A/N: I'm deliriously tired right now, so please excuse any egregious errors as I'll come back and fix the ones that my terrible proof-reading has missed. Anyway, please enjoy whatever this is, sometimes you just have to write a sickfic.
Absent
"What do you mean Cullen has gone home sick? Carlisle Cullen? He's never called in sick in his life!" Dr Snow exploded, more incredulous than he was angry. His voice echoed around the small reception area, turning the heads of the nearby nurses. They'd already heard the news, already seen the condition that Carlisle had been in before he'd given in. He'd been so afraid to admit to himself that he needed to leave, that he couldn't work safely anymore, that it took one of the nurses he worked with every day to carefully convince him. She had wanted to do more, to ensure that he made it home in one piece, but instead she quelled those feelings and suggested that he sit down for a few minutes instead.
Surprisingly, Carlisle listened. His head was swimming and he could barely hear her, unsteady as he trailed her into the break room. The walls spun, the faded green wallpaper blurring until he was nauseous, his head throbbing as he tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. "I think I need to go home," he admitted to her, nervous as she offered him water. The admission felt like he'd failed, like he couldn't do his job properly, all because he was too weak. Every human in the building felt worse than he did, and he scolded himself for having to disappoint everyone.
The nurse, Kelly, had smiled out of relief, not wanting to make the suggestion herself. "I think so too, Carlisle." She'd never seen the young doctor such a mess, pale and shaky, his hair disheveled after he'd ran his fingers through it one too many times. She'd watched him struggle to treat his last few patients, putting on a brave face for them but crumbling the second he turned away again. This wasn't normal. Not for Carlisle.
The receptionist just shrugged in response to Snow's question. "I don't know what to tell you, but he didn't look good when he signed out." Jenny was used to Dr Snow's temper, though she did resent that Carlisle would most likely be the recipient of his rage this afternoon. Dr Snow was already reaching across the divider for the office phone, huffing and puffing as he bent forward over the desk. She slammed the phone back down into the receiver before he lifted it clear. "Leave him alone, Alan, another doctor will be on in four hours. Don't make this into an issue." She wondered if he would have been more sympathetic if he'd been the one that had watched out the window to make sure that Carlisle actually got to his car without hurting himself - she'd been sure he was about to faint. It wasn't as though she was unaccustomed to the pale skin and dark eyes, but he'd barely been able to hold a conversation as he scribbled his name across the sign-out sheet, his hands trembling and his breaths shaking. Jenny had asked him if he was alright, if he needed help, if she should call his emergency contact, but Carlisle had shaken his head 'no' to all of it, desperate to be away from her. Whatever was happening to him, she was sure that it wasn't good. No doubt he had that stomach flu going around, she thought to herself.
"It is an issue! He agreed to be here for this shift; he cannot just leave!" Snow snarled back. The case of beer he had in his fridge and a weekend of hunting was calling him, and now his work hours would be extended all because Cullen couldn't hold it together. Cursing under his breath, he wondered if he knew how to work his cellphone well enough to find the other doctor's number. Stupid piece of technology. "He needs to be here."
"He's logged close to ninety hours this week already, and it's not even over yet," she grumbled back. "Cut the guy some slack for once; you said yourself he's never out sick. He's been here since yesterday afternoon - there's only so much coffee can do for a person." Coffee wasn't his issue, she was sure of it, but he must have been exhausted.
Dr Snow cursed again, realising that he had no choice and was out numbered. In general, the staff liked Carlisle, but that made him resent him all the more; yes, the kid was a good doctor - better than he should have been - but that didn't stop Snow harbouring instant dislike for him. And he was sure that he was younger than he claimed; he was not 30. No way. Dr Snow was sure he couldn't have made it out of medical school, though Carlisle's ID claimed otherwise. "Whatever. But he better have a good excuse."
.
.
No one else was home. Alice and Esme were three states away, furniture shopping with the hope of redecorating the house, Rosalie and Emmett in the tropics enjoying another 'second' honeymoon, and Edward and Jasper in the mountains on a hunting trip - where Carlisle should have been had he not been called into work the day before. The house was deathly quiet. Normal sounds of the forest evaded the Cullen's property; the usual animals that lurked in the woods knew better than to wander close to the family of predators, even the insects silent in the trees. The compounding silence made his head throb.
Carlisle hoped that sitting down might ease the turmoil in his body. He haphazardly parked his car in their garage, glad that only Edward's car remained - Rosalie didn't need another reason to resent him, and scratching a vehicle was a sin he wasn't sure their relationship could recover from. His body felt like deadweight as he forced himself to move, his hand finding the wall to guide him into the house. It was horribly tempting to break the lock on the front door instead of fumbling with the key.
Each step hurt to take. The dizziness was consuming him, the walls around him twisting until he was nauseous. His body threatened to give out, demanding something to keep itself going. He knew leaving the house had been a mistake. It wasn't as though he had a choice though; he couldn't abandon the hospital when they'd called him in out of desperation.
The journey up the stairs to his office was dreadfully long. It didn't entirely make sense to him why he chose to be there, but it would stop the immediate intrusion of another member of the coven if they came home before he had time to get a hold of himself. Guilt picked away at him; all of this was entirely his fault. He'd done the exact thing he'd always pleaded with his coven not to do - risk exposure for the sake of not feeding. It was idiotic. But again, he couldn't just leave the hospital while they were so understaffed.
He sat at the desk, shoving away the book opened in front of him, and folded his arms against the centuries old wood, the tension in his spine dissolving as he leaned his forehead on them. He just needed to be able to hunt. That was it. And then all this would disappear, and he could pretend he'd never been this careless. He wasn't in danger of hurting anyone but himself, but he still knew it was reprimandable.
.
.
It was purely instinct that kept Edward close to home that day. Although he usually attempted to maintain the privacy of his family members, Carlisle's silence the day before had been unusual enough for him to breach that resolve. As much as he tried to bury them, his coven leader's hushed anxieties had concerned him. It wasn't that Carlisle worried that he would lose control of himself - he was long past that becoming an issue - but abandoning yet another hunting trip meant that he would be nearing three months without feeding. It may have been more manageable if he had consumed human blood regularly, but surviving off of animals required more regular upkeep. Two weekly was the upper tolerance of most of them. Three months far surpassed that limit. It hadn't surprised Edward that he was falling apart; although delayed, starvation was as terrible for vampires as it was for mortals.
Edward had blown off the original plans for their hunt, sending Jasper on alone so that he could remain in the general vicinity of the house. Jasper had been hesitant, suspicious of his intentions, but he'd also noted the state that Carlisle had been in, and despite being the newest member of the coven, he knew Edward well enough to know what he planned. He also knew that he didn't want to hang around for it.
He waited until Jasper had vacated the area before taking a jar from the cupboard and tucking it into his jacket. He didn't see any point in hurrying, wandering through the trees until he was a few miles from the property - it was unlikely that Carlisle would return from work until evening anyway. The sounds of the wildlife returned as he melted into the trees, stone still and listening for the heavier footfalls of a large mammal. Wolves in the distance. Deer slightly closer.
He darted for the herd of deer, his teeth deep in the jugular of a large buck before any of the animals had time to register his attack. Within two seconds, it's body was lifeless and drained, slumped on the ground as he dropped it. Another ten seconds, and his fingers were knotted in the thick fur of a wolf, wrestling with the beast until he had it pinned at the neck, the warmth of it's blood soothing the sting in his throat.
The pack of wolves circled him, stalking him as he overpowered one of their own. Edward didn't let it bother him - in fact, it worked in his favour. He lunged for another, using his body weight to bring it to the forest floor, and the canines scattered, howling as they bolted. Razor sharp teeth nicked the artery in his catch's throat, and he scrambled to hold the jar to the wound. Blood pulsed into it, quickly filling it until it brimmed at the edges, and he screwed the lid on. His run back to the house only lasted a few minutes, but the weather had started to sour by the time he reached the porch.
Seeing that Carlisle's car was back in the garage didn't comfort him this time. Now it was just concerning - he knew his shift didn't finish until 10pm. He had planned to keep the blood in the fridge, to make use to the appliance they never had any use for to stop the liquid separating, but instead he found himself pouring it straight into a glass. Part of him doubted that his plan would work, but if he was home from the hospital already, they would most likely be out of options.
.
.
"Carlisle." The glass clattered against the table in his hurrying to put it down, his hand landing on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Edward already knew the question was a stupid one, and that Carlisle would be even more stupid and tell him that he was okay out of reflex, but it was out before he could stop it.
Carlisle swallowed carefully before he answered, trying to stop his throat burning so badly before it made him sick. "You're back early," he mumbled eventually, the only thing he could force out.
"So are you," he pointed out. "Were you sent home?" Through the fabric of his jacket, Edward could feel that he was colder than normal, his body refusing to make what little heat their backwards metabolism usually produced.
The energy to verbally reply escaped him suddenly. No. I filed for a sick day. Having Edward there was more comforting that he wanted to give him credit for; aside from living together for the best part of a century, not being alone anymore relieved a little of the pressure in his chest. Carlisle was fairly sure that this starvation couldn't outright kill a vampire, but that didn't prevent the experience from being miserable.
"You're going to need more than one sick day; you need to feed," he grumbled at him. Seeing that it wasn't a conversation that Carlisle could handle right then, he perched on the edge of the desk, nudging the glass closer, the red liquid threatening to slop over the side. "I brought you something."
He glanced up, his eyes landing on the cup at the same time his stomach cramped painfully. A quiet hiss was cut off in his throat as he bit down on his lip, his body tensing until the pain subsided. Thank you.
"It should be enough for you to get your strength back to hunt. I'll come with you." He caught the bottom of the glass with his fingertips as Carlisle lifted it to his lips, attempting to steady it before he spilt it.
The liquid had cooled since if had left the throat of the deer, the taste having distorted. He fought the urge to gag rather than swallow, the hand that wasn't holding the cup subconsciously wrapping around his middle. He caught Edward's look of panic. I'm okay.
"Please don't throw up," he murmured back. He wasn't equipped to deal with that, with the mess that Carlisle was going to be if things escalated any further.
I won't. It didn't instill much faith in either of them. Does Esme know?
Edward rolled his eyes, huffing. "No, I haven't told her that you starved yourself to the extent that your coworkers feared for your health," he told him sarcastically. "As far as I'm aware, Alice hasn't either."
Relief washed over him as he nodded; the last thing he wanted to do was worry Esme with something this idiotic. It would take a few minutes for the blood to absorb once he'd ingested it, but he just wanted the headache to lift enough for him to think clearly. I'm sorry.
"This has to stop, Carlisle, you cannot keep doing this to yourself. It's dangerous, for god's sake. What would have happened today if you'd run into another of our kind? You wouldn't stand a chance." The scolding was fueled by concern, his tone softer than his words as he made sure he finished the glass, taking it away from him before he had the opportunity to drop it. "Or worse: what would you have done if you'd collapsed at work? We both know there is no way you would have escaped that unscathed."
We'd have to move again- Edward, I didn't intend for this to happen. I was supposed to be with you and Jasper this afternoon, and I would have been fine- Where's Jasper? His panicked internal dialogue made the younger vampire frown, his hand pushing him back into his seat when Carlisle tried to move.
"He went on the trip as we planned, I stayed local." Again, he lightly restrained him when he attempted to shift, shaking his head. "Don't move, please. Not yet."
The caustic flames in his throat had been ignited by the taste of blood, sharp and stinging and making it difficult to breathe. Carlisle almost welcomed the feeling; if he had the ability to feel pain so intensely, his body was mending already. Thank you. Sorry. Movement still seemed dicey. His hands trembled with less intensity, but the small amount of blood definitely hadn't been enough to correct the entirety of the damage he'd done to himself. That would take a few days, on top of a successful hunt.
Still, the slight burst of energy rolled into impatience fairly quickly, something Carlisle wasn't accustomed to. Being stuck at a desk while he was so desperate to feed was endless frustrating, building claustrophobia in his chest. The desire itself was something he was used to tuning out, something that no longer caused him any worry that he might harm someone, but it was unpleasant all the same.
The second-hand experience wasn't any more pleasant. Edward frowned at him again, Carlisle's sudden fixation on the sensation making his own throat burn despite his earlier meal. It was unlikely that Carlisle was strong enough to bring down an animal, but neither of them could stand this. Edward sighed again, surrendering. "Do you think you're able to come into the forest? I can hunt for you; you don't have to run," he suggested. Anything was better than sitting there suffering. And seeing Carlisle so uncomfortable was putting him on edge.
"Thank you, Edward," he said again, managing words this time.
He forced a grim smile. "Do this to yourself again, and I'm telling Esme."
.
.