A/N: Hello! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter and will enjoy this one as well! This chapter does start a few months later than where I ended Chapter 39, so just keep that in mind :)
UPDATE 6/1/2021: I added a couple of extra paragraphs from the original upload; so if you've read the chapter already, I suggest re-reading that part to be up to speed, as the addition is important for the upcoming chapters!
Chapter 40: Just an Accident
Edythe stepped cautiously in through the hospital's front doors, eyes going to the intake desk. As she approached, the receptionist looked up, ready to give the obligatory paperwork and mantra she gives to every other person who walked into Ithaca General's ER. But the hazel eyes that fell on Edythe flickered with recognition and surprise, a soft smile breaking out across the lined face.
"Good morning, Eileen," Edythe greeted the woman.
"Edythe," the receptionist said. "What can I do for you?" The word were no sooner out of her mouth when she noticed Edythe's hand. Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows lifting, and Edythe smiled.
"Could you let my mother know that I'm here?" she asked politely.
"Of course, hon," the middle-aged woman agreed then gestured to the wall of chairs for her to sit. Edythe settled down into one of the closest chairs, maintaining pressure on the ice pack she had pressed to her throbbing hand. At the same time, she fought down the wave of unease.
Ever since her plight in the Forks Hospital, Edythe abhorred the idea of hospitals, which seemed odd, considering her mother worked at one, and she herself was employed at the animal equivalent. But she hated coming here, an irrational fear that she may be tied there for an extended period of time, much like those first few weeks after the car accident. Regardless, Edythe avoided it at all costs. But she'd had no choice now, and all she could do was hope her time here would be minimal.
When she heard the sound of the elevator arriving on the floor, Edythe looked up to see Carine walking down the short hallway, stepping into the large space. Her eyes scanned the room, finding her daughter immediately; the deep concern there prompted Edythe to stand.
"Hi, Mom," she said with a sheepish smile. Carine stepped forward, her golden eyes dropping to the hand that Edythe was cradling against her chest. Her hands came up, her cool fingers brushing against Edythe's elbow and her thumb.
"Edythe, what happened?" she asked in surprise.
"She wanted an excuse to visit you at work, Dr. Cullen," Eileen chuckled. Carine glanced at the receptionist then smiled slightly. As she ushered Edythe toward one of the exam rooms, she thanked Eileen. Edythe turned toward her mother as Carine shut the door to the private room behind her. Her hands came up again to pull away the ice pack, her cool fingers replacing the chill as she went to feel the swelling over the area.
"What happened?" she asked again. Edythe pressed her lips together, her expression uncomfortable, but Carine didn't think it was from the injury. She waited, eyes expectant. Edythe exhaled with a sigh.
"There was an…accident," she said slowly.
"Accident?" Carine prompted, confused. Edythe paused, then it came out in a rush.
"She didn't mean to, but I guess I just distracted her at the wrong time. I think it scared her, and she left before I could even say anything. Archie and Royal are trying to find her—"
"Slow down," Carine interrupted, sensing the hysteria in Edythe's voice, "Take a breath, and start at the beginning." Edythe obeyed, taking the time to exhale before she spoke again.
"Eleanor and I were playing around; she made a comment about something that I mentioned from work. I made to pull away from her—we were just teasing—and El pulled back. I guess she did it without thinking but…" Edythe looked pointedly down at her wrist.
"Archie said they all heard a crack, I cried out. El dropped my hand and then—I think—she ran; she was gone before I could even say anything," she finished, her eyes dropping down. Realization came to Carine's features and she felt a pang of remorse for Eleanor, guessing what her eldest daughter must be feeling. She was momentarily torn, knowing Eleanor was almost certainly in distress, but she decided to treat Edythe first. , so she had all the information before speaking to her. Carine held her hand out and Edythe tenderly offered her injured hand. She didn't flinch as Carine examined the swollen area between Edythe's thumb and wrist, her increased tactile senses giving her more information that a radiograph could.
"There's a small hairline fracture in your scaphoid bone," she reported after a moment, "It's less than an inch, I'd say."
"Do I have to have a cast?" Edythe asked. Carine glanced up, sensing this was what Edythe was most anxious to know. One look at her face made it clear she was hoping the answer was that she wouldn't. Under normal circumstances, Carine would insist. But she knew Edythe would be less than thrilled—and thus, more resistant to the entire institution—if she were forced into a full cast. Not to mention, Carine knew it would not help Eleanor, when she saw Edythe again. Carine sighed.
"I can put you in a brace, but you need to keep it on," she said sternly, emphasizing the last part. "Six weeks, no less." Edythe nodded in agreement, eager to acquiesce to anything as long as she didn't need a cast.
"How painful is it?" Carine asked.
"Not bad; I think it sounded worse than it felt," Edythe answered. "I've also had far worse."
"That is true," Carine agreed. "Did you drive yourself?" As she spoke, she moved past her daughter, patting the paper-covered exam table; Edythe moved forward and hopped up onto the table obediently. Carine went to the wall of cabinets, searching through them until she found what she needed. At the same time, she pressed a couple of buttons on the digital device in her pocket. A minute or two later, a nurse came in, offering Carine two cups nested within each other. Carine thanked her, offering them to Edythe.
"I'm fine," she insisted, "Archie dropped me off. Earnest and Beau were out, and the others went to find El."
"Hmm," Carine mused, feeling glad that her shift was over soon. She had a suspicion she would have to speak to Eleanor herself. She knew that, despite Eleanor's care-free, gallivanting nature, her eldest daughter took the adjustment of Edythe's humanity very seriously. Though each of them were equally capable of injuring Beau and Edythe, Eleanor felt added self-imposed pressure due to her enhanced strength above that of the average vampire.
As such, she was excessively gentle in the beginning, acutely aware of the damage she could cause. This incident was surely to set her back, and Carine knew it would be difficult to convince Eleanor otherwise. The coven leader knew Eleanor was not so self-blaming as Edythe might have been, but she knew Eleanor was the unofficial protector of the family, especially of the newly added humans. Her accidental lapse would surely upset her, as her abilities were unintentionally used to hurt Edythe rather than protect her.
Carine handed Edythe the pill she withdrew from the cup and a small cup of water. The look on her mother's face kept Edythe from arguing, tilting her head back and swallowing the pill without complaint. When she was satisfied, Carine turned to the counter, picking up the box she had retrieved from one of the cabinets. Opening it, she produced a gray and white brace. She wrapped it around Edythe's wrist snugly, the plastic splint embedded in the fabric providing support to the injured bone. After she was done, Edythe jumped off the bed, and Carine gave her a warning look.
"This does not mean you can use it normally," she said, "Take it easy, or I will put a cast on it." Edythe nodded in understanding, adequately chagrined. The anxiousness Carine sensed—the slight bouncing in her posture, the flicking of the green eyes—clued her into Edythe's distress. She was acutely aware of how little her daughter cared for human hospitals, especially when she was the patient. Nevertheless, Edythe followed her mother up to her office, waiting patiently as Carine quickly finished up her charts and gathered her things.
"I've written a script for you, just in case. We can pick it up on our way out."
Edythe nodded again, and she gave no complaints as they took a detour to the hospital pharmacy before heading to the parking garage.
Upon arrival home, Carine and Edythe found the entire family there, save one. Beau kissed her in greeting, both he and Earnest asking if she was all right. Edythe assured them she was fine, and that she didn't even need a cast. As she spoke, she looked around, disappointed that Eleanor was clearly not there. She heard low whispers between her parents and glanced toward them from Beau's side. Carine nodded and then moved toward the back door.
"Carine is going to get her," Archie told Edythe, who nodded, looking toward where her mother disappeared.
Eleanor heard the approaching footsteps long before they joined her in the small alcove over looking the waterfall. She was situated downwind and so she recognized the scent of the approaching vampire, and she fought a cringe. Carine stepped carefully into the clearing, taking in where Eleanor stood, leaning over the rotting banister above one of Cayuga Lake's many waterfalls. The roaring of the falling river did not affect their hearing at all, and she knew Eleanor had heard her approach.
The coven leader came to her silently, moving to stand next to her, eyes on Eleanor's face. Her eldest daughter said nothing for a moment, then, seeming to take a deep breath, turned to face her.
"I'm sorry, Carine," she said quietly, a somberness and torment in her voice that Carine had never heard from Eleanor before. Before Carine could open her mouth to reply, Eleanor continued.
"I wasn't thinking; it was so stupid," she said, "Just when I think I've got it under control, this happens. What the hell is wrong with me? How could I…" she trailed off, shaking her head before hanging it, golden eyes fixed first on her hands, then on the base of the waterfall, sixty feet below. The force of the cascade was the only thing that kept the massive water source from freezing, unlike the rest of the river that led to the lake thirty miles downstream. The ice that covered it at the bottom ended just before the base of the fall, but all around it was surrounded by icicles and water crystals. Snow had fallen the night before, the late January blizzard leaving the Ithaca wilderness a winter wonderland that would make the perfect reference for any landscape artist. But the beauty was lost on Eleanor.
"I now get how Edythe felt, in the beginning," she admitted, "how scared she was with Beau. She tried to get me to see, and I just blew her off. At least she was able to keep herself in check, and not even just her strength, but her thirst too. I can't even do one of those and now, look what happened." Eleanor buried her face in her crossed arms, too ashamed and torn up to look at her mother's face.
"Eleanor," Carine began gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder, her frown deepening as Eleanor recoiled slightly. She let her hand drop to the banister before continuing. "Edythe is fine."
"You don't need to lie, Carine," she said, almost snapped. "I heard the crack; we all did."
"It was a small stress fracture, nothing more," the matriarch told her, ignoring the bite in Eleanor's voice. "It was less than an inch. She doesn't even need a cast."
"Oh well, if that's all," Eleanor said sarcastically, too agitated to control her tone. Even so, Carine did not comment, knowing the inflection was not a direct attempt at disrespect. And Eleanor knew that, and felt another wave of shame, for speaking to Carine this way.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I just…"
"I understand," Carine said quietly, "I know how frightening it can be, knowing what we have the ability to do. Control of this nature, what is being asked of you, is too great for most of our kind. And it is one thing to do with someone you've only ever known as human, and someone who you've spent most of your life with in a different state. She was much more durable before."
"Edythe's been human for nearly two years, Carine," Eleanor said, "I don't have that excuse anymore. I should know better by now."
"And you do, Eleanor," the coven leader responded, "This was an accident, and there is no harm done. She's fine, and will be out of the brace in a few weeks."
"There was no harm done now," her daughter said, standing up straight and turning to face Carine, who could see the despair behind Eleanor's eyes. But Eleanor kept going, not giving her a a moment to intervene.
"But what about next time? When it's not just a small fracture, but internal bleeding, a brain injury, even killing her by accident?" Eleanor's voice turned raw at the word. "What if it was Beau, or their kids? My niece or nephew? It wouldn't matter if it was an 'accident' or not…not then…" Eleanor turned away, looking out over the fall, back toward the faint lights of town. It was getting dark, they could tell from over the overcast clouds. It would nearly be time for dinner, but Carine knew Edythe would not want to eat, not when she suspected Eleanor was out blaming herself.
"I don't know what to do. I don't know how I can fix this, I don't think I can promise it won't happen again, because I don't know…" The anguish in Eleanor's voice, so uncharacteristic for the woman Carine had known for so long, prompted her to step closer and take her hand, ignoring Eleanor's reluctance as she squeezed it. Her daughter turned to look at her after a moment, and she saw the compassion and gentleness of her creator. And the sickening feeling in her stomach tightened further.
"Eleanor, we will never know anything for certain," she said, "But I feel comfort and confidence in the fact that you, and the rest of us, are doing everything we can with this. Though two years may be a long time in human years, several decades—or centuries, for me—is not easily undone. Accidents can and will happen; there is nothing to be done to avoid them entirely. But we are doing our best to prevent them regardless. You have not been handling humans as long as I have,"—there was a small smile on her face as she said that—"but I can assure you, it gets easier. The more you do it, the better you will get. I know you may want to refrain, but refusing to touch her will not help ease your fears, only strengthen them."
"As for today," Carine paused, "Edythe is more upset that she came home and you weren't there. She wants to see you." Eleanor looked at her skeptically.
"Why on Earth would she want me? Haven't I done enough damage?" she asked doubtfully.
"You said so yourself that no one understands how you're feeling better than Edythe," Carine reminded her gently, "There is no doubt this is how she felt when she first met Beau. She is now on the other side of it, and she wants to assure you she's all right. She wants you to know she doesn't blame you. She's not angry with you. Nor am I." Eleanor turned her face away from Carine, down to where their hands were joined. Carine continued.
"She understands the hesitance and the fear, because she lived through it. But she works to help us, just as she did in the beginning. She gave us cues; she met us halfway, to help us feel comfortable when touching her. She still does the same now, because she knows what it's like. But you hurt her more by staying away, especially when we all know she and Beau will be going away come fall for school. She hates to know you're out here, wallowing, even if it's something she would probably do if the situation was reversed." Eleanor couldn't help a half laugh, knowing the truth in Carine's statement. Eleanor glanced up at her, and she could still see the uncertainty there.
The reminder of veterinary school was one Eleanor had not anticipated; she knew Edythe had applied and was waiting anxiously to hear back. She knew that, of all the ones she applied to, none of them were in a place where the family could follow her; it was like veterinary school had all unintentionally decided to be in the least vampire-friendly climates in the country. Edythe was already upset and troubled by the idea of leaving, and as the weeks went by, the combination of the endless waiting game and the fear that, should she get an answer, she would be forced to move away from them, made Edythe that much more on edge.
They had done the best they could to ease her fears, focusing on spending as much time with her as they could. Archie had told her he could not see the decisions or where she would end up, mostly because the decision on the schools' part had not been made yet. Even so, Edythe had informed him she did not want to know ahead of time. The entire situation brought her both excitement and unease, a strange mix of emotion that Edythe had worked to keep buried.
Eleanor knew how hard it was going to be when the time came, not just for Edythe, but for all of them. Letting Edythe go was not going to be easy, and Edythe leaving them would be equally difficult. The idea was hanging over their heads, and seemed to press down harder as it grew closer, despite how much they worked to ignore it.
"I would bring her out here, but I don't want her out in this weather," Carine hedged, breaking her out of her reverie. Eleanor sighed, the exhale deep and steadying. Then she nodded, standing straight. Caine took the cue and they both started toward home.
Upon arrival, Carine indicated with a encouraging nod and Eleanor cautiously entered in through the back door. She was surprised when Edythe was there to greet her—having been tipped off by Archie—and immediately wrapped her arms around Eleanor's waist. Eleanor tentatively reciprocated the hug, hesitantly looping her arms around her little sister. Immediately, Edythe looked up at her, and Eleanor could see the concern in the emerald eyes.
"Are you okay?" she asked. Eleanor had to fight a bemused smile; Edythe was the one in the brace, yet she was asking her if she was okay.
"Yeah," she answered, "Carine and I spoke. How's your hand?"
"Perfectly fine," Edythe said immediately, "I don't even need a cast."
"Only because I don't want to fight with you for the next six weeks," Carine said as she stepped in behind Eleanor. Edythe giggled, and Eleanor couldn't help but join in, her embrace tightening slightly, not as cautious as she had been a moment ago. Caine turned to Eleanor.
"You get to help make sure she keeps it on," her mother informed her, "She's going to be stubborn about it." Edythe made to protest but Carine had already moved past her, pressing her lips to Edythe's hair teasingly as she did. Eleanor watched as Edythe turned back toward her, her hands on the tops of Eleanor's arms. She moved without pain, not even seeming aware of her hand in the thin brace.
As Edythe spoke, and Eleanor, in turn, responded, she could see that Carine had been right. Edythe was fine, only distressed at the distress she suspected Eleanor had put herself through. And so, Eleanor worked to make amends—though Edythe assured her she didn't need to—by spending the remainder of the day with her little sister, pushing her fears aside and focusing on getting further 'practice' in.
AN: So this is a bit of a short chapter, I'm sorry to say, and again more 'one-shotty', if that's even a word. But I felt that to get to the next part of the story would make this chapter way longer it should be and, just didn't fit with the rest of this. So I'm leaving it here; I hope that's okay with you :)
I hope you enjoyed and I would appreciate if you could tell me what you thought. See you next week!