Monday Morning - Forks General Hospital
From the moment I walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital entrance, I immediately knew something was awry.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Swan. Heard you've become the luckiest lady in the hospital over the weekend."
"Good morning to you, too, Dolores." Apart from the fact that she never greets me in the morning, the amount of eye contact she was voluntarily maintaining was alarming on its own. "What's this about me being lucky?"
"Oh? Haven't you heard?" Her eyebrows lifted high above her turquoise glasses, and her mouth widened into an almost malicious grin. I shook my head at her and she laughed—a gritty, scratchy sound as though she hadn't used those muscles in years. "I certainly won't be the one to ruin the surprise."
I sent her a curious look, but she seemed to have decided that was enough interaction with me and turned her attention back to the worn, paperback book in her hands. Thoughts racing about what she could possibly mean by surprise, I made my way over to the elevators.
Absentmindedly chewing on the inside of my cheek, I pressed the button with a knuckle and stepped back to wait for the next available car. The one in front of me opened almost instantly, its doors opening a few seconds later to reveal its occupant.
His head bent over the clipboard that forever seemed to be in his hands, he took a step forward to exit, only to notice someone standing in front of him at the last second. He raised his head and, upon seeing it was me, stepped back into the elevator before dropping his attention back down.
"Good. You're just who I was looking to see—get in." I silently followed him inside, the doors rumbling shut behind me. "No, my office."
My finger hovered over the third floor button, but I quickly moved it up to the button for the fourth and pressed. The elevator began its ascension with a jolt, and I had to grip on to the handrail along its wall to keep from falling into him. My balance regained, I kept my hand on the rail, tapping my fingers rhythmically against it as I watched the digital red numbers above the doors slowly increase. We had just passed from the second to the third floor when I opened my mouth to speak.
"I'll explain everything once we get to my office."
My teeth clacked together as I clamped my mouth shut, barely missing the tip of my tongue in the process. Now I was really worried. There had only ever been two times that I could remember my uncle being so short with me—the first being when I had accidentally chipped one of his favorite teacups as a young child while having a pretend tea party. The second was when, as a teen, I stumbled across the same cup in his cabinet and pulled it out in reminiscence only for him to shout unexpectedly when he noticed what I was holding, causing me to drop it onto the floor where it shattered.
In a panic, I tried to recall if I had recently broken any more of his prized teacups, but I hadn't been to his house in ages, and the sets we use in the hospital are his least favorite and already sported a few chips and nicks in various places. I came up with nothing, just in time for the elevator to crawl to a stop, the doors opening onto the proper floor.
I followed him down the hall and into his office, where he quickly ushered me inside before soundly shutting the door behind us. I stood there motionlessly, watching as he dropped himself into his chair and placed his clipboard on top of his desk before he finally—finally—raised his head to look at me.
"Well? Aren't you going to sit down?"
I scrambled to get myself seated in the chair across from him, knocking my elbows on the hard, metal armrests in the process. The seat of the chair was stiff and scratchy, feeling utterly uncomfortable under my tense body. My eyes flicked to the corner where the leather armchair he usually sets out for me when we have our weekly meetings resided. I had the sinking feeling that I was in some very deep shit.
My leg began to bounce.
"We need to talk."
If I hadn't been clenching my jaw so tightly in anticipation, I'd have laughed in his face—possibly even made a joke.
'Are you breaking up with me?' I would ask with a cheeky smile. 'It's not me, it's you, and all that?'
He would roll his eyes and let out a huff through his nose. He might have even gone along with it.
'I'm so glad you understand,' he'd say, gesturing to the door behind me. 'Now pack your things and get out.'
It would all be said with a straight face, but I'd hear the deadpan in his voice, see the humor dancing behind his eyes. In turn, I'd get up with a false cry and an arm thrown over my face as I dramatically made my way over to the door. He'd call me back, I'd come running to throw myself into the chair, and we'd laugh. Well, I'd laugh and he'd roll his eyes again before moving on.
But there was none of that humor now, no deadpan tone as he stared me down, fingers steepled together. Even just that wouldn't send alarm bells ringing, but if it weren't dire he would have waited until I got settled in my office for the morning. He would have called me on the phone. He would have had tea ready for the two of us.
He would have set out my chair.
My leg bounced just a little bit faster.
"Briar? Did you hear?"
My lips felt like they were stuck together with glue as I pried them apart to respond.
"I heard; I'm just having trouble understanding. What's going on, Uncle Chester?"
My heart dropped as far and as fast as his face—perhaps on the same, sole reason that I never call him by his actual name. I didn't even mean to say it, but there was something in my gut that told me this was no time to be informal. It seemed as though he had sensed it, too.
He shut his eyes, squeezing his lids tight enough to create a wrinkle in his brow.
"Look, I know you're mad at me, and I'm sorry you had to find out before I had a chance to talk to you. You have to know that I didn't want it to have to come to this, but you left me no choice. After what we discussed last week, I felt it was the best course of action for all parties involved—"
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. What are you talking about? Mad at you? I thought you were mad at me?"
His eyes fluttered open, blinking as he refocused a confused gaze on me.
"I thought you said you'd heard?"
"Uh, no. I said I heard you. I have no idea why we're sitting here right now. And I still don't see how you could think I'm the mad one. You're the one acting all weird!"
He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, tugging at the sleeves of his blazer. My eyes narrowed at the action. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he almost looked nervous.
My leg bounced harder.
"Can we just start from the beginning? You said something about what happened last week?"
"Yes," he nodded with a hard swallow, "do you remember what we spoke about then?"
"How could I forget? You specifically told me not to." I threw that little tidbit in to see if it would garner a reaction. It did not. "Anyway, I sorted that out ages ago. What does this have to do with it?"
He shifted in his seat again, ghosting his pinky finger over one of the pens that sat on the desk in front of him in the barest of taps. Now I knew for sure—he was nervous.
"Everything."
My leg ceased its movements.
"What do you mean everything?"
"Don't you take that tone with me. Need I remind you that you wouldn't be in this position in the first place if you had just kept your inappropriate comments to yourself!"
"You're about to receive a few inappropriate comments if you don't tell me what's going on!"
"I've reassigned you to Lasser!"
—-
—-
I saw red as I slammed my office door open, the loud bang of it bouncing off of the filing cabinet reverberating throughout the room. Carlisle was already sitting at his desk, an unreadable expression on his face as he turned to where I still stood in the doorway.
"Please tell me you were just as unaware of this as I was."
"Briar..."
The tone of his voice was answer enough. I grabbed the edge of the door and swung it closed behind me. He at least had the decency to flinch this time, his face dropping in shame. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off with a raised hand.
"How long did you know?"
"I only officially found out when I arrived this morning."
His specific choice of phrasing didn't escape my notice.
"And unofficially?" He lifted his head to meet my gaze but quickly turned away at the fiery one I gave in return. If I hadn't been so incensed, I might have laughed at the fact that I seemed to intimidate the immortal man in front of me. As it was, I was furious and still waiting for an answer. "Well?"
"He might have mentioned it in passing sometime last week."
"And you didn't think to maybe mention this to me?"
"Of course not. I denied his request."
"I cannot believe you—wait, what?" I stalked over to him, bracing myself on his desk as I peered into his eyes. "What do you mean you denied his request?"
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure that one out for yourself."
"Obviously I know what that means!" I exclaimed in embarrassment. "What I'm asking is how is the transfer still going through if you said no?"
"Clearly because your uncle thought I was going to say yes."
"Carlisle!"
I didn't mean to yell at him. I didn't want to yell at him. But I was so frustrated at the fact that he wouldn't give me a clear answer, and after dealing with Chad this morning, I was tired of talking in circles. Leaning heavily onto my palms, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a couple of deep, calming breaths.
"Carlisle, just...please explain to me what is going on. Am I really being reassigned?"
A gentle hand was placed atop my shoulder, and I sagged under the pressure, folding the top half of my body over his desk as I buried my head in my arms.
"I'm so sorry."