Chapter Three
I vaguely remembered Dr. Cullen sitting at my side as I wept for my brother. Some small part of me felt so selfish because that while so many dying people needed him more than I did, he never left my side. But his silence, his icy hand in mine, his golden eyes keeping watch over me, were all small comforts to me. They wouldn't take the pain away, but they did numb it around the edges.
There did come a moment when Dr. Cullen's fingers began to slip from mine. Anguish washed over me again; I whimpered weakly to keep him from going. He immediately stopped, and I hear him call quietly, "Dr. Winstone, will you come here a moment?"
After an instant, there was a soft shuffling of footsteps, and a weary voice queried, "Yes, Carlisle?"
I'm going to take Miss Masen home," Dr. Cullen replied, his thumb tracing a path along my hand. I whimpered again, and Dr. Cullen's hand tightened ever so gently around mine.
Dr. Winstone-at the time, I imagined him as a graying, weathered old man who would look boringly plain next to Dr. Cullen-sighed thoughtfully. "Yes," he said, "no girl should grieve for her brother in the middle of a sick wing. But her whole family is gone. Where will you take her?"
There was a small pause. Then Dr. Cullen answered, "She has an aunt who lives several blocks away; surely the woman won't turn away her orphaned niece at a time like this." He leaned close and murmured in my ear, "I'm still here, Emily."
His glacial hand was abruptly gone, but I did not whimper in protest this time. Because he had gathered me in his arms and easily lifted me from the bed where I had lain for so long before I had even realized that my hand was empty.
It was so cold in his arms, so cold against his chest that I began to shiver immediately. But it was fitting: my mother, my father, my brother were all cold as death, and now so was I. Somewhere in a small, detached corner of my mind, I thought it was also fitting that although my head rested directly above Dr. Cullen's heart, I could hear only the soft, steady murmur of his breathing. The hearts of everyone I'd loved were silent, and Dr. Cullen's was also.
The only thing indicating that we were actually moving was the sudden change in the air on my face. One moment, it was the warm, still air of the hospital pressing heavily on my closed eyelids; then it was abruptly dark and cool with just the lightest wind brushing my cheek. I cautiously opened my eyes and glanced up to see Dr. Cullen's face pale against the black velvet sky behind him.
"Wait a moment, Carlisle!" a voice suddenly called. Dr. Cullen seemed to have stopped, and footsteps approached us again. Dr. Winstone's voice came through the dark: "Why don't you go on home for the night, Carlisle?" I could hear Dr. Cullen take a breath to answer, but Dr. Winstone interrupted gently, "You've done enough for tonight, Carlisle. You comforted a grieving girl with no one left in this world; no one else would have been able to do that. Go home and rest. You've earned it."
Footsteps retreated away into the night. Dr. Cullen clasped me a little closer to his chest and laid his frozen cheek against the top of my head. Then I heard a soft sound that made me break into silent tears, a sound that would have broken my heart even if Edward's death hadn't already.
Dr. Carlisle Cullen, who everyone praised for his compassion and dedication, was sobbing brokenly like a grieving child.