'It's still my birthday- can I ask one thing?'

Hope you enjoy!

The left side of my lip remains numb from the dentist by the time I reach the restaurant. Ticking, the hands of my watch flick round, shining the reflection of shaved cheeks back at me. The sting is present from the aftershave. The lid of my left eye heavier than the right but less coloured now. Almost back to normal.

I mark my apologies to the maître d. He fusses over the list enough times, despite the fact I can see them sat impatiently in the far left corner.

'Party of eight?' he asks, sceptically. Nodding, I tug a fidgeting hand through my hair, catching the dried gel I've had to force through it. 'Follow me.'

Like most instances on the phone, Masen had left me panicked enough to look upon the restaurant goers with hesitation. Fearing recognition, I tuck my chin to the collar, keep my eyes down.

I can't say for sure how long the seven of them have been waiting. Long enough to have spread crumbs across the table, empty glasses shared haphazardly amongst them.

'Finally,' Alice complains with a smile. She's slipping off a blue shawl, reaching to drag me closer. I have the decency to look apologetic though that doesn't dissuade her expression.

I am but three feet from the table when the ambrosia of Esme's perfume comes to assault me.

'So sorry I'm late,' I announce shyly.

Before I sit down, I hand Rose's gift to her, kiss her on the painted cheek and flattered, if not by the attention, she dozily leans into the affection.

'Happy birthday.'

'Thank you, Carlisle.'

The waiter pushes the last available chair under me. I thank him, make remaining apologies to the expressions surrounding and squeeze in between Alice on my left and Esme on my right.

She has her thoughts busy.

Thanking Edward for the reminder with an incline, I share the acknowledgments to the rest of the table. Fitting with the murmuring of the dark bistro, they're all dressed rather formally. In fact, the guys are even wearing ties.

My fingers come to the button by my throat and in consideration to the neck fashion, I loop the tight fabric closed.

'How was work, Carlisle?' Bella asks. She pours me a glass of water. Given that it is Rose's night; I try dismally to revert the focus again.

'Yes, thank you.' She does not notice I haven't provided comment. 'Have you Ladies had a nice day?'

Edward had mentioned that. He hadn't said the words specifically though I gathered the impression Esme was likewise late to join them. And I suspect the rogue streak of acrylic paint on the back of her neck to be the likely cause.

At the very least, the two of them seem as thick as thieves again. Sat in a pair of shared smiles, they both greet me without needing the words.

It's far easier to look to my brother, composed again if not besotted for the affection across him. Eventually I concede to facing source of the scent. To say hello.

My impotent lips don't even get that far.

With her hands imbedded in her lap, long eyelashes focusing on the napkin by her wrist, Es divides her attention between shying from the number of personalities and likewise providing Rose an attentive ear.

Milliseconds slips by as I wait for judgment to fall, wait to pull myself from the temptation to investigate more streaks of colour and feigning manners, I allow myself a glance. Rather than beat harder, or faster, the emotions within me fall silent.

She's wearing a long burgundy coloured dress that cuts across her clavicle and billows at her wrists. Judging for the cautious swing of one ankle, she's likewise wearing heels though I can't actually see if they are strapped to her foot. The make-up is neutral, excluding the dark pigment of her pout with her hair twisted in neat bun at the edge of her neck, a strand or two left loose by her jaw.

She flicks her eyes up to me. Pools of muddied green moss. Then hurriedly looks away again.

In all, she is the vision I can barely recreate.

'H-have you been well spoilt?' I ask now, finding necessity to throw words out.

'Enough for now,' Rosalie sighs and though I can't be in on the joke, I theorise judging from the excess of her giggle that it is more wine induced than it is resting in the delight of her day.

She smiles with a red lip, shakes the gift suspiciously before guzzling from a tall glass of bubbling prosecco.

Alice pushes her chair towards me, her smoky eyes narrowing as she hurtles silent complaints to Edward and he apparently, agrees. I avoid looking at them too directly. Esme's expensive perfume is against my neck, squeezing like femme fatale and I just know if I keep turning to her, if I think for a second about the strike of eggshell blue barely hidden by her hair-.

My eyes slip closed.

'We were on the verge of calling a search warrant,' Alice murmurs. Her voice dances as she says it, she pouts too as if waiting for more apologies.

'Have you ordered?'

'Es ordered for you-'

Intending to thank her, I twist to my right, fail to say the words and have to nod instead.

'You were running awfully late,' she defends, shyly.

'It's appreciated.'

Despite the ordering, a waiter still comes over to ensure we have all we need and though he asks me, his eyes are on her. He's tall, dark hair, dark eyes, an athletic build… handsome really.

Since the articles, I'd had come to be considerably wary of strangers and now disregarding of Masen's advice, I find myself staring at the boy.

He asks for orders again. From one person. He's only holding out a drinks menu to Esme only.

'Sure there isn't anything I can get for you? We have an extensive list?'

Polite, she flicks through the pages. Her head shakes in declination. My eyes meet the table. I seem to be gripping the butter knife, thumb pressing on the handle as though making it one with my grip. Nervously, I set it down, move it out of reach.

'Well,' Rose smirks. 'He's friendly.'

'That's the third time he's come over,' she moans, delicately. 'And it's not even my birthday.'

It is hard to hear the comment with any form of coolness.

'So?' Rose answers. 'Boy is eye candy, let him flirt.'

Three times is Undoubtedly excessive. Especially if she'd refused his attention… He might even be making her uncomfortable?

'It's your evening,' Es corrects, fiddling with the bangs of her hair. I find my attention batting between them like a ball at a tennis match. Serve, swing, bat, swing, bat, swing… 'Anyway, you were saying about your father?'

Father…

Was it said with hesitation?

Was Es thinking of her own father?

Had she been in touch with her family since the phone call?

Had she realised the date? Had Edward told her? Had she heard from Edward's father? Had-

'Oh yeah! Anyway, my Dad said if I graduate with honours, he'll look into buying me an M3.'

Edward whistles, shoots a jealous look my way and then seemingly drops the fraternity. There was no way in hell I'd ever buy him an M3. Particularly looking at the way he drove my car. I hadn't truly inspected it in fact… But he'd only have had to adjust the seat to offend me.

'Babe, we've talked about this,' Em murmurs affectionately. 'M3's are outdated. Audi R8. That's what you want-'

She gags theatrically.

Having noticed my untying eyes tracking the waiter across the room, I attempt to re-invite myself to the conversation.

'Audi's can be rather unsightly-,' I murmur in agreement. On the glare of Emmett's expression, I am suspecting this was too forward an opinion when we were less than friendly. I backtrack quickly. 'In that R8s tend to do better at auction than they ever do as new-buys-'

Jasper snorts.

'Gross,' Rose whines, 'I don't want a second-hand car. Who knows what kinda moron would've been driving it.'

Em rolls his jaw, looking at me rather than Rose.

'Audi R8s still do better than your…. What? Saloon car?'

I'd apparently hit a nerve.

'Emmett,' Es reprimands. She moves her focus from the edge of her empty plate to him. He shrugs.

'I'm just saying. Nothing more unsightly than that subway tube you call a vehicle.'

I intake carefully. With her latest displays in the Media, I was less than thrilled with my car. That didn't make her anything less than a beautiful model of machinery. Though the attachment was there and the sentimentality unavoidable, her demeanour was nothing shy of sleek heavenliness-

I look weakly to Es. Dislike the accidental comparison between them and the absolute failure of my car within it.

She doesn't look at me at first. Then her eyes lift, bathed in lights, her pout slightly agape.

'She does the job.'

I touch the numb side of my lip, nervously wipe the threatening drool quickly off.

'Pardon me?'

'The car,' she reiterates. 'She does the job. I don't think there's a journey she's let us down on yet.'

The sway meets the burn of her perfume and together they wrestle my focus. She hadn't seen the news report …

It didn't make me feel any better.

'No, I suppose not.' I murmur, guiltily, my bowing head.

The first course comes then and though I'm grateful for not having to choose myself, the flattery extends further at the thought gone into the choice. She'd chosen softer options. Soup for example.

Something I needn't chew on.

The girls are discussing weekend plans, a trip to Portland, and though they talk as if Esme will undoubtedly join them, her body language gives little indication. She's nibbling on bread seeming quite satisfied with her seemingly bland decision.

Perhaps her nausea had returned because she certainly isn't eating much.

The first spoonful I take, I do so from my weaker side and end up drooling notably on myself. Rosalie couldn't visualise something funnier, Jasper likewise makes a joke but where I expect, hope, to hear Esme's laughter, I see an expression of dire anguish. We look quickly away from one another. I fight Alice dabbing me fiercely with a napkin and setting my food aside, try to listen to the conversation.

At the finish of the first course, Edward nudges Es.

'Your Beau has returned.'

That man really has a grin that just won't quit and before he has even reached the table, his focus goes immediately to her.

I fidget uncomfortably.

'You didn't trust my recommendation?' He nods to her plate, gathers as she returns the manners and thanks him. Apparently this isn't enough. He feels the need to exaggerate to excess how he can and would be honoured to personally vouch for any meal on the menu.

Unmissable, it sounds like an invitation

'Looks like you've got an offer there, Es.' Alice snickers and they laugh again, the waiter included.

She's blushing, hiding such blushes with the tilt of her face except it only gives light to the cut of her jaw against a slender neck. She catches my eye.

All over again, I fall for her. And again. And again. And I hate myself for it. More, I hate myself for the corresponding behaviour.

Rose has happened to ask the young man what he does in when he's not flattering women. It sets my teeth on edge.

'I teach.' He thanks his team for doing the hard work in clearing the crockery and settles himself at an angle as though we have told him to pull up a chair.

I keep an eye on Rose, waiting, in case she does that. She just giggles, drinks more.

'What grade?' she asks, looking pointedly to my right. Judging from the shift of her shoulders, Esme has made an expression to Edward.

My chest constricts that little tighter.

'Fourth grade mostly. I taught Kindergarten for a while-'

'No, way!' Alice agrees, her tune overjoyed. 'Es, what a coincidence!'

He waves his arm, pats his tie flat against his likely washboard abs as he smirks at her. He pours over her indelicately, mounting her with his gaze. Feasting himself on her.

'I work at a nursery…' she stops herself, folds her lip. 'Used to work at the nursery on Freemont.'

He seems utterly delighted.

'No way? You must have had it too then?'

She awaits his explanation.

'I mean, you only spend a few months with them and suddenly they're off. Sad really, wondering who those littl'uns have grown into…'

She nods slowly.

I wonder if it makes her sad. If he's upsetting her, distressing her. Making her second guess herself…

'Though after three years of getting mistaken for Daddy, I suppose I had to move on-' His eyes crinkle when he says it.

It was one thing having Alice say it, another thing for this egotistical-.

Edward is staring at me. He rearranges his features, frowns. I pretend not to have noticed. I pretend that my interest is taken on this very attentive waiter. And not his overfriendliness.

Then in the space of twelve minutes, he comes over twice.

First to replenish the water. Second to ask what she does when she's not celebrating birthdays.

If I had been suspicious before, by this comment I am notably displeased.

'You mean like…?' She starts to guess.

'Your interests.' He confirms.

I feel her look shyly to Rosalie as if asking reassurance to respond.

'Er, well, I guess I …' she looks to Edward, replenishes a smile. 'I suppose you could say I Nanny?'

He rolls his eyes, fights the acknowledging snort. The waiter grins, opens his mouth to make another comment when I find myself talking.

In spite of the fact that I didn't have anything I intended to say.

'Can I order from you?' I ask, jumping in abruptly. 'Or is it better if I go direct to the bar?'

I don't recognise my voice likely because it's three degrees shy of roasted. My manners, manners…

I'd already forgotten whatever Masen was threatening. Now this Kid was doing everything besides acting professionally just to… what? Butter her up for a tip? Was that it? Humiliate her? Pour his attention over her? Seduce her into bed? Seduce her and then sell his story within the hour?

Manipulate her?

Asshat wouldn't even know how to get her off. He wouldn't know to lavish her curves with dedication. To soften her cries with your own. To perform for her. To tease her, leave her balancing so delicately on the edge of her demise before staring directly into her eyes and having her crash into realms and purrs of pleasure.

I blink hurriedly.

The boy is likewise stunned at first. He'd assumed such a casual tone, he'd clearly forgotten his position and now being made requests of, it's thrown him.

'You-' he laughs, shakes himself. 'I mean, sure, you can order from me. What did you want?'

There is only one reason he's being polite. He's being polite to seem unthreatening. Ask more questions about her life, sell it to a reporter. Sell it to King. He's just trying to get her alongside. He's trying to flatter her. Charm her. Hassle her into bed like the rest of them.

'Water, thanks.'

He looks bemused, nods to a jug on the table.

'There's water right there.'

Ah… I suppose I didn't think of that.

'It's-,' For a thirteenth of a second, I hesitate. 'It's not fresh. Would you mind refilling it?'

Edward notices of course. Shares a look with Bella before looking away with his green eyes wide.

The Waiter doesn't respond to me. Instead he turns and asks another waitress to do the task before returning to ask what is Esme's taste.

'I'm sure we've got plenty?' he charms, lidded eyes drinking her in. 'For a classy woman like you, a Manhattan could make your night-'

I take half a sip of the water, push it out the table.

'Sorry,' I interrupt him again, bearing no tone of regret on my tongue. 'What was your name-?'

'Carlisle-' Alice groans. Esme drops her expression again. Admittedly, I'd pushed it there. The guy humours me.

'Eric.'

'Right. Eric.' I agree. 'Yes, it's just this has got lemon in it.' I point to the jug. 'See, I actually wanted plain water.'

The murmuring voices around the table fall even more silent. It makes me seem like I'm gruelling the Kid….

Maybe I should be.

'Oh,' he frowns, smiles tightly at Esme, smiles wider at me. 'Obviously, we'll strike that off the bill-'

'No, it's fine. It's just something you really ought to have checked initially. You know. Given the risk…' with my fingertips over the rim of the glass, I push it back toward the centre of the table. Nod when he retracts it to fulfil the rest of our orders.

'Well,' Emmett murmurs. 'Someone's in yet another colourful mood.'

I ignore the taunt, keep my focus on the outsider.

'You do realise you've just encouraged him to spit in your food?' Edward snorts.

'Really Carlisle- it's just water?' Rose criticises. 'Did you have to be such a condescending bastard-'

The blush does not aid my defence.

'No-'

'I think you ought to keep your tone in check…' Es whispers under her breath at first and I don't think anyone's heard till she shyly turns to me and adds the finalising, 'And You needn't be so unnecessarily rude either-'

Initially, I avoid looking her and then I realise she's looking between Rose and I… Apparently disciplining us both. Rose seems unperturbed, shrugs.

I open my mouth to respond in apologies, close it hastily. Bella has the expression of shock on her features and makes a point in staring notably at Alice.

'Ladies,' Alice announces, obviously agreeing. 'Bathroom? Rose?'

The four of them stand in unison and forgetting myself, I stand as though I am young and the debutantes are departing. When I reseat myself Jasper and Emmett rise, excusing themselves to follow up on their own drinks.

Even better.

I wait nauseously for Edward to feign an excuse to leave as speedily as the others. He doesn't. He shakes his head in disbelief.

'What?' I murmur irritably.

'You know what.'

'No idea what you're talking about.'

He laughs.

'You're jealous.'

My face takes on the look as if I had retrieved those lemon segments and stuck them into the roots of my loose tooth. Jealous? Jealous?

'Hardly,' I dispute pathetically.

'Ho ho, Man. Look at you. You're fuming-'

'I'm not jealous of some ridiculous boy-scout, Edward. And to be entirely honest with you, the accusation is insulting.'

He scoffs again, rolls forward with his obnoxious laughter. Immediately I start to grind my teeth until I remember the pain in doing so.

'To even suggest-'

'Carlisle, you're not fooling anyone-'

'Looks like he is,' I mutter. 'You hardly know the guy and you're inviting him onside like you're buddies.' My hands have spayed out in drama. I fidget again, clear my throat. 'He's making her uncomfortable,' I complain. 'It's disrespectful, disingenuous and-'

'No, he's making you uncomfortable. You. Only you.' He shakes his head, exhales. 'After every conversation with Dad, you just go and-'

'Go and what?' I demand.

'Go off the rails. Go nuts.'

'Need I remind you, I wouldn't need to be so damn cautious if you'd just driven us home-'

His sense of humour takes a knock. Now he rolls his eyes. 'I already went through this with Es, I did what I thought was right-'

'She does know-?' I ask, manically. 'She's seen the article-'

He shakes his head abruptly.

'No. She just had her criticisms for yesterday, too. I don't know what you expected of me- we didn't get back to Eugene till four and we still had to come home-.' He lowers his head, moves closer to me. 'We tried to wake you mid-journey but you were sparko. Out like a light- who can blame ya?'

'You didn't think to try harder-'

'I didn't think disturbing your sleep hours before your first surgery was a good idea. You woke up with a crick in your neck? So sue me.'

'A crick in my neck?' I repeat ludicrously. 'Edward, yet again, I've woken up to threats to my career, her career, our lives, our home. Did you not listen to anything I said to Emmett? Are you not listening to your father, either-?'

He moves roughly away with a dismissive flummox of his hand.

'I'm sorry. I said I was sorry. I can't do much else about it-'

'You could stop inviting risk into our lives.' I correct. 'That'll help us sleep at night.'

'Hypocrite.' He mutters.

The girls beat Emmett back to the table. I expect them all to be prepared to crack the whip under my throat though no one says anything. In fact, Alice has to bite her tongue to stop from saying anything at all. Rose on the other hand is looking a little blearier-eyed. Her make up is cleaner though her posture is relaxing to a different depth now and refilling her glass causes her to drop a splat of pale yellow-liquid on the table cloth.

When Emmett returns, he makes a soft joke about taking the bottle away from her.

She doesn't share the laugh. Instead, she snatches it away from his hands, dares him to question her again.

The main course is not much better. I hardly taste anything. I'm too busy waiting for Eric to return. He does so. Asks if we are satisfied, makes a few comments to the birthday girl who is too busy grinning at Es to notice.

To save myself from Edward's so-called observations, I do not acknowledge him. Not consciously. A slight comment comes out about his tie looking askew. And how his sleeves needn't be rolled up so high if he had no intention of clearing plates himself.

'Should be serving from the left, too,' I comment under my breath but when Bella's eyes flash to me, I tighten my mouth closed.

To even suggest jealousy. After everything…. After all she is going through.

To be jealous made me sick. To be jealous would make me the cruellest, vilest creatures on this earth.

Which is not to say that if someone happened to enter into affray with the boy, I would feel the need to step in…

He makes no hidden display of his eyes drooling in her again. Just from the angle in which his chin is tilted, I see him look at the rise of her chest. I see him do it as though I'm reading every dirty thought he may have ever had.

As if his opinions are plastered on a billboard.

'You're making me work very hard,' he sighs looking down to her plate.

She's hardly touched this one. Even when I could see her rubbing the top of her stomach in discomfort, I couldn't say anything. I didn't want her to feel any more surveyed than this douchebag is making her.

'Can I get you something else?'

It's hard to gage what she thinks on this which suggests she may be flattered rather than uninterested. I didn't like to think it but if… if she were trying as hard to heal in her everyday life… maybe this was a likely counterpart.

Maybe I had misunderstood what she needed.

'No, it was nice...'

I'm hoping it's a lie and that actually the very dish is making her want to vomit. I sigh impatiently with myself. No, I didn't want that. I just wanted her not to like it as much. I wanted him to stop desiring her as obviously as he does.

And I wanted her to want me to not want it too.

I want to stand directly in front of her, literally block his vision with a fold of my arms and I want, oh so desperately yearn for her to want me to do that.

I want her to let me protect her. And I need, need to be able to.

Her dark lips are pressed together, another smirk concealed. I hold a glass of water to my mouth, drink from it carefully as though silencing oil spats from my tongue.

'I don't wish to leave you wanting more?'

Emmett snorts.

The glass drops.

Luckily, it shatters across rather than vertically, throwing water up my leg, splinters breaking off under each chair with a shot.

It isn't as intentional as believed.

Es leaps from me.

'Sorry,' I blunder moving quickly to clean the damage. 'Is everyone okay, is anyone hurt?'

The waiter runs to get a cloth but though he comes near us to clean the mess, I thank him, honestly, and tug the products from his hand.

'Really, we ought to do that ourselves.'

I'm ignoring him, coming down to my knees to pick up the fragments. Es moves her chair out.

'Stay there,' I repeat impatiently. She picks a large piece from the floor, puts it on the table, collects others within reach. 'Esme,' I complain. 'Please. Listen to me?'

'Like you listen to me?'

I press my forehead with the back of my wrist, move quickly to pick up the shards before she can. She lifts her angled foot out my way, lifting it to the seat of her chair, the heel oh-so close to my shoulder.

As though she could perch it there…

She… she is wearing heels.

The ones with the straps over her ankles, with the thin stem.

Though they seemed to be fitting a tighter they still looked… still look…

My neck is growing hotter.

If I thought about it any harder, I would be just as bad as the asshole serving us.

Distracted, I manage to nick myself of a shard edge. A low hiss slips from my teeth and I glare unto the tear of red on my inner knuckle. I come to flick my hand as if throwing away the blood when the ankle shifts from view and my hand, my immature, dexterously naïve hand comes to be held in both of hers.

'You're-'

'I know.' I grimace already knowing the words.

Attempting to finish the task, I drop my eyes to the remaining pieces when she tugs my hand towards her. With a teasing soft endeavour, she knots her grip around the middle finger on my left. Slowly, with her eyes on the threat of pain, she bows her head, parts her dark lips over the slit, sucks the flowing colour before dragging a hot, wet tongue across as though sealing an envelope.

My groin tightens. My neck flushes and now realising that she had been looking expertly into me, bringing me to the brink of salacious doom, I throw my attention away and hurriedly rub the mark of her sticky lip stain from my skin in case the image invokes the taunt of her friends.

I finish quickly, moving from her to push a cloth into the floor to dry it. The group of them don't say much, except murmur with each other.

At least it stopped the waiter from pulling on her again.

Fool.

Once the dishes are cleared away, Rosalie opens her gift around the table. She does so clumsily, laughing harder and harder, throwing her head back in fits of joy that the sober of us can't seem to share.

The waiter drops two cocktails off at the end of his shift. One to the birthday gal, a smaller one to Es. She smiles. Thanks him and the moment he's out of sight, passes it to Bella.

I hadn't been so relieved since the hour.

'Thas the prob'em with guys like that,' Rose slurs to Es. She's leaning across the table, louder than she thinks she is and rather… aggressive. 'Asshats like that-'

I fondly agree with her. Especially now we eight are the last faces left in the restaurant.

Es is chewing on ice.

'Just want to get'cha steaming. Flatter you up and fuck off-'

'I don't actually mind,' Es whispers to Jasper but before I can question it, Rose has started to yell.

'Asshole entitled guys thinking they can just sweep us up, do what they fucking want with us-'

'Baby,' Emmett murmurs uncomfortably. Her face contorts emotionally, seething through her teeth.

'That's all they want. Our body. That's all you guys want with us-' She jeers leeringly at Emmett.

It's as though she branded him with a weapon.

Far from resembling his boisterous grin, Emmett now looks inconsolably hurt. Hands open, he knowingly does not touch her. He tries to soothe her, offering promises of love as Alice likewise tries to convince her.

I catch Edwards eye.

He's insisting we leave before she says something regrettable but how to leave… In fact, excusing Emmett who is suddenly pleading the respectability of his commitment, and Es who is likewise suffering for both counts of pain, the rest of us crumble into our postures, awkwardly try to ignore such matters, pretend we are not existing as the poor girl begins to haunt herself into declarations.

'You men want to screw us the fuck over. All of you-'

I flinch at her screech. It might not have originally been aimed at me though I obviously couldn't erase myself from the line of fire. I think briefly to what Edward had mentioned, Rose being in a bad place and all.

I wonder if Esme knows...

'You assholes ruin us. You fucking ruin us-' she catches herself in a sob, throwing herself from her boyfriend at speed.

'Rosalie-'

'You don't fucking touch me. You dare fucking touch me-'

It's said with such venom that I fear for the two of them. And what she would do. Bulbous tears spill over her painted complexion, smearing the ruby colour of her lip, breaking from her lashes.

'Rose,' Alice whispers.

Es has stood up, she's half pushing, half muttering something to Edward, quickly. He rolls his eyes, blames the alcohol before she turns to me.

'Would you mind sorting the bill out?'

'Of course,' I murmur confusedly.

She's helping me out of my seat, pushing past furniture to reach a sobbing Rosalie. The birthday girl has her face in her hands, her hair tumbling over her shoulder and sticking to the moisture of her tears as she sobs.

'Don't you fucking hate them, Es?! Don't you just want them dead?!' She screams the last word loud enough for the remaining few of us to speed up.

Realisation moves quickly.

Alice is tugging Jasper away too, allowing them the privacy and given Emmett's misery... His fear. His terror. He backs away with them.

With the other waiter now gone, my sympathies are clear and covering the cost of the bill without hesitation, I cautiously watch Es wrap her arms around her. She's pulling Rose's fractured tears to her torso, holding her tightly.

She isn't saying anything. She isn't soothing her or restraining her, just holding her in curve of her two small arms

'I want them dead. What they did…. What they do. You know it, Esme. I know you know it. Don't you want them to suffer?'

I try not to hear. I try to grant them their privacy but she is haunted enough that the bawling is undoubtedly heard across the hall. I don't know how to help. Or even if I should.

Rose continues to fall into a tumble of screams and sobs now, clinging desperately onto the smaller woman. Staff look around me. I approach the table likewise, fearing the sound of my steps. Pushing a receipt to her side, I bend low to her Esme's ear.

'What can I do?'

'Take Emmett home,' she whispers from over her shoulder. I see the line of paint again tucking behind her bun. She rubs her hands back over Rose's arm, holds the shaking girl as though she's a bird. I lower my eyes again.

'She's just had too much…'

I nod in agreement.

'I'm going to bring her back to ours… would you stay at Alice's for the night?'

'Of course,' I answer.

'I'm sorry,' she mutters impatiently, leaning her head carefully on Rose and indicating, quite literally, that there is no other choice. 'I'm sorry but I-'

I shake my hand to stop the hurries of excuses.

Edward is likely staying with Bella though I do not know if Officer Swan is aware. I stay out of it, offer Emmett a lift home and though he fights it, after a few miserable moments, he gets in the car. He's silent for the majority of the journey, breathing through himself as though his posture is so much smaller than it seems.

'It's the alcohol,' I murmur quietly.

Knowing if I were in his position, I'd likely rip my throat out at this pathetic comment, I do not add anything to it. He shakes his chin, sniffs tightly.

'No, it's not.'

He's right. It's not just the alcohol.

'I-.' He sighs, shakes his head again. 'I just want to protect her,' his throat is thick, swathing his words indecently. 'Oh God, I love her. I love her… If I could… if I could stop …'

'She knows that,' I promise. He lacks control in his voice when he breathes.

'I'd go anywhere for her. Washington, all your bullshit about Washington. I would never have wanted it before Rose.'

It's not guilt that is bubbling at me. It's withering shame. When we had discussed such plans of moving, I hadn't looked into their reasons to agree. I hadn't even considered the depth… and worse I didn't like the thought they likewise felt trapped.

'Em, I would never … expect you to follow if you didn't want to. Anywhere you guys go-'

'You piss me off, Carlisle.'

We had that in common.

'I apologise.'

'That only makes you want to punch you more…'

I sigh, nod a little.

'Is this just how you choose to live? In constant fear of what you do? Is this how you've always lived?' He brushes the snot from his nose.

I hesitate… then nod a little. It was my own fault... it was the life I had chosen. Perhaps, if I'd been in Italy… Well… I suppose it would've been the same then.

'You cause your own destruction. You get that, right?' He's clearly irritated himself now because he tightens his arms. 'I know you're trying but…'

But what's the attempt in trying if you're not succeeding.

On one hand I ought to have been hurt by it. After all, Emmett was often saying the worst thing and left looking at the shatters around him.

Though I suppose for him there was little room for error.

Perhaps that's why he despised me at the moment. Because he could see how his failures would only hurt Rose. And how in turn, mine were coming to hurt the both of them.

And the others of course.

Who likely agreed.

'I'm sorry for calling you a spineless Milksop…'

Looking up from the road, I smile slightly.

'I er… I don't remember you calling me that…'

'No?' he asks weakly. 'Well, sorry for thinking it…'

'Milksop?' I say, surprised. I hadn't heard the term before. It might have been more apt for him to call me something more banal and have done with it.

'Yeah, Jasper says it now and again.'

'Ah.'

He sighs, drops his head back the seat and shakes the curls with a hand pressed tightly across his crown.

'Sleep on it,' I urge him. 'Things will be better tomorrow.'

Emmett lets his head fall into a nod, thanks me for the ride and heads into his house, alone, dejected, miserable, concerned. I hesitate for a while, consider going to Alice's as promised... and then I think on my studies… the future of lost patients…

Garrett's newest case…

I do my best to be quiet when I arrive home. I'd waited for an hour or so at the coast before driving back, just to provide them the space needed but it felt like the right length of time and Esme didn't text back in protest.

Once parked, I slip through the door as if I am robbing the place, swizzle my hand on the lock cautiously. The house is mostly silent once I get in. I can't hear anything except the buzzing of electricals so I move quickly to fill a bag with my work stuff.

My room is likewise cold, sleepless, everything pushed in its space as if keeping the area clear. I change into scrubs, grab my tablet…

The wall is silent when I place my ear open it. Mostly just sleepy breaths. Her door is ajar as I leave my room, too. It was most probably like that anyway and hesitating, I put my knuckles on there as if to request entrance and slowly, ensure they are both okay.

Rose is asleep on Esme's usual side. She's been crying quite horrifically judging from her complexion which though washed looks red and puffy in the hallway light. Es is holding her tightly, her left arm cradling the girl in a hug, soft murmurings dropping rhythmically like a prayer. Both are still dressed in what they wore at the restaurant but shoeless.

'Carlisle?'

Shit.

Esme leans upwards, frowns to me in the dark and pulls herself from her snoozing friend. I back up immediately, already preparing the apologies in speed. She simply comes out, pulls the door closed and wrapping a cardigan around her folded arms, raises an eyebrow at me.

'Sorry, I was just making sure you were okay-'

'We're fine,' she murmurs carefully. I nod as if to quickly leave but she sighs instead. 'She's okay. How is Em?'

'Emotional,' I admit.

She nods, sadly.

'It was just too much to drink,' she whispers again. 'That and the waiter, I think it just… topped her over the edge.'

'Understandable,' I agree gently, eyes on her ankles again.

Maybe it was a side effect of this medication she was on but ideally, she'd need to mention it to someone. I wonder if she will be upset if I mention it myself. It seems rude to comment on the size of her ankles though there is noticeably a change.

It was wrong of Edward not to comment on it.

Particularly when he felt at liberty to comment on any other observation of her, regardless of whether it was appropriate or not.

'Is it just you?'

'Hm?'

'Is Edward with you?' she asks. 'Or Bella?'

Oh.

'No,' I say softly. 'It's just me.'

She sighs again, her shoulders lowering as she scratches the length of her neck. I wanted to know if she'd washed the paint off. What she had been painting. What she is thinking, how she is feeling, if she's okay…

The exhaustion seems to be wearing on her.

'I shouldn't have kicked you out your own house. You should stay…'

'No,' I refuse. 'No, it'll be better for Rose…'

She folds her lips together; pink lips I realise. Her natural dark-pink. I enjoyed the lipstick but this colour suited her best, emphasises her radiance. Though she's frowning a little now and I wonder what new insensitive thing I have said.

'Will you stay with Alice?'

I hesitate, shake my hair.

'I er- I thought I'd head into work-'

'No,' she hisses. 'No, don't be ridiculous. Just stay here.'

'No, really-'

'I insist,' she says.

'Well, I insist too- I really ought to… I've got… there's…' I swallow the ties of my words, rub an eyebrow. Sigh. 'It's just easier…'

'Are you sure?'

I sign an 'x' on my chest with an index finger. Rather than relieve her, it seems to upset her. She furrows her brows together, looks to the floor and swallows difficultly.

'Okay,' she says, nodding.

'Okay.'

My hand flickers out, the fingers yearning to touch her, to lift her chin up, nuzzle her nose, kiss her in leave… I dream she comes towards me too. With her hands pressed together, wide eyes looking up.

'Phone me if you need me?' I ask.

She nods, lips still pressed hard together, watery eyes now at my chest. I am upsetting her… she needs me to leave. I need to go as first requested…

'What time will you be back?' she whispers, following me to the edge of the staircase. I shrug guiltily.

'No later than six?'

'You shouldn't make promises you can't keep,' she murmurs, softly.

I smile.

'No later than eight,' I amend.

She nods, watches me retreat quietly down the stairs and with an unusual look on her face, waves to me. Even when in the car, I stare at her window before reversing but though I imagine I see her, pressed against my window, waving me off, I tell myself she isn't actually there.

I sleep in the on-call room that night which grants me more hours than it would were I back home. I get at least three hours and when one of the Attending's mention they don't remember my name on tonight's rota, I feign fault with the admin system and offer my services.

Maddison isn't surprised I arrived at work earlier than expected. He reminds me that the start of my night shifts are coming but nevertheless, makes what use of me he can.

In all, it's a tiring and laborious shift. But I'm grateful to be working.

Grateful to be mindless.

The nights themselves also come to set in pretty easily. Emmett and Rosalie make up quickly in the confines of their own space, Es returns to her last classes to finish exams and in all, a new routine settles. It's an easy one at first. Simple.

But as May toils on, it's putrid fruits start to sour.

On all fronts, Edward is in a foul mood for days, likely missing his beloved and while Es had suggested returning to previous interests, the reminder of her current lessons seem to tire her and stress her to the point of near exhaustion.

She doesn't speak to me on architecture after mentioning it to the Masens and though I try catch a few signs of its return, maybe her drafting board, a ruler or pencils- if they are in her use, they are out of sight by the time I come home.

She's sick nearly every day this week.

Neither can she bear the stench of anyone cooking so you only have to eat to feel swamped with guilt as the vomiting took her. As a result, heartburn tackles her too. Cramps, bloating... In fact, if she's not writhing in complaints on the sofa, she's doing exams and assessments and while it should eat into that temper of hers, it actually just leaves her vulnerable, without energy. Harrowed.

Her and Edward don't argue again and neither do I hear her voice reach anywhere near its dulcet ring.

Alice has exams, too. Jasper as well. Emmett. Even me. So six of eight of us wind ourselves into near frustration, avoiding one another at cost.

That was just the exams.

On top on that, there was work.

Senior was starting to question Edward's interest post-graduation and remarks a little sourly, that 'the boy should get some experience in his chosen field should he wish me to fund his damn school.'

Again, he'd forgotten himself. Forgotten that in a mere month's time, Edward would be in control of his own finances. I get caught in the middle and when I try to suggest to either to leave me out of the conversation, it results in tension from both sides.

My own work is exhaustive.

Alistair returns vengefully and though he kindly mentioned in an offhand manner that I wasn't to blame for what happened in his O.R., he spends every day since correcting that threat.

Again, regardless of who did the incision.

He doesn't have me in a surgery again and every time I answer a question wrong, pose a banal diagnosis or procedure, every time I hesitate, he mutters 'Perez family' under my ear and watches me flinch.

Garrett and his focus with Doctor Reeba are no better. His people keep cutting the meeting at the last minute and lawyers, necessary on all parts, refuse to want to touch the case with a barge pole.

Maddison is kinder. He splits my time with rounds and the ER, studying, the Neo-natal unit but even he can't protect me from the reporters.

They file in, all shapes and sizes, all presenting theories, all pushing buttons and every time I slip up, every time I grant them as little as a smile, a snort, a frown, they publish it. All I had to do was put a plaster on at the wrong angle to spend the next three days in what was feeling like solitary confinement.

Monetarily, I suppose things are looking promising. Senior reckons he's found a loop hole that will allow Esme to operate from her own bank again, if meaning transferring accounts. She felt too bad to even look pleased when he told her and when I ask how he'd managed to do it, he guilty admits, 'by incriminating you.'

And then Sleep…

Sleep was coming to be a mirage, dreamed in play by a lonely Being some millennia ago and as much as I might fool myself to want it, it benefits were entirely lost to me.

It makes things impossible.

For one, it provides headaches so consistently blinding, I can barely read my own handwriting. It means every time Edward so much as mutters, I can't be within a foot to cope with it on fault of my bitterness.

It makes talking with Esme inadequate. Because she's suffering all the more now.

Sometimes, she's so tired, her eyes become waterlogged. The moisture falls hastily on her cheeks and as if frightened of her own-self, she locks herself in her room rather than comment on it. She doesn't alter her dosage either. I can hardly talk to her, the words dry up, shrivel and at every roll of her tear, I feel the weight of King on my throat.

On May twelfth, I offer her a lift home from one of her exams. She hadn't driven in a while now, could barely get behind the wheel without feeling nauseous and every time we'd offer, she'd guiltily bow her head lower.

She's rubbing her chest when I park alongside her. The weather has been better this week but she hasn't had chance to enjoy it. Too busy either resting or studying.

When she gets in the car, she leaves me as breathless as she did the first time. She smiles, shortly, dropping her bag to her trainers, tugging her coat from her arms. She's flushed again, her hair held in a sagging ponytail behind her head, her shirt damp with sweat.

'Feeling any better?' I ask quietly.

She nods, tilting her long throat upwards, shifting her eyes closed to conceal another mistruth.

'Exam went well?'

'Two left,' she whispers and though we have just said more to each other than we have in days, we don't say much more.

She'd also changed her perfume. Apparently sick of fruit, she turned to warmer spices. Her current one smelt so strongly of cinnamon and books that I could hardly be in the car with her without feeling miserable.

'Es?'

She's fallen asleep again, arms loose around the books in her lap, chin tilted.

It wasn't like she didn't sleep at night either. She seemed to always crash on the sofa now, about an hour or two before my shift, and what with the inability to keep up with my work-out regiments, carrying her up the stairs on a nightly basis was no longer solely painful to my memories.

I clear my throat, press my lips together guiltily when she flinches, wakes herself up in a start.

'Sorry.'

'S'fine,' She pulls her hair back, squints around herself before carefully unlatching the car-door.

I'd been thinking on that incessantly after Rose's birthday. The fragility. What they had cursed her to. My father, depositing the key to King who would seize her, hold her down-

'-Mae!'

Because that's what King would do. That was his plan all along, to break her wrists in a clutch, bruise her into this smaller scream of a personality… That's what was haunting me the most… she seemed as reserved as she was nearly five years ago.

Yet voiceless- without the temper to match it.

I feared her bickering with Edward, but things felt were worse when her refutes were half-hearted. When she made requests knowing he'd only disappoint her.

The sound of a car screeching to a halt catches my ears. There's a long, siren beep, a child's scream and suddenly, Esme screams for me too-

'Carlisle!'

I turn on the porch steps, a car in the middle of the road with- Serena Walderman. I run right after Esme into the street. The blond little girl is spread at angles on the concrete. She's barely twelve and yet she looks as young as eight, tiny, still as a chalk drawing spread across the floor.

'The car-,' Es blurts emotionally, 'Oh Carlisle- the car-'

There's no blood. Important. There's no blood.

'Shh, shh,' I soothe delicately, my hands carefully running over the girl for signs of any breaks. 'Serena? Serena, Honey?'

The girl coughs, whimpers, cries out for Esme. The blood rushes through me, Es gasping tearfully as she strokes the girl's hair.

'Sweetheart, you're okay, you're okay. Carlisle's here,'

'La mia piccola infermiera,' I greet gently. 'Are you hurt, Honey? Are you in any pain?'

The tears leave either side of her eyes but she shakes her head slowly. I carefully prod each limb, feeling ribs for any sign of discomfort. She doesn't complain, simply cries from the shock.

I do this several more times, fearful for missing something. Her complaints are minor.

'Okay, I'm going to lift you-'

The driver has come round the side of the car now, ghostly as he looks to the child. Esme bolts at him and yet in spite of her aggression, her voice is submissive.

'What the fuck were you thinking?! Can't you read the fucking road signs-'

'She- she-she just ran out in front of me!' He stutters panicked. 'I didn't see her-'

'Look at the estate. It's a family-estate. It's after school time!'

'Okay,' I whisper to Serena, trying to disrupt her from the scene. 'Ready? One, two, three.'

I pull her up carefully. There's a graze on her arm she doesn't seem to have noticed though the tears are flowing freely down to her chin. I check what I can of her vision. She's following everything right enough and I can't feel any lumps, lacerations or contusions on her head.

'Whose home? Mom or Dad?'

'Grandma,' she sniffles, looking eagerly at Esme who is still threatening to kick the guy's car in. She's fierce now. Her voice is getting thick, waving in octaves.

And yet still she seemed to be pleading.

'Es,' I call, nodding to the house.

The elder Mrs Walderman is at the door, she sees us heading towards her and gasps for her grandchild.

'Oh Sweetie, what happened to you?'

'The car,' she sniffles wetly.

'That bastard car,' Es snorts.

We follow Mrs Walderman in, heading to the kitchen so I can give Serena a cleaner check-over. The moment Es crosses the babygate, the baby, Jonathan comes running towards her, arms stretched, giggling and calling to her excitedly.

Without a pause, she lifts him into her arms, hiding the crowing wave of her expression as she clings to him on her jittering shoulder.

'Do you know what happened, Honey?' I thank Mrs Walderman for the first aid kit, gather the materials together.

'I saw you guys-,' she wails. Esme is in the kitchen too now and with the babbling baby in her arms, she uses her free hand to rub Serena's back.

'Sweet, you gotta be careful. If that… that man, was going any faster he could've really hurt you-'

'You haven't been over in so long! I didn't want us to go and not see you…'

'Oh hon, we're not planning on moving for a while yet. There's time,' She consoles lightly.

I don't know what makes me do it, but I look cautiously round the kitchen. Boxes are tied up in neat corners around the room. Boxes everywhere in fact. Empty cupboards, missing photographs-.

'But we're moving!' Serena cries.

Esme's expression jars. She'd been multi-tasking between swaying the baby on her hip and trying, with her natural tone to soothe the young girl to peace. At this revelation, she turns in shock to the elder Mrs Walderman, waiting for the corrections.

Jonathan is playing with the buttons of her layered shirt now and though she shifts so as to abate the weight of him leaning uncomfortably into her chest, he doesn't seem to look anything other than awed to see her.

In fact, he's verging on besotted.

'You're moving?' she asks weakly, looking slightly downcast at Serena. The girl nods, her braid flicking in movement.

'I thought you didn't want to see us anymore? I thought that's why you hadn't been round-'

'Sweet- I had no idea, I didn't-.' She looks briefly to me, perhaps in horror, perhaps in fear but I shake my head too.

Why they hadn't told us- why they hadn't spoken with Esme especially? She swallows, forces a weak looking smile on her lip as she pushes her own feelings to the end of her consideration.

'Well, I hope you're heading somewhere nice?'

'California,' Mrs Walderman responds. She looks at Es, guiltily-like but she just swallows the lump in her throat, shakes the emotion away.

'Oh Sweet, California will be beautiful. You'll get to go to all those sandy beaches, the ice cream-'

'But you won't look after us anymore?'

She rubs the girl's cheek with the back of her finger.

'No but you can send me lots of postcards. Tell me about all the friends you'll make…?'

Es looks briefly to me, tearing her eyes down again while continuing to hold the baby to her. He's still focused in playing with the buttons but she seems unbothered now, as if preparing to say her goodbyes as she rocks him.

'You know that's where the major film stars live?' I say now, leaning on the marble top.

'Yeah?' the little girl murmurs weakly.

'Oh yeah,' I nod to my flatmate. 'Es will tell you. You have all the big names wandering around. And there's lots of places to go shopping and-'

'And a funfair,' Es adds, enthusiastically. 'Down in Santa Cruz, right?'

I nod. 'I bet your parents will take you there all the time-'

'You'll get a nice tan, too.' Esme adds. 'Play all those Watersports?'

'You'll love it,' I promise. 'Really.'

'Will you visit us, Esme? Will you come see us?'

She reaches out her hand again to stroke the girl's hair. It looks like she's about to nod, too except Mrs Walderman cuts in.

'Serena, Honey, Esme will be too busy. You're still studying aren't you, Esme?'

The peculiarity of being called out as such perturbs me more than the expression of loss on her face. For a moment, she seems to struggle to gather the meaning offered by the elder women. I almost deny my own understanding of it before I hear Mr Walderman call unexpectedly into the house.

'Mom? Kids?'

His footsteps get louder and as I wave in greeting, he shifts. His whole posture steps back into a retreat.

'Carlisle?'

Es moves round too and though his eyes slip to his son in her arms, he doesn't conceal his expression any better. In spite of the warm weather, and time of day, he is wearing a smart, hand embroided suit likely expensive.

'Mr Walderman,'

'There's a-' he looks around us all, responds to his daughter's greeting and moves panicked eyes to his mother. 'There's a man outside the house?'

'There was an accident,' I explain quietly. The horror bleeds through him to his coal black shoes but I nod again to his daughter. 'She's okay, very brave of course but mostly unhurt.'

'Despite his attempts to kill me.'

'Serena,' Es disparages affectionately and though she shakes her head in slight dismissal, I know she was likely thinking the same sour comment.

'What happened?!'

'The car, Dad.'

'Car?' he adds weakly. He drops another acknowledging look to Es, perhaps a cold one and pulls the baby from her arms to his own. The kid is not impressed. He flaps his hands around, stretches towards her till Mark moves them both to the opposite side of his mother.

Unconsciously, I straighten up, move my posture to cover Esme. She hasn't said anything and is still smiling at Serena but her hands are twitching now.

'I hear you're moving?' She murmurs, peering around my arm to engage him in conversation.

'Yeah. Er. End of the week.'

End of the week? What's the rush?

'So soon?' I ask, suspiciously. He ignores the tone. Fusses around Serena, touching her limbs to any further grazes, analyses the care of the plaster on her elbow.

'Yes, well, work and all.'

'It's a shame,' Es murmurs. 'It'll be a shame to see you go.'

He nods weakly, looks to the floor. 'Well, likewise. As you know though, can't stay in one spot forever…'

I could correct him. Though considering I hardly fit into that category, and neither did Esme, it felt wrong to comment.

'Is there anything I can do?' Es murmurs. 'I could help you guys pack?' She looks around now as if seeing the space for the first time. When she speaks again, her voice is foggier. 'Or, Or I could-'

'We don't need your help, Esme.'

It takes every reminder of restraint to remember he's my elder…

And if anything happens, I'll be arrested.

'Oh Dad-'

'We're fine…' He repeats, snappily.

She moves as if he had pushed her, turns again to Serena and forces a smile on her crooked lip. I'm bristling now, fighting with the temptation to clutch her wrist and drag her straight on out of here. For what purpose? For which enjoyment was he suddenly treating her so cruelly- was it simply from that argument she'd had with Sarah?

I didn't get the impression they'd broken up on such bad terms…

Except maybe she was keeping that from me. Maybe she didn't want me to know.

And yet, she looks just as stunned-

'Well, I hope you know I'm going to miss you.' She squeezes the little girl's arm now, looks entirely at her face with stillness in her own. Only her voice wavers. I can't tell if she's trying not to cry though she is certainly warm. Radiating with heat, even.

'I'll miss you,' Serena mumbles, rubbing her nose on her wrist.

'You're gotta behave for Mom and Dad, okay? Be patient with Jonathan, too.' Esme nods to the blonde little boy. He's heard his name, lights up in a giggle. 'Look after each other?'

She nods, dismally.

'And look out on the roads, too.' I add. She blushes to her feet. 'You can't meet any of those A-stars if your squished, can you?'

'No, I guess not…'

I turn to Mark, fighting to keep my voice clear given his unusual behaviour.

'If she starts to suffer from a headache, any signs of dizziness or nausea, best to take her to the E.R.'

'Mm hmm.'

I nod my head towards the door for Esme's benefit, without saying the words I try to encourage her to leave before I do pull her fiercely from the building.

Serena, despite her dad's insistence, follows us to the door.

'I'll see you before we leave though right? You'll say goodbye?'

Es leans, wraps her arms around the girl and hugs her tightly. I see her share a look with Mr Walderman, the usually friendly, jovial Mr Walderman. His face remains unchanging and though she smiles, she keeps her response vague.

'Sure. Give my best to your mom, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Okay…'

Before we've even left the land, the door is slammed behind us. I don't get chance to ask if she's okay. I don't get chance to read her expression, sit her down, console her. She's already making her way towards our own house. The driver stops her, moves out to touch her.

She'd apparently been in her thoughts. Forgetting entirely about the man, at the move of something to her skin, she vaults back in shock like she'd flown thirty feet.

'Is she-?'

'You're goddamn lucky you didn't kill her,' she growls.

The second I come towards her, she moves away both from me and the bemused looking stranger. He reshuffles his own tie, looks eagerly up to me as if waiting for a fire to unleash.

'She's right, any faster and that little girl could've been seriously injured.'

'But she's okay though?' The guys is shorter than me, maybe a decade or so older, thinning in his suit. 'She's, she's not hurt?'

'No,' I murmur. 'Thankfully.'

He sighs, presses a handkerchief to the shine of his forehead as though we are in Louisiana and not city coast Oregon. I barely give him a look, dismissing him with a sour shunt of my eyes except when I go to walk off- he hurriedly calls me back.

'Wait-.'

I stop, turn to the man with a hand on my eyebrow.

'Do you know where Oakland road is?'

I nod. 'You're on it.'

I step off again, looking across both sides of the street before ambling towards the porch.

'And number six?'

In spite of the sun, my body freezes.

'Six Oakland Road?' he asks, reading from a slip of paper.

This time, I do not properly cast my eyes over my shoulder. I simply direct my voice.

'What did you want with number Six?'

'I'm looking for a … Carlisle Cullen?'

The venom is returning to my mouth again. He moves towards me as if seeing me for the first time, catching a glimpse of my face. He smiles, relieved.

'See, I work for the Local Gazette. I wondered if we could get a comment on-'

And before I hear another word, I barrel into the house.

'For Fuck Sake. I don't want to know- don't tell me.'

Perhaps if I hadn't been relying so much on him these last few months, I would've smirked, laughed maybe. Instead I feel worse.

'Okay what's happened?! Tell me- what the fuck has happened-'

'Nothing,' I diffuse neutrally. At least, nothing since this afternoon. 'Nothing's happening-'

'Who do I need to phone -' Senior mutters exasperatedly.

'No one,' I insist.

I should be leaning on my desk. Given the hour, the erratic shake of my foot, my exhaustion, I should be inside getting ready for work. I'm not. I'm not even studying. I'm just lent tiredly against the southern wall of the house, looking round the yard.

I've found a new plant plot. A spotted hellebore I think it's called. The pennies didn't come from my credit card so I suspect likely paid with cash, deposited on the outside windowsill in gifts of sunlight. It's way past sunlight hours now though. I should have left already- particularly if I wanted to catch Garrett in time.

Alas, other duties called. Or rather calls.

'I just ought to tell you there was an incident with a reporter today.'

'Brilliant,' he mutters. 'Shall I add it to the book or write a cheque?'

I roll my eyes. 'Neither.'

'Hm?'

'He was outside the house. Vying for my comment apparently. He knocked down the neighbour's little girl with his car-'

'My Lord, did he really? Is she okay?'

'Yeah, hardly a scratch but it's likely going to end up in-'

'Wait,' he interrupts, surprisingly calm. 'You say he knocked her down?'

'I think she ran in the road. But that's actually what made me phone-'

He's already gone quiet, musing on possible ways he can spin the story. No matter how useful to his day, I didn't want to hear it. I was starting to lose my mind with the lot of them.

'And there's road signs where you are right? A school sign if I remember rightly?'

It didn't sound as though Senior was much intrigued in the offering I was trying to make.. I usually avoided calling him unless in trouble, he only spoke to me to convince Edward or declare judgment on my latest media stints so to hear him use a sentence without a smart-ass accusation falling off his mouth.

Well, I was a bit surprised.

'About twenty yards either side,' I murmur. 'Give or take.'

'And she was definitely hit? Did he offer insurance? Did he say anything to her-?'

'Well, she's eleven. Her father wasn't even there so-'

'So he just drove off? He hit a child and drove off?'

He is getting very excited.

'By God, Carlisle- that's. Well… it's horrific as you well know but that could be quite useful. Any other incidents involving rogue reporters?' His accent is tumbling chaotically as he speaks, his words bursting with eagerness. 'If they so much as cut you up in traffic, I think you should write it down. We might even manage to get a good spin out of this-'

'Sir-?'

'What do you think, would it make sense to maybe put out a public statement? That might help? Could also be a spider's web, if you will. They'll see you addressing the public- they'll dive to get a quote, more incidences will occur-'

He seemed to be ignoring the rather alarming fact that in both examples either someone was endangered or had actually been hurt.

'Mr Masen?' I mutter, desolately.

'Yes, Son?'

Still had the power to make me cringe.

'The reason I'm phoning- I wanted to give you a name. See if it cropped up anywhere?'

'Okay,' he agrees skeptically, grasping writing materials to hand. 'What's the name?'

'Walderman, Mark. He's a stockbroker. Not local to the area. I think they only moved here a year or so before us…'

It's quiet for a long while and then he hums.

'Nope. Nothing to mind, I'm afraid… Stockbroker you say? What company?'

'I couldn't tell you.' I shake my head in irritation, annoyed that I hadn't thought to look. 'How about Sarah Walderman?'

'Nothing on Sarah, either… Has something happened, Carlisle?'

'No,' I sigh dejectedly. 'No, it was just a thought.'

'Son-.'

He takes a big breath in, sighs as though he is smoking. Maybe he is smoking. If so, he was now burning the last bridge between me and anyone who might've expressed the slightest bit of care for me. If Liz thought the stress of this was leading him to smoke-.

Well, she'd soon let me know.

'It really doesn't do good to dwell…' he says slowly. He is aware of the hypocrisy from tone alone, and likewise, I am annoyed by it. 'I know I said you need to be alert and I mean it but that doesn't mean you should go pointing fingers so easily.'

It was against everything he'd been telling me thus far.

'I know,' I say shortly.

'But… how are… I mean. You're well though, yes?' He gruffs now, sounding almost like he's puffing out his chest. 'You and Edward and Esme. You're well?'

Where was this going?

Besides, the answer was technically no.

Particularly seeing that Edward seemed to be an empathetic nurse at the moment. If she so much as made a noise of discomfort, he was pressing a hand to his mouth in preparation.

'Meaning?' I ask sceptically.

'How's- how's work for example? You're doing well, aren't you?'

'Are you asking if there's been any more PR problems at the hospital?'

If I sounded paranoid it is because I am. Made worse by Garrett's case. If I wasn't working out of social hours anyway, I would be now.

'No. Merely asking after things?'

I find myself reeling back as if he were standing in front of me.

'I didn't call for a chat, Sir.'

He takes another thoughtful minute. 'No, I… Quite. Well, call me if anything happens.'

'Of course.'

'Goodnight Son.'

It was a natural affection of his words. I knew that and yet it felt like he was calling me that a lot lately. Putting himself in yet another competition with my father. Sticking the voodoo doll and seeing who squeals.

If he wasn't careful, it'd be his blood-relative.

Despite the fact I am leaving early, I still feel the need to rush into changing. I'd avoided suits for the last few weeks, opted instead for the blue scrubs. It was safer. It made me recognisable to patients and similarly meant I was more likely to blend in. As my hair grew longer, the exhaustion darkening my features to an almost permanent blue hue, they wouldn't even spot me against a mirror image.

Edward is grumbling when I make my way downstairs. He's frowning at the pot of instant coffee on the side, stirring what looks to be tea.

He doesn't usually drink tea. So that either meant he was being thoughtful or that Bella was over. I wait a few moments to see if I hear her talk and sure enough, someone in the house fidgets.

I take the coffee from his hand and make myself a drink in a takeaway cup. Caffeine had replaced my blood recently. In fact, we were going through so much of it- I was going through so much of it- that it was becoming an expense rather than a shopping item.

He grumbles again, apparently waiting for my eventual comment. I have to hold the groan when I provide him the courtesy.

'What now? I ask impatiently.

'What do you mean?'

I need to get to work. I needed to get Es to bed.

'You keep muttering under your breath,' I note, tiredly. 'What is it now?'

He exhales fiercely. 'My aftershave.'

Here we go.

'It was your aftershave the other week. What's the issue now?'

Admittedly I wasn't a huge fan of it, the false sting of what the advertising company like to call Ocean Rigour. I wasn't as put off as she was. It seems that time had not dampened her nose.

'Her sense of smell is just so damn sensitive, Carlisle. I was barely in the door today before she was throwing up-'

'I told you not to wear it around her,' I mutter, rubbing the aging lines of my forehead.

'She didn't have a problem with it before! It's ever since I've started dating Bella suddenly everything I do is-'

'Not good enough?' I mock. He hasn't caught my tone. With a large sigh, he nods, gestures his hand in agreement.

'Exactly.'

'Well you know, you could just stop wearing aftershave. You could stop shaving. Clearing up after yourself.' I gesture back to him, he's not pleased. 'I mean, considering it's only a comment on your relationship after all.'

He sucks his cheeks in, pulls his chin down as if to overpower me with a glare of his eyebrows.

'What do you want me to say, Kid? Tell her to suck it up?'

'No,' he murmurs. 'It'd just be nice to back my corner-.'

'What is there to back?' I say, rhetorically.

I go to throw the spoon in the sink but considering he is watching me, move it to the uncleaned dishwasher instead. I make a point of setting it off demonstratively. He just stays standing on the floor tiles with his arms folded.

'She can't help being ill, you know that. If you're that frustrated, why don't you make conversation-' I briefly remember Bella sat in the living room and lower my voice accordingly. – 'Why don't you ask if it's a side effect? I told you this days ago.'

'I just can't ask her that, Carlisle! It's so-'

I sigh, and nod.

Impertinent.

He is right. I could hardly criticise for something I wasn't doing either. Because I did want to know. Badly. Several times I had to stop myself the urge of looking for the pills.

Then came the reminder. The men she'd been hurt by. The men who'd do the same thing, decide they knew better for her. I was doing my best to avoid being any further cause of an issue I'd long since established.

'What do you want me to do? Do you want wear the aftershave?'

'I just don't want to have to panic about every bloody scent I carry around with me. It'd be nice to come home one day and not repulse her-.'

He was hitting a nerve now and he was also speaking louder than I felt comfortable with. Even if he did so at speed. I take a hard gulp of the coffee, swallow it, hold its burn in my chest before shrugging at him.

'It's just going to take time. Once these tablets kick in… .'

And if not? He asks silently. If not, I'd buy him a better aftershave for Christmas.

'How long does it take?' he asks weakly. 'For them to be in her system?'

At a little over a proposed seven weeks, I was hoping we'd already be there but who could possibly say for sure? I couldn't even name the drug, let alone the dosage. How was I meant to suppose side effects?

'Could be up to six months.'

'Bah.'

'Anyway- shouldn't you be studying?' I look pointedly towards the archway. Bella's heard herself be referenced, if not directly and walks on over to catch the conversation with a blush in her cheeks.

'Evening Carlisle,' she whispers, cautious to the figure on the furniture.

I nod in Bella's direction, wait for Edward to throw confessions and when he eventually doesn't, come to peel Es from the sofa. They both watch as I do it, almost in silence. I suppose it had now become such a habit, I didn't need to think as deeply about where my arms should go. Over time, I had learnt the best way to hold her so as not to disrupt her sleep all without touching an inch of her. She has a book laying to the side of the sofa when I crouch down to lift her.

I don't think of it. I use the blanket to lift under her knees, wrap an arm close around her back and push into my legs. I pull her towards me, carry her carefully up the stairs without meeting Bella's eye, and put her into the fresh sheets of her bed. I do as I always do, lightly press on the mattress to see for any offending springs and once she's settled and the fan is on, I leave her to sleep.

Bella is watching me silently as I trudge down the stairs, asking things in abundance but not saying a word of them.

'You said you were going to ask about that, too,' I remind Edward, coming back to the coffee table to pick up her book.

'You know why she's sleeping down here. Because she likes to know you got back alright.'

I move my eyes pointedly, fold my lip inward and curtly shake my head. Far too inappropriate with Bella here. It was bad enough she was getting an eyesight into… well into…Into any of it, really.

'Regardless-' I start to mutter.

'Test it out.'

'No.'

'Carlisle, test it out. Leave her to sleep on the sofa for one night, see what happens.'

'I'll tell you what'll happen, she'll wake up with a bad back and will be, rightfully, unhappy with you.'

And I'd be furious.

'Yeah, yeah-'

'I've got to go.'

Distracted, I come to drop the book on a shelf when the title page hits me. I hadn't notice the familiarity before. Or, thought about the book itself. It is a collection of poetry - a book I had gifted the first Christmas I had known her…

Pathetically, I stumble back, my hand coming to my left ribcage so as to press hard into the muscle.

The rare times I had managed to quip known literature at her, I had done through these words. Through this mood. To even be… to even read these lines at a time like this. To even pit herself to that-.

'Carlisle?' Edward asks confusedly.

'Work-,' I excuse.

'Carlisle it's-'

I don't even remember my coffee as I leave.

Garrett is in the hallway when I get to the hospital. He drops a bunch of files in my arm, wishes me luck on my rounds and leaves me to it. Alistair is less kind. He drops a bunch of files in my arm, wishes me luck and returns in fifteen minutes to test me on procedures, doses, medicines, exercises, things to look out for, things to ignore and does it when I'm meant to be helping out in the E.R.

One particular patient loses her temper. Attacks his terrible bedside manner and suggests he go back to medical school. He doesn't think twice. His right eye twitches and snatching her file out my hands, he reads down his notes and comments aloud that her insurance didn't cover much.

'What a shame,' he mutters. 'To think Doctor Cullen will have to prescribe the Trimox instead. Very expensive that bottle. And only comes in small dosages.' He turns to the woman dramatically, pulling his lip down in play. 'What a shame for you and your finances-'

'Alistair!' I bemoan. The woman pushes past the both of us as hard as her tweeded suit will let her.

'Fucking time wasting assholes,' he spits, crossing his arms over his chest in complaint. 'These fucking reporters of yours, Cullen-'

'I still have to treat them,' I remind him roughly.

'Just point them to your paediatrics and have done with it.'

'It's not mine.' I growl.

'Well it's your name on it.' He says, imitating me in what I am presuming is to be my stroppy way. 'Patent pending-.'

'It's not patent-'

'I don't care. Nothing could disinterest me more than your infatuation with a City Councillor-'

'It's not an infatuation.'

He snorts, rolls his eyes. I'd been short with him recently. A few times this month Alistair had said something too close to the mark and when I snapped, or growled or revolted, he seemed to enjoy it enough to grant me space.

Though it didn't stop the humiliation.

The criticisms.

The absolute hatred in my gut everytime he suggested that difference of opinion would lead to yet another fatality the size of the Perez family. He was making me hard. Bitter. Sour to judgment.

'You know what I heard?'

I couldn't give a shit what Alistair thought he'd heard.

'I heard that Mr Royce King wants to return… says he's all done and dusted with his holiday now. Wants to come home and rebuild his franchise.'

The reference of his glare is an obvious label to the coffee house. As far as I was aware, it'd been labelled as an accident. A judgment error from the side of the employer. Didn't reduce my nerves though. If they wished to blame it on an employee, I could only guess their preference.

'And you know this because?'

'I know this because you don't wish to know. Just like half your patients are ever so eager to tell you about Dear Father Cullen.'

I sigh.

'You know Eustace, reading the paper every once in a while doesn't make you an expert to my private life.'

Surprisingly, he hasn't taken the comment with heat. He hasn't glared or rearranged the whiskers on his face. He just stares at me, an entertaining glint in his expression. Even looking up to him makes my own eyes hurt.

'I've told you before, I don't accept pet names.'

'Excuse me?' I ask, tired as ever.

He puts his hand on the cubicle curtain, smirks.

'And another thing. I'm your boss. Not your father. Don't mix it up again?'

The screech of the railing closing leaves me in as much discomfort as the embarrassment. Disgusted with myself, I pinch the bridge of my nose and though the pain doesn't subside, it distracts me enough that I can at least get on with the work at hand.

Just before eleven that evening, Garrett calls a conference call with a few of Reeba's staff. Doctor Reeba isn't present, the hours don't allow for such. Though as talks wane on we seem to get further and further from the point. The boy currently has an infection. He's living with an aunt for now but everytime we try to gather details from her, or via a translator, she falls into hysterics and moves the conversation away.

Understandably, Garrett is pissed.

'You'd think she'd actually want to locate the parents?' he complains, kicking out from the desk with his shoulders slumped. 'She's trying to take guardianship of him like that. Ignorant woman- can barely understand the ethics of the issue-.'

Interesting for him to be calling ethics when he was halfway from saying we'd run the procedure and screw the consequences.

I drain the coffee.

'No English and yet she seems to know the words for 'proceed'.'

He was moving into controversial territory.

'Why she thinks we can just take her word at law-. She's not even trying to contact them.'

I have to leave him to mumble his complaints alone that evening. I have my first exam in the early morning of my shift. I know it's my first exam because the notes Maddison has left are almost condemning in their wishes. It's hard to say whether it goes well or not. Several of the things asked could likely trip me over but I at least had answers for it all.

I could hope to heal someone.

Eventually.

The next evening, I decide to follow Edward suggestions and leave Es on the sofa. I hate myself for it. I spend the entirety of my shift regretting it and when another meeting is called for Garrett to ridicule the family he demands we operate on; I am much too racked with guilt to prepare answers for him.

It puts him in a worse mood.

And only leads Alistair to a gleeful one.

The shift is quiet this evening and seemingly inspired by my inability to provide either mentors with satisfaction, Maddison sends me home early to sleep. Silly of course, like I'd get chance what with Alistair's recent taunts.

He'd asked if I caught up with the news.

And followed it up by asking when he could expect to see my interview.

I catch the local radio on the route home. My father had apparently been pressuring for talks with King. But instead of throwing terms of comradery…he actually makes a point to criticise his neutrality between matters of church and state.

Should have been irrelevant to me.

Except I knew the ploy.

He was using it for publicity on either side.

He was using it to negotiate a peace treaty with me.

In anger, I hit the radio off and rest my posture exhaustively over the steering wheel. I couldn't force the move until exams were done… I couldn't get either flatmate to move till I got confirmation-. Es wouldn't leave unless I went with her, Edward wouldn't want to leave Bella and thus I was left… left watching my father ready his battlefield… while we waited for the attack.

Undefended.

I shut my hand in the car door before I lock it. Pain shoots from the palm to the end of my fingers and gasping I knead skin in displeasure. What with the stun of the move, I half forget about Esme in the living room and shutting the door as I usually would, the noise of the latch wakes her in a start.

With her body tucking inwards, she pulls herself up quickly, looks about the room in panic.

'Es?' I squint and remembering myself sigh disappointedly. Edward had lest ensured she was cosy. 'I'm sorry for waking you-'

Squinting in the dark, she pulls a hand to the side of her head, holds it there as if dizzy.

'What time is it?' She asks groggily.

I still can't see her properly though I can see her hair is rather chaotically spread about her. Thick, too.

'A little after four,' I whisper.

She yawns, reaches to the opposite side of the sofa for the lamp. Clicking it on, the room floods with a white light, and squinting I come to see her twisted in shapes beneath the throw. She looks more distracted than normal.

'Just get in?' She asks, watching me stand awkwardly between the armchair and the table. I consider sitting down but instead pull up my posture and move my aching hand behind me.

'Yeah,' I murmur.

She nods waits for me to respond in depth. She waits a long time. My voice isn't to be trusted given the cursing in the vehicle, I don't want to say something in more anger than I mean it.

'From work?

'Mm Hmm.'

There's another long pause. Nervously I let my eyes shift about the room, avoid catching her as I set about judging where things are. For example, Edward has left his CDs in a chaotic pile on the table side. The table itself is messy again. More books, more pens. That book.

Her stomach growls.

'Excuse me-,'

'Hungry?' I ask.

She thinks, nods her head.

'D'you… Do you want me to get you something?'

'Are you hungry?' she asks, hopefully.

I am far from it, though I suspect she didn't wish the be the only one eating at so early in the Morning.

'I could eat,' I say making my way to the kitchen.

After a few steps, she delicately pads behind me. I avoid looking at her too directly again, but do allow a slight turn of my jaw.

She's very close behind me, her hands held together almost against the middle of my spine. Her breath hits me when she exhales, almost like a cycle and I find I have to stare idly at the island to stop thinking of it.

'Did you want a snack, a meal?' A three course dinner?

'Have we got any frozen yoghurt?' She asks, tilting her jaw in thought.

The request was a little specific. I check anyway but gently shake my head. She sighs.

'It's the only thing I can keep down at the moment…'

'Well I could-' I check my watch again, nod. 'I could go get some?'

'Like Baskin Robbins or supermarket?'

In spite of my exhaustion, I chuckle lightly.

'Which do you want?'

'I want Baskin Robbins…' She sighs, makes a face. 'With the mango pieces… Ooh and the kiwi.'

'Okay-,' I move to collect my car keys but she is airily following behind.

'I can come right?'

I hadn't expected her to want to. Nevertheless, I nod and then nod again.

It doesn't take us long to shuffle in the car. She's mostly quiet, other than to source a shop that's open at this time. We have to head out of our way, the silence in the car palpitating but we end up not far from the coast. She seems content with her order, whirls it around in her pot, chews on the fruit.

My own order I find a little harder to swallow. Sure it was nice. Cold maybe. I couldn't find a taste to it though. I couldn't enjoy it as if I wanted it. I was too cautious of what she might be thinking.

I sneak another look to my right.

Whatever she seems to have her focus entirely on the yoghurt.

'You didn't say,' she murmurs after a few minutes. That spice of her new perfume moves again, throws my understanding out of balance.

'Pardon me?'

'How work is.' She responds. 'How your shift went?'

Oh.

'Well.' I lie. 'And your… er.. your evening?'

She digs her spoon in, twirls it in the mixture before pulling it to a peak.

'Better now.'

Better because the food.

'How is it?' I ask, looking at the pot in my hands. I force a spoonful, move the creamed ice on my tongue, wait for the sourness. She pushes her lips together.

'The frozen stuff helps with the heartburn.' She indicates the pot.

I nod to myself.

'Es-'

She whips her head round, large eyes securing me, her hair still disarrayed and gorgeous… I lose my nerve.

'What?'

I sigh.

'Something's not…'

'Not what?' she asks sceptically.

'There's nothing wrong is there?'

She raises a flat eyebrow.

'What I mean is-,' I hastily follow. 'I mean… you've been ill a lot this month...'

'Ill,' she scoffs and shakes her head despondently. I swallow a little harder. '- it's just IBS.'

She shrugs. From what I was aware she didn't have IBS... nor any known intolerances. Though I suppose she could've always developed one of course

'IBS doesn't tend to work like that,' I correct delicately.

She stares straight at me. Like in a comedy show, straight at me. In wait.

'Oh,' I realise. 'That too…'

'That too,' she mutters gleefully.

'Could be an intolerance…' I muse quietly to myself. I stir the pot round, pull a whip of it into view. 'Could even be dairy thinking on it….'

I look back over the her. She's nearly finished her portion. Eagerly scraping the edge for any remnants. The spoon continues to grate on the edge of the cardboard bowl. I pass her my own.

'You don't want it?'

I shake my head.

With a shrug, she thanks me and tucks her spoon in. It's nearing five now and I make no show of the fact that I am pleased to be awake. Infact as much as I was happy to be with her… relieved more like it, I didn't want us out here any longer than necessary.

Masen might flip.

Flicking the engine on I drag the seatbelt back over me.

'We heading back?' She asks, the spoon hung in her mouth playfully.

I feel myself whimper. Just a little. Enough to feel it in my chest. I nod.

'That okay?'

'Y-yeah.' She stutters. 'Sure…'

I wait till we're parked at home to speak again. It doesn't seem to bother her. She has her focus on her yogurt, seeming quietly contented with the appetite.

'Can I ask something else?' I've kept my voice low again, regretful. She's wary when she nods, wiping the corners of her mouth delicately.

'Mm?'

'Is there something wrong with your bed?' I ask it as quietly as I can but the expression on her face still seems to suggest I have upset her somehow. She pushes her eyebrows together, parts her lips.

'Why?'

I shrug, rub the back of my head.

'You've been napping on the sofa a lot…'

'Is that a problem?' She asks, curtly.

I feel myself retreat back into the chair as hard as my posture will allow.

'N-no…' I breathe again, steady my words. 'No, of course not.'

She shakes her head.

'But I am the Landlord…' I mutter. 'Technically.'

She pushes her second empty pot to the edge of her knee now, touches the sides of her mouth again worriedly. I'm listening to her breathe. Slowly at first, heavy, consistent.

'Thanks for breakfast, Carlisle.'

'Anytime,' I say softly.

We don't say goodnight to each other. I think it's the first time I have consciously held back from doing so. The words are there. Ready. Prepared. Except saying them aloud seems so much more final than I remember it being. So much more brittle. Likewise, I don't want to be the one to put it out there first. Neither do I want to be the one left to return it.

My eyes don't even bother closing this Morning. Instead I drop my posture on my bed and with my focus on the ceiling, try to remember a time when it didn't hurt to love her.

My run the next day is more successful than I remember them being in a while. I suspect with Alistair's comments on my mind, my resistance to believe them had infiltrated the work of my legs. I run far enough, hard enough, long enough that I catch Es on the porch steps by noon.

Like me, she is drench in sweat, her hair is frizzy in a high bun and her entire face is lit up with a pink-to red flush. She leaves the door open for me to head through but doesn't say anything in greeting.

Neither do I. I simply unlace my trainers, cautiously watch her throw her keys to the table. There's a new keychain on them. And key in fact. I find myself staring at it while fiddling with my laces.

'If I ask you for frozen yoghurt again-' she's on the stairs now, lips pulled in an almost sarcastic smirk.

Apparently she is racing, and beating, me to the shower. If this were three months ago I would've laughed. Three months ago I would've let a dark chuckle escape my lips, offered her the use and shut myself in my bedroom to masturbate.

Now I just look up, force myself to seem casual despite the chiming of her voice hitting every nerve.

'-don't let me have it.' She grumbles. She turns back up the stairs, makes her way across the landing and to the bathroom, muttering 'I've put on enough weight on as it is.'

Despite myself, I snort.

I'm on an earlier shift at the hospital today. An afternoon shift instead of an overnight one and thanking the lack of news coverage for the source, I make my way over.

The first half of the day I study and take part in the second of my thirteen exams.

Maddison doesn't bother commenting on it so it's safe to presume it went fine and within the dinner hour, he dismisses me to find Garrett. He's even more stressed than he was yesterday.

I find him not far from the cafeteria, kicking a soccer ball against a wall. We don't greet each other. He just kicks it my way and assesses my response. I put my foot ontop. Stop it. Roll it onto the bridge of my shoes, roll it back and boot it at an angle to come colliding towards him.

He catches it.

'New toy?' I ask.

'She's going to kill him.'

'You can't get her talking then?' I presume, referring to his new arch nemesis. He taps his head frustratingly.

'All we need to know is where the parents are, get their consent and we can go. We can move.'

The preparation for the clinical trial starts in three days. If we didn't gather the parents' permission in time, the kid would be out. Ignorant of the fact that we were risking possible crimes just to force him onto the damn thing.

'One signature,' he groans.

'What's the excuse?'

'This time?' he asks, grinding his teeth together. 'Apparently dead. Though considering they were alive and jumping three days ago-'

'You don't believe her?' I surmise, folding my arms together. He starts to kick the ball back towards the building again. It's beat after beat after beat.

'Would you? Convenient how they're just dead.'

I look at him sceptically. He scoffs again.

'Don't tell me you actually believe that bullshit? Of course they're not dead, she's just trying to screw us over even harder than we're already being screwed.'

'Did you actually meet the parents?' I ask.

'What?'

'Either of the them? How can you be so sure they're not dead?'

'They only got deported a few weeks ago- of course they're not dead!'

'People die Garrett,' I say it openly, watching for the swing of the ball when he inevitably kicks it at me. 'People die from things we can't control- why are you so sure she's lying? What's the benefit?'

'Pairing you with Alistair is one of the stupidest things Maddison has ever done for this hospital.' He snorts, spits disgustingly on the floor and waits for my reaction. It's not pleasant. 'Why is it,' he starts up again. 'Why is it when it's your area of the woods. When it's new life and it's sparkly and magical, everyone goes running. But for one five-year-old kid, no one gives a shit.'

I shrug.

'Why is his fucking guardian being a righteous pain in my ass?! We need one signature-'

'And if they are dead?' I ask. 'If the parents did die, why can't we just take her word on it?'

'She won't be guardian until we get the death certificate… which could be months from now. You know how long Reeba is giving us? Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours until they pull it.'

'So what? You want me to go hunting? Hell and high water-'

He puts his hand to his head, scrubs his thick hair.

'You know people, Carlisle. You've got friends in high places-'

'Hardly friends,' I snort.

'I wouldn't ask if I thought there was another way. But if you've got any influence with King-'

The suggestion seeps into my skin like soap on a loafer.

'Are you insane?' I burst, the fissure of water bursting through me like a current. 'You want me to contact King?!'

'He could be our last option-'

'He'll be our damnation.' I correct. To think Garrett believed we needed King? That just meant he trusted the rumours. He thought he was coming back. He was wishing for him to come back.

'Carlisle, think about it. He'll have names all over -'

I back away now, step closer the cafeteria door as if to slip through it.

'Absolutely not-'

'What have you got against him?' He mutters in frustration. 'I'm just asking you to contact the guy, not swear your allegiance to his coffee beans. What's the issue?'

'If you get King involved, people will get hurt!'

He throws his head back, guffaws irrationally.

I have to bind my hands together to refrain from hitting him.

'Well if I don't get him involved, someone might die. You can decide if you want that blood on your hands-'

Storming back inside, I consider jumping entire ship and getting out now. Telling Maddison to screw the job, telling Alistair to screw his teaching and demanding to my household we don't just move, we migrate. South of the equator…

I consider it but I don't do it.

With the fever to prove Garrett wrong, to distance myself entirely from the rumours on King, I take one of the laptops and research until a migraine bowls me over.

I'd told myself I'd leave by six today. At half eight in the evening I am still bent over the screen, consorting pages after pages after pages of Tunisian news reports, translating them back and forth, using what limited tools I have to search for names…

It takes me three hours to find something.

And even then it's not enough to present to Garrett.

Eventually, when the headache comes to blind me, I resign to cut my losses and head home for the night. I have to drive carefully on fault of the pain but once I park up, and the clock ticks its hours into my blurry vision, I take the time to rub both my sore eyes.

When the scent tricks my nose.

I take a deep inhale, feel my head snap up.

There's a dragged scent of... of smoke I think.

Of smoke.

Lunging from the car, I fly up the porch steps and run to the backyard where the smoke leads me. I'm blind enough that all I see are flames at first. Just flames.

'Christ-'

The fear is too consumed with the light to look about me. I force myself through the back door, grab whatever form of containment I can grab and whatever kind of water and throw it immediately on the growth.

There's figures around the colour. But I can't even spare the thought because the fire, the smoke… King.

'Carlisle-'

Grabbing another bucket of water, I launch it directly onto the pit. Water splatting the orange out and quashing the last of the flames. Gasping, coughing in fact, I put my hand to my nose and choke.

'Hon-,' Esme appears on my right, eyes lit up in shock as she puts a hand to my coat arm, pulling me from the ring. Both my hands clasp her tightly around the arms, gripping her.

'Are you okay?' I gasp, 'Are you hurt?!'

Where is he?! Where is King?!

'Carlisle,' She clears her throat, both her hands, warm hands come up to my jaw and from my jaw to wipe the collected streaming of tears by my nose.

'It's a bonfire,' she whispers.

The sweet line of oxygen sinks like a needle through the ribs of my chest. I gasp, wheeze again, trying to loosen my hold on her but it's too tight. I'm breathing too hard, collapsing in on myself.

With the dark now everywhere but her complexion, I blink, rub my eyes with the back of my hand and squint.

The pit; a collection of wood, paper… Her mattress.

I see Emmett now. He's nursing a soda can, looking wide eyed at me as I struggle to find that breath again. Es pulls from me, her delicate fingers resting close to my ears as she moves to look around my general furrowed eyes.

'Can't you see it?' she asks quietly, likely referring to my struggle to sort the shapes accordingly.

'I suppose you think this is clever?' I snap to Emmett. 'Some kind of hilarious prank?'

He isn't glaring at me like he did before Rose. Simply parts his lip guiltily.

'It was me, Carlisle.' She frowns as I try to rub my eyes clear again. 'I'm sorry, it was me. I didn't think you mind considering-'

Considering what? We needed some kind of smoke signal, did we?

'Considering?' I ask tightly. She swallows, her touch aligned with the stubble on either cheek. I was too frightened to even be grateful. Too fearful.

'Considering we'd normally do one every autumn.'

Yet it is now Springtime May and I don't see the need.

'Do you realise how dangerous it is?' I ask her, my voice strained from the fear of God struck through me. 'Why are you even burning-'

I look back over and reconsider the items, the belongings.

'Why are you doing this?'

'Why are you angry?' She asks weakly.

I sigh, fight to ignore Emmett and his presence, his likely encouragement. I take my hands over hers, finger the palms for a second before carefully dragging her hold from my face. She's looking cautiously at me, wide green eyes, flickering of brown…

'I'm not angry, Esme.' It still sounds rough when I say it. I inhale slowly, let the sting of smoke burn my nose. 'I was frightened. I thought- I thought-'

I shut my eyes, exhale forcibly.

If she didn't know about King, then she was safer in that. Calmer. I wouldn't unnecessarily frighten her by revealing my own nightmares.

'It's just a bonfire,' she promises. Now my fragile hands have dropped hers, she gestures with an arm, clad in a thin cardigan towards the crisp of paper. 'Mostly just old essays and things… I scanned them all. Jas helped… I thought it be easier to compact it all onto a hard-drive for when we move-'

I can't help it, my eyes slip accusatorily to Emmett. He raises his hands in innocence, holds the attempt to smile.

'Em provided the fuel…'

Yes, I bet he did.

'The others were going to come round for it…' she rubs her chest now, steps away again so that I can see her entire outfit from the kitchen light. Jeans, boots, a long t-shirt. Emmett is sat by a tree in the far right in summer gear, watching the grass around him with great interest.

'I didn't think you'd mind…' she says slowly. 'What with work…'

'I've got the night off.' I say quietly.

'Great. You can join us then?'

I shake my head.

'Or I can rearrange? Tell them not to bother-'

'No,' I murmur. I look back to the patch of black, rub the binding migraine through my forehead. 'No, you've already started now…'

'I would've asked-'

'You didn't need to.' I remind myself.

'Well…'

I sigh now, darkly, shake my head. 'I've got studying to do…' And people to track apparently. 'Just. Just be safe, yes?'

'Mm hmm.' She agrees, nodding.

I'd actually pointed that comment to Emmett and though he nods his head, he doesn't say anything aloud. And I don't engage him further than that.

With a nod of my head, I slink through the rest of the house and settle myself at the desk.

No, really, it's still my birthday! would love to hear your thoughts?

Pretty please?