Opening AN: After a long hiatus of posting (I say posting, not writing, because I have been working on an original, non-fanfiction story for a long time now), I decided to shake some things up and post a story. A while back, I posted a story called "Until Someone Called Me Mom". I did enjoy it, but there were things I wanted differently, and a fresh start seemed like a nice idea. So, here's a very similar story very much so in the works.
Until Someone Called Me Dad
Summary: After a long bout of infertility, parenthood presents itself to Carlisle and Esme Cullen in a very unique set of circumstances. Will they be able to provide the care needed to help two very traumatized children heal from their past? Trigger warnings: child abuse (physical and sexual), infertility issues.
Opening Quote: "Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul."
-Dave Pelzer, "A Child Called 'It'"
Chapter 1: A Long Day at Work
"Dr. Cullen?" A resident called right as I was getting on the elevator to leave.
I sighed. I was already running a half hour over today, and I wanted to get home to my wife. She was preparing one of my favorite dinners tonight—lobster ravioli—and we had planned an at-home date night with a movie and wine and so-on. I typically didn't mind too much to be asked a last-minute question by a resident, but tonight was different.
"I'm sorry, I know you're probably trying to get home." The resident offered, nervously.
It was Hunter though, a very good resident. Well above his peers. He rarely asked an unimportant or simple question. He probably actually needed the answer to whatever he was going to ask me. It probably wasn't a simple question he could discover on his own and I was probably the last attending here at this point. We all leave by 5:00 for the most part and sometimes earlier on a slower day like today.
"It's fine. What is it?" I asked.
"I'm—well—completely lost on a patient in the ER." He sighed with a headshake. "The kid won't let me or anyone else near him. He's in desperate need of medical attention, but he won't let anyone even take a good look let alone actually examine him or get him treatment. I think we could use some backup down there."
"Could you give me a little more information?" I asked.
"We don't have a whole lot. Some hikers found him wandering in the woods. No shoes. No coat. Bleeding. They called authorities and the police brought him here. He was very distressed with them. He's currently hiding under the gurney in the room he's in. He won't come out for any of us. The police are trying to figure out who he is but are assuming it's either a severe case of parental abuse, a kidnapping situation, or possibly even human trafficking." Hunter sighed.
"Alright, I'll come see if I can help." I decided.
I made my way down to the ER with Hunter and followed him to one of the rooms. A nurse was currently sitting on the ground, trying to coax a very young boy out from under a gurney. From what I could see he was probably around four or five, had blonde hair, was shivering, and covered in blood. I wasn't sure if it was all his own, but I hoped not. If so, he definitely needed medical care quickly.
"Ah, Dr. Cullen." The nurse, one of my favorites, Sue Clearwater, greeted me. "I thought you had left for the day."
"Not quite." I offered. I moved to sit beside her on the ground, and took a peek at the small, blonde boy. He was looking at me with terrified chocolate eyes. He looked so frail. So battered. Bruises littered his skin.
"He won't come out." She offered softly.
I nodded as I watched the little boy trembling violently. His knees were pulled to his chest, thumb in his mouth, clearly trying anything he could to soothe himself. I sighed. This was going to be difficult. I probably wouldn't be home in the near future. I should have texted Esme to let her know what was going on.
"Hi there." I offered softly to the little one who was staring at me. "My name's Carlisle. I'm a doctor. I know hospitals and doctors can be kind of scary, but we also can help you when something's wrong or feels funny. Are you hurting Little One?"
The little boy offered a shaky nod.
"Could you come out from under the bed so I could have a look?" I asked.
I got a frantic headshake in response to this question.
"I'm sure it feels safer under there, huh?" I asked.
I got a tiny nod.
"Would you let me take a look at you if you could stay under the bed until you feel a little safer?" I asked.
He looked at me for a long moment, no answer, before he finally gave a tiny little nod.
This was going to be hard. Examining him under the gurney that the small child only fit under—I wasn't sure how to do this. I could maybe get a look at his arms and legs. Possibly his belly. It would be a start.
I slowly crawled over to where he was, and he crawled a little further away. He looked so incredibly scared. I wanted nothing more than to reassure him—promise him that he was going to be alright. I couldn't do that though. I never made promises to patients I couldn't keep.
"Let's start with your temperature, okay? I'm just going to stick this in your ear." I assured him as Sue handed me a thermometer.
He let me place it in his ear but jumped when it beeped. I wondered if I was the first doctor or medical professional to ever check him over.
"101.5." I spoke to Sue, worried about a possible infection or something like pneumonia causing him to have a fever. "Next, can I put this on your arm?"
The child stared at the blood pressure cuff curiously, but eventually nodded at that as well.
"It's going to squeeze, but it won't hurt. This tells me something called your blood pressure." I explained.
He reached his little arm out to me, and I gently took it in my hands, looking over the bruised skin. Fingerprints indicated someone had been squeezing him rather roughly. His lower arm looked swollen and bruised as well. I would want x-rays—probably a full skeletal series.
His blood pressure was a little too low for my liking. He was so incredibly thin, I wondered when the last time he had anything to eat or drink was. That with the fever had me running through tests I wanted in my head as I took note of his rapid pulse.
"Can you stretch your legs out, so I can take a look?" I asked.
He did as I asked, and more bruises and scrapes met me on tiny, bony legs. I did as much as I could with him still in his safety net. I was able to take a decent look at his belly—not an examination, just a look—and the same with his back. More and more bruises met my eyes and I wondered if there was going to be any part of this child that didn't have bruises and cuts.
"Okay Buddy, I know you're probably still scared, but do you think you could come out so I can take better care of you? This bed is pretty soft, and we can get you nice and warm under some blankets." I offered with a smile.
He shook his head and I sighed and glanced to Sue who shrugged.
"You must be hungry?" I offered.
I got a nod in return as he placed his hand on his belly.
"If you can come out from under the bed, we can get you something yummy to eat." I offered, hoping that would be enough of an incentive.
Another little headshake. I was running out of things to bribe the child with. What was left?
"Sweetie, do you like doggies?" Sue asked softly.
The child nodded.
"Would you come out if we had a dog here who could help you and sit with you while we make sure you're okay?" Sue asked sweetly.
The child finally offered a nod, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was awfully late for one of the therapy dogs to be here though, and we usually only had them on regular floors, not in the ER. What did she have in mind?
"Sue and I are going to be outside for a second. We'll be right back. The other doctor—Hunter—he's going to be right here with you." I explained.
The child nodded and I stepped out with Sue who offered me a small shrug. "This is going to be a difficult case." She told me.
"Has anyone contacted social services?" I asked.
"Police did when they brought him in. They're backed up. Said they'd send someone once they had someone available to send." She explained.
"Is one of the therapy dogs here still?" I asked.
"So, about that…I figured you probably needed to let Esme know why you're so late getting home tonight. You have two therapy dogs at home with your wife who happens to be a therapist with specialties in childhood trauma. I don't know, I just figured maybe her presence, and one of your dogs, could be helpful to the boy. I'm sorry if I overstepped." She offered.
"No, that's okay." I offered, thinking through this. Would Esme want to come into the hospital with one of our dogs on a rare day off for her? Would she want to be around a very traumatized child during a time where she was supposed to be relaxing and caring for herself? I guess I should just give her a call. "I'm going to step away and call her. I'll be right back."
Sue offered a nod. "I'll be back with the child."
I made my way to one of the small doctor's lounges on the ER floor—where people typically had a snack or made a call. Luckily, it was unoccupied. I pulled out my phone and felt my heart sink a little. It was currently 6:45, and I had two missed calls and three texts from my wife. I should definitely have let her know I was going to be late. She was probably worried something had happened.
"Carlisle?" She answered on the first ring. "Are you alright?"
"Esme, I'm so sorry. I should have called you sooner. I'm fine. I got caught up at work." I assured her.
"Will you be home soon?" She asked.
"I don't think so." I sighed. "I've got a very difficult case right now. I actually thought—well Sue really was the mastermind behind this—how would you feel about bringing one of the dogs to help out a patient of mine?"
"I can do that. Which dog do you think would be best for the patient?" She asked softly.
"Either one will be fine. He's got a lot of evidence of physical abuse and is very scared. He won't come out from under the bed, but Sue brought up a dog and he agreed to come out for that. He's very frightened and isn't speaking." I told her.
"Tigger's been exceptionally snuggly today, so I'll bring him along." She offered. "Is there anything else I can bring? How old is he?"
"Not sure. He looks around four or five. Very small. By facial features, maybe five or six, but not any older." I explained.
"I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll bring your dinner as well." She assured me.
"Thank you, My Love, I appreciate you so much." I told her.
"Of course." She offered in return.
"He's in the ER, in room 7." I told her. "Sue or I can come let you in if the front desk gives you any issues, but they shouldn't. We'll give them a head's up."
"I'm sure they'll be fine." She told me.
I spoke to my wife for a few moments longer before heading back to the child. I sat back down on the ground by Sue and studied him as he studied me. What in the world had happened to him? Based on my initial assessment, this could definitely be a kidnapping situation—but if that were the case—surely the authorities would be taking things more seriously.
Could it be his biological parents? The thought pained my heart. Esme and I had been trying for years to have a child. We had been through several rounds of IVF. My wife had endured multiple miscarriages. The last time we had tried, about a year ago, my wife gave birth to a stillborn child. We put a large hiatus on trying to be parents after that. The thought that someone could take something so precious—their own flesh and blood—and inflict this much harm to them…it made me sick to my stomach. Who could do something so terrible to this adorable little boy? It wasn't my first case of child abuse I had seen, but this one was pulling at me differently.
I heard the door open and glanced up to see my wife and one of our dogs—Tigger. He was our standard Aussiedoodle, and one of our two fully trained and registered therapy dogs. Most of the time, he or our other dog, Snow, used their training to be with my wife and her clients at her therapy practice, but she would bring them by the hospital on occasion. Tigger was one of the favorites by the young patients. He was a blue merle—meaning his coloring was black, grey, and white, and he sported one blue eye and one brown. Today he was in his therapy dog harness, bandana, and leash. He really only wore those at the hospital—to identify him to patients and staff. He sat patiently by my wife, but his eyes lingered on the child as well, who was smiling widely at our dog.
"Buddy, this is my wife Esme, and one of our dogs. His name is Tigger, like from Winnie the Pooh. Would you like to come out and meet him?" I asked the small child who offered a big nod.
I felt a smile playing out on my lips as he slowly crawled out from under the bed, making his way towards Tigger. My wife knelt down beside our pup—probably trying to make sure she didn't intimidate the child. The little boy paused about five feet away.
"It's okay, Sweetheart. No one is going to hurt you. Do you want to pet Tigger?" Esme asked.
The small child nodded, and Esme loosened her grip on Tigger's leash, allowing him to approach the child before any of us.
The little boy began slowly petting the dog and a smile continued to play out on his lips as Tigger curiously licked the child's face. Technically, that probably shouldn't happen in this setting, but it made the child giggle—the first audible sound I heard him make—so Esme and I resisted from correcting our pup.
"If Tigger sits up on the bed with you, do you think you could let me take a better look at you? Make sure you're alright?" I asked the little boy.
He nodded, minimal hesitation this time, and I smiled in return. Thank goodness for Tigger. I glanced to my wife who also had a smile on her face, but terribly sad eyes. In the light, you could see the marks and bruises more clearly. I knew my wife felt a pull at her heart. This may be her specialty, but she wasn't usually on the first-aid end of the abuse. She heard about it and helped kids process it, but I'm sure this was the most battered child she had seen. I also noticed for the first time she had a backpack on her shoulder—with dinosaurs. I knew that wasn't something we had at home, so my best guess was she had brought a few things for the child.
"Can I lift you on the bed?" I asked the child.
He hesitated this time but offered a cautious nod. I gently lifted him—noting how light he was and wanting a weight once he trusted us more—and then called Tigger up. Tigger instantly laid beside the child and rested his head on the little boy's lap. The child gently stroked Tigger's head as he watched me with nervous eyes.
"It's okay, Buddy. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to make sure I know where all you are hurt so I can help, okay?" I asked.
He nodded in return and shifted his gaze to Tigger.
Sue and I got to work looking over the child. I was documenting every mark I found on his body but knew there would need to be pictures too. That would wait though. I didn't want to frighten him more than he already was. I also figured social services would want to rule out sexual abuse. That exam though—it was rough on a kid. I decided that could wait until he had some rest and some food in his system at the very least. Once I was done, I glanced to Sue. He definitely needed an IV for fluids, and we needed some labs run too. That part, I knew would most likely irritate him.
"Let's get an IV and some fluids as well as some labs run and a full skeletal series. We can get him cleaned up too and some more documentation of the injuries he has." I told her.
She nodded and headed out of the room.
"Buddy, are you hungry?" I asked, remembering earlier how he had nodded to this.
He offered me a big nod again and I suddenly wished I had made that the priority instead of looking him over.
"We're going to get a few tests done, but let's get you something to eat. Do you like chicken fingers and macaroni?" I knew that's what they had given most of the kids for dinner tonight, so that would still be around.
He looked at me confused, and I wondered if he knew what that was. I guess he could at least try the food and if he didn't like it, we could go from there.
"Okay, I'm going to go track down some food and something to drink for you. Do you think you'll be okay here with Tigger and my wife?" I asked.
He looked down at the dog, then glanced to my wife, and offered a small nod. I headed out of the room and went over to see if one of the patient care techs could track down a plate for him while I made my way to the fridge where we kept Gatorade for the kids. The tech was quick to come back with some food, so I wasn't gone too long, but when I was back in his room, I was a little shocked at the sight before me.
The little boy was giggling as my wife sat on the side of his bed, reading him a story. He seemed so much more content and relaxed with her right there than he had all day. My wife did tend to have that effect on people. He was already all hooked up to an IV, and Sue was typing some things into the computer.
"I was able to get blood drawn, an IV, and his height and weight. Your wife is amazing with him." She offered softly.
"She has a gift." I smiled.
I got the small table over his bed and sat his food down in front of him. He looked at it with a very excited expression. Esme sat with him while he ate. He scarfed down the food at first but slowed his pace eventually. I hoped he wasn't starved to the point where this would make him feel sick.
After he finished eating, he looked at me again. He probably didn't know what was coming next. He looked like he just wanted some reassurance.
"We're going to take you somewhere to get these special pictures of you that show us your bones. Have you ever seen a picture of a skeleton?" I asked.
He nodded.
"It shows us your bones, kind of like a skeleton. It can tell us if something is hurt on you that we can't see. Would that be okay?" I asked.
He nodded but looked to Tigger.
"He can't come with you, but I can. So can Esme or Sue. Tigger can wait right here for you." I assured the little boy.
"And, so can this guy." Esme pulled a green stuffed dinosaur out of the backpack and the little boy instantly clung to it.
The little boy did well as we got all the x-rays needed. My wife's presence seemed to calm him, as did that dinosaur my wife had brought for him. We got him back to the room we had been in earlier and I looked at him cautiously. He was in desperate need of being cleaned up, but if he needed a sexual abuse examination, that needed to happen first—before valuable evidence would be washed away. I had done exams like this before, but the thought of putting him through one—especially if it was unnecessary and no sexual abuse had occurred—it didn't sit well with me. Would he be honest if I asked him about it? Would he be honest if Esme did?
"Buddy, I just have a few more questions and some other things to do to make sure you're okay, and then you can rest. Do you think you can answer just a few more questions for me?" I asked softly.
He gave me a small nod as he ran his hand through Tigger's fur, and clung to my wife's hand with his free one, dinosaur tucked safely under that arm.
It was never easy to ask this question, and never easy to hear the answer. It was hard on the kids to even be asked this, let alone to let us know the answer. I hoped he could stay calm despite the nature of these questions.
"Has anyone ever touched you where your underwear covers?" That's how we usually asked kids of his age at our hospital. Different places had different protocols, but we typically didn't reference body parts right off the bat with little ones.
He was very quiet as he looked to my wife with tear-filled eyes.
"It's okay, you can answer. No one in here is going to be mad at you, no matter what you answer." Esme assured him.
His tear-filled eyes turned towards me, and he nodded as his cheeks flushed red.
The issue with that question was that his underwear also covered his bottom. Based on the other bruises, I assumed that he was no stranger to spanking. I would need to clarify further the nature of any touching where his underwear covered.
I clarified as much as I could with yes or no questions, and determined based on what he was saying, he probably would need the exam. It wouldn't be pleasant for him. He'd be scared, but the person who harmed him deserved as much jail time as possible. For that to happen, we would need to gather as much evidence as we could.
I explained to the little boy as much as I could in terms that he would understand what would need to happen next. He looked at me so incredibly frightened. I didn't want to be the one to do this. Should I pass it on to someone else? He trusted me though. He trusted me and Sue, and my wife. I didn't want to take away that trust. But would the exam in itself break that trust? Would it put me into that category?
"Sue, could you see which forensic nurse is on call for exams tonight?" I decided to at least see who our other option was.
In our hospital, you had to have different training to do these exams. Most of the attendings had the training and on top of that, we had different forensic nurses who were on call day and night. A network. I trusted every forensic nurse I knew. They were so gentle and kind, and did these exams more often than I did. I could play the supportive role. I could play the hand holder and the soother. That was the role I wanted to play.
Sue returned. "It's Bailey—I'm not sure if you've met her yet. She just moved to our area from New York City. She's a great nurse and prior to moving here, she worked at a children's advocacy center full time, so she's got a lot of experience with this particular situation."
"Let's go ahead and give her a call." I decided.
"Okay." She decided. "Also, the charge nurse just let me know that detectives from SVU and a social worker will be her in the next half hour."
I nodded and watched her leave again. I explained to the little boy that Bailey was going to come for this final check-up, and then we could get him cleaned up. I explained that detectives and a social worker would be here soon to check on him too. He looked at me frightened—probably the prospect of so many people. I then told him Esme and I would stay with him, and internally sighed that I didn't specify for how long. The truth was, I didn't know.
Bailey arrived before anyone else, and Sue introduced her to the child. She greeted him softly, remarked about his dinosaur and Tigger, and spoke calmly to him. She asked her own series of yes or no questions, and Sue typed into the computer verbatim what was asked and his answers. Bailey explained to my wife and I that our role was basically to distract him—make this as tolerable of an experience as possible. She told us some kids really liked to watch movies on a tablet, so we pulled up some kids' film on Netflix. Based on how mesmerized he was by the film, I doubted he had ever watched TV before. It certainly did make Bailey's exam easier. He wasn't focused on what she was doing or saying. I was keyed into what she was telling Sue to document. Her exam confirmed his nods towards various questions, and I felt an intense rage fill my soul.
I never got angry.
I never felt rage.
I was very level-headed.
The only anger I could even remember feeling was anger towards the universe and towards God during Esme's miscarriages and our battles with infertility. This was different. A fierce anger. An anger that made me want to cause severe bodily harm to the person responsible for harming this child. A protective anger.
Bailey finished and spoke a little more to the child. He seemed a little smitten towards her too, offering a small smile when she spoke to him—seemingly unphased from her exam.
"I'll go and speak with social services and the detectives. I'll let them know you're getting him cleaned up and then they can come in." Bailey told us.
"You did so well, Sweetheart." My wife assured the small child. "You must be very tired. Why don't Carlisle and I help you get cleaned up, into some warm pajamas, and then you'll just have a few more questions to answer before you can rest."
The child nodded and reached for my wife. She pulled him into a gentle hug, and I saw his little fists cling to her shirt. My wife held him for a few moments before he pulled away. Esme reached in the bag she had brought, pulled out a blanket, set of pajamas, fuzzy socks, and a fresh pair of underpants—all covered in dinosaurs, fitting with the theme of the stuffed toy and the bag itself. She also pulled out a toothbrush, toothpaste, and much nicer shampoo, soap, and lotion than we had to offer at the hospital.
"I think this is actually one of the rooms with a bathtub in the attached bathroom." I told my wife. "Buddy, let's get you nice and clean."
I let Esme do most of the washing while I stood by with some clean towels. The child was covered in more mud and dirt than I had even realized while looking over him medically. Esme had to drain the water twice through the short bath to keep it decently clean. She got him bundled in a towel as she helped him brush his teeth with the strawberry toothpaste, she had brought for him. She even put lotion on his skin—which I couldn't deny, desperately needed it with how dry and uncared for it had been. Esme got him into the fresh set of clothes, and he let her carry him easily back to the gurney where she tucked the blankets around him tightly and handed him the softer blanket she had brought. He looked so adorable with the blankie and dinosaur snuggled under one of his arms, and Tigger still resting peacefully beside him.
We stayed with the child as long as the detectives and social services would let us but there did come a point where they needed to speak with him alone. He panicked and clung to my hand as I turned to leave.
"It's okay, we'll be back." I offered. "We'll be just outside the door, okay?"
He shook his head and tears filled those big chocolate brown eyes. He squeezed my hand even tighter and his eyes gave away just how terrified he was.
"Tigger can stay with you while we're gone. It'll just be a few moments." My wife assured him.
He sighed, but I think realized he didn't have a say in the matter. He slowly released my hand and turned his attention back towards Tigger who lay his head across the child's stomach. Esme and I stepped outside and were able to speak alone for the first time in hours.
"Before you say anything, I want to pose an option we should ask them about." My wife spoke before I could even get in a word.
"Okay?" I offered.
"Let's take him home." She told me.
"With us?" I asked.
She nodded. "I know it may be complicated depending on who they find out he is and all that, but at least for now? Can we offer to be an emergency placement?"
"It's a big responsibility." I sighed but wanted him with us as bad as she did. I just needed to play a more passive role to let us think through this more with her being all in. "We don't even know the full extent to what he's been through…"
"I know." She interjected. "Carlisle, it's just—he—something about him. He's different than kids I've been with before. I've been around countless children. Countless traumatized children. When I'm with him…he feels different. I have this strong desire to be near him. To protect him. This isn't just a phase. Carlisle, he feels like our son when I hold him."
"It's going to take a lot of patience. He's not even speaking." I offered.
"I know. We can help him though. We can help him, and we'll get him help. We'll be there every single step of the way for as long as we can. I don't want him going with anyone else." She told me.
I nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?" She asked.
"I was attempting to play devil's advocate, but I can't. I adore him too Esme. I have never…when Bailey was checking him over—I felt this incredibly intense, murderous rage. I've never felt that before. Not in the way I felt it with him. I want to give him a home too." I assured her.
"It's probably not going to be so simple. We'll have to get registered as foster parents—I don't know if that can even be expedited. I—we probably need to talk to that social worker sooner rather than later." My wife sighed.
"Do you think he's okay in there?" I asked.
"I'm sure he is. They're trained to deal with things like this. I'm sure he's scared, but I'm sure they're being gentle." She assured me. "Carlisle, you should eat. It's like 11:30."
It was the first time I realized I was very hungry. I guess my needs had come after the child's needs. I nodded. "I'll go get my food from the lounge."
I was as quick as I could be and returned to find my wife still waiting by the door. I ate my dinner quickly as we discussed becoming guardians to this small child. Right as I was finishing my Tupperware full of lobster ravioli, the detectives and the social worker stepped out.
"How is he? Did he speak at all to you?" My wife asked.
"No ma'am, but we have enough through his nods and headshakes and the exams. We just need to figure out who he is. No missing persons reports line up with him—not even close. We think this is a case of parental abuse. We'll keep working to discover an identity. It's just going to take more time until or unless he starts speaking." One of the detectives told us.
"I'm going to work to find him a placement soon. Maybe once he's settled in a home, he'll be more open." The social worker told us.
"About that…" I began. "We were wondering if we could take him in and what that would look like in terms of timing and being approved."
"We've both grown rather attached." My wife told the social worker.
"Oh." She seemed surprised, but in a happy way. "Right, well really it could be as little as twenty-four hours. There's an orientation, you'll both have to pass background checks, and make it through a home study. It's great you want to take him in. He seems very attached to both of you—and your dog."
"We're attached to him as well." I offered. "One of us should get back to him."
"You go, I'll get things settled with social services for us." My wife offered.
And so, I did. I headed back to the sweet child that had stolen my heart, held his hand, and watched as he dozed off into a much-needed slumber.