Snap…
Snap…
"I'm sure these are less hygienic than my bare hands," muttered Carlisle to himself. He discarded his filthy surgeon's gloves into the surgery's waste disposal and left the theatre to scrub his hands. It was all for show, of course; germs didn't attach themselves to vampire skin. That was just another odd trait that separated them from humans.
Drying his hands on a miserly piece of paper towel, Carlisle frowned. The past couple of days he had thought a lot more about the distinguishing features that defined his species. He had begun to distance himself more from humans, something he had not done since before he met Edward, and it was having a serious impact on his frame of mind. So far only his family had noticed his sullen moods and moping – the people he worked with all too used to his general reclusiveness to realise anything was wrong. But Carlisle was afraid it would not be long before even they would notice the disappearance of the twinkle in his eyes or the charming smile he always carried.
Of course only some of them could possibly realise the reason behind his changed disposition. Those who knew Carlisle had doctored Harry during his brief stay would understand the boy's disappearance had affected the doctor as though he lost one of his own. In a way, Carlisle felt as if he had. Harry's insistence at loneliness and solitude had connected him to Carlisle in a way the boy couldn't possibly comprehend. Having known that loneliness, Carlisle would never be able to distance himself from Harry Potter again, and this was something that only his family could understand.
With no recollection of how he had gotten there, Carlisle was back at his office and sitting behind his desk. This was another thing that had been happening recently; parts of his day and routine would pass by without so much as a notice from Carlisle. With no intention, he was operating almost exclusively in auto-pilot, something that was going to get him into trouble if he didn't start to control it soon.
Sighing, Carlisle leaned back in his chair and willed himself to relax. Glancing at the clock in his room, he was surprised to see that it was already two o'clock in the afternoon; it had been a longer surgery than he realised, meaning that he had been on autopilot for at least part of it. Knowing his own skill, Carlisle was confident that his work would not have been affected; however, that didn't stop his annoyance. Growling in frustration, Carlisle rose from his desk and began to pace. He was falling apart. Three hundred years of living as a vampire, never ageing, never tiring. Now he could feel those three hundred years piled on his shoulders, weighing him down. He was exhausted.
Riiing riiing
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Carlisle was in half a mind to let it ring out. He quickly changed his mind when he noticed the caller ID.
SWAN CHARLIE
Answering the call, Carlisle held it to his ear and opened his mouth, but he couldn't even get out a Hello before –
"Carlisle, are you busy?" The Chief sounded agitated.
"The rest of my afternoon is quiet. What can I do, Charlie?"
"I need you to come down to the high school right away. Come to the office. Don't tell anyone where you're going. It's about the Potter kid."
Carlisle's mind seemed to freeze; why was the Chief at the school about Harry? Was the boy there?
"Y-yes, of course! I'll be there as fast as I can!" Hanging up, Carlisle didn't know what to think. Bolting out of his office, slower than he could be going but possibly too fast for a human, he hurried to his car and tore out of the parking lot.
'What's happened to you now, Harry? Please be safe.'
"Argh! Why is there a red light, now?!" Huffing impatiently, Carlisle waited for the signal to change and raced to the high school. He pulled into the first empty space he found and made his way brusquely to the main office where Chief Swan was standing outside seemingly very surprised at Carlisle's quick arrival.
"I'm not going to ask how you got here so fast," the Chief said.
"What's happened?" Carlisle asked.
"Phone call came in this afternoon from Mrs Cope, the receptionist here, asking me to come in and meet with an emancipated boy wanting to enrol for school here," he explained. "Said his name was Harry Potter." If Carlisle's heart could still beat, it would have been hammering. "He matches your description, but I'd like you to come and confirm for me that it's really him." Chief Swan eyed Carlisle warily. "You okay, Carlisle? If you'd rather not, I can –"
"N-no!" Carlisle stammered. "No, I'm fine. A bit shocked is all," he admitted, offering Charlie a reassuring smile. "After you then, Chief." He gestured to the door, readied himself, and followed in after.
Sometimes despite knowing what you're about to see when walking into a room, you can't help but still be surprised. This was one of those moments for Carlisle, for sitting in a hard, wooden chair staring with determination at the floor, was none other than Harry Potter. No one spoke. Carlisle couldn't speak. He was so… relieved to see Harry alive and in one piece. He didn't care about the open hostility the boy had shown the last time they met; all Carlisle cared about was that he was here.
"Carlisle?" Brought out of his swirling emotions, Carlisle remembered that they weren't alone. "Do you confirm this boy's identification as Harry Potter?"
He did. Of course, he did. This was the same boy Carlisle had grown to admire and worked to keep alive. That had certainly not been easy; with such severe injuries, some that would take weeks to heal, it was –
'Wait…'
Trying his hardest not to show any emotion on his face, Carlisle looked more closely at Harry, in particular at where Carlisle knew him to have severe injuries.
But there were none.
'That's impossible.'
Sitting before him was a perfectly healthy teenager with not a scratch on him. Freshly shaven wearing brand new clothes and a neat haircut, in two days Harry had gone from barely alive to a normal, healthy teenage boy.
"Carlisle? Is this Harry Potter?" Chief Swan asked again, Carlisle detecting a hint of annoyance in the man's question. He had to say yes. How much trouble would Harry be in? Would Charlie arrest him?
Without his vampire sight, Carlisle would have missed the miniscule nod of Harry's head. The message was clear: I don't care, just tell him.
"Yes," Carlisle murmured. "He is Harry Potter." He looked at the Chief and saw suspicion in his eyes.
"You don't sound very sure of yourself, Carlisle. I thought you told me the kid was in a bad way, but this boy looks like he hasn't had a head cold let alone been on the verge of death." The Chief was right, of course. But Carlisle didn't know the explanation behind that any more than Charlie did. There certainly wasn't an explanation he could offer that wouldn't give away Harry's strange abilities.
"Lie."
It was nothing more than a breath out, but Carlisle heard it as though Harry had shouted the command. He was still looking down at the floor, giving no indication that he had just spoken. So Carlisle lied.
"No, that does appear to be the case, doesn't it?" He said with much more conviction than he felt. "Of course no one has seen him for three days, what's there to say that he hasn't had other medical attention, or simply healed up with adequate bed rest? Besides, I'm sure he's not completely better, his ankle for one is probably still bothering him, is it, Harry?" It was the first direct question he had posed to the boy since he arrived and Carlisle desperately hoped Harry would play along.
Sure enough, as Chief Swan looked at him for a response, Harry gave two short jerks of his head in the affirmative. Only Carlisle noticed him change his position slightly to lessen the weight he was putting through his left foot.
"Right then, boy," Charlie huffed, "start from the beginning. Where have you been since you disappeared from the hospital?"
For a moment Carlisle thought Harry wasn't going to say anything, and that he was just going to continue staring at the floor until he was dragged away to the police station, but as before his worries were unjustified and Harry began to talk.
"I left the hospital –"
"In the middle of the night?" The Chief interrupted.
"Yes. I left and –"
"With your hospital room in a complete mess?"
Harry clenched his fists. "That wasn't –"
"You've had the hospital and the police tirelessly looking for you, you realise?"
The temperature of the room seemed to drop by several degrees as Harry finally looked up from the floor, his green eyes cold and unfeeling.
"If you would like me to tell you what happened, sir, I suggest you stop interrupting me." A chill ran down Carlisle's spine that had nothing to do with the coldness of the room. The Chief met Harry's glare but remained silent.
"As I was saying. The state the room was left in was entirely my fault, and yet it was an accident. I was angry, sir, that I was stuck in hospital. I don't like hospitals. That night I opened my window to get some fresh air, however in my anger I threw them open too hard and they smashed against the wall, hence the broken glass." Harry spoke in a bored voice, but Carlisle could sense the anger just under the surface.
"Wait a second, sorry, but hang on," Charlie interrupted. "That may explain the window, but how did the lights all break?"
"Lights?" Harry asked innocently. "I didn't break any lights. Perhaps a bat flew in and went crazy." It was such a ridiculous claim, and everybody knew that including Harry, but the Chief had no evidence to prove that Harry had done anything. Clearly knowing this, Harry continued before he could be interrupted again.
"Anyway, with glass all over the floor it wasn't surprising when I slipped and cut my hands open. This made me more frustrated, so I left. The dumpster below my window made it all too easy to slip out unnoticed. I walked for a while before I hailed a taxi and went to Seattle."
'Seattle?'
Carlisle had no idea where Harry was going with this. Truthfully, he was impressed; while Harry wasn't giving the whole story of what happened in the hospital, none of it was strictly a lie. Him going to Seattle however…
"Why did you go to Seattle?" Charlie asked, disbelief thick in his voice.
"Friends of mine were holidaying there." Now, Carlisle knew, Harry was lying. The way his jaw tightened and his fists clenched in his lap gave him away. Chief Swan hadn't noticed anything, yet.
"I spent a lot of time with them in England, when not staying with my relatives, and came to the States with the intention of moving here after I was officially emancipated. That was one month ago. Through legal routes," Carlisle had to resist smirking at the boy's emphasis, "and correct applications I became an official citizen yesterday."
What Carlisle hadn't noticed before was a pile of documents sitting on the counter of Mrs Cope's desk, which Carlisle also hadn't noticed was vacant of the receptionist. From where he stood he could see all kinds of official citizenship documents that indeed claimed Harry was an official American citizen.
The Chief still wasn't convinced.
"Right, and so, what, they bought you a giant mansion on the edge of town, did they? Rich family? You certainly seem to have a healthy sum of money in your bank, boy."
Harry took a calming breath before answering. Carlisle willed him to not lose his head.
"That money is my inheritance I received after my parents' deaths," he spoke quietly, and yet his voice carried comfortably across the room.
'Oh, Harry.'
Carlisle couldn't help the rush of sympathy he experienced. Harry's parents were dead; while Carlisle had thought it possible, it was awful to learn he was right. No child should outlive their parents by so long. Finally Carlisle felt he was beginning to understand a part of Harry's bitterness with the world, and yet there was still so much the boy wasn't saying.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Charlie offered, clearly taken off guard at hearing this news. "Did this happen recently?"
Harry gave the Chief an icy glare.
"Does it matter?" he seethed.
'Yes,' thought Carlisle.
"I suppose not," admitted Chief Swan. "Why not continue living with your relatives back in England? Why move here of all places?"
"I didn't exactly see eye to eye with my aunt and uncle," Harry answered, which Carlisle took to mean 'They weren't like me'.
"As for how I ended up here… that was sort of just luck." Carlisle could see Harry wanted to offer no further information on how he ended up in Forks. He sat unmoving in his chair, waiting for the Chief to speak.
"And what are your intentions for your future?"
"I intend to finish my schooling here – at least this semester, possibly longer – and live as normal and ordinary a life as possible. Is that alright with you?" Harry asked in a manner that clearly suggested he didn't care what the answer was, he was going to live how he wanted.
Charlie sat for a long time with Harry's documents in his hands, going over them one by one. Every now and then he would look up at the boy as though to make sure he hadn't disappeared again, and each time he would find the same dead, green stare watching him.
Carlisle couldn't believe what he had heard; Harry was an orphan – Carlisle suspected not recently – with a huge house and fortune, simply wanting an ordinary life. It was clear there were other dark things in Harry's past which he was battling, and Carlisle suspected it was a battle he was losing. His once bright green eyes were lifeless despite the clear health the boy was in, and his features seemed permanently fixed in a scowl. Carlisle was brought out of his thoughts by the voice of the Chief.
"Everything here does seem to be in order. Would it be possible to get in contact with these friends of yours?"
"I doubt it," Harry answered, most of the anger gone from his voice. "They returned to England yesterday and live in a remote part of the countryside. They don't have a phone, you see."
'How convenient,' Carlisle couldn't help but think.
"Well then," Charlie sighed, "I guess that's all in order for you to enrol in school. Next time you plan on running away, tell someone first." Harry didn't smile at the joke.
"If necessary, I can pay for the damages."
"Sorry?" Charlie was taken aback.
"For the window. And the lights I suppose, if you like," Harry clarified.
"Oh. No, that's alright." What a strange thing for a teenager to offer. "That's fine, isn't it, Carlisle?"
"Of course you don't have to pay, Harry," Carlisle smiled. Again, Harry didn't return the smile. Instead he glared at his former doctor with a burning hatred.
'Well, nice to see some things haven't changed.'
Completely oblivious to the tension that was building, Charlie began to speak again.
"There's one thing that still doesn't make sense about all this," he pondered aloud.
'Only one thing?' Carlisle thought sarcastically.
"What happened to the security footage from that night? Someone must have erased it." Chief Swan gave Carlisle a calculating look. "It can only have been someone from the hospital working that night. From what Harry says it wasn't someone covering their tracks, meaning someone wanted to hide how Harry escaped. Who would want to do that, Carlisle?"
"I don't know, Charlie," Carlisle said slowly. Surely he couldn't have worked it out. Could he?
"I think –"
"I did it." Harry's voice called out, effectively cutting off the Chief's accusation. Both adults stared openly at Harry in disbelief. Charlie walked over and hunkered down until he was at eye level with the boy.
"You did it, did you?" He asked in mocking scepticism. "Mind telling me exactly what you did?"
Carlisle was still staring at Harry, not quite believing what was happening. Harry met the Chief's gaze.
"I wiped the camera in my room. I'm good with technology and things," he lied.
"And why did you think it a smart idea to damage hospital property?"
Harry frowned and replied, "I didn't want to make it any easier for people to come after me. It wasn't originally my intention to come back to Forks," he said as though it were obvious. "Too much hostility." As he said this, his eyes flickered quickly to Carlisle still standing near the door. This didn't go unnoticed, as Charlie followed his gaze to stare at the doctor.
"Hostility?" The Chief asked as he stood upright. "From Doctor Cullen?" He looked back at Harry with a deep frown. "Boy, this man has been worried sick about you for three days thinking you were dead. If anyone here's showing hostility, it's you."
"It's alright, Charlie," Carlisle assured. "I admit while he was in my care, Harry took some of my advice as condescending rather than helpful, and I am to blame for that." While not quite true, Carlisle felt that if he had handled the situation better, especially in the forest, Harry would not be so angry with him.
Charlie looked at Carlisle for a while, deep in thought.
"Right then, this is my decision. Parts of your story still bug me, but I'm willing to let that slide on a couple of conditions," he reasoned. "You're going to undergo a full medical check with Doctor Cullen before you start school. You may look fine but you were in hospital three days ago and I'm sure you would still be there if you hadn't run off."
Carlisle watched as Harry's jaw clenched in anger; these were not conditions he wanted.
"My other condition," Charlie continued, either not noticing or simply ignoring Harry's silent fuming, "is that twice a week you check in with either myself or Doctor Cullen."
"No." Harry said bluntly.
"If you don't want me to take you down to the station right now for further questioning and punishment, you'll agree to these conditions, is that understood?" Chief Swan glared back at Harry, whose eyes were blazing in fury. Carlisle was worried Harry might snap.
"Charlie, don't you think –?"
"You care about the boy's wellbeing, don't you, Carlisle?" Charlie cut him off in annoyance.
"Of course," Carlisle said. "Very much." He refused to look at Harry, but he could see that the boy's features had just formed into a frown of deep confusion.
"Then this is what's best for him," Charlie argued, turning his attention back to Harry. "You will be given contact details for the both of us, and we will have yours. You will meet in person with each of us once a week, offer your assistance around the office and keep us up to date with your situation. You may be legally responsible for yourself now, boy, but that's new for you and this isn't England. You'll need help and advice settling in to the American way of life. Carlisle?" He turned to address the doctor. "Are you happy to do this?"
Carlisle wasn't sure what to think. On one hand he thought it was brilliant; he would be able to see Harry once a week, perhaps try and build a level of trust and help with whatever he's facing. On the other hand, Carlisle knew this would greatly upset Harry. The boy was still fuming, glaring daggers into the Police Chief's back, as though wishing he could cut off the man's breath. He wanted freedom, and Charlie was making sure he didn't have it.
Carlisle couldn't argue with the Chief; this was best for Harry. Wasn't it? Doesn't everybody need someone to share their fears with? Someone to turn to when there isn't anybody else? That was Harry's problem, Carlisle knew, that he felt he had no one to talk to, no one who would understand what he was going through. Perhaps this is what Carlisle needed to convince Harry that he could be that someone.
"I am," he confirmed. He looked at Harry who had buried his head in his hands at the doctor's words; his sentence had been delivered.
"Fine!" He shouted, standing up. "Fine, okay, whatever. I'll do it. Fantastic. Are we done now?" As Harry dug his hands deep in to his pockets, Carlisle could see him grasp something inside. Whatever it was seemed to help calm him down.
"We are," said the Chief. "I'll stay here and finalise this with the school so as you can start tomorrow. Carlisle, sorry to have taken up your afternoon."
"Not at all, Charlie," Carlisle assured. Glancing at the clock above the desk, he saw it was already four o'clock. No doubt his children will have heard everything that had been said in the office. He hoped they had enough sense to leave before he came outside.
"Harry," Carlisle turned back to the boy, who was still standing in defeat, "can I offer you a lift home? We could get a start on that medical examination Chief Swan recommended." It was probably selfish what he was doing, but Carlisle knew that Harry couldn't say no to his offer in front of Charlie without getting into another argument. As Carlisle knew he would, Harry gave a curt nod and began gathering his things together, still silently fuming. He walked through the door, without as much as a glance at either adult, to wait outside.
"You'll keep an eye on that boy, won't you, Carlisle?" Charlie spoke without turning around, busy signing paperwork.
"Of course, Charlie," Carlisle assured. The Chief didn't respond for a while. Carlisle got the sense he was stalling, pretending to read something.
"I have a feeling he's going to keep us pretty occupied for a while," he finally admitted. Carlisle smiled.
"Yes, I quite agree. Goodbye, Charlie." Carlisle opened the door to leave.
"See you."
Closing the door to the office, Carlisle looked around but couldn't see Harry anywhere.
"Why do you do this, Harry?"He muttered to himself.
Coming around the corner, still looking out for Harry, Carlisle found the boy leaning against the black Mercedes, the only car remaining in the lot other than Charlie's cruiser. He was facing the other way, and so couldn't see Carlisle silently walking over at human pace.
"I assume this is yours," Harry said, just as Carlisle got within ten paces of the car. He hadn't made a sound.
"How did you know I was there?" He couldn't help but ask.
Harry didn't respond. Carlisle tried a different line of conversation.
"Why did you tell Chief Swan that you wiped the security tapes?" It had been bothering Carlisle since Harry had taken the blame away from him. He knew – and he was sure Harry did too – that it was because of this Harry had been dealt his weekly punishment.
"Why did you wipe them?" Harry retorted, still not turning to face his former doctor.
"I watched them myself," he said simply. "I deleted them for your protection."
Harry seemed to ponder this a while. Finally he turned around, his eyes no longer blazing in anger but rather returned to their dull, lifeless stare.
"Then I suppose I should thank you. I didn't know hospital rooms were taped." While Carlisle was sure the thanks was genuine, he was still uncomfortable with the cold voice with which it was given. "I told Chief Swan that I wiped the recording because your job means a lot more to you than his opinion does to me."
Again, Harry spoke with a cold and unfeeling voice that gave Carlisle chills. Yet what he had said showed he had kindness in him, it was just a matter of finding the warmth to go with it. How Carlisle was going to do that he had no idea.
He unlocked the car and gestured for Harry to get in. After a few seconds, he did, and Carlisle slid into the driver's seat. He pulled out onto the street and began to head for the address he had read on Harry's documentation. If Carlisle's memory served him well, which of course it did, then the Chief was right: Harry's new house was enormous.
Sitting in Harry's lap was the pile of personal documents identifying him as an American citizen. While all the files were very well made, Carlisle could tell they were fake – he had good experience with counterfeit documents. Sitting on the top of the pile in Harry's lap, was an American driver's license.
"I didn't know you drove," Carlisle said conversationally.
"Mm," Harry replied, not giving away any information.
"They're very well done, if you don't mind me saying," he told Harry, watching the boy frown out of the corner of his eye. "I've never seen such convincing forgeries that weren't my own." Carlisle could hear Harry's teeth grind together in frustration.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, sir," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "But I guess fake humans need fake ID, too." He spoke with venom, and the words did sting Carlisle. He sighed. Carlisle wanted to get on Harry's good side; all this was achieving was irritating him into rudeness.
"Look, Harry, you realise I'm not actually going to give you a medical examination, don't you?" Carlisle told him, his voice softer. Harry frowned again and looked at him.
"You're not?" he asked, the edge gone from his voice. Carlisle simply shook his head. "Why not?"
"I can see for myself that you're physically perfectly healthy. I have absolutely no idea how you managed that after you were so near death two days ago, but it happened. I can make up some results and send them to Chief Swan in the morning." While Carlisle felt he had done enough lying over the past few days, what could one more faked report do? "Besides," he added, "I'm sure you'd appreciate the rest before your first day of American school tomorrow."
Harry didn't respond for a while, but when he did it was the most genuine he had sounded all day.
"Thanks," he said simply.
The rest of the journey was spent in silence, and while it was far from companionable, there was undoubtedly less tension between the two men. When they arrived at the house, Harry was quick to jump out and head for the front door. Having decided in the earlier silence what he wanted to say, Carlisle got out as well and called out from the car.
"Harry," the boy stopped but didn't turn around. "I'd like it if you came to my office tomorrow after school. I won't get you to stay long, but I'd be interested in hearing how your first day goes."
Clenching his fist around the object in his pocket again, Harry called out a hasty "Fine," and trudged into the house. Sighing, Carlisle got back into his car and began the drive home, brainstorming how he could earn the boy's trust.
