Chapter 5

Carlisle felt a little better when he woke up in the morning. His head almost didn't hurt, and it seemed his fever had dropped. He slowly sat and stayed watching the chimney for a few minutes. The only sounds he could hear were the cracks and snaps of what remained of the logs burning down. Sometimes sparkles rose a little higher over the fireplace. When Carlisle finally looked away, the image of the fire was burned in his retinas. He blinked a few times, trying to chase it away, and stood up.

He decided he'd go and see if Esme was awake. She wasn't in the kitchen, but he found the medicine she'd said she'd buy on the table. He took the recommended dose of each, before continuing his search for her. There were no sounds coming from the bathroom. Finally, he reached the door of his own bedroom and opened it. Esme lay in his bed. Her head rested on her balled up scarf, her coat over her as a makeshift blanket. He remembered there was a spare blanket, pillow and pillowcase in the bathroom cupboard, behind the towels and toilet paper supply. He brought them to his room and gently removed Esme's scarf from under her head, placing the pillow in its place. He unfolded the blanket and displayed it over her, then hesitantly brushed her cheek. He stood there, watching her peaceful face thoughtfully, before leaving the room and going in the entrance to put both clothes on a coat hanger.

He went back to the living room and found a book on the small table between the couch and the chimney. He picked it up and read it while he waited for Esme to wake up.

When Esme opened her eyes, she discovered that, for the first time in two days, she was sleeping with actual blankets and pillows. No doubt they were Carlisle's doing (if not Santa's), which meant he'd woken up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and smoothing her hair, and headed to the living room.

"Hey," Carlisle greeted, looking up from his book as she walked into the room.

"Hi. Did you sleep well ?"

She realized the book he was holding was hers, she'd left it in the room when she'd gone to bed.

"Pretty good overall," he said, "except for one part, but I think you were already gone."

Esme avoided his gaze. If he was referring to the time she was thinking of…

"By the way, thank you so much for the medicine ! I feel much better now."

She smiled.

"You're welcome. Have you eaten breakfast yet ?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

"Liar ! You're just scared you'll throw up again," she teased.

He shrugged and smiled.

"That, too."

They went into the kitchen. The jam Carlisle had picked the day before was blueberry flavoured. They got the bread out and made toasts.

Carlisle was still holding his, observing it carefully.

"Eat," Esme encouraged. "You've taken the antiemetic, you shouldn't have any problem."

He flashed her a hesitant grin.

"I guess."

He took a bite and chewed it slowly. Surprisingly, he found he wanted to eat the rest.

"This is actually quite good," he noted.

Esme smiled.

"I told you so."

When he was finished, she asked if he wanted another.

"...yes, please."

She handed him the jam and a plain toast.

"We should probably buy butter next time."

"Yeah," he agreed.

We ? Did that mean they would go to the Tesco Express together again ? Carlisle hoped they would. He sighed internally. She would go home eventually, as soon as he was no longer sick. She'd leave him, and then… And then he would be all alone again. Just like before. Dark house, cold living room. Morose days. Work, eat, sleep. Over and over again. No. He couldn't go back to that. He wanted Esme to stay. But how could he ask that of her ? He couldn't. A plan began to form itself in Carlisle's mind. Maybe…maybe he could go and see her when he came back from work ? They were kind of friends now, weren't they ? He'd never seen her house. He imagined it to be just like her : warm and welcoming. With a cage for Feathers.

"Carlisle ?"

His head snapped up immediately, rousing from his daydream.

"Hmm ?"

"Are you okay ? You just zoned out for a minute."

"I'm good," he reassured. "I was just thinking about… stuff."

Esme almost asked about Edward then, but she thought she'd have to explain how she'd heard about him, an explanation that would be both long and awkward. She'd tell him later. But would there be a later ? He seemed to feel much better now. He soon wouldn't need her anymore, despite what he'd said the night before (which, admittedly, didn't even count, since he'd been sleeping.) So what ? She'd just go home ? Even though his life was obviously miserable ? (I mean, who forgets to eat ?) He couldn't properly take care of himself, that much was evident. Was his constant morosity and careless attitude linked to this mysterious Edward in some way ? Esme didn't know, but she intended to find out.

"I'll go home now," Esme declared when they'd finished breakfast.

He immediately looked at her with a panicked expression.

"Now ? Can't you stay a little longer ?"

She had to admit, she was surprised, but flattered. She laughed lightly at his misinterpretation.

"I meant, I'll just make a quick trip back to my house to take a shower and feed Feathers, but I'll be back after – if you want me to ?"

He nodded vigorously, his expression relieved.

"Yes. Please come back after."

She smiled.

"It's set, then. See you soon !"

She got up, put on her coat, scarf and shoes, and called Feathers. In a few minutes, the door closed behind her.

Carlisle was left alone for the first time since he'd fallen down in front of his porch. At least, it was the first time he was conscious while Esme was gone. She'll come back, he thought, trying to reassure himself. She promised she would. He looked around his apartment. Everything that belonged to her had disappeared. What if it turned out that she'd only been a dream ? A hallucination caused by the fever ? Maybe his delirious brain had reinvested the face of the keeper of the newsstand past which he walked everyday to create the illusion that someone cared about him. Suddenly, Carlisle caught sight of Esme's book where he'd left it on the couch. He quickly took it, touching it to make sure it was real. It was. With a sigh, he dropped down on the couch and buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, book in his lap. He really had gone crazy.

"Hey, I'm back !" Esme called as she entered the house.

"Hi," Carlisle said.

He joined her in the entrance. During her absence, he'd taken a shower, too, then continued her book. He still had it in his hands and showed it to her.

"Do you mind if I keep this until I've finished it ?" he asked.

"Absolutely not, I finished it myself yesterday evening."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I left Feathers at home, by the way. I'll come back and fetch her if the need arises, but I don't think it will. You surely feel better now that you took the medicine, I should be home tonight."

He nodded.

After a short silence, they went to the living room and sat on the couch on a common accord. Carlisle had folded his blanket and put it on the right side of the couch, his pillow on top of the heap.

"Well."

Esme smiled.

"Are you feeling better now that you did not throw up your breakfast ?"

Carlisle laughed.

"Yes, I am, thank you. Blueberry jam works wonders on vomiting."

"I'm glad to hear it. Next time I'm sick, I'll know what the secret remedy is. Who's stupid enough to take actual medicine when jam exists ?"

Their light chuckles echoed all around the living room in a way that was strange but heartwarming to Carlisle, who was used to the silence and quiet of his house.

"Thank you for helping me discover this wonderful cure, Esme," Carlisle said, his lips curving into an involuntary smile as he spoke her name.

"You're welcome, Carlisle."

They spent a comfortable morning, which, after roasting the potatoes they'd bought at the Tesco Express and apples (one each, this time), morphed into a comfortable afternoon. Esme was reading another book she'd brought from her house, Carlisle was still immersed in the one that he'd borrowed from her.

They ate dinner slowly. It seemed Carlisle's symptoms had almost disappeared (he'd taken medicine again at lunch) : his stomach didn't hurt at all anymore and his headache had practically vanished. He didn't feel cold, though the fire had died down. This meant there was no reason for Esme to stay for the night, and Carlisle felt the old stirrings of melancholy wash over him again.

After placing their dirty dishes and cutlery in the dishwasher, time came for them to part. Carlisle accompanied Esme to the entrance as she put on her coat, and grabbed her purse and the book she'd been reading.

"I hope you don't mind if I keep yours from yesterday," Carlisle said. "I've almost finished it."

The truth was he had finished it, but he kept it as an excuse to visit her.

"Not at all, keep it for as long as you need."

A short silence, and then she said :

"Oh, wait, I'll give you my phone number in case you feel unwell."

"That's a great idea !"

He dictated his number, and she sent him a text so that he could save hers.

When they were done, she smiled and sighed.

"Well. I guess that's that."

"Yeah."

In an impulsive gesture, Carlisle pulled her into his embrace.

"I'll miss you," he whispered.

He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her sweet aroma.

She tightened her hold around his neck.

"Me too."

He finally released her.

"I'll see you soon," he promised.

"Goodbye."

One last smile, and she was gone.