"You really don't think it's your appendix?" I asked around the toothbrush in my mouth, watching him in the mirror as he sat on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself. He'd been there for the last hour, but hadn't actually been sick yet. Any attempts to get him to move were entirely unsuccessful.
He shook his head, leaning into the wall. "I don't have a fever."
I sighed through my teeth. We'd been having this debate for two days and he refused to relent. It was only a few more hours until he was seeing the doctor. "Your stomach hurts, though, right?"
"Yeah, but there's other stuff in there than my appendix," he teased. "You need to stay off of google."
"Carlisle," I groaned.
"Is it still raining?" he asked to distract me.
It semi worked. "Yeah, it's pouring. We can take an umbrella, but you're going to get soaked if you can't move." We could hear it on the street outside, pounding the pavement. I already had my doubts about driving in it. He needed that appointment though.
"I can move, it just hurts." That wasn't true. He had barely gotten from the bed to the bathroom, a total of ten feet, and he hadn't been able to get up since. Glancing at his phone screen, he groaned as he saw the time. "Can you help me up, though?" He held out his hand to me.
"Come here." I took it, pulling him up and holding him steady as he fought not to double over. The few steps he took toward the bedroom sucked the air out of his lungs, forcing him to lean against the door frame, and he could barely put weight through his hip. "You're sure that your appendix-"
"Stop it, Gar, it isn't. I'm not having another surgery," he interrupted. He had his hands on his knees, trying to stabilise himself as much as he was trying not to vomit.
"What else could it be? Kidney stones? Something with your gallbladder?" My internet research had caused me nothing but anxiety, and his stubbornness wasn't helping.
"You're just naming organs now." He rolled his eyes. Standing again, he stumbled a couple more feet into the bedroom, holding his breath as he pulled his shirt over his head. The fabric had hidden how violently his ribs strained for air, his chest squeezing with each breath, and I glanced back up at his face to stop my panic. "I'm not having another surgery."
"You can't be in denial either. You've gotten so much worse in the last 48 hours, and you won't let me help you, and you can't help yourself." For the best part of two days, he'd been short of breath, his heart racing so fast his chest ached whenever he moved - and he still refused treatment. I was bordering on calling an ambulance without his permission.
"And you're going to have a stroke if you don't let up a little bit." He reached for his sweatshirt on the floor, only for something to stab, his hands lurching back to his abdomen. "Ow."
"Carlisle."
"We're going to the doctor soon anyway. Relax."
I didn't, but I did shut my mouth, if only because I didn't want to argue. I picked up the offending item of clothing, holding it for him as he wriggled his arms in, pulling the back of it down as he put his head through. "You need to be going to the hospital, not just a doctor."
"The appointment is at the hospital. You've got to calm down; you're making me nervous, and if I get nervous, I'll puke in the car." He was pleading with me now, his hands grabbing the long sleeves of my shirt to keep my hands off of him. "Can we take a nap when we get home?"
"Am I imperative to your napping ability now?" I teased. I threaded my fingers through his, linking our hands together. A smile tugged at my lips as he nodded unsurely. "Then yeah, we can nap when we get home."
He mimicked my smile as I agreed. It confused me while he was literally holding me at arms length. "I'm so tired."
"Did you get any sleep last night?"
"A little, but it's hard with the pain," he admitted. "I'm hoping they might give me something stronger than tylenol; it's not working."
"We can't leave today until they do something for you," I grumbled. "This is getting crazy; if you're having issues with your heart and breathing, they really need to fix it."
He nodded reluctantly. "I just want to be able to eat something without it coming back up."
"And show them your hip." I chewed on my lip as I watched him change his pants; the swelling was creeping down his thigh, too sore for him to want to pull his jeans over despite how loose his clothing was on him now.
"Yeah, I will. Are you sure you don't mind taking me?"
"Of course not, Carlisle." He'd die in the bloody taxi otherwise.
.
.
"Please come in with me?" he asked softly as we pulled into the carpark. "I have to get blood taken, and it always makes me lightheaded." Despite his silence the whole way over, the question came out in a rush, pitchey in the interior of the vehicle.
"Sure." At least then I wouldn't have to sit in the car and fester. "Can you walk?"
"Yes, Garrett." He said it like he hadn't been struggling not to pass out for weeks. He didn't look quite as confident once he was on his feet, needing to lean against the car until I was close enough for him to grab my arm. "I can walk, just slowly," he reiterated.
I was glad that I'd brought an umbrella. Between his stomach hurting and his bad leg, he didn't get very far before he started to pale rather drastically. "Breathe," I murmured as I turned to face him, tightly pulling him into me. "We're going to the phlebotomist first, right?"
He pressed his forehead against my collarbone as he nodded. His arms weaved around my waist, and I slowly rubbed his back with my free hand as I held the umbrella over us. "I don't wanna pass out in the carpark," he whispered desperately.
"I don't want you to either."
He managed to resist it, somehow. He was shaking by the time we got to the lab, as white as a sheet and barely able to stutter out his name when the nurse asked. She quickly ushered him into another room to lie on an uncomfortable looking bench as she caught his expression, all but forcing a glass of water down his throat. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's alright," she assured him. "A nurse will be in soon."
"So dramatic," he said to me once he started to get his colouring back.
"You?" I laughed, my hand rubbing over his wrist. His hands were still shaking, but he looked a little less deathly now he was horizontal.
He nodded dizzily. "Every time we go out. It's embarrassing."
"You really are a mess," I conceded. "Hopefully we'll get it sorted out today."
"I just want to be able to eat without puking." He dragged his free hand through his hair, fidgeting a little with the plastic covering underneath him as it stuck to his wet clothing.
"That would be nice," I agreed. "We can go on dates, like I promised."
"That'd be nice too." He squeezed my hand with what little strength he had. "I'm okay; don't look so worried."
"I'll feel better once we know what's going on." I had to step out while they drained a few vials of blood from him, already a little giddy just thinking about it. Carlisle didn't look much better when he came out to find me. I offered him my arm again, rubbing his fingers as he closed his hand over my forearm. "Need to sit for a moment?"
"I'm okay. Let's get this over with; I really want that nap." Much to my relief, he was smiling again.
.
.
An x-ray abated my worst fears. Nothing broken. I fidgeted with my phone as I sat in the corner and pretended I wasn't listening while the doctor explained he had blood in his joint, that he needed to stay off it and rest, and the swelling should dissipate once he let it heal. Haemophilia related. They could give him crutches if he wanted. He really did not. The fainting and inability to catch his breath due to anemia from the constant blood loss in his stomach. The chest pain as well. Not so bad. We could deal with that.
The blood tests were not so good. The doctor had a series of previous test results pulled up on his computer, his brows furrowed together. "You have very low levels of antibodies, Mr Cullen, your immune system is significantly weakened. Your recurrent illnesses aren't surprising."
He was still absently mindedly rubbing his hip. The hard plastic chair was uncomfortable for me, so it must have been worse for him. "How do I, ah, fix it?"
His frown grew. "This isn't something that's just going to go away. I think it's best that you be admitted to hospital while we figure out what's going on; you're quite unwell, and it's not safe for you to be trying to manage at home. You have an MRI scan booked for this afternoon, which will check for any abnormalities that could be causing all of this. It will hopefully show the cause of your stomach pain as well."
Cancer. I was so sure that was what they were checking for. What they thought was making him ill. Suddenly desperate to touch him, I shoved my fingers under my thighs, sucking in a breath to stop the oncoming panic as I sat forward in my chair. "How long does he have to wait for the results?" I asked when Carlisle didn't speak, blowing my cover.
"My colleague will look over the scan this evening," the doctor murmured.
Carlisle glanced over at me, looking apologetic but not as wholly worried as I felt. "Do you wanna go home? You don't have to stay all day, especially if I'm being admitted."
"No way," I whispered back. "I'll stay with you."
He wrapped his arm around me as we left the doctor's office. "I'm fine, Gar, don't look so frightened," he murmured to me. I had thought I'd done a good job covering it until then.
"He doesn't think you're fine, baby." I swallowed away the lump that threatened to choke me. We didn't have to go through the emergency department to get to the ward, seeming as the doctor had already called ahead, and I silently held his hand on our journey through the building. He was quiet too, though more concerned about having to stay overnight than anything else. "Carlisle, let me stay?" I asked again.
He nodded, nervous enough to allow me that.
"At least they can give you some more substantial pain relief. One night isn't the end of the world." I risked moving my arm around his waist. Internally, I was relieved - relieved we didn't have to fight about how badly he needed medical attention tonight. "And maybe they can control your nausea."
"Hopefully." He didn't say anything else, no matter how hard I tried to tempt him into conversation. Instead, he stayed quiet until he was sitting on his bed for the night, stuck in a four bedded room for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last year. At least he was off of that damn leg.
I wasn't allowed to go with him when he was taken down for the MRI. I got the luxury of pacing the corridor for over an hour while I waited for him to be brought back, trying to keep out from under the nurse's feet. My heart was going to hammer out of my chest. And we'd still have to wait for the results. I was going to combust.
He didn't look good when he got back. Lying on the bed as it was wheeled under the fluorescent lighting had made him nauseous, his arms locked around his middle. "I'm going to be sick," he whispered to the nurse. It only resulted in him being handed a cardboard bowl, and him trying to keep as still as possible to hold off the inevitable. His eyes met mine as she walked away. "You stayed."
"I'm not going anywhere, Carlisle, unless you get tired of me." Explaining how insanely worried I was about all of this didn't seem like a good idea.
He shook his head, regretting it immediately and folding his arm back over his face with a quiet curse.
"Was it alright?" Finally starting to relax now I could see him, I sank back in the chair. "The scan, I mean."
"Yeah, I just had to lie still. I thought I was going to throw up; it's somehow worse when I know I'm not allowed to move."
"You've been feeling nauseous all day; I think you'd already have been sick if you were going to be," I reminded him. "And you survived the car ride."
"Please don't jinx me," he groaned. Carefully, he shuffled up the bed to lean against the wall, paling considerably. "I'm gonna puke," he repeated. The colour that spread across his cheek bones was uncomfortable while his lips were so white, his hands started to tremble around the container. He was only getting more anxious about it, though I attributed it mostly to the presence of the other patients.
The curtain rail screeched as I got up and closed the fabric around our cubical. I sat on the end of the bed when he folded his good leg under himself, seeing the stress start to set in. "It's alright, Carlisle. You're in the hospital; at least the doctors will be able to see what is happening." I forced myself not to cringe as he brought up a mouthful of stomach acid, my hand finding his forehead as his face continued to burn.
"Sorry."
My fingers moved to his hair. "Do you feel better?"
"No," he admitted.
"Still need a nap?" I forced a smile when he glanced at me for reassurance. Someone through the curtain had mumbled a complaint about him - fucking rude, you're in a hospital, asshole - and he looked like he wanted to cry.
"Y-yeah, but I'm not allowed to go home." Definitely wanted to cry.
"You can lie down, though." I carefully pried the bowl out of his hands, throwing it into the trash, and turned back to him. "I can't lie with you, but I'll still stay here." Tugging the blankets undone, I waited until he'd uncurled himself before setting them over him, pulling the pillow closer and squeezing his shoulder.
"Are you sure you can stay?"
"Where else do I have to be so urgently, Carlisle?" I wasn't leaving him until he got those damn scan results.
.
.
No masses.
Nothing malignant.
I felt like I was going to pass out from the relief.
"Told you my appendix was fine," he whispered to me, teasing despite having spent the last hour uncontrollably sick while nothing the nurse gave him helped. I was just glad that someone else was witnessing it.
The doctor ignored the comment. "There is nothing grossly abnormal on the scan, Carlisle, but you have widespread inflammation in your internal organs. We can't prescribe you an anti-inflammatory due to your stomach ulcer, but we'll start you on some stronger pain relief and antibiotics, and we should be able to get the pain under control."
"That's why his stomach hurts?" I interrupted.
The man nodded. "Your immune system isn't functioning correctly, and it's likely that you've developed secondary symptoms from what it isn't able to fight off anymore. Are you often vomiting like this?"
"Always," I corrected when Carlisle tentatively agreed. "He can't eat anything - he hasn't eaten at all today, and he's still sick." Silently willing him not to be annoyed with me, I rubbed my thumb over the backs of his knuckles.
"I'll prescribe you an antiemetic as well; it'll help if you can get your weight up."
"Can I go home?" He'd barely been able to wait for the doctor to finish his sentence before asking.
The doctor just looked confused. "Not at this stage, Mr Cullen."
"How long will I have to stay, then?" That was a plea. He dug his elbow into the bed to sit up, the pain making him squirm as he pulled his hand out of mine.
"Let's just take it one day at a time." He forced a smile, glancing over the top of his clipboard at us.
That didn't sit well with Carlisle. His attempts to get upright became a little more frantic as the doctor left, until I untangled him from the bedding and helped him sit on the edge of the mattress. The tremors ran through his whole body, and I prepared myself for another round of nausea. "I don't want to do this again, Garrett," he stammered out.
"It's different this time; they're taking you seriously." I was desperate to kiss him. Even after the progress we'd made, I didn't think he'd take to it well right then. Instead, I slipped out of the chair and onto the bed, sneaking my arm around his hips. "I'll go and get your phone charger and stuff from home, alright? I have to feed the cat anyway, but I'll come back."
He shook his head, dropping his cheek against my shoulder. "I can wait until the morning, just go home; you've already lost the whole day here with me."
I really didn't know what he thought I had to do that was so vitally important. "I don't mind, Carlisle."
"I do. I'll be okay." He didn't look okay in the slightest. "You've spent hours waiting around for me already, and I'll still be the same tomorrow, so you may as well go home. It's fine."
I surrendered, thinking that maybe he actually wanted the time out. "You know you can call me, and I'll come straight back," I promised as a means of goodbye. I gave him a gentle squeeze, unable to hold him there as long as I would have liked. "I love you."
.
.
In the interest of keeping promises, I let Edward know what had happened. Alistair didn't get that courtesy, seeming as he was being difficult; Carlisle could tell him if he thought he should. The cat was upset when I finally got home. She cried at my feet and wouldn't be comforted when I held her, only picking at her bowl of biscuits before returning to complain to me. She missed him too, obviously.
I spent the evening cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. Anything for a distraction. Anything to keep myself off the internet and the sea of possible diagnoses. My research only made me feel worse, and only served to irritate him the more I questioned him.
It was a lot easier to sleep when I wasn't subconsciously listening for him all night. Always waiting for him to fall and hurt himself. For the crash when he passed out. I slept like a brick until the next morning, dead to the world despite my alarm planning to wake me at 7:30. It was the cat that eventually got to me. She licked at my face, mewing that it was ten AM and I was yet to feed her. I'd kept her trapped against my torso all night. And she stayed because she didn't have the option of curling up against Carlisle.
I sent him a text after I'd scooped kibble into her bowl. No doubt his phone would be flat by now, and I threw a few things into a bag for him with the resolve of visiting soon. Even though I'd hoped he'd see my efforts to keep him entertained as endearing rather than invasive, as I packed his sketchbook and pencils into the bag, I came a little undone at the stack of novels on the bedside table. Each one was well-worn and dogeared, and I couldn't pick the cover I'd last seen him with. My brief moment of joy at the remembrance of him mentioning Stephen King didn't last long - three of the stack were his. The others I'd never heard of. Surrendering, I chose the top two and set them in the bag. I could always bring them back.
My phone rang as I reached for the car keys. I fought back a stab of annoyance at my brother, though he can't have known it was a bad time. With a sudden stab of guilt, I realised I'd barely spoken to him since I'd stopped crashing on his couch. "You're not working today, are you?" he asked frantically as soon as I'd answered. Never a good start.
"Uh, no, but Carlisle-"
"Can you take Kate for the night?" He cut me off as soon as he heard my boyfriend's name.
"Carlisle is in hospital," I repeated, hostile this time. "Can't you call mum and dad? Surely they can babysit?"
He groaned. "I already tried. What'd he do this time? He's attention seeking, Garrett, cut him out." I didn't bother asking how he thought he was manifesting his symptoms, if all of this was made up.
"I'm not looking after your kid if you're going to be a dick," I snapped. "He's sick; back off. Why do you need me to look after her so badly anyway? You couldn't have asked yesterday and given me a day to prepare?"
Sighing through his teeth, his breath hissed down the receiver. "Carmen's father fell and broke his hip, and we need to go over there to look after him and help her mother," he explained. "I don't want Kate to spend all day at the hospital with us, and Carmen's mother is a mess."
"If she comes with me, I'll only be taking her to see Carlisle," I warned flatly.
"He's not good for you; you could do so much better-"
"If you want me to take your kid, you better start singing his fucking praises by the time I get there," I growled. I hung up on him. The drive over only worsened my mood - the weather continued to howl, the traffic was terrible despite it being a Saturday, and I knew my brother was only going to chew me out over a relationship I might not get to keep anyway.
.
.
"Uncle Garrett!" Kate opened the door for me. Her weight hit my legs, and I scooped her up as I stepped inside out of the rain. It was a bad sign she'd greeted me - her parents didn't let her near the front door on her own usually.
"Hey, Kate, you're coming to stay with me, huh?" I smiled as she wrapped her limbs around me. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to entertain her, but I'd managed before and could do it again. "Where's your mother?"
"In here, Garrett," Carmen called. I traced her voice to the kitchen, plonking her daughter down at the table. By the grace of god, Eleazar had made himself scarce. "Thanks for doing this. How are things with Carlisle?"
"Uh, our relationship is a little better, but he was admitted to hospital last night; he hasn't been well." I watched while she hurriedly grabbed some child-friendly snacks out of the pantry, shoving them into a backpack she handed to Kate.
"Is he alright?" she asked. Her attention shifted to the child at her feet, her finger tips grasping the back of her shirt. "Go and get your blanket." The instruction was barely listened to - Kate was giggling, still excited about seeing me, and skipped forward out of her mother's reach to cling to my thigh.
"I'll get it on the way out," I assured her. "And he's not doing well. I haven't seen him today, but he's barely functioning at home, and he's been in a lot of pain." Explaining made me anxious, and I tried not to think about it too hard. "He had a few scans yesterday, but he's struggling."
"Are you sure you're okay with Kate?" she frowned. "Maybe I could go alone, and El can-"
"Stop, Carmen, I can take her. Go and see your family." I guided her into a hug once she was close enough, feeling the tension in her spine. "We'll be okay."
She offered a tired smile. I doubted she'd slept at all last night. And then the baby started wailing down the hallway, forcing a curse between her lips, her arms dropping from around me.
"I'll get her," I promised. "Just finish packing." It didn't take me long to source Irina in her cot, her tiny fists clenched angrily as the beet red of her face crept down her neck. Her screams turned to soft gurgles as I lifted her to my chest, snuffling against my neck as I set her against my shoulder. Her warmth sank into my clothing, and I covered her back with my hand, rubbing gently as I carried her back to the kitchen. "God, she's cute; I want one," I commented.
"Carlisle hasn't knocked you up yet?" she chuckled.
"Not the last time I checked," I grinned. My smile faded the more I watched her parents panic, Carmen only getting more frantic as time went by. A subdued argument had broken out as she tried to pack tins of baby food into a nappy bag, my brother getting under her feet as they bickered over whether they needed to go to the grocer for more.
I knew it was a bad idea. Both because the place made the kid anxious, and Carlisle wasn't going to have the energy to deal with Kate, let alone the baby as well. My intention had only been to take the six year old, but with one glance at her parents, I knew I couldn't. "Give me Irina too; she's bottle feeding now, right?" I asked. From the way she was cooing to me, I could have held her forever.
They looked unsure. "She's fussy, Garrett," my sister in-law warned. "And we won't be able to come and get her."
"I took care of Kate when she was tiny; it's fine." And I loved holding her. It would be nice to have the two kids for a while. "If all else fails, I'll drive her over to you, but we'll be okay."
Carmen hugged me again, kissing her little one and stroking her cheek. "I'll cook you and Carlisle dinner once he's feeling better," she promised. Much to Eleazar's annoyance.
"That'd be nice." It would be terrible.
.
.
I almost regretted my decision by the time I reached the hospital. Kate was in a foul mood, Irina had cried the entire car ride, I had to get them both out in the rain, and I was dying for a decent cup of coffee. I tackled the six year old first, freeing her from her carseat and making her promise to stay directly beside me. "Kate, hold the umbrella," I instructed for the fourth time; she might not care about getting wet, but I didn't want her stuck in wet clothes. She still didn't listen to me. She was opening and closing the device, letting the plastic howl and flap in the storm.
The wind turned Irina's sniffles into whines. I tucked the swaddled child under my jacket the best I could and grabbed the sleeve of Kate's coat, towing her toward the shelter of the building. I was soaked. Her hair was drenched. The baby had survived unscathed. God knows how my boyfriend was doing.
He wasn't where I'd last seen him. His name had been taken off the whiteboard at the door of the room, and I immediately panicked, dragging both kids up to the front desk. "My partner-" I cut myself off and started again, not really sure if I should be reffering to him as that publicly. "Carlisle Cullen, he was there yesterday, but now he's-"
The woman stopped my rambling, pointing a finger at another room across the hall. "In there, hun." Her smile didn't soothe me. I just felt ill.
It further freaked me out that he was in a room by himself. It was nice, seeming as he could actually get some sleep, but I was acutely aware that the space was only reserved for those that were sick enough to need it. I tried to keep the smile on my face as I stepped through the door. "Hey."
He smiled back the best he could. "Hi." Maybe he hadn't been sleeping despite the room. His eyes shifted to the kids, but I was too fixated on his room upgrade.
"They moved you. Do they think you're contagious?" God help me if I returned Carmen's children with a stomach bug.
"No, they don't want me to get sick," he explained, holding out his hand to me as I came closer. "Babysitting?"
I nodded, still holding Kate to stop her climbing on him. "I hate to break it to you, but you're already sick," I tried to tease. There was a lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow away no matter how many times I cleared my throat. "How's your stomach?"
He held up an empty vomit-bag from where he was holding it, his hand returning to his thigh as he frowned a little. It didn't escape my notice that he didn't release his hold on it. "Not great. I have to have IV fluids since I can't keep anything down, but I do feel a bit better now I'm not so dehydrated." Kate twisted violently enough to break free, lurching for him. He let her scramble onto the bed, protectively pulling his knee up to stop her clambering over him.
"And they have no idea what's causing it? Is your stomach ulcer worse?" I caught hold of her again. "Kate, stop, you have to be careful; we talked about this in the car," I scoulded lamely. My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear him. I winced as she accidently knocked the line in his arm.
He managed to stop her before it ripped out. "Gentle, Katie," he warned, far nicer about it than I was going to be.
Forever curious, she watched him correct the position of it. "What's that for?"
"It's giving me medicine," he told her softly. It only opened a tsunami of questions - he'd sealed his own fate. She'd never leave him alone now.
"That's enough; we need to let him rest, he already has a tummy ache," I tried tiredly. And then I jostled the baby too much, and she let out an ear-shattering wail, not about to be consoled as I bounced her.
Carlisle looked vaguely entertained by the state I'd worked myself into. "A little frazzled there, Garrett?" he teased. Kate was invasive again, asking far too many questions, only getting worse when he confirmed that no, he was not about to have a baby. This was hopeless.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to soothe the ache building behind my eyes. "I just need some caffeine," I complained. "I brought your phone charger and book and stuff; I didn't know what one you wanted, so-"
"Thanks, Gar." His hand caught the front of my shirt, pulling me toward him. The hug was awkward with the baby in between us, and I was more than a little confused as he pried her out of my grip. "Give her to me; go and get a hot drink."
"I'm not doing that." My words were lost in Irina's complaints - the hysterical screaming had worsened when he'd touched her with cold hands.
"It wasn't a suggestion." Awkward now he had her, he gingerly set the bundle down on his thighs, his hand still supporting her head. She quietened as he jiggled her, despite how rigid he was. The whimpers returned to soft snuffles as his soothing put her back to sleep. "I'll be okay for a few minutes; go and buy a coffee."
"Fuck," I groaned, quickly leaning down to kiss his forehead, my hand brushing down the back of his neck. The word was parroted back to me by Kate, but I figured I could bribe her into never saying it long enough that her parents wouldn't blame me for it. "Do you want-"
He was shaking his head. "Just go. We can talk when you get back."
I took the stairs two at a time down the cafe on the bottom floor. It wasn't busy, but it seemed like forever before my order was ready, and I grabbed a muffin in hope that it might entertain Kate for a few minutes. Breathless by the time I got back up, I tried to calm my pulse.
"You did it," I breathed, managing a small smile as I caught sight of the three of them.
Irina had fallen asleep, still balanced on his legs, and Kate was engrossed in a video on his phone. "To be fair, I'm not really doing anything," he offered. "Though I'm not sure how to move her without her crying again. Why do you have them both?"
I huffed, taking a seat on the bed next to him, seeming as Kate was planted in my chair. "Carmen's dad had a fall, and they were both so stressed, and I didn't think it would be this chaotic. Sorry for bringing them, but I couldn't leave Carmen stranded like that. How are you doing? Do they know why you're so nauseous all the time?" My fingers found his, gently knotting together.
He shook his head. "The doctors took some more blood this morning, but nothing's showing up; one of them said it might be cyclic vomiting syndrome, but they have to rule everything else out first."
"Never heard of it, baby."
"Me either. It's abdominal migraines, apparently; it's linked to my headaches. They have to make sure I don't have a virus first, though. But the antiemetics seem to be helping a bit; I haven't thrown up for a few hours."
I hated that he measured success like that. "Do you think they might send you home soon?" I asked hopefully. "I miss you." A lot. Really a lot.
"I hope so, but I don't think so." His smile faded. "Do you mind bringing my laptop up next time you come?"
"I mind that you're going to try and work while you're in hospital," I grumbled bitterly.
"I'm going to have so many medical bills after this, I have to," he protested softly. "And I need to start a new drug to try and improve my immune system before it completely turns to shit, but I can barely afford the diagnostic tests."
"Okay, Carlisle," I relented. "It sounds like they're just throwing disorders at you; they need to pick one."
"I don't know, Gar, everything sucks right now." His voice broke, and he coughed to cover it, his shoulders stiffening as he turned his full attention back to Irina in his lap.
"But you are feeling better than yesterday, now that you've had some pain relief?"
He nodded reluctantly.
"Then we're doing the right thing."
.
.