You don't need my excuses, right?

Yet, I have to apologise for the lack of response to you reviews, and for the delay with this update. I haven't stopped loving you, my dear friends. Thank you all for your beautiful words.

Again, huge thans to Lou and Nancy.

SM owns

Chapter 3

He stays. He's not leaving the Community Hospital. He's not leaving my world.

He stays.

My shift is over, and I have to go, as I cannot do anymore hours at work because it's against the rules. I meet my father at the exit, and an idea pops into my head - I should make him my accomplice.

"Dad, I have to talk to you for a minute."

He knows about Jasper Hale, the man with the severe injuries to his chest. I tell him I've stopped the intake of sedatives, and the man is awake. I explain he needs rest, a certain schedule of painkillers, and no visitors. Dad agrees. The slight twitch of his right eyebrow indicates he has some questions, but he chooses not to ask, and nods in silent agreement.

"See you tonight, son, and we will discuss this further."

I don't want to think about his last words, not now.

I go home and sleep the whole day through, serenity ruling over me. I'm a happy man.

He stays.

"Esme, I'm home." My Dad's voice is the first thing I hear when I wake up in the evening. He's home, obviously, announcing his presence to my Mom. My heart races. He's not calling my name, but I know he hasn't forgotten the upcoming conversation.

"Edward?"

Ah, now he calls my name, too.

"Anybody hungry? I'm starving! Come down here, let's eat something."

I hear the thud of his bag in the entryway. Then a single, low tone echoes from the living room. He must have pressed a key on the grand piano on his way to the kitchen.

It's Mi in the contra octave. A rumbling Mi. A thunderous Mi. I'm never mistaken about the musical tones. I'm never mistaken about Dad's mood, either. He's hungry, and he's angry.

We're seated around the table in the dining room. A small conversation fills the intervals between serving, chewing, and swallowing. It's a bit hard for me to swallow my food though. There's something like sand in my throat, and I wonder where it's come from. Ah, maybe it's the anticipation of the conversation which Dad hasn't started yet. Dessert comes; Mom has outdone herself. It's delicious, or at least, so they say. I can't taste the food.

"Son, you're perspiring. Do you have a fever?" Dad asks.

Oh? Really? I haven't noticed. I brush the back of my hand against my forehead, and indeed, it's moist.

"I'm fine, Dad," I manage through the last bits of food in my mouth.

He picks the napkin from his knees and gently dabs the corners of his mouth. First, the left side, then the right, with deliberate leisure. His eyes explore my sweaty forehead.

"No, you're not fine, son. You're in trouble." He speaks quietly, calmly. That's bad. Mom's hand flies to her mouth, three fingers pressing her lips and her pinkie sticking out in a funny way.

Don't get distracted, Cullen. Dad says you're in trouble.

Now, I don't know where to look. Not his eyes, definitely not into his eyes.

"Carlisle Cullen!" Finally, Mom can't stand the silence in the room. "You can't drop a bomb like that, and then say nothing more."

"Esme, my love, our Edward here knows it's his turn to speak." Dad looks at me. "Don't you, Edward? Won't you tell your Mom and I why you've been so unprofessional lately."

The word feels like a slap in the face. The hairs at my neck stand, and I don't know where to shove the fucking spoon. They're scrutinizing me as if I'm in the third grade again and have just come home with a strangled kitten in my hands.

It was Mike who strangled the kitten, not I, for God's sake.

"I'm in love with a patient."

I've said the words in a low voice, and still, they echo in my ears like a rolling thunder.

"No, Edward. You're obsessed with a patient!" Dad is shouting.

Am I? Am I 'obsessed'?

"And he has the audacity to ask me to keep visitors away from coming into the patient's room, while the man is recovering wonderfully and actually needs his relatives!" The shouting goes on, only he is now looking at Mom, not me. "Nurse Stanley informed me today, our son has been sneaking into that man's room and staying for hours at night, with absolutely no reason!"

Nurse Stanley. That snake. No wonder she's married to Mike, who strangles kittens.

"Carlisle."

I've never heard such coldness in Mom's melodic voice.

"Carlisle," she repeats, more gently this time. "Stop shouting, please. The patient is a man?"

Dad hides his face behind his palms."Yes".

"You owe me fifty bucks then."

Now, she smiles and taps the rim of her plate with her forefinger.

"Yes, Esme. I guess you've been right all along."

Well, well, well. Outing - done, with Dad's help. Now, what? Do I see disgust in his gleaming eyes?

What is that bitch up there doing with my life, again? I prefer to believe I'm in the middle of a nightmare and will wake up any moment now, any moment...

There's no waking up from this; my father insists on going on with the conversation.

"So, back to the question, Edward. How dare you act so unprofessionally in my hospital?"

"I have no answer to that question, Dad."

I really don't. I have yet to find answers myself.

Am I in love? Or am I obsessed?

Somehow, I know I'll only clear it if I go back to that isolated, semi-dark room and meet Jasper again. I stand and make an excuse to leave the table. Dad stares at me, unbelieving.

"What? You're leaving? Now?"

"Yes, Dad. Now. I'll come back with some answers."

I'll drive straight to the hospital and pretend I've forgotten something.

While I turn the ignition key, a thought makes me freeze in my spot. What if he has alerted some Ethical Committee or whatever institution deals with unprofessionally behaving physicians? Or, what if he asks me to quit my job?

Oh shit. Shit.

It takes me a minute to gather myself together and pull away. My Volvo hums a soothing tune during the drive, and when I arrive at the parking lot, I'm almost composed. Almost.

Are you awake, Jasper? My mind rushes ahead, picturing me at his bed, reaching for his hand, holding it. Do you think I'm obsessed, Jasper?

A/N: Do you think he's obsessed? Please review, I need your thoughts.