Chapter 4

The Tesco Express wasn't too far, even though Carlisle's speed was limited. His legs were too wobbly to hope to exceed the pace of an old lady walking her dog ; his head spinned and his vision went dark every time he tried to let go of Esme's arm and walk by himself. Eventually he stopped his unsuccessful efforts and fully reclined on her support. He found himself stealing glances at her face and wondering what would have become of him if she hadn't been out so late at her newsstand. She was devoting her time and energy to someone who'd been practically a stranger before he'd collapsed on his porch like a fool. Carlisle shook his head. He could've waited to be inside and fall safely on his couch, but instead she'd had to drag him there while he hung like a dead weight into her arms.

He sighed, and Esme looked at him.

"Are you okay ?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Yeah. I'm just –" He gazed into her eyes. "I'm grateful you're here. Thanks for helping me."

She smiled gently.

"It's the least I can do. I mean, after seeing what happened to you, I couldn't very well go home, could I ?"

He laughed.

"I guess not. Still. Thank you."

She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand.

"I'm glad I could be of use."

He smiled, and they walked in comfortable silence until they reached the supermarket.

"Alright. What do you want ?" Esme asked as they sifted through the shelves of food.

Carlisle inspected the fruit counter half-heartedly.

"I – whatever suits you. I don't have any preferences."

She stopped, giving him a curious look.

"What do you usually buy here ?"

Carlisle shrugged.

"Sandwiches."

Esme paused, then said :

"We'll buy some later. Let's start with the fruit. Oranges ?"

He made a slight grimace.

"I don't like oranges."

"Why have you been fiddling with this bag of oranges since we arrived, then ?"

Carlisle dropped the bag in question immediately.

"Carlisle, look at me."

Esme squeezed his arm lightly with the hand that was clutching it when he didn't.

"Please."

He turned his eyes on her with a sigh.

"Are you sure you're okay ?"

Under her soul-searching gaze, Carlisle gave up.

"I… may forget eating. Sometimes. I don't really – pay attention to food. I only eat the first thing that I find. Hence the empty kitchen. Mostly, I eat sandwiches, as I said. It's convenient for the hospital. I can finish them quickly before going back to work."

"When was the last time you forgot to eat ?"

"Yesterday. I came home and went straight to bed. I think I may have already been sick at that time. I woke up and went to work, and only then I realized I hadn't had any breakfast or anything. I tried to eat a sandwich, but, when I finally got time to, I couldn't swallow more than a few bites. I tried, I promise," he assured before Esme's doubtful look, "but it made me feel even worse."

Esme gently reached out to his face and stroked his cheek.

"Carlisle. You need to take better care of yourself. Maybe you wouldn't be ill right now if you ate correctly and made sure your heating worked when we're in the middle of winter."

Carlisle didn't dare move a muscle. He was petrified, held in place by her eyes.

"I –"

Someone bumped into them to get better access to the carrots, breaking the haze that had settled over them. Esme immediately retrieved her hand from Carlisle's cheek.

"So." She smiled. "Apples ? You had a half in your kitchen."

Carlisle nodded.

"Apples sound good."

They continued on their way through the Tesco Express.

In the end, they went back to Carlisle's house with four apples, salad, potatoes and a jar of jam (Esme had insisted they'd buy it, arguing that perhaps Carlisle would feel more inclined to eat breakfast if he had some jam to put on his toast – then remembered they needed to buy some bread as well) and, finally, the sandwiches so dear to Carlisle.

Carlisle collapsed in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. Esme put away the various things they'd bought while he closed his eyes and tried to ignore his migraine.

"Alright. Are you still not hungry ?"

The mere thought of a sandwich made Carlisle nauseous.

"I'm… not sure I'll be able to swallow anything."

Esme sighed.

"Eat an apple, at least."

Carlisle wanted to refuse, but he changed his answer before her pleading look.

"A quarter of an apple ?" he negotiated.

"At least you'll have some food in your stomach."

She handed him a fresh apple (she'd thrown away the one left over as well as the expired biscuits – she'd left the cereals untouched, though) and a knife. He cut the apple and peeled it while she filled two glasses with water.

"Want one ?" he asked, offering a quarter to Esme.

"Thanks."

They ate in silence. Carlisle had to force himself to swallow every bite. He felt thankful, once again, that Esme was there. Without her, he'd never have made the effort. He was soon done, and gave the half that was left to Esme. Unlike him, she was starving.

Carlisle drank all the water in his glass. Suddenly, he rose and rushed to the bathroom. Esme quickly followed him. She found him bent over the toilets, throwing up the little quantity of food he'd ingested. When he was done, he let himself drop on the ground and reclined against the wall.

"I feel awful," he moaned.

Esme flushed the toilet before sitting in front of him. She comfortingly stroked his hair.

"Thank God you're here," he whispered.

She smiled a little, but didn't say anything. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I think I'll go back to sleep."

"Of course. Would you prefer going back to your bed or sleeping on the couch again ?"

"The couch, I think. My blanket and pillow are already there, it spares us the trouble of bringing them back in my room. Plus, it's closer to the fireplace," he added, shuddering.

Esme checked his forehead. It seemed the fever had returned.

"Do you want me to help you ?"

He nodded. She draped one of his arms around her shoulders and helped him stand up, before leading him to the living room. He lay down and enveloped himself in his blanket. Esme kneeled in front of the chimney and got the fire started again.

"Are you still cold ?" she asked, quietly so as to not wake him up if he was already asleep.

"A little," he murmured. "But less. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

After a little while, she began to walk away.

"Where are you going ?" he asked in a weak voice.

She turned around, surprised. She thought he'd been sleeping.

"I was thinking maybe I'd go to the drugstore and get you some aspirin and antiemetics."

"Would you wait until I'm asleep to leave me ? Please ?"

"Sure."

She crouched next to where his head lay on the pillow and took his hand in hers.

"Oh, you're so warm," he sighed, taking her hand in both of his.

Esme waited in this position until his breaths became slower and more regular. Then, she dropped a kiss on his forehead and tucked his hands back under the blanket. He frowned in his sleep, before rolling over on his back, mouth slightly open. Esme smiled, grabbed her purse and went out.

When she came back, she put the medicine on the kitchen table and went into the living room. Carlisle was still snoring peacefully. He was holding his pillow against his chest, head laid on one of the sofa's armrests. Esme smiled upon the view.

Nothing happened during the afternoon nor in the evening. Carlisle didn't wake up, even for a few minutes. He mustn't have slept well last night, Esme thought. She'd gone back once to her house to fetch the book she was currently reading. She talked a little with Feathers (who had moved from the couch, to the chimney), but not too much, as she was scared to disturb Carlisle's sleep. At around 8 p.m, when she thought he wouldn't wake up, she ate one of his sandwiches.

Later into the night, though, as Esme closed her book, thinking about going to bed herself, Carlisle began fidgeting and whispering. Worried and a little curious, she got closer to listen.

"Edward – sorry –"

Who was Edward ? A former lover, perhaps ? His father ? No, he wouldn't call him by his first name. His brother, then ? Or a cousin ? No, she thought it was someone he'd been close to. His best friend, maybe ? She'd ask him when he felt better. Right now, he needed rest and to be able to eat without throwing everything up in the bathroom after.

"Carlisle," she whispered, kneeling by him. "Shh. Everything's all right."

"Edward – needs my help," he mumbled.

"No, he doesn't," she said. Every word that left her mouth was improvised. She didn't have a clue what was going on. She just knew he needed to calm down and sleep. "You've already done everything you can."

"You sure ?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she assured confidently. "Sleep."

"I will."

He gradually stopped his wild movements. Finally, after a long moment during which he was so silent Esme was sure he was unconscious, he said, in a voice so low she thought she may have imagined it :

"Esme…"

"Yes ?"

"Esme… I need you…"

She stayed staring at him, surprised, before sighing :

"You really need to sleep, Carlisle. It'll help you get better."

He turned his face a little towards her, eyes still closed.

"Mmm… I will… Please don't go…"

"I'm not going anywhere."

He half-extended his arm. Esme, guessing what he wanted, gave him her hand. As soon as their skin made contact, he visibly relaxed and he soon drifted to a deeper sleep.