Alistair POV

"He's seems…small for his age," Siobhan mused, attempting to coax the child to eat. Lunch had been hard, but dinner seemed almost impossible. Eating was the only task Carlisle was unwilling to do, although I was unsure whether it was due to his illness or whether he usually had an aversion to it.
"Stunted," Liam grunted under his breath.
She rolled her eyes. "Both of you men are insufferable at times."
"All he does is cry and whine. I do not like small children. Let alone infants," he retorted.
"He is hardly a baby, Liam. Little, yes, but he does not act that way. He has cried once since he got here; he is remarkably well behaved." She was standing behind the little blond child at the table, running her fingers through his hair. "He is smart too. Alistair, watch; we have a game, do we not, Carlisle?"
He glanced up at me before returning his gaze to her, a small unsure smile on his face. My heart melted a little at the sight and it was all I could do not to rush forward to hold him again
"Ready?" When he nodded consent, she laid six pieces of fruit along the table.
Confused at what they were playing at, I waited.
"Six," he mumbled quietly after a moment, watching her face again.
"Yes!" She leant down and picked him up, ignoring the stiffness in his body and his obvious want to be put down again. Siobhan didn't seem able to keep her hands off the child. Granted, he was adorable, but she was almost obsessive. "We do need to feed you, though. Will you eat for me, sweetie? I need you to eat." She sat at the table, holding him on her knee as she pushed food onto a fork. "Please, Carlisle?"
Carlisle became visibly anxious, tightly holding onto the hand she was supporting him with. He shook his head, swallowing a quiet sob.
"Shh, come on, love, you need to have dinner."
"He isn't feeling well, Siobhan," I grumbled shortly, taking in the child's flushed cheeks and overly pale complexion. He hadn't improved much since I had brought him here.
He glanced up at her face as she sighed in frustration, obediently opening his mouth and letting her feed him. I wasn't sure the others were aware of it, but I could see fear in his eyes. The more he ate, the more fidgety he became.
"Stop it," I snapped at her. "He doesn't want to." Some friend she was. Hurting my child like that.
She managed to feed him almost three quarters of the plate before he became too upset. "Four more mouthfuls, Carlisle, you can do that. You've hardly eaten at all today," she murmured to him, repositioning him on her lap.
He started to choke on his cries, pulling at his clothing.
I cringed away from the sounds of his distress. "You're upsetting him. Don't make me upset you," I threatened under my breath. She didn't respond but I knew she heard me from the stiffness in her shoulders. Unfortunately, she aimed the frustration she felt toward me at poor little Carlisle
"Carlisle," she scolded. "Stop this." She forcefully pulled him back when he struggled to get down. "You may go when you're finished, child."
At the tone of her voice he became quiet again, swallowing hard, and let her force more food into him. He started to squirm, uncomfortable.
"Siobhan," I warned cautiously. "He's had enough. You're making him unhappy."
She frowned. "He cant be full. He hasn't eaten half as much as other children his age do."
"He doesn't like it. Just leave him alone." I stepped forward without wanting to, twitching to pick him up.
"It's only a little bit more," she said stubbornly, her brow knotting. "Eat, and then you can go, Carlisle." She hugged him briefly.
I winced as she squeezed him, knowing he wasn't comfortable. "I think you should stop. He's over full," I protested, stepping forward to take him from her.
"Will you relax, Alistair? I've raised all my younger siblings. I know what children of this age are capable of," she snapped, glaring at me now, determination written across her face.
It made sense, but something definitely wasn't right with him. To me, he seemed more uneasy than before. He squirmed as she scooped up the last of the food, nervously biting his fingers.
I suddenly realised what was about to happen. "Siobhan, don't-" I started, but it was too late. The poor child threw up everything he'd just swallowed, and then struggled to hide his tears from us.
"I'm out," Liam muttered, heading out the kitchen door.
The more Siobhan tried to calm him, the more upset he became and I worried he would make himself sick again.
"Give him to me," I told her bluntly, snatching him off her. As he held onto my clothing, hugging me, I grinned at her, triumphant. "He likes me best."
She rolled her eyes, failing to hide a guilty expression. "Take him upstairs and try to calm him down. I'll clean up." She stood, pushing her chair back with her legs, and stalked out of the room.

"It's okay. I've got you now," I assured him, lying back on the bed and pulling up against me. "She doesn't know how to care for you, does she, my little one?" I spoke for her benefit, knowing she was listening from the kitchen.
Sure enough, Siobhan retorted with a low growl, making Carlisle shudder and hide his face in my shoulder.
"You're scaring him, bad mother," I chided, keeping my voice gentle to calm him again. Every time someone raised their voice, his pulse shot through the roof, almost to the point where it was a struggle for me to distinguish each beat from the last. Her growl was no exception. "Sleep, Carlisle, everything is going to be okay. Tomorrow we'll…I'll take you back to your family and…" My throat felt thick and I had to stop talking. He has to go back. He's not yours, I reminded myself.
When his body tensed I thought he might be sick again, but instead he emitted an almost silent sob.
"Carlisle? What's wrong, buddy?" I shifted him so I could wrap my arm around him, his head against my chest. A satisfied warmth spread through me as he clung to the fabric of my shirt, despite the fact he was in tears again. He wanted me. "It's alright." I ran my hand up and down his back, unable to resist smiling as I listened to his breathing regulate again. He was still hot with fever and undoubtedly sleepy. Still though, his sobs only grew in frequency. "Shh, it's okay." I gently ran my fingers through his hair, marvelling at the softness of it.
"…Alistair..?" he whimpered.
I jumped in surprise, forgetting he could speak so fluently. "Yes, Carlisle? Are you not feeling well?"
"…D-don't want to go…"His voice was barely a whisper.
"Go where? We're staying here tonight, so that you can sleep." I picked him up, sitting him on my stomach so I could see him properly. "You don't have to worry, okay?"
He melted, dissolving into tears. "I-I don't w-want to l-leave you…"
It was all I could do not to cry too. "You family misses you, little one. I have to take you back."
Carlisle shook his head, crawling up me to cuddle into my side again.
"I need to take you back to your mummy and daddy," I reasoned.
He didn't settle any, and by morning he'd barely slept a few hours. You could see he was exhausted just by glancing at him. He'd also developed a cough overnight, which in the early hours of the day became a problem, seeming to choke him every time it happened. It caused me more distress than I would like to admit to not be able to help him.
"Siobhan, he's really not well," I murmured, holding him against my shoulder. He more unconscious than asleep, and each breath he took was jagged and tortured.
"He needs to go back, Alistair," she insisted with a sigh, glancing over his fragile body. "He's so tiny. Can I hold him?" Once I had reluctantly nodded consent, she lifted him off me, hugging him close to her. As she kissed his cheek I saw a flash of longing across her face, the want for her own child. "Good bye, Carlisle, I'll miss you, sweetie," she told him as he glanced up at her.

It took me the best part of the day to locate Carlisle's home. The house was dripping with the sweet smell of him, much stronger than it should have, but I was unsure why. Once he had started crying, it was almost impossible to calm him down again; he was almost frantic.
"No, Alistair!" he pleaded as I pulled him away from me, forcing his fingers off my shirt. I set him on the doorstep, anxious about being seen now; for sure his parents would charge out at the sound of their beautiful child's sobs. I knocked loudly on the front door before running into the night. From the shadows of a building I watched a man storm out, heard Carlisle's scream as he grabbed him, and suddenly knew why his scent was so strong here; blood. Carlisle's blood. Lots of it.