CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WHEN THE QUESTION ARISES
Carlisle listens to her, despite his first instinct to take her to the hospital there's too many unknowns, too many questions that could arise. He places a tender kiss on her forehead and rushes home as fast and as carefully as he can while his hands press tightly against her back to slow the bleeding as much as he can, pressing her as close to his chest as he can as he focuses on the sound of her shallow breathing and the faint beat of her heart.
Alice sees them coming; with pained, desperation in her voice, she spreads the word immediately that Carlisle is on his way with Ariel, but that her condition doesn't look good. Despite the relief that they all feel that there's at least a chance of Ariel being okay, that they won't have to grieve yet, they have to work fast to prepare for Carlisle's arrival with the badly injured Ariel.
It's just enough of a warning for Jasper to disappear into the woods for a hunt to lower the risk that Ariel's blood may inadvertently cause. Rosalie is the one who immediately goes to set up a place on the unused bed in another room and gets all the supplies she can find in Carlisle's office. Emmett moves the furniture in the room that's chosen to make as much room as possible for Carlisle to work, but with little information about her injuries, there's not much more that anyone of them can do. Neither Alice nor Edward mentions the blood-covered Carlisle in the vision nor the dark shadows that edged along the creases of his eyes.
When Carlisle arrives, his eyes are frantic and a heavy somber air fills the entire coven as they all take in the poor appearance of Ariel; how the woman who had fire in her eyes and enough wit to keep their father on his toes, looks so helpless now, fragile and small in Carlisle's arms with most of the color drained from her skin.
But they can all smell the blood that is drenched on Carlisle's clothes, blood that doesn't match Ariel's. While the blood that has pooled at her wounds smells more like a forbidden fruit, with no desire to devour, the blood drenching Carlisle smells familiarly human.
"The clearing to the west near the cliffs needs to be cleared of evidence," Carlisle states evenly as Rosalie instructs him toward the prepared room.
"Get the knife." Ariel's voice is breathy and raspy as she struggles to lift her head up against Carlisle. Despite the confusion the request brings, Rosalie sees the hardened, almost desperate panicked look in Ariel's eyes and nods solemnly.
Rosalie is quick to take Emmett with her as they do as instructed, asking no questions; they don't have to, by the time that they get to the clearing, any questions will be answered and they know better than to voice anything to Carlisle, knowing the difficult choices that had to be made. Though Rosalie, of all of them, understands the most and Emmett is fierce about not even leaving an inch between them as he sticks close to her side. Alice and Edward, as strained as the former feels over the images that are still fresh in Carlisle's mind, follow Carlisle to the prepped room.
All Edward can see in his father's mind is the remains of the scene that Rosalie will have to be cleaning up - blood, the color red so deep it stains, flesh ripping apart. It is messier and gorier than what happens to the vampires and it is so foreign to Edward even thinking of something like that - nevertheless the idea of Carlisle doing something so violent and bloody - that it makes a rock settle at the bottom of his gut as he tries to come to terms with the the memory.
Nothing else about what happened is clear to him as all Carlisle can think of, even now, is the damned priest. Some flashes come through - of what exactly happened to Ariel that made Carlisle snap - and when those images come through, Edward can understand his father's reaction more. Though nothing else of what occurred is clear, least of all whatever motive a human would have for doing something like this.
Alice's eyes are gleaming with worry and concern as she helps Carlisle lay Ariel on her stomach, the only way that they'll be able to properly look and tend to the wounds on her back. Ariel barely flinches as she is stretched out comfortably on the bed, straining to move her arms in a more comfortable position.
Every single movement, every decision that Carlisle makes is quick but careful as his mind shifts into the focused fog of a doctor. His hands don't waiver as he tears away the back of her dress as much as he can to better see the wounds. Alice is quick to immediately hand him over each tool that he requires, watching everything closely as she desperately wishes that she would get at least some vision to know how this would all turn out, but the longer that she goes without some reassurance or answer, the more that her hope drops to her gut.
Edward can't watch, as much as he wants to help the both of them. Instead, his help is better instructed to keep careful watch over her breathing. At Carlisle's strict instruction, Edward sits in the corner and listens to the still overwhelming presence of Ariel's mind. He can't bear the smell of her blood as much as the others are able to; while it does not induce the same type of hunger, it feels too wrong to smell. He closes his eyes as he sits in the corner, focusing his energy on Ariel as he reminds himself that she needs to stay alive. At the very least, for Carlisle.
Her mind is still like listening to a million radio stations at once, all in different languages, overlapping each other. A computer with more wires than others, too complex for him to understand. Still illegible, but no different than what her mind was before and even as her consciousness fades in and out as Carlisle disinfects and then stitches the most drastic of her wounds, the noise of her mind is still present. Alive.
Edward. Edward's eyes snap open immediately at the sound of a familiar voice ringing in his mind. His gaze goes to Ariel. Carlisle has already started bandaging the more severe wounds before moving onto the smaller ones, seemingly unaware that Ariel is conscious again. Her eyes are tired, with barely any light left in them, but she looks at Edward directly.
Tell your father it isn't his fault, Ariel's voice sounds as tired and drained as she looks. Your father is going to blame himself. I don't know if I'll get the chance to tell him, but make sure he knows that I will be back as soon as I can.
She's drifting out of consciousness before he can vocally ask her any questions or get any answers, but the somber tone of her voice still rings clearly as her mind still buzzes familiarly. He tucks what she said into the back of his mind, swearing to uphold it, even if he doesn't fully understand what she means; and that he doesn't necessarily want to know what it means, not liking its implications.
By the time that Carlisle is done, he is hesitant to leave her side. Though alive by a thread, Ariel's lack of consciousness doesn't settle well with him, especially when there are so many unknown variables in how to treat her and if there is anything he may be missing and have no idea of. He grabs her hand and grips it as tightly as he can, an unspoken promise, but her hand falls limply back to her side when he lets go. The look in Carlisle's eyes breaks their hearts. Edward keeps Ariel's words in his mind, but doesn't voice them yet. He tells himself that as long as she is alive, she has a chance to tell Carlisle herself before he's forced to.
Alice and Edward have to work together to slowly get Carlisle to leave the room to let her rest. He fights it at first, softly and gently, before he finally gives in as he realizes that someone will have to contact her family to let them know her condition. He presses a kiss to her forehead, but his feet feel heavy with every step that he takes away from her.
The rest of his children are back home and waiting patiently in the living room for any update. None of them question how Rosalie or Emmett cleaned whatever scene that left Carlisle so drenched in blood, and neither of them give any unprompted answers; the tense energy is already too thick to have what happened discussed too openly, especially when all the wounds are still fresh in their minds and not when they can still smell Ariel's blood upstairs.
Alice is the one to whisper the condition that Ariel is in. Her answer is heard by everyone easily and while it takes some weight off their shoulders that she is still (technically) alive, they know that until she is fully healed and up again, that none of them will be getting any peace as a somber energy fills the room. The mood only turns more dower as Carlisle lingers in the room like a hollow shadow, drenched with now-dried blood, dazed and empty. Unable to process now that he has a chance to, his mind still spinning with all the things that he needs to do in order to make sure that everyone is safe - that she is safe.
Jasper tries his best to calm everyone down, but Alice just gives him a sad, soft smile, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips as he realizes that as hard as he may try, some situations are just too serious to ease.
Carlisle's mind is full of frantic thoughts on how he is supposed to explain this situation to Ariel's family. How does he explain something like this? What will their reaction be? Will telling them put her or his family in danger? Will they be able to help her more than he already has? He holds the phone so tightly that he almost crushes it as he shifts through the contact list, hovering just above Dr. Linda's name; he knows that she has to know what Ariel is, given that she knows the truth about them - and he really needs to talk to Ariel more about that when she is better.
But Dr. Linda is the only one that he has a number for and the chance that they can help her is greater than the chance that they will hurt her, and so it is a chance that he has to take. For her sake.
"Carlisle," Rosalie is the first to speak, making him pause before he presses call, "Before you make the call, there's something that you need to know."
Carlisle's mind is already so full of information to process, but what is one pebble to an already full bucket? So he pauses, he listens. He watches. Emmett glances at Rosalie nervously as she grabs Emmett's wrist to show his open palm to the doctor. Where there is normally pristine marbled skin, there is a thin white crack along Emmett's palm. Carlisle's eyes flicker to it with concern.
"What happened," Carlisle asks softly, his eyes tired and worried.
Rosalie lets go of Emmett's wrist, ignoring his whines that she held it too tightly, and points toward the knife that is laying on the table; Carlisle tenses as he recognizes the knife that Father Briar used, images of what happened still at the forefront of his mind. But at the implication of what Rosalie is saying, Carlisle takes one step closer to look at it more closely, as much as it pains him to still see just small remains of Ariel's blood on the edge and the dried blood on the handle. He doesn't recognize the markings on it, only briefly curiously reminiscing on how the design reminds him of a feather.
That thought makes Edward's eyes snap toward him, frantic and full of questions as Carlisle thinks of soft gold-freckled feathers stretching out from Ariel draped over his arms. Carlisle just gives him a solid look, explaining that he will explain it later - when he himself has the answers. But it does little to calm Edward as he retreats toward his room, to give his father space and to think over the implications of what Ariel could be. The look in Edward's eyes - the look of absolute sorrowful acceptance - kills Carlisle, but he has other things he needs to focus on at the moment.
Carlisle finally speaks up, "Put the knife in my office - carefully. Keep an eye on it, the idea of a weapon being able to injure us is one thing, but what it was used to do on Ariel is another - we can discuss it later."
Rosalie's lips are tight, objection on the tip of her tongue before she listens to reason, taking the knife away with Emmett - whose hand she has to constantly whack away as he continues to reach for it carelessly as they depart. Jasper watches them all worried and tense, his eyes flickering to the hungry daze still present in Carlisle's eyes. Alice notices the look and she tentatively steps forward, gently taking the phone away from Carlisle.
"Go hunt first, Carlisle. Then you can call."
