her in case Emmett breaks my face.

'Pot?' Garrett asks incredulous, laughing obnoxiously. 'Didn't have you pinned as a rule-breaker Doctor C-?'

'You were saying it's not possible-' I repeat distractedly.

'Put some underwear on, Daddy-' Alice sings, glinting with a full toothy-smile.

Garrett chortles down the line. 'Oh how I wish your paparazzi could get a spin on this!'

'You said it wasn't possible,' I repeat again, blushing in light of the performance. Es is flapping paper at them. Swiping Edward on the nose before he gets chance to say his piece.

'Ah, yes. Well. Don't kick off but-'

'But what?' I ask tiredly.

'Yeah, the Kid's an asylum seeker. His parents have already been deported. They were planning to ship him home at the end of the month but he fell ill and-'

'Deported?' I repeat toughly. Edward lifts his ear in interest.

'Yes. Maddison suggested you might be testy on the subject. Parents don't speak a word of English. He's got a social worker except that-'

'Except all medical grounds are denied on the basis of his nationality?'

'Essentially, yes.'

'Why didn't you tell me that before? I've spent hours contacting people-'

'Well you said Doctor Reeba wanted to set us a meeting. Maybe he's got a suggestion?'

I put my fingers to my forehead again, try to slip away from the faces of curiosity lest I get sued for improper respect for patient confidentiality. My feet clamber towards the bracken, my hand tying the ends of my hair into my collar.

'If it's illegal, I can't get a foot involved. You know that.'

'Your lawyer is that Masen guy though, right? He's smart as balls-'

Edward lifts his head up smugly, snatches a card from Alice's hand.

'He's pretty inundated right now,' I mutter.

'It's just a meeting, Carlisle-'

'Yes and it's already been made pretty clear who this will fall on when the American federation come down on us-'

He interrupts me with a series of fierce, arrogant belly laughs.

'What?' I mutter, irrationally. 'What is it?'

'Have you checked your emails?'

'Limited internet,' I mutter. 'Why, what's happened now?'

'Looks like someone's eating their hat,' Garret chuckles ominously.

'What?' I repeat.

'Alistair's asked Maddison to run surgery with you. You know, that appendix one.'

'Huh?' I wander even farther away now… far from the curious ears towards the weaker edge of the clearing.

'Check your emails. I suppose you'll have a better version that mine. Claims you need more training. -'

A hand touches my shirt again, Es now points to my work phone buzzing violently in her grip.

'D'you want me to answer?'

'T-training?' I mutter, struggling to stay focused, nodding to Esme.

'That's how he's phrased it.' He commends, cheerily. 'That you're not as adept as he would have hoped, you'll be needing one-to-one tuition.'

'Surgery?' I repeat.

Despite Alistair's criticisms… to request what he was requesting…

'It's quite important,' Es whispers now. I can already hear Maddison skipping the compliments, asking to know what's up with me.

'Garrett- I'll have to call you back-'

'No, don't bother. I'm going to be too busy framing this as Alistair's greatest weakness.'

I barely end the call before Es is switching devices with me. I smile gratefully, worry about the poor battery life.

'Have you seen Alistair's email-'

'Hello,' I answer dizzily. 'No, Garrett mentioned it's not particularly flattering-'

'Not particularly flattering?' Maddison repeats. 'Son, you've only gone and broken the man. He's asked to schedule you in for a surgery.'

'You'll have to forgive the signal, it isn't great-' I excuse, clapping my hand to my ear and trying to focus again. 'Am I being reprimanded?'

Have I finally been fired? Is Masen about to hang me?

'Not by my standards, Carlisle, he's practically awarding you a gold star.'

I consider it's likely to appease his own guilt than reward my eye but I don't say it.

'He wants you back on Monday.'

'I'm returning on Monday,' I reply. I check my watch now. I've been on the phone for nearly two hours. Edward would be seething.

'No, he wants you back Monday Morning.'

'Sir,' I look round the forest edge, catch the hum of jokes I have already parted knowledge with. 'I'm in Canada.'

'I considered that but I also considered that you'd be aware of the offering at stake… and other various-'

'I-' I lower my tone. 'I really wish I could but I can't leave any earlier than Monday itself.'

'Can't you catch a flight? He wants you back-'

'The thing is, I'm driving us home-'

He sighs, fidgets. 'Carlisle don't make me say what you already know. These opportunities don't keep coming around. If you miss this-'

'When is the surgery?'

'You need to be here for prep by six thirty. He won't go easy on you, Carlisle. And he won't hesitate to make an example of you-'

'Well, do I have any time to negotiate? People are relying on me…'

More importantly, I couldn't say for sure I'd be prepared for anything he might throw. God forbid he had me slicing skin, I might be as far off from the experience as the F1s.

'I'm sorry, Son.' He sighs, grumbles in fact. 'Just call me back when you've decided.'

When the call ends, I am facing another line of trees leading back into a deeper undergrowth. The low battery sign beeps several times but I continue to play deaf and stay watching the sway of the branches above me. It's still light out. Cooler.

I press the palm of my hand with a unyielding thumb.

The rustle of twigs makes me jump though rather than look over and show the guilt of my face, I look to my shoes. I suppose I at least had my excuse to leave. I sigh darkly.

'Did you hear?' I entreat, trusting she is behind me.

She nods, scowls in thought.

'When would you like to leave?'

'You're under no obligation to follow…' I say weakly.

'Are we leaving tonight?'

I shake my head, ignore the offer.

'I shouldn't have to leave till Sunday.'

'Are you excited?' she asks. I automatically nod though my face does not reveal as such.

'Scared?' She presumes, lightly. She is several steps away though it feels like she mutters this on my collar. I stay looking towards the forest.

'Yes,' I answer. 'I doubt I'll be wielding the scalpel but nevertheless…'

'It really is an honour, Carlisle.'

I'm grateful she is reminding me as I doubt I would otherwise know. I nod again, slowly, breathe as if sleeping.

'If I-,' I stop, cast my eyes over my shoulder. She was giggly yesterday, warm, expressive, confused maybe. Tipsy? Sick. Again. It's not just exhaustion on her features anymore, it's thought.

'Yeah?'

She leans slightly, in a meadow of flowers with her bent knee, her hands wringing.

'If I had killed someone…. would you still be with me?' The words are quiet. Enclosed. Opposing ehr own fallen gasp. 'W-would you still live with me, I mean.'

'Sweet- no one is going to die, don't think like that. Not… not surgery nor that little boy…'

Inhaling through my lungs, I taste the trials of spring. Flowers and perfumes. Sweet.

Her kindness still stung.

'You didn't answer my question.'

'Because it would depend on who you killed. And in what context.'

I nod once more, chew a little on my tongue.

'Edward is still hoping you'll play with him…' She presses her lips together, looks towards the sky and back again. 'You don't have much of your weekend left now so you might as well use it…'

'I should study,' I murmur.

'Maybe we can help you?'

Gratefully, I smile. Instead I prepare myself to let them down. Though I predict after my toing and froing, they would've eaves-dropped on the call to know what I'm about to say, it doesn't make it any easier.

'Congratulations,' Edward smiles. He's folded his arms across his chest, looking pointedly at the travel game of chess. I press my palm again.

'Thank you, Edward.'

'Well done, Carlisle,' Alice kisses my cheek, Jasper congratulates me, too.

'It means leaving earlier, unfortunately. You guys should obviously stay-'

'You're not driving back on your own,' Es mutters. I frown. Given Id driven up here alone, I didn't completely understand the concern.

'I'll come home, too.' Edward nods. 'If you're offering a lift?'

'You needn't do this,' I assure them. 'Really, you guys should stay, enjoy Rose's weekend…'

'We'll come back with you,' Rose says quietly. 'Not much else to do, is there?' She puts her hand on Emmett's neck, squeezes.

Rightfully they don't wish to talk to me much having now ruined their vacation. For the second time.

I grant Edward his requested chess game though I'm not paying enough attention and he floors me. He chances a second time as I'm drafting notes and while I hold myself better this round, he still manages to better the best from a magnetised board.

'You're doing terrible, Old Man.'

I nod in agreement.

At least he could defend himself on the fact that Bella seemed intrigued by the movements. I almost invite her to take my role, except she voices the request herself.

'Would you mind if I joined you?' She asks, looking eagerly my way. I shuffle myself along the bench gesture for her to take my place. 'I'll be your partner if you'd like?'

Edward's grin expands.

He resets the board, puts the white to me. I always tended to play defensively and I suspect Bella likely to play the same the stratagem. I push out a pawn, Edward meets it. I take a few moments to re-write potential dosages.

The clink of the token meeting the magnetised square leads me to look up. Bella has added a friend to our side. On the adjacent, Edward pushes out a secondary pawn. He plays reservedly till Bella drops us in it. I try a few times to narrowly save our queen…

But he predicts such moves and calls the game.

Tired from the day's admin work, tired too from studying for so long, I take a lesser approach with the next round. She plays offensively this time, follows a few of my suggestions but again, it doesn't get us very far…

Then Edward gets cocky.

As predicted, he gathers I'm not paying enough attention to the knight this time, comes to mark it with a rook.

Knight takes his square and I drop the token in Bella's hand.

Edward raises an eyebrow, returns to the board, sucking his cheeks in. He tries another performative dance and she very nearly falls for it. I pause her hand, wait till the Kid starts to squirm.

She goes to move her Castle again.

I gently touch her wrist.

His jaw hardens.

She's trying to visualise a path I haven't laid out. I'm not planning to lay it out. I'm planning for Edward to accidentally reveal himself as he crosses the several paths in confusion.

She pushes out a knight. I'd been following the same route.

'You look like you're hesitating,' Esme whispers, patting him carefully on the shoulders. He chuckles in her hands, nods.

'Would you like to join, too?'

She presses her lips together. 'I don't think I'll be much use; I'm not very well versed at this game.'

Edward laughs again, looking between the frown of me and his girlfriend as he unveils this new wonderplot.

'That's okay, all you need to do is distract, Carlisle.'

I smile to myself, continue with my hand writing.

'Oh I don't know. I suspect he's much too distracted to witness me try.'

'Not at all,' I reassure. 'Would you like to swap sides?'

While offended at neutralising a game she planned on winning, Bella doesn't fight the reset of pieces. Though she does pout. Edward shakes his head, points a line for Es to follow. She pushes out the black pawn, decoratively.

'White starts,' Edward corrects.

'You could've told me that first.'

I chuckle, push our pawn to theirs so that they're on opposite squares, touching by the rounded edge of the mount. He murmurs something in her hair and when Bella obliges them, Esme pushes another figure out.

'Like so?' she asks.

'Yep.'

Hm.

I grant myself a rare consideration of her expression. She has her arms folded by the board, looking beneath her nose at the figurines, lingering particularly on the castle. Either Edward had said something or she'd chosen a favourite. Either way, her teeth push delicately into the bow of her lip, jaw tilted with her eyelashes pressing again her lid.

She hums to herself and I don't think to warn Bella that her move is a bad one. Edward's grin broadens.

He puts a knight forward. Bella sees her error, comes to pick on a pawn instead. While she works on the subplot then, I puzzle over the centre piece, rubbing the ends of my hair into my collar before trying to untie one particular knot between two pawns, a castle and a knight.

I nearly get there.

Except Es, goaded by Edward, matches my move with the Queen.

I sigh.

'Your distractions are beating you, Carlisle.'

'Hmm.'

He resets the board again. We move. They move. Bella moves. Edward. Bella. Edward. Bella. Es snags our baited bishop. I brush the breath down my chest. Seek my revenge.

'That's not fair,' Edward whines. 'That piece was way out the firing line.'

'You left it un-guarded.'

'You Bastard.'

I do laugh now. He's just thrown his toys are the pram, attacked one of our unarmed guards, leaving his Queen vulnerable.

'Edward-' Es gasps. I fight the pout of a cocky win.

'Fuck.'

Bella cheers, pokes her tongue out at the Kid. 'At last-'

'That was foul play,' Edward mutters. 'You were forcing me into an attack.'

I could relax now his winning streak was slaughtered.

'It's no good when you don't play properly,' he complains. 'You just force an end.'

'I don't have the time to play properly,' I admit guiltily. 'I'm sorry.'

He snorts.

If I did have the hours to spare, he would likely end up losing his temper anyway. Nevertheless, it had been a while since we had the day to sit and ponder the futures of regrettable moves. We'd gotten to the point of trying to play theoretically. Though a few of those moves had been ill-remembered by the time we came to pick them up again.

'How about a quicker game, then?' Esme asks, looking around us. 'Snap for example?'

My hand at cards was not much to be admired.

'Nah, I'd rather play with honest sportsmen.'

I roll my eyes as he detangles himself to move towards Jasper and Emmett. I don't know what they had been playing but they seemed to be wrestling now. Alice badly judging with her headphones in and her foot bouncing.

'Bella?' Es asks warmly. Bella shakes her head, follows Edward's lead as she says something about Sore Losers. Though she's wrapping a hand around his outstretched wrist.

They abandon her within my presence. They leave her knowing I'm an unsociable shit at the moment. I finish the last line of my notes as she watches. Cross the I's, dot the T's and when she pulls herself away from the table bench, I murmur as though we are new to each other.

'Es, I would play with you -'

'I could help you study?' She offers.

I don't think about what she's offering at first, automatically come to shake my head a little but she's already pulled my tablet towards her.

'Tear yourself a new sheet of paper,' she tells me and looking at my prep-work, or rather my pre-prep work for the prep work. I do as requested and find a clean page.

'Here's a good one.' She frowns as she read across the screen, her round eyes squinting to slighter movements, the end of her hair wisping. 'So I have scheduled an appointment due to what I am calling tennis elbow.'

I have to fight the smile.

Too often she had heard the stories of what patients liked to predict they were suffering with versus what they are actually suffering with.

'Male or female?'

'Unimportant,' she sighs. 'But female.'

More riddles and puzzles to uncover with her. The Medical Student's version of Guess Who… except useful… and appreciated. Even when she had little reason to like me much, she was still kind enough to help.

How could I possibly have deserved that?

'Age?' I ask.

'Let's say eighty-four.'

'Background?'

'Urm, I don't know… I don't think it affects any ethnic group more than another…'she taps of the screen, makes a face. 'Okay, well let's say I'm from Asian decent…'

I push my lips together, take a moment to appreciate the sweetness of her misunderstanding. She seems non-plussed. Her fingers come together, twiddling.

'And er… background to the injury itself?' I ask softly.

'Oh.' She realises, flushing significantly. 'I was um, playing sports when I noticed a pain in my hand. My fingers too. Since then it's stiff and swollen.'

'Achy?'

'A little achy.'

'And you're telling the truth about the swelling?' I ask.

She smirks, nods.

'Anywhere else?'

'My knee isn't great,' she says, looking at the screen again.

'Any relevant family history?' I ask, doodling on the edge of my page. I avoid looking at her now. Just in case she smiles and I forget what I'm doing. Just in case she doesn't and I remember…

'Well, I'm eighty-four,' she reminds me. 'So I'm bound to be telling everything and everyone about my six grandchildren, my four children, my husband, my husband's brother and God knows' what I had for lunch last Thursday.'

Her artist's hands push into either of her arms again, clasp with a palpitating grip, squeeze the sleeves of her shirt. Even when she was joking, I missed her.

She'd kissed me yesterday. She'd drunkenly put her lips to mine.

I couldn't even remember it. Every time I thought of it, pain penetrated my memory like a headache.

'What did you have for lunch on Thursday?' I ask, playfully.

'Um, cake?' She looks about herself and smiles again. 'Let's say I have all my teeth and I had chicken pot pie and then cake for dessert?'

'For lunch?' I reminder her, questionably.

'If I'm eighty-four, my bedtime is like seven pm.'

'Noted,' I chuckle softly. 'What sport was it? Can you remember?'

She snorts, leaning back slightly till the afternoon shines on her hair. It's looking even more rich now, thicker too. If her braids left her in tight kinks earlier this month, I was sure that these ones would leave gentle waves in its wake.

'Badminton.'

If I felt it would impress her, I'd ask her which sportsman she was modelling herself after.

'So you're over eighty, let's say your diet is questionable considering you mentioned cake twice-.' She giggles delightfully, letting the sound ricochet to my chest. I continue, 'you play badminton but you have an ache in your knee and wrist. Correct?'

'Correct.'

'When did the pain start, immediately or overtime?'

'The latter,' she says, watching me write.

'So, considering you say the wrist and knee is swollen,I suspect if I do a series of tests I'll discover the swelling is a fault of joint fluid...yeah?'

I may be losing her on the technical basis but she sways as if to agree with my theory. I stare at her pout for far too long and have to take a second to reconsider what I'm doing.

'So I would need to assess whether the joint fluid is infection based or-'

'Not infection based,' she answers.

There were numerous benefits to her five-year long dedication to witnessing me study. This, despite its generosity, barely scraped the surface of all the good within her.

'Blood tests would give me indication of some arthritis, I presume-'

She smiles, tiredly.

'Are imaging tests necessary?' I ask gently. She's already suspected that I found the answer. I believe I'm right anyway and once she shakes her head, I sigh.

'I think you've likely got some form of arthritis depending how far in advance we've got it. Tests will only rule that out. Treatment will be ongoing anti-inflammatories, maybe therapy… Surgery at worst.'

She breathes softly to herself, pauses a chuckle, settles for a smile.

'Another?' she offers.

I should say no. I should let her enjoy her weekend. Let her be with the people who could make her laugh, put her in a good mood.

'Sure.'

This one takes her longer to find and she makes a couple of notes along the way.

'How difficult should I make it?' She asks quietly. I shrug, let her decide. 'Okay, I have a migraine.'

I wince. This was going to be difficult.

'Age?'

'Mid-thirties,' she answers. 'Female, no particular interesting background.'

'Did the migraines start recently or long time coming?'

'They started a month or two ago.'

'How regular?' I ask now, noting her tight-lipped nature on this matter.

The questions don't seem to wish to engage her talkative side. I was missing the faux-geriatric personality. It meant she had to joke about children, an image I loved to picture her with. And food. And general entertainments.

'Every month,' she answers putting her hands together now.

'You're not…'

'Not what?' she asks.

'Not pregnant are you?'

'That's always your go-to,' she complains. 'Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm with child!'

I smile lightly, make a note on the right side of my notepad about the few other causes I could think for migraines.

'I apologise M'am.' She smiles again, sighs. 'But if I don't check-'

'Fine,' she concedes. 'We do a test, I'm not pregnant.'

I think about the implication for a moment. About asking if the submission to do a test means she's at least sexually active and if hormones could be a factor… But the fear of saying this out loud, not only where I can be heard, but where it'll sound pointed…

It'll sound like I'm demanding to know from her and not… the scenario…

'Dehydrated?' I ask.

'Nope.'

'Taking any medication?'

She pauses, parts her lips, closes them again.

'Yes.'

'Any new medications?' I ask.

She smiles, nods. 'Let's say Brevinor.'

'What's the reason you started taking it?'

'Er, cycle regulation.'

I smile. 'So it's likely a side effect… ' I muse mostly to myself. 'Stiffness of the neck? Abrupt headaches? Seizures?'

She shakes her head again, looks briefly to the screen.

'I would say let's swap to something fitting for the hormones, maybe run some blood tests and assess in time…'

'Okay,' she agrees sceptically. 'So I come back, no change.'

Hmm. I let the end of my pen beat on the notepad in thought.

She'd been looking at me yesterday. She'd looked at me during chess but now she seemed to prefer to cast her eyesight on the wildlife about her, turning the flush of her cheek, her shoulders moving in deep rises. My focus comes to the pulse at her neck. The long line from jaw to the break of her shirt, remembering what it had once been like to put my forehead there. My lips.

How quickly someone's hand had come to grip it.

'Environment?' I ask cringing. 'Changes to routine… No head injuries, right?'

'Right.'

'But If I run a CT scan?'

She nods. I feel my stomach drop to my feet,

'If I run this CT… am I going to find something significant?'

She waits a moment and nods. I breathe slowly. Even metaphorically- . Well regardless if it was a metaphor. I'd still sent a patient away. Even this storyboard, I'd effectively condemned them.

'I sent you away,' I whisper.

'Don't think of that yet.' She reassures. 'You still need to consider your treatment options.'

'Vision?' I ask but my voice is already harder now. Already stung with the failure.

'Double vision. Now starting to develop stiffness in the neck.'

'Seizures?' I ask again. 'Any fits?'

She shakes her head.

'Still likely either an aneurysm or a brain bleed. But-'

'Go on,' she encourages.

'But given my delay I'd likely be looking at either surgery or end of life care-.'

She goes to say something, parts her lips but I'm already collecting my papers together in humiliation. Crushingly obvious… and I sent her away.

'Please don't beat yourself up- it was meant to be a difficult one-'

'Thank you, Esme. It was kind of you to go through it with me.'

Witnessing I'm standing up , she comes to do the same, almost reaching out a hand toward me with little more than an apologetic smile I settle myself in the tent to mull over my fatalities.

If I couldn't even assist a hypothetical person- I didn't know how was she meant to trust I had any hope of helping her…

Consequently, I don't even say goodnight that evening. Just lay hidden in the tent and pretend to sleep.

A number of them are less than impressed with me the next Morning. Alice namely feels the need to ask what I am continuing to PMS about and apologising only seems to piss her off more. I catch Es trying to excuse the foul behaviour. She tries to explain the depth of Monday's procedure though when I catch her doing it, she drops interest and likewise finds it difficult to return my shaded greetings.

I study that Morning, too. I've been awake longer than them. Back to the age old worries of work, of behaving, of doing what's right, thinking what's right, shutting my mouth and closing any other thought unrelated to surgery

Emmett wishes to play tag football before we leave. The weather is fine, if not dewy from last night's showers, the drive will be a long one and given my neurotic panic for silence some twelve hours ago, I gather this is the least I can submit to.

They pit Rose, Bella, Jasper and I on one team. Given the foot, or the ankles, Esme is encouraged to umpire again and though she seems disappointed at first, she's been quiet enough today that I suppose she won't say otherwise.

Rather, she hangs on the side-lines.

The team sports are more enjoyable than the drinking games. Jasper is strategic enough, and Rose competitive enough that we make the lead fairly quickly. Even if Bella seems terrified. She gets tackled enough times to be terrified but somehow saves her flag in the last second. Edward and I have battered a few times. If I've escaped him with wit, he's soon caught up with speed and fearing our win, we have to arrange strategies a third time.

The weekend frivolities are wearing on me. My bad night's sleep, my own irrational foul mood, worries for tomorrow and when Emmett comes charging towards me, I don't even register. Neither does he slow.

I'd been listing tomorrow's objections when the towering inferno he is, knocks me breathlessly into a slick pool of mud. I fold like a deck of cards, tumble into the dirt as people yell expletives.

'That was a dirty foul!' Jasper chants with a glare. My knees slip in potion, drag me cluttering to the floor again.

My head is starting to ricochet, iron struck on iron. Pain flaring from what I suspect is my mouth. I wipe my wet lips with a muddied hand, spot the growth of red. Spit. More red.

In fact-

'Carlisle!'

I try pathetically to stand up again though my legs can't take the weight and I'm left huffing in soil soup.

'Are you okay-' Em worries, hand held out to me.

'Fuck off, Emmett.' Alice, I think that was.

'Jesus Christ, Carlisle-'

Es muscles through the circle of them, helps to pull me up. She holds my face still, in the same way I'd done for her a thousand times, tilting her concern back and forth, trying to assess my reaction to the light.

I try to shrug her away with difficulty.

'You're bleeding,' She answers. I press the back of my hand to my lip again, spit a bauble of blood. Jasper and Bella back away.

'I didn't mean to get you hurt-'

'I know, Emmett,' I assure, putting grazed hands to my mouth and pressing.

'I thought you had the ball-'

I most definitely did not have the ball. I cough another round of blood free, shudder a little. Es pulls my face down again.

'Are you in pain?'

'I'm fine,' I mutter. Edward comes to help me up now so that I wobble. I groan as my tongue fishes against the source of metallic in my mouth. 'I think my tooth is loose.'

I look to Edward, drag my chin up from Esme's tight hands.

'I'm fine,' I repeat, dizzily. 'Let me stand.'

'Carlisle,' she murmurs, 'You're-'

'Please- let me stand.'

Edward drops his shoulder from arm, looks down the length of my clothes.

'Does anything else hurt?'

'No,' I mutter. 'Look, I'm okay. I'm going to wash myself off it the water-'

Es shakes her head, toughly. 'No, that's it, I'm calling it.'

'Calling what?'

'We're going home.'

'Es,' Emmett whines. 'It was an accident… Just an accident. Carlisle, look, I'm sorry-'

'I'm fine, Esme,' I say, swallowing another mouthful, touching my tooth carefully. The ache is seeping in now. Not just the ache but the sensitivity too. It's almost making me blind in one eye.

'That's it.' She repeats, hand slicing the air. 'Look, we said we'd leave this afternoon anyway. It's afternoon. You've had your game and now It's done.'

'Fine,' I concede.

Emmett braces both arms against his chest.

Edward offers to come with me down the water but the humiliation is enough that knowing I intend to strip; I fight to do so alone. I take the lounge wear I had worn Friday evening, ignoring the tense reprimands from Es to Emmett, brush the mud from my sneakers and head down to the creek, pulling the clothes carefully from me.

The water is warmer than it was Friday night though I still shudder when I make my way under. I wash the shirt first, scrub the mud off my arms, out from my hair before fighting with the shorts I'd been wearing. I do as I did on Friday, wring them through, splash them in the water, wring them again.

The reflection in the water is angled awkwardly meaning as I stare at myself, the colour in murky reflections, I almost forget it's not a mirror replica. The disarray between torso and legs felt accurate enough.

I pat my stomach, the yellowing bruises, the fine hair by my navel. I look down at myself again, dissatisfied, adjust the foreskin over the head of myself awkwardly.

There's an audible gasp behind me.

Esme is standing there, wide eyed with a towel in her hands. I don't know how long she's been standing there, nor why I didn't notice sooner though panicked, I drop myself from my hand, move towards her.

'Es-'

Shit.

'Esme-'

Fuck.

I kick up the water as I move out of it. But she puts her hand to her widened jaw, nervously exhales as though in pain and runs towards the direction of the populace.

'Fuck,' I repeat aloud.

I find the towel she dropped to a fallen tree stump and make a bad attempt to rush the droplets from my skin. I re-dress speedily, tugging a shoe on as I run after her. She doesn't run back towards the camp. I have to break far to the end of the park towards the parking lot. As suspected, she's here packing my car with the gear.

I sigh breathily.

'Es?'

She flinches, packs the car more hurriedly.

'Esme?'

She takes my clothes from me, lays it on the parcel shelf as she continues to pack things away, tilting her jaw to the floor and staring at anything that isn't me.

'It wasn't what it looked like-'

'I don't know what it looked like,' she interrupts . Her cheeks are red now, her wide green eyes fighting to stare entirely at the boot. In truth, I can't much meet her gaze either.

'I swear to you, I wasn't-'

'It's none of my business what you do, Carlisle. Or where you do it-'

'But-'

She raises her hands as if to cover her ears but pauses at her shoulders, swiping them as if to cut me short.

'I'd rather not talk about it. I didn't see anything. You weren't doing anything-'

'I wasn't,' I plead spinelessly. 'Esme you've got to believe me; I wouldn't do that.'

Not anymore at least. If association wasn't bad enough, the downtown meeting had soiled what pleasure I might have grafted myself. It sickened me. To want it sickened me. To desire her sickened me.

I sickened with me.

She looks hard at me, her lips plump, parted, bitten. She's breathing hard through her chest now, colouring significantly. I can't even meet her eye.

'How's your tooth-.'

'It's fine,' I mutter shortly. 'All of it-'

'Yeah, thanks for the help.'

I jump to the call of Alice. She's tugging bags after her tiny stature, lugging them towards me as though aiming for my head. Hand in my hair and having the water drip down my face, I take them from her, pack them likewise.

'Jazz wants to stop for dinner on the way. You guys, game?'

Esme moves away from me now, eyes cast down. Her focus on her shoes.

The traffic crossing the border to Seattle is nightmarish. It's stop-start for longer than the journey took on Friday and while Bella and Edward are in the back of the car, trying frightfully hard to keep the mood up, my energy is wearing thin and Es looks as lost as anything.

She keeps pressing her hand to her mouth, winding down the window till the air is plastered on her pale face and the breaths are slowing into silent groans.

'Are you okay?' I mumble quietly. It's the eighth time I've asked in twenty minutes. Her answer hasn't changed thus far. She nods, too quickly to be telling the truth and then wraps her arms around her waist and shakes her head.

'Es?'

'Pull over-' she moans.

'Pull over now or pull over at the next stop?' I ask.

'Now,' she gasps. 'Now, now. Stop the car.'

I pull quickly up to the layby on the right, help her out to the side of the road. She slinks dramatically onto a patch of grass, hiding her head beneath a curtain of hair, gasping to her knees.

Bella is on the phone to Alice. She's telling them that we've got no chance in hell of eating and, with the small hand on the seven, they can't see us making it back in time for dinner.

'Would it help if you drove?' I ask, coming now to settle at her side on the path. The smell of mint is tickling my nose, the various packs of gum bustling from her tongue, bottled water pressed to her temples.

'No.'

'What do you want to do? Do you want us to get a hotel?'

She burps, gags, holds herself still.

'No.'

'Esme,' I murmur. 'Hon, you're exhausted.'

'We're not missing your surgery.'

I was having very little hope of even making it home for surgery.

'Traffic might ease in the morning?'

'No,' she's drools deliberately, breathes deeply.

'We can't camp here all night,' Edward mutters and though he'd been high since declaring himself relationship material, this apparent test to his patience is more than he is willing to forgive.

'Traffic is not getting any better,' Bella adds. 'I really am sorry you're sick Esme… maybe trying to sleep it off will help?'

'I've tried to sleep it off,' she complains. 'Every time that vehicle moves, so does my insides-'

I check my watch again, count as Edward paces the back of the car. He's shaking his head as though guilty for some bitter thought in his brain.

'Don't say it,' I beg him.

'Carlisle, if we don't get back on the road now, you're not going to make it back in time.'

I sigh deeply, rub my eyes.

'I can't have her feeling unwell-'

She moans lightly at the reference.

'Can't we crack a couple of Pepto Bismal? Dose you up and we'll drive?'

He'd been itching to switch seats with me ever since we hit the start of rush-hour. I'd favoured the car too much then to risk the damage. Now in the running between car and surgery, it looked like surgery was taking the lead.

I'd miss my car.

'I don't feel comfortable having you drive,' I tell him truthfully. He grunts at me. 'Edward, you take too many chances. You're tired yourself, irritable and the last thing we need is you racing when she's- Esme is trying not to hurl in the backseat.'

'Listen to the traffic alerts, Carlisle!' He reaches into the open window of the passenger door to flick the radio on. We wait a few moments and sure enough, the hosts give in. Standstill due to a three-car incident of the I5-S. They don't suspect to have it moving till this evening.

My eyes hit the clock again.

Behind me, Esme groans.

'Pop a couple of sleeping pills and have done with it. I swear to you I won't harm the car-'

'It's not just the car,' I mutter.

'Bella will be in the passenger seat.'

'And if you get tired?' I ask. 'If you have an accident, Officer Swan isn't going to sending you to some detention centre, Edward.'

Nor will he be simply wrapping his hands around his throat should his only daughter suffer as little as a scratch on route home. He holds his hands up.

'I swear to you. I won't take any risk. Not one. I'll drive as if you're watching.'

'It's not the car,' I whine again.

'Fine, if she vomits and it's my fault, I'll pay to have to car cleaned-'

'Listen to me, Kid. If she's sick, that's it. I can't get cleared for surgery. The only reason I'm within a fighting chance is because no one else seems to be ill yet but if this turns out to be a bug and I didn't take the right precautions, that's it. Patient dead.'

'You're over-reacting,' he whines.

'Yes, hopefully.'

'Just trust me, okay. It'll be fine.'

'If you so much so put her in the wrong gear, you're screwed, Masen.'

When he thinks I'm not looking, he turns to Bella and mimics me. She giggles brightly, biting her lip.

'We've got a plan,' I murmur to Es. She's on her side, cheek to pavement breathing deeply enough that cars have started to slow and stare.

'No thanks, I'm fine here.'

'I can't leave you,' I remind her. 'Rose already passed us on the freeway and frankly… I doubt her driving will make you feel much better.

'Then forget me.'

My fingertips come to the back of her scalp, scratching and detangling the roots. She's sweating again, flushed though she doesn't seem to have a fever. The worst I could hope for was food poisoning, the best is a new aversion to moving vehicles.

'I'm going to go the garage across the street.' I point it out though she's not looking. 'I'm going to pray their drug counter is open, if so, I'm going to buy a packet of sleeping pills.'

She groans, shakes her head.

'Not after last time.'

I don't know when she'd last taken them but shake the thought off.

'What else can I get you? Ice? Water?'

'An energy drink?'

'Not one of those,' I murmur, 'it's not a good idea to drink caffeine if you're trying to sleep.'

'Trying to put me to seep you mean.'

Guiltily, I nod. She apparently wasn't expecting me to be honest. Luckily, they do have the pills I want and the strength needed. I take two before I even return to the car and now, buckled in to the back, I pass the box to her.

'Edward if your foot even goes near that accelerator-'

'I know, I know,' he mutters to her.

I pass them their requested snacks, pull clothing from the boot, blankets and bundle Esme up as though she is small. She doesn't see the funny side. She doesn't need to. Once warm with a cold bottle held to her head, her eyes slip shut and she's apparently snoozing before Edward's even pulls into the road.

Sleep catches up with me within the hour. Slipping beneath the seatbelt, I stretch left leg to the back of Bella's chair and feel the shift of a weight push familiarly into my chest, dreaming of summer...

The next thing I'm aware of is the knock of knuckles banging on glass.

I'm too warm to wake and then quite literally trapped beneath something. At first, that suits me fine because I am groggy, my head buzzing exhaustively. Then the tapping again. Groaning, I try to pull myself up to find a tumble of frizzy waves in my mouth, legs entangled in legs, my stomach crushed uncomfortably with my head bent awkwardly.

Knocking.

My eyes flutter open to the car around us.

Vaulting, I catch someone pushed against the window. White hair, white beard.

Shit.

Maddison is showing his watch, a glare in his expression as he stomps towards the building. I lift myself up, blink through the sleep in my eyes, tilt my wrist.

Five fifty. I'm going to get slaughtered.

'Es?'

She doesn't acknowledge the change in seating, breathes slowly through her agape mouth, a hand curled on my ribs.

I felt as impertinent as if we were crushed together in the nude and appropriately warm, tingling on the edges of my hair. I fight the urge to touch her, lift my arms away as if preparing for a surrender.

She's difficultly beautiful.

'Esme?' I repeat, my voice still thick so.

The more minutes that come to wake me, the more I start to grow irate. Namely, questioning what the fuck was Edward thinking and secondly, what apt kind of grovelling is going to save my hide.

'Es?' It comes out in a purr this time so I clear my throat and try again to shuffle from her. She stirs indelicately. Pressing her forehead down, squeezing the fabric of my t-shirt.

My heart has started to tick uncomfortably.

I don't her to move. In fact, I want to slip my eyes closed, drop my fingers to her spine, sleep some more. But I have ten minutes to shower, locate scrubs and at the dance of my folding stomach, I can't wait any longer.

She groans, the sound turning clogs in my being and slowly her eyes flit open.

There's a pause. Then violently she throws herself back from me, against the curve of the window and the leather seat. She squints, holding a hand to her head dizzily.

'Where are we?'

It comes in a jumble of sounds and I have to rearrange them a few times to gather the meaning.

'At the hospital,' I murmur, flicking my wrist inwards and catching the hands of my watch.

'What are we doing here?' She yawns, rubbing her eyes and shuddering in her makeshift blanket.

'Edward,' I swear menacingly. Stupid, insane, foolish teenage brain. My eyes catch my watch. 'I'm sorry, I don't have time to drive you back…'

'S'fine, I'll walk.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' It comes out a little short, perhaps because I'm distractedly hissing. 'Just take the keys-.'

My eyes hunt around, struggling to adjust before I find them in the foot-well as if left there overnight.

'You seem stressed…' she mutters, frowning.

I nod. 'I'm sorry, I've got to go. But text me once you're home so I know you didn't crash at the wheel.'

She grimaces.

So I apologise again and try to pull myself and a bag of mine through the car before realising it's locked. I press the button in her hand, not thinking of the frown on her features and fumbling, run towards the staff entrance.

Maddison is waiting for me by the showers.

'So help me God, you better have a good explanation-'

I let the water run cold, have it wake me up this early morning until I can feel the cooler temperatures behind my eyes. I scrub up into my hair, across my shoulder blades, massage the back of my neck as I consider just how peacefully she'd been sleeping on me…

I spit the water from my throat, dry and dress in scrubs before hurriedly brushing my teeth.

'Is this some sort of joke to you, Boy?'

I shake my head, wince when I catch the loose tooth and spit blood.

'Traffic was bad,' I mumble.

'So you decided to sleep in a car?!'

Decided was far from it.

'In the parking lot?!' he adds, screeching to new heights. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at? You know the media are on you at the moment-'

'Yes, Sir.'

'I can't believe you.' He puts his head in his hands, growls. 'I just can't believe how insanely irresponsible you were.'

Doing what's right to look offended, I lower my eyes, nod.

'Is something up with you? Are we putting too much on you?'

I shake my head. 'No, no nothing like that-'

'So get your act together!'

My hand come to shuffle my wet hair back, nodding.

'And meet us downstairs in five.'

Alistair is less chipper than all of the days I have known him thus far. Likely due to the embarrassment of me having corrected his mistakes. Though oddly he has procured me coffee and places it to my side as he demands to know the procedure. He has me doing all the prep work, the conversations, the discussions with the anesthetist.

I'm not allowed to run the show so he employs me a his lap-dog.

The patient herself is non-fussed.

Mostly, she talks to me about her kids. She has four of them. The last, the baby, she continues to refer to as her 'happy accident'. Her husband comes in a little after noon, he brings half the brood with him, sits on the bed and complains about me looking so damn young.

The children are hanging around my feet while I try to check her chart and with one brown-eyed, brown-hair, freckled little boy pulling on the ankle of my scrubs, smiling at me with tiny flints of teeth hanging in his gums. I stop what I'm doing to lift him out the way.

Handing the kid my examination pen, I explain the banality of the recovery time to Mr Perez. He's huffing a little. Fighting with the limbs of children too young to be in school as he bemoans the rest rather than the operation.

'Do I look equipped to deal with this?' he mutters, restraining the waring tears of their feliz accidente. I rearrange my expression, shine the light in the toddler's mouth and shockingly gasp.

'My, my what big teeth you have!' I commend the lad, trying to envision how Esme would sound at the nursery, her hands likely resting on her hips. Pulling my stance up, I tilt my jaw, fall into an act of excitement.

He smiles, drool slipping as he opens his mouth wider in show.

'I can see… one, two… three…' I count the rest quickly, ignoring the ones resting on the surface of his gums. 'Look at that! Thir-teen teeth.'

He giggles snorts, gnashes them together. I jump again, place an index finger to my chin and hum suspiciously.

'With that many teeth how can I be sure you're not a crocodile?'

'M not a crocodile' He shrieks joyfully, rolling into his mother.

'Doctor Cullen-'

I look guiltily to Alistair in the doorway. He's glaring at the children like vermin. Now I crouch to the freckles.

'If you're not a crocodile, maybe you're a wolf?!'

'I'm a boy,' he laughs, cheeks red and rosy.

'Cullen,' Alistair barks.

I gasp again, excessively and pretend to run out the room in fear. The family murmur their chuckles.

'Finished?' he growls.

'Sorry.'

'If you want to be paediatrician, fuck off to Daycare- if you want-'

'Alistair, it's likely a strange environment for them and-'

'Expert, are you?'

I rearrange my jaw difficultly, shake my head.

'Far from it.'

'Just stop molesting children. Sick fuck.'

He throws a file at me before he walks off, heads down the corridor with his sneakers echoing. I have to swallow the venom; consciously unbuckle my jaw should the pain of a loose tooth leave me dizzy. Asshole. What a place to throw around the accusation too.

We don't engage in any further forms of communication until necessary which takes me to later in the day. I'm starting to feel nervous now, worse since Alistair is surprisingly... cleansed. He ties a cap around his head, scrubs his arms to his elbows.

'Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

I take one last look at the faces through the glass, the numerous staff dressed in variations of blue and green. A few have wished me well, wished me luck like I am standing under the light with the blade in my hand. Rinsing the suds from my forearms, I sigh, mutter a quick Latin prayer and recede under the light.

The fact that the surgery goes so well at first makes the loss all that harder.

Forbidden to get too close, I admire the work of his fast hands on the monitor. He throws questions my way, keeps me talking and makes his way through the layers of skin till he hits the peritoneum.

'What would you use, Cullen? Scissors or blade?'

He's using mosquito forceps to keep the lining tight.

'Ten blade,' I suppose tilting my chin. 'More control.'

His blue eyes flick to me. His lips rearranging the apparent criticisms, he cuts the lining open.

'Christ.'

Pus and bile come forth and he quickly asks for a syringe and other wadding in horror.

It looks like a perforated peptic ulcer. Reds and yellows and whites spewing like rivers. Hands keep cropping up, he swears harder. Not under his breath this time. I check the saturation levels. My oesophagus seems to tighten, the air funnel through like a chute.

'Fuck,' he mutters. 'It's ruptured. It's fucking ruptured.'

He moves quickly, demanding spinal aesthetic as the numbers begin to drop. The monitors start to beep. Begin to scream. People start to rush between me to get the issue under control.

'She's fitting,' demands a nurse.

Someone thrusts a syringe my way, I read the dosage,administer the Zosyn. Someone else hands me another syringe as the body on the table continues to thrash and to jolt.

One minute. One minute thirty. One minute forty-three.

Calm….

The heavy drop of my fingertips into the desk comes clumsily. My attention is on the scene outside. It's started to rain. Water pressing to the glass of the seventh floor, catching the orange light of the street lamps. I recognise the tune of my hands now. It's Schubert's Ave Maria, i'm swipinh lines to the indents of wood.

'Doctor Cullen?'

It's Maddison. He's speaking slower than he did this Morning, avoiding sharing such looks.

'Son,'

I nod, move my fingers from the desk to my lips, hold it there as if a cigarette is hanging in my grip.

His shoes shuffle on the carpet of the office. An office. I hear his hands fidget in his busy pockets before he resigns himself to a leather couch. He holds his hands between his thighs, breathes loudly in the humming of the cupboard room.

'It's not easy losing your first.'

I exhale critically through my nose.

'Particularly when it is your first.'

The weather seems to have slowed significantly from the last hour. It's beating on the window, looming clouds wafting past with no speed to them.

'I see you informed the family.'

'Yes,' I say quietly.

Heavy clouds yet not breaking. The others had emptied their load. It had been almost stormy; April showers till now…

'It's happens, Carlisle. It's unfortunate but it happens.'

I'd been through the events in my head, the notes, Alistair's rendition enough times to know that it was an accident waiting to happen. We couldn't have prevented it. Couldn't have known. I didn't feel any less responsible. It was though my blackened hands had cocked the gun and held it to her temples. Pulled.

Blood clots. Maybe If we'd had her on Warfarin… maybe if I hadn't been there…

'Unfortunate for me or the family left behind?' I mutter.

He does not answer.

'Did you know you she was still breastfeeding?'

That had been in her notes.

We hadn't probed into the conversation enough for me to know much more. A squabbling infant, a toddler, and two older kids yet to start school. Would he quit his job? The husband? Would he blame my youth? Would he sue the hospital?

Would he survive?

Would they survive?

Was it too soon?

Had I been ill-prepared?

Had my arrogance been the cause?

Had I not gone to Canada in the first place, would I have studied better?

'You did everything you could…'

It'd been coming, I should've expected it sooner. It doesn't lessen the volume of my snort.

I suppose that's how I knew how badly I'd fucked up. Alistair had yet to berate me about it. Perhaps he got what he'd wanted, to put me in my place.

'It's late, Son.' Funnily enough I become aware of such things before he felt need to comment on them. Looking harder into the glass, I see my reflection split by the shadow of the room. 'Go home.'

I don't go home.

Taking the longer route round the hospital, I go to the chapel. This time I don't pray. I suppose I had already mocked Him enough to request his forgiveness. Instead I should've pleaded for his mercy. Begged him to seek revenge on those who deserved it.

'You look lonely.'

I hadn't expected anyone to be in the room though the noise does not move me. There's a woman sat by my shoulder, she has a coat resting over her knees, her hands seemingly bunched beneath them.

Is one ever truly alone with the Lord? I almost mock.

Instead I press my lips together in acknowledgment, turn back to looking at the figure of Christ.

'You must have had a hard day,' she whispers.

'Haven't we all,' I reply quietly.

'It helps though, doesn't it?'

I conceal my disinterest, wishing to be alone with my apologies. The woman continues, coming forward till I can smell some kind of laundry scent on her clothes.

'God,' she explains when I don't comment. 'God helps.'

Does he?

'It's good to be able to talk to him… Even if he just listens…'

Perhaps this is what the woman needed herself. Just to air her own difficulties. Mourn or seek comfort from the room. I was being selfish once more.

'Hm.' It was hardly sufficient yet all I could manage for now.

'Do you go to church much?'

She tilts her head as she asks. Comes around to look around to me. I shuffle in my jacket, focus my thoughts on the alter.

'I never go as much as I should,' she mentions guiltily. 'I try to. I always think about it…'

Yes, I often thought about it, too.

'I sometimes feel that those priests just use Him though. Don't you? Just use His name to speak their garbage…'

She has come even closer now, arms resting on the back of the pew, waiting expectantly for my response.

'Sorry, I didn't catch your name-?'

'I didn't provide it,' I say finally.

She couldn't know what she was doing to disrupt my thoughts at a time when I was trying to find an ounce of peace… to grieve I suppose…

'You get what I mean though, don't you? About pastors and priests…'

Angling myself further from her, I shrug.

'The heart is there, I suppose. Just like God… trying to get you to do the right thing. Trying to father us all…'

Father us all…

Mr Perez would be at home now. He would be explaining to his children what their loss would mean, unconscious of the notion himself. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would leave them to understand the term alone. Maybe he'd wish to lead them away from here.

'I'm surprised you're still here, Doctor Cullen. No family to return to?'

I sigh tiredly, rub my eyes.

'No,' I start to murmur. 'Not like-…'

I turn to the stranger frown at her. She's pressed to the wood of my seat, as close to me as she can get. A visitor badge is hidden by a blazer pocket.

Realising, I pull myself up quickly to make a fast exit.

She leaps up, comes to follow me out and as she does so, drops the dictaphone noisily to the floor. It doesn't break as I wish it would, though it does spin towards me as if begging to be kicked.

In a church, too.

'Deplorable,' I mutter.

'Just a quote-'

Surprisingly, they are still awake when I finally make it home.

In fact, they are arguing.

I hear it before I make my way to the top of the steps. At first it sounds like flat notes played out of tune. Then it becomes brass tunes out of key, jarring jingles.

Selfishly I consider not going in at all.

I'd already been on the verge of throttling the Kid at his senseless abandonment this Morning. The walk home hadn't done much good.

Her voice screeches louder. Someone stomps towards the front of the house, retreats. My shoulders flinch as I catch the sound of something being unmistakably thrown.

Great.

If they notice me enter, they don't wish me to know. They are arguing, features contorted into lines and acute angles, cheeks puffy, Edward pacing, Esme freaking and when I let my eyes scan the room, I realise the likely cause is the state of the kitchen.

Considering her frequent dalliances in trying to educate Edward, her patience has likely reached the fraying ends of rope. She's overdressed, hair knotted above her, jumper drowning her, expression tight enough to crack.

'-drop your responsibilities because you just can't be bothered!'

'It's one fucking dish, Es, it's not going to kill you.'

'It's not one dish,' she shrieks, throwing her arm backward as if trying to unhinge it. 'It's all of them. It's every fucking dish we own. You don't need to use eight teaspoons-'

'It's just a coupla teaspoons,' he groans, exaggerating. 'What does it matter? Why are you getting so anal about some shitting teaspoons-?'

'There's stuff everywhere-'

I'm hanging up my coat as she yells, but let my eyes look around the room exploratively. I hadn't exactly left it clear of my belongings. Though there was a clear distinguisher between the books I'd piled and the left-over plates and bowls and paper and pens scattered from the shelves to the floor….

Had I really let him leave the house like this?

'It's not just my stuff-'

'It's only your stuff,' she growls. 'You just abandon it every goddamn time and expect us to clear up after you like we're your parents.'

'Well thank heavens you're not.'

I wince, consider opening my mouth, hurriedly shut it again.

'You just don't care. You break shit, you ignore shit, you spread salmonella on the fucking side-'

He huffs, rolls his eyes. Now, I ought to say something. To either condemn him and demand to know what the heck he was thinking or defend him and tell her to stop yelling.

'It was one plate-'

'Three. Three plates, a chopping board, a knife and the whole house. I don't know what you touched-'

'Well I didn't ask you to clean it-'

Is this what life is about to be? Sitting in a house and screaming at one another indefinitely? Becoming so tied to one another that not only will they hate me, they will hate each other, too.

Is this really what I would be making us choose?

Because I could choose.

Mr Perez couldn't.

'You do this every month,' he utters. 'You think just because you're on your period you get to scream and throw shit-'

Jesus Christ.

'Excuse me?!'

She is right to lose her temper. Judging from dates, the Feminax, that had actually already been and gone. His insensitivity, or damn right stupidity would be enough to blow her into outrage.

Unless something was the matter…

'I said I'd clean up and I will.'

She grabs a cushion from the sofa, throws so it hits him. Justified.

Carefully, I slip my shoes off, knock my books into a neater pile as I move behind into the kitchen. I'd already forgotten the state of the place.

'You never do,' she pulls her hands to her hair, her sleeves loose and wild. 'I do it. Carlisle does it. Alice does it and she doesn't fucking live here-'

'What do you want me to say?!' He throws his arms wide as if about to spin. 'I was with Bella, I couldn't exactly drop everything to wash windows with you-'

Now I pinch my nose, sigh . He's tumbling down a very steep hill into a very deep grave. Except she doesn't answer how I expect her to.

'You're always with Bella. Every waking minute of the day you're with Bella. How about showing Bella you're not an entitled, misogynistic asshole and help maintain your home?'

Now she's done it.

'You're only having a go because you're-'

Horrified, I throw daggers at him, tightly curt my jaw.

'What?' she asks, her breath coming out fast. He looks to me, glares, I shake my head.

'What?!' She insists.

He folds his arms, tying his mouth together as if afraid the words will fall out.

'Stop being a coward, Edward- Say it.'

'Fine!' He yells. 'You're doing this because you're bored. You don't go out, you don't watch TV, you've given up on lessons-'

She straightens, steps back a little as I lunge forward.

'I haven't given up on anything.'

'You don't do anything, Esme. You just sleep. All day. Every day.'

Her jaw slackens, unhinges. The last of the hot breath comes out now and she shakes.

'Uncalled for,' I growl, gesturing from behind. She looks like she's on the verge of transformation, of flipping into a town wide tornado and splitting us to death just from the wires of her arms.

I doubt she's heard me. I doubt she realises I am home.

'Maybe...' she utters, quietly, then repeats herself in a yell, '...Maybe the reason I'm so tired all the time is because I'm picking up after you.'

'How many times do I have to say it, Es?! You're not my Mother. Stop acting like my mother-'

'Stop acting like a child and I wouldn't have to mother you-' her voice has turned scratchy though she continues to yell octaves over him.

'Leave it,' I whisper to myself. I empty a glass of water, wash it, replace it in the cupboard accept the duel they have between.

They were pushing each other to a point of no return.

As much as I didn't want to hear it, I couldn't have them hurting one another.

'Look, scream all you want-'

Is he trying to break her? Is he trying to piss me off? Does he not realise the intensity of the vulnerability at hand?

'That's the problem!' She snaps. 'Being in a relationship doesn't mean you get to treat everyone else like shit-'

He shrugs, his sweatshirt distorting the designer logo on his left when his shoulder jerks.

'S'never stopped you before.'

I pinch the bridge of my nose again, breathe deeply, thickly, swallow the anger knowing, knowing I'm not in the right position to even try resolving the issue…

I shouldn't have come home.

He's stomping up the stairs now, Es seething by the kitchen in the middle of the insanity. It looks like it's under construction, it's so disarrayed.

'Yeah, fuck off and sulk, petulant jackass.'

He stops on the stairs judging from Esme's angle. Perhaps he says something under his breath. Perhaps he imitates her. Either way, once the last of his deliberate thumping hits the top step, she grips the lower end of the bannister and shrieks;

'And you know what?! Even I know Mad World is meant to be played in C-Minor, you Crying sack of Misery.'

His retort is muffled by the walls containing him.

'It's called having a musician's ear, you Old Foul Cunt-ry Hick.'

Es gasps. My head drops to my palms, then the tiles of the island before I consider the screams about Salmonella. She's like a kettle sitting on a seat of flames…

'It's called being an Ostentatious Jerk-Off-'

'Just one night,' I mutter to myself.

Again, he chooses retorting from the safety of his room, where he doesn't have to watch the pain he's causing. At least that could be said, she was brave enough to face the repercussions of her insults.

'How about you buy yourself some piano lessons and educate yourself- oh wait!'

I exhale thickly. I am not doing an of this. I am going to bed.

'Go back to Kindergarten. At least someone better equipped for your puerility can look after you then.'

I am going to bed.

'Jealous again, Es?!' He's yelling louder, then the latch of his door snaps and I realise he's likely in view.

She guffaws, sizes up the wall as through imagining putting Edward's skull through it. I had taken a step closer to the backdoor but now, return to my original stance. It was coming to look like I'd have to leave via a window just to escape the yelling.

'Of having my ass wiped for me?' she scoffs. 'No thanks!'

'At least it will be my first time.'

Another low blow from Edward.

'I was drunk,' She growls.

'You're always drunk.'

For the third time since returning home, I flinch.

'And what is that supposed to mean?!' She shouts, clawing the walls now. I manage to slip behind her in the last few seconds.

They are in another stand-off. Leopard to Leopard. My last obstacle being their playing field.

'It means that-'

No, I can't do it anymore.

'Ceasefire.'

Esme jumps as if looking at me for the first time. She's catching her breath again as though she's just run from a marathon.

'I'm calling a ceasefire,' I seethe, lifting my tired eyes back to Edward. He has his arms crossed, huffing. 'Why are you even yelling at each other? What caused this?'

I mean to ask rhetorically but they quickly take the opportunity to throw blades.

'What do you mean what caused it? Look at the state of your home, Carlisle.'

'Scuse the fact you could've broken my T.V!'

'Turning it off at the wall isn't breaking it, Edward.'

'Guys,'

'It is when you do it with wet hands, Halfwit-' he disputes, loudly.

'Guys,' I repeat, firmer.

'They're only wet from having to wash your shit- only for- guess what- you to wreck the joint a-gain!'

'Guys!' I shout, putting both hands between the spaces left by the bannister. 'Look, if you can't resolve it in peace then don't resolve it at all. The television will be fine; I will look at it when I get chance-'

'That doesn't excuse the fact she broke it in the first place-'

'In the meantime-' I seethe, resettling my volume now he's resigned to muttering his curses under his breath. 'In the meantime, clear up after yourself-'

'I do,' he whines defiantly.

'Like hell you do,' she criticises.

'Es,' I sigh, 'you're not helping.'

'Why do you keep defending him?!'

'I'm not defending him,' I assert.

'Carlisle stop conceding to her-'

'Oh fuck off Edward- If he babies you anymore, he'd be tucking you into bed!'

'Funny,' he cries, hands coming up. 'I needn't say the same thing to you.'

'Edward!'

He quickly retreats from the line of sight, hides towards the entry of his bedroom again.

From my left, the cage of her body springs into a lunge. Blocking the move in the last second, she catches the violent thrash of her ribs to my arm, the vengeful threats flying like flecks of spittle from her tongue.

'Why don't you come here and say that-' her fists are squeezed into compact swirls wavering dangerously close to my face.

'I was already there when I said it in the first place!'

She makes a sound not quite a squeal or a scream but something in-between.

'That's not helping, either!' I hiss at him. 'Look, why don't you both just go to your rooms and fight about it when I'm not here to see it-'

'Fine!' The Kid agrees, throwing his arms upwards.

'Fine!' she yells, competitively.

I exhale again.

When the door slams, the same wide eyes from this morning trail cautiously up to my gaze. I flinch away first. Neither from the anger or the confusion but the exhaustion on purpled eyes.

When she leans against the wall, her hand covering her sight, breathing hard I find myself no longer praying for the family I'd assisted in destroying. Now I'm praying he hasn't made her cry.

Perhaps it is wrong of me to predict but just judging from the weight of her fatigue, I am also assuming this is the first time in a long time that she hasn't succumb to a mid-day nap.

She drops her head carelessly against the wall, hits it enough that it's as though she's shoved her head through plaster. Then she inhales so deeply that her chest expands several cup sizes.

'Are you-'

'Shut up, Carlisle.'

Yep, that's why- 'I'm going to bed,' I tell her softly, rubbing my wrist and now realising that I haven't warn my watch since the surgery. I suppose I also hadn't thought of the family properly in a little over ten minutes… and now I feel even more guilty. 'Maybe you should get some sleep, too?'

Her expression looks weepy at first and while she pushed her lips together, frowns, she nods too.

Thus, my sleepless routine returns.

I leave early the next Morning. So early, I'm not even sure I did sleep. If I did, I dreamt of Esme crying though she was unperturbed when I checked on her. Needing the manufacture of oxytocin, I go for a run and book an emergency appointment with the dentist.

In spite of that then, the ego boost Maddison is keen to imbue me with, I find myself in the Chapel again come my lunch break.

I'd not always been one to take a lunch break.

This week it was becoming a necessary atonement.

Until Garrett breaks my reverie.

'So this is where you're hiding?'

I suspect he's being insensitive at first and can't control my face. Then he grins, snorts with laughter as though reeling me up into warnings.

'Excuse me?'

'No wonder Maddison's got you locked up here.'

What has he presumed I'd done now?

I sigh impatiently, press my hands together, turn my face from the stereo music. I was waiting for him to mention something about Doctor Reeba, the upcoming meeting I was already hoping to avoid…

'Look, whatever your publicist is on, they deserve a raise. Your PR team are spinning-'

'PR team?' I repeat, confused.

He passes a newspaper, shakes his head as if impressed at my very stance. The front page. The very front page. The blurred image, the headline.

Driving sick? The esteemed Doctor Cullen catches forty winks…

'Shit.'

'I thought you said she wasn't a Misses?' he teases, grin beaming light like a headlamp. I clamber past him on the bench, drag my phone from my pocket with a shaky hand and press speed-dial.

Garrett already seems to be regretting my movement.

'I don't.'

'Ho, ho. Say that to the figure in the back of a Mercedes S450. Telling you now, Cullen. Your windows aren't tinted enough-'

I flip him off and at a half run, call Edward Senior as a matter of urgency. He picks up in seconds.

'Remember when I asked you to make smart decisions-?'

'It's bad,' I acquiesce. 'I know it's bad-'

'You're so lucky Edward called me before you did Carlisle or My God you'd be grounded. You hear me? I'd ground you. Indefinitely-'

Why he thought he had the ability to ground me, I couldn't say for sure but I let him have his authority.

'It wasn't planned.' I mumble. 'It was-'

An accident?

Without my control?

He wouldn't fall for any of them

'Do you not think I've got enough to do correcting every shitting document of yours?!' He's sounding surprisingly humoured which has me suspicious. Perhaps he's only just getting the engine started. 'Do you not think I'm busy enough with immigration forms and embezzlement threats to now roll out claims for defamation, too-'

'You said yourself you'd have us married if you could, surely this is-'

'I said that as a solace to her.' He blunders. 'That didn't mean I expected you to defile the girl in the back of your fucking car!'

'I didn't-'

'So help me God, you're making my life impossible, Carlisle. Fucking impossible. I'm only just putting out fires here before you go and blow up a shitting monument two doors-down.'

'I need it gone-' I urge him. 'I don't care; I just need it gone before she catches wind-'

'Brilliant!' he cries. 'Just fucking fantastic. Of course she doesn't know-'

'What am I meant to do? Phone her up and explain how your son's lack of common sense has possibly dismissed any shred of credit she might have in th-'

'My Son?!' he repeats, incredulous. 'This isn't on him, Carlisle. This is on you. Your shoulders. How many times do I have to tell you- what do you want me to do to make it clear to you-'

'I don't know what else to do-'

'Look, if this is too hard for you… if you can't keep her safe without implicating the both of you-'

'Sir-' I demand, aghast. 'I can, I swear-'

He dismisses the oath with a 'Bah,' and throws something, likely a fist, to his desk.

'I don't even want you in public with her. You hear me?! I don't want you doing a single thing that isn't pin-point perfect and if anyone talks to you, if anyone asks you any questions, the only thing coming out your mouth better be that shitting baby unit, got it?!'

'Neo-natal,' I try to correct.

But he's already cut the call.