Any morning that started with Heidi's intrusion could never be a good one. Worse when it was Carlisle that she called. Worse again when he entertained the conversation and wouldn't hand the phone. I couldn't breathe, my stomach churning. Suddenly getting on a plane in a few hours didn't seem important. I knew we were in for an argument a second after I impulsively tried to snatch the device out of his hand. It was going to be a long fucking flight.
He didn't let me speak to her. He paced the room in front of me, only ever acknowledging her with quiet hums. My pulse was deafening in the silence after he'd hung up. Neither of us spoke as he dropped himself into one of the kitchen chairs, his arms folded against the little table. I forced myself to sit on the end of the bed. I doubted touching him would go in my favour at the moment. He shook his head at me when I opened my mouth to speak, to apologise, to say something, and I snapped it shut again. By the time he'd swallowed back anything he wanted to shout, I was about to explode. "You swear to me that you used a condom with her." He was quiet, not screaming at me like I undoubtedly deserved.
I nodded. "Yes."
"Ours?"
"Yes."
"Every time. Every single time?"
Again, I nodded, heat prickling up my neck. It was starting to feel like we were going to end the day with both of us in a clinic getting tested for something. Carlisle was going to fucking kill me. If he didn't, I was going to bury myself alive to escape the shame of it all - I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd given my immunocompromised boyfriend an STD.
He sighed heavily, calming slightly, sinking back in the uncomfortable chair. His fingers released their death grip on his phone, letting it rest on the tabletop with a quiet thump. "Did she ever mention if she was on birth control?"
My stomach sank through the floorboards. "Y-yeah, I think she was. What'd she tell you?"
He swallowed difficultly. His hesitation was almost the end of me. "She's saying she's pregnant, Garrett."
My chest splintered. Pain shafting under my ribs, my lungs threatening to burst as the walls shrank around me. The room was muffled by the ringing in my ears, my hands numb while I breathed so hard.
He'd leave me. There was no way he was about to put up with me having a child with that woman. My family would disown me. Her husband was going to kick my ass - a second time. I didn't want to have a kid I wasn't allowed to meet - she was spiteful enough to try for full custody of that child. I couldn't afford the court fees. Carlisle would have to move back to the UK, unless he moved with Alistair. That was worse. That was so much worse than losing that child; I'd never see him again-
"Garrett- Gar, hey, just breathe for a second." He was bedside me now, standing in front of me, his hands on my shoulders to stop me standing up. "You're okay - it's not the end of the world," he was telling me.
I couldn't really see him through my blurred vision when he bobbed down in front of me, his hands sliding down my biceps to grasp my fingers. "I don't want to lose you," I cried to him. For the millionth time in the last week, I forced him to talk me down when realistically it should have been reversed. It didn't stop the ugly sobbing, the shaking, the retching that built as my throat constricted.
"You're not; I just need you to calm down so we can talk about this," he reasoned.
I felt so sick that I could barely speak to him. As careful as he was to be patient, irritation bubbled underneath. He was right - the timeline was dodgy. I was suddenly thankful that he hadn't let me talk to her; I would have handled it even worse coming from the devil herself.
"She's married; I don't know why she would think it's yours and not her husband's," he grumbled eventually, once I'd managed to shut myself up.
"I don't know either," I admitted. My knees felt wobbly. Maybe she was just fucking with us. It did seem to be a hobby of hers.
"I think she's lying to you, Garrett. If you two haven't been together since the night before my flight home from Georgia like you said-"
"We haven't."
"-then she's waited almost three months to bring it up." That had the undertones of an accusation, and he winced as soon as the words left his mouth.
"I haven't been seeing her. The only time we've spent apart was while you were at the hospital, and even then I was there most of the time when I wasn't working - I haven't seen her, Carlisle, I-"
"I know- I know, I'm sorry, this is just weird for me," he hurried to explain. "I don't like thinking about you two, and if she has your kid, then…"
"What if she is pregnant?"
"Then we get paternity testing once it's born, I guess." His shoulders stiffened and he couldn't look at me.
"If it's mine…?"
"Can we talk about it if it gets that far?" he snapped back. Heat pushed into his cheeks, the breath he blew out strained.
I nodded, swallowed. "We have to be on a plane in a few hours."
He sighed, reluctantly agreeing. "I wish we didn't have to."
"Me too." The silence between us didn't get any less uncomfortable. I was never going to live this down. "Maybe we should get tested for, um, the other stuff, when we get back. Just in case." I couldn't look at him. Couldn't risk seeing his disappointment. The inevitable shame.
"You just promised me you were safe with her, Garrett!"
"I was! I was, but just in case. I would hate for…you're already susceptible to getting sick at the moment, and I'd hate for…" I was digging myself into a ditch, and he was only getting upset.
"Gar, I really can't handle- it was just Heidi, right? There wasn't anybody else?"
"Yes! I've never been with anybody else except for you and her-"
"Fucking hell." He was panicking, breathing too quickly, but I doubted he wanted my hands on him when it was that which potentially caused all of this.
"I'm really sorry," I tried pitifully. "But surely we'd…we'd probably know by now, right?"
He was looking at me like I was fucking stupid. Granted, he wasn't out of line. "I don't want to have to tell Alistair that he has to get tested because of your affair."
"Why would you have to…"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
I felt like I was going to throw up. Pass out, maybe. "You and Al…You cheated?"
"No, we'd broken up! We weren't together!" It didn't stop shame flooding his face, his cheeks growing pinker and pinker until he couldn't make eye contact, couldn't look at me either, anxiously catching his lip between his teeth. "You knew about that already, Garrett, I told you that we'd…"
"Fine, but you two- he has feelings for you; you have to know that. Crawling into bed with him really doesn't help-"
"Don't you dare lecture me on who I should and shouldn't sleep with when I have to have some doctor stick his hands down my pants because of you," he interrupted sharply. We stared each other down for a few tense seconds, where I tried not to become irrationally upset and he tried to regulate his circulation enough that he wouldn't faint. "We were broken up." That was quieter, more nervous. He dug his elbows into his knees, stopping himself from falling forward as he got dizzy. "I needed him to stay with me- if he left, then-"
As much as I wanted to be upset with him, sadness ebbed in before I could stop it. "He's not really a good friend if he's forcing you to-"
"He didn't force me to do anything. I just needed him to stay. You know all this - we've had this conversation."
If anything, we really needed to have a serious talk about what did and didn't count as consent.
.
.
"Do you want to get coffee before we board?" I asked him standing at the terminal. After our rocky morning, it was the only thing I could come up with to say to him. It would certainly help the pounding in my head. Our trip in the taxi had been a cold and silent one. His hands remained tucked under his thighs so I couldn't hold them, his gaze never faltering from the road beyond the front windscreen. Heidi had gotten under his skin more than he would to admit to me. We hadn't spoken since we'd arrived at the airport.
He tightly shook his head. "My stomach doesn't feel right; I don't think I should risk it."
"You should have said you weren't feeling well." Nervous, I slipped my hand over his wrist, linking our fingers together when he didn't shake me off.
"It's a given at this point, isn't it?" Still not looking at me, he'd pulled up our boarding passes on his phone, checking the flight times for the fourth time since we'd entered the airport.
"I guess, but you can still tell me."
He nodded but didn't elaborate.
.
.
The deep, slow breaths he'd been forcing the whole trip seemed to be subduing the discomfort for the time being. He wedged himself between me and the window as we boarded, forcing me to take the middle seat, seatbelt on and fingertips digging into the upholstery beside his legs by the time I sat. In an attempt to make peace, I'd pulled his water bottle and sweatshirt out of our carryon luggage before I shoved the bag into overhead storage, offering him both items while I settled. He clamped the bottle between his knees, the clothing balled against the window as a makeshift pillow - not what I intended it for, but fine. The plane vibrated to life. I pulled the belt over my lap. He swallowed painfully.
I tried to relax a little. To not stare at him the whole time. To ignore the stranger on my other side encroaching on my personal space. "You should drink - you haven't even had water this morning," I mothered carefully, an excuse to talk to him again. "I can get fruit juice from the flight attendant if you want; the sugar might make you feel better."
He didn't look at me as he shook his head. "Don't want to get sick on the plane." His words were more abrupt than usual, as tight as his shoulders were. It was going to be a long flight if he was this upset with me the entire time. Alistair was going to have a field day when we landed.
"Tea?" I tried when the flight attendant brought around the drinks cart, nudging him with my elbow.
"Don't want to be sick on the plane," he repeated tiredly.
"I know, Carlisle, but you aren't going to feel any better if you're dehydrated."
"I'll drink once we get home - I'm not vomiting on a flight with this many people."
"Careful you don't make yourself dizzy-"
"Garrett, stop it. I'll deal with it at home."
.
.
"If it's yours, then I suppose we don't need to worry about surrogacy later on," he mumbled eventually. I thought he'd fallen asleep - I'd hoped he had. I certainly hadn't thought this would be a conversation he'd pick to have in public.
My mouth was suddenly dry. I couldn't bring myself to look at him; judging from the icy silence he'd subjected me to for the last forty minutes, I had suspected something had been brewing, but this wasn't the fight I'd been anticipating. "You'd actually consider raising a child with me? That child?"
"It really isn't ideal right now, but we might not have another option if she is pregnant and choses to have the baby. And if the choice is between that and the kid being raised by Heidi alone, then yes." He couldn't look at me either. Great. A kid born out of pure shame.
"Could you get past that it's hers? If this does happen, it can't be healthy for you or the child if you resent it the entire time," I reminded him. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, like I was in some desperate rush to hear the answer before he could avoid the conversation again. The man on my other side sighed heavily and sunk further into his seat, throwing a longing glance at his watch.
We both ignored him. "It isn't the child's fault. I'm not going to be hostile to a baby because of its parents." I heard the eye roll, though I couldn't see it while he stared out the window.
"That wasn't the question," I reminded him. Cautiously, I dropped my hand onto his thigh, pleased as he covered my fingers with his.
"I'm upset with you and it hurts, but I still think you'd make a good father. I've seen what you're like with Kate and Irina, and I know you want to have that." There was a pause before he added; "And it's cheaper than surrogacy."
"Still not the question."
"I just…I'll need some time, but it's…I'll get over it."
"I love you, Carlisle."
"I love you too." Much more than I deserved.
.
.
"Garrett…"
I pulled his bag free of the conveyor belt, slinging it over my shoulder instead of passing it to him. Somehow, he'd managed to drag himself off the plane without incident, quelling my fears that we'd need to call for medics on the tarmac as soon as we'd landed. He blindly let me pull him through to baggage claim, my relief that we'd made it home making me rush - until he hadn't been able to get his suitcase free. He'd blanched completely white, his posture dissolving as he struggled to keep up with me. "You alright? Are you going to faint before we get through security?"
"I need to go home," he pleaded.
"Yes, but, if you need to sit down for a while I'm sure Alistair wouldn't mind if the alternative is you hurting yourself." God knows he didn't need another concussion.
"I'm okay, I just really need to get home," he repeated. We made it through the sea of bodies at the arrival gates, my boyfriend getting paler and paler until he was suddenly swept up in Alistair's tight hug.
"Hey, I missed you. I'm glad you made it back in one piece." His palm brushed his cheek, the contact only broken when he winced uncomfortably and took a step back.
"Need to go home," he mumbled to him. He blindly stumbled through his next few steps, Al's hand lingering at his waist, both of us lurching as he lost his balance momentarily.
"Take a break, Carlisle; you're going to fall," I warned. And I needed him to be stable enough to stand on his own two feet to avoid decking his friend when he didn't keep his hands to himself. The next time he lost his balance, I caught a fistful of the back of his sweatshirt to steady him. "Stop for a second; have some water and sit down - you're being irrational about this."
He didn't have much of a choice besides listening to us. His legs refused to stay under him any longer, Al managing to get him to perch on the edge of a bench before he outright collapsed. "Have you been this bad the whole time you've been away?" he frowned, his eyes locked on mine now. He looked nothing but concerned despite how mad at him I wanted to be.
Carlisle was too far gone to answer him, leaning forward against his knees to keep from falling, not listening to either of us. "Yeah, he's not been feeling good the last few days," I answered for him.
"Was the flight rough?" he asked. "How is he worse?"
"The flight was fine; he's not been well after the medication," I interjected. That caught his attention; Carlisle glanced up long enough to shoot me a look that clearly told me to shut up, but I didn't acknowledge it. "How far away did you park?"
"I'm fine now we're off the plane."
"You're objectively not fine," I argued.
"Not far. Are we taking a detour to the emergency room on the way back, then?" Al put in.
"No," Carlisle groaned. "Please, let's just go home; it's not that bad, I'm just tired."
"You forfeit all rights to autonomy if you pass out," his friend threatened. "I'm calling an ambulance if you even hint at getting worse - I'm not fucking around, Carlisle."
Apparently not wanting to piss him off, Carlisle didn't argue. The walk to get outside had winded him anyway, and he resorted to leaning against me to keep himself upright, despite his previous objection. It was a relief to all of us when we reached the vehicle. For a split second, Carlisle hesitated, but both of us shut him down before he even got the words out.
"You're not getting behind the wheel - I don't care if you get carsick," Alistair scolded at the same time I told him "absolutely not."
Outnumbered, he didn't fight that either. Al held his water bottle hostage until he was securely sitting down, the two of us briefly bickering outside of the car about who would drive home. My insistence had little to do with being a passenger, and everything to do with the jealousy that having him beside my partner for that long created. Because I was fucking rediculous. By the time I'd mentally circled around to Carlisle marrying him instead - because I doubted Al hadn't thought about it - I'd decided that sulking in the back seat probably wouldn't do me any harm. Especially if it helped me keep my mouth shut. And I could supervise.
I should have known better than to think he'd pull anything while he was both driving and under my scrutiny. The only time he dared to touch him was to nudge him to check he was alright, supporting the bottle when he threatened to spill it, the two of them not really speaking unless Al was making sure he was coping with the trip. I was a jealous idiot. I forced myself to cut it out and stare out the window. It was raining - as always.
"We can stop for some air - we can take a break." Alistair was speaking softly to him, not focusing on the road as much as he should have been. Between the seats, I watched his arm over the gearbox, a flare of irritation sparking in my gut while I couldn't see where his hand rested.
"I'm okay, Al," Carlisle mumbled. "Just tired."
Alistair's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "If you're sure."
.
.
Somehow we made it through the next week. Despite feeling awful, Carlisle worked when he was able to, managing to make it into the office a couple of times without incident. We'd avoided another hospital trip beside the one to get the PICC line placed in his arm, the nurses teaching him how to administer his own medications through it. He couldn't get it wet, but it didn't seem to cause him any problems otherwise. Alistair spent far more time in our house than I appreciated, until we were so sick of each other almost everything resulted in jabs which my boyfriend scolded us both for. Worst of all, Fox and Al had apparently become best friends while we were away.
The appointment for the injections didn't go quite as smoothly. Although I'd worried about my boyfriend being able to go through with it, he dealt with it well. My assumption that I'd be able to watch so long as I made an effort to keep my breathing in check was stupidly wrong.
My hearing went out with a pop as he dug the needle into himself. The nurse was giving him patient instructions, walking him through it while he obediently followed her direction. If I'd thought the one in his thigh was bad, the one in his stomach was ten times worse. He got as far as pinching the skin, avoiding the sharp going through the fat and into the muscle, before sliding the metal in until she told him to stop.
I stumbled backwards into the wall as soon as he punctured the skin. It didn't stop the stars in my vision, the cold sweat, or the ringing in my ears. Distantly, Carlisle was calling my name, telling me to sit down. I wasn't sure if I made it to the floor.
.
.
Alistair still hadn't dropped it the next day. The relentless teasing ended the moment that he had to watch the process, this time in our lounge. Apparently the Youtube video my boyfriend had shown him hadn't hit as hard as seeing it happen to someone he loved. One of us needed to suck it up enough to know how to do it though - the doctor had made it very clear that Carlisle wouldn't always have the capacity to manage it himself. It also really needed to be me - his friend would eventually go home, and we'd be on our own again.
It didn't help that he seemed particularly fragile this morning, tossing out whatever plans he originally had once he found he was confined to the couch, too dizzy to make himself breakfast and nearing a faint in the shower. In the end, he'd uncapped the needle and started to do it himself, too tired to wait for us to get a grip. He was struggling, though, and it was glaringly obvious this was exactly what the doctor had warned us about.
"I'm pretty sure you need medical training-" Alistair had interrupted, having backed off enough that he wasn't about to be helpful either, despite how much grief he'd given me over the last twelve hours.
"The nurse showed me yesterday."
"That doesn't constitute medical training."
"Don't be such a baby."
"I really don't think we should be injecting you with anything. Won't it make you bleed?"
"It's subcutaneous - it's going into the fat."
"You don't have any fat."
"What other choice do I have, Alistair? If I can't do it, I have to go back to hospital and I'm going to get sick, so I need one of you two to learn-" He was quickly getting upset, panicky, his hands starting to tremble. "I don't want to be admitted again."
I forced myself to watch this time, sitting at the safety of the kitchen table. The room didn't spin as badly. My boyfriend's eyes met mine, concerned, and I forced myself to smile at him once it was over, all of our dramatics for nothing.
Alistair had to clench his hands behind his back to hide them shaking, carefully focused on Carlisle's face to avoid the whole process. "Are you coping?"
"Are you?" he countered.
"You're pushing your luck this morning," he grumbled. Still, he couldn't mask his concern as he shoved the needle into the sharps disposable the pharmacy had armed us with, the little yellow container rattling as it dropped inside.
"I bought you breakfast this morning!" he protested. Sinking back in his seat, he struggled to breathe through the wave of dizziness that moving had brought on.
His teasing became softer. "You can't buy my love with food, Carlisle."
He shrugged. "It usually works."
"Jerk."
"Love you, Al." Despite having started to play with his phone, focused on the screen, that sounded too genuine in my ears.
.
.
Carlisle was starting to spend more and more time unsupervised. I relaxed my hold on the medication he could buy from a drugstore after coming to the conclusion that we couldn't stop him from getting it himself if he wanted, but it still made me nervous. Even more nervous on the days he went into the office by himself.
I also had Kate over for the first time in weeks. Eleazar was trying to get some decorating done before christmas, and her sticky hand prints in the paint weren't helping. She spent all of an hour occupied at the table where I could watch her in the kitchen, snacks keeping her in her seat, but I didn't get through the washing up before she was off again. It didn't help that she was particularly irritable today - her mother had warned me that she'd had a fever the day before, but she seemed alright with tylenol on board so long as I kept up with it.
Despite his low energy, she still wanted Carlisle to play with her. He attempted to lift her like he used to be able to, but she didn't budge from the ground as he tried to pick her up. I doubted anybody else noticed the flush in his cheeks as he knelt down to hug her instead. He sat on the floor with her for a while, pressing his back against the couch, eventually shifting to rest his head against it too, fighting falling asleep. My niece pestered him every couple of minutes to help place the off-brand lego Carmen had sent over with her. Her insistence that he was doing it wrong would have been funny if he hadn't looked so miserable.
I was sure the scene would deteriorate further once Al arrived. Carlisle had warned me he would be here. He let himself into the apartment, finding me still in the damn kitchen to hand me a disposable coffee cup.
"Uh, thanks?" I took a suspicious sip of it, sure it was a trick - until it tasted totally normal.
He rolled his eyes. "I'm just the delivery guy - your boyfriend ordered it."
That made more sense. My boyfriend, who was looking worse by the second as I threw a glance at him. "Well, you can hang out with me while I finish washing up, or you can help a six year old build an imaginary town - she's running it like a dictatorship, so watch yourself."
"She's four feet tall; I can take her." We both watched as she launched herself at Carlisle and he failed to react, still managing to steady her before she hit the carpet.
"Kate, careful," I scolded. "He's not feeling well; leave him alone."
"He looks like shit," Alistair put in, entirely aiming the statement at him as he came over. I supervised as Al introduced himself to her, holding out his hand to shake hers as she tried to hide behind Carlisle.
"We're building a castle," he mumbled to his friend.
"No, she's building a castle, you're slacking on the job," he teased. "Drink this; it'll make you feel better." He held the cup steady as he handed it over, supporting it while he took a sip.
Carlisle choked a little, turning it around to see the receipt stuck to the side of it, awake suddenly. "What the hell is in this?"
"Just drink it."
"But-?"
"It's coffee, what's the problem?"
"This is pure syrup, Al."
"It's caramel and creamer. Would you relax?"
"This has to be my entire daily intake of-"
"Three quarters of it, and you need it; it's either that or you start drinking the supplement the doctor prescribed - I'm not fighting with you about this." He raised his eyebrows as Carlisle opened his mouth to protest, effectively silencing him into submission. A few quiet moments passed, and I went back to the dishes so I didn't hover. "If you're feeling that bad, why don't you go back to bed for a while? Read, at least. I'll babysit - you need to lie down."
Carlisle put up absolutely no protest but also didn't move. Barely nodded. Definitely didn't attempt to stand.
Draining the water from the sink, I went over to them, offering him my hand to pull himself up with and confiscating his drink. "Come on; Alistair is right. You alright?" I checked.
"I'm not going to faint," he offered once he was up.
Sure that was the best I was going to get, I guided him toward our bedroom before he had a chance to change his mind. "Get in bed," I prompted carefully, pulling the blankets back to avoid him collapsing onto them. He didn't lie down like I'd intended, leaning back against the wall instead. He relaxed slightly once the sheets were over him though, melting as I kissed his temple, his hand sneaking over my thigh when I sat on the edge of the mattress. "What's happening with you this morning? Somethings not right."
"Tired," he mumbled. "I think from traveling."
I doubted it, considering the days that had passed since we'd returned home. "Did you sleep properly last night?"
He nodded. "Yeah, but it doesn't feel like it."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm going to fall asleep," he told me, anxious despite the exhaustion. "I'm going to sleep through another day." It wasn't the first time he was worried about the amount of time he was losing, the large chunks of day he slept through.
"That's okay; there's nothing you need to do right now." It didn't look like he was going to get a choice anyway. I set his coffee on the bedside table, skeptical that he would actually touch it now Al wasn't supervising. "I'll get your laptop and you can watch a movie?"
"Okay," he agreed quietly. He hadn't moved by the time I got back, picking at the edge of the sheet until I set the computer on his lap.
"I can't make Alistair babysit, but I'm sure he'd sit with you if you wanted?" I couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't well, that something was wrong, that I shouldn't leave him.
"I'm good, Gar, I promise." Sinking down slightly, he turned his attention to the computer screen
"No work though, right?" I checked. "Movies only?"
He nodded again.
.
.
Alistair was great with Kate. Once he'd won her over with a few childish magic tricks, he had her in fits of laughter, the fort they built in the living room keeping her out from under my feet while I cooked later in the day. He coaxed the entire portion of dinner into her, vegetables going down without complaint, stemming any complaints from her about Carlisle's absence at the table.
"That kid has a cold," he told me after we'd both listened to her sniffle the whole afternoon. She'd eventually exhausted herself enough to pass out on the couch in front of the TV, and we'd been left in each other's company.
I nodded in agreement. "I've been giving her tylenol, but it's lucky she isn't more irritable; I thought this afternoon was going to turn into a nightmare, but you've been amazing with her."
He had the decency to squirm a little under my praise. "I told you I could take her," he replied eventually.
"Thank you, though." I couldn't look at him, focused on a loose patch of carpet to avoid him.
He'd had a similar reaction, uncomfortably clearing his throat. "You've made me dinner for the last week, and she's, uh, she's a good kid."
"Not just for today. You've given up a lot to stay with us this long, and it can't be easy to spend so much time with Carlisle when I know that you still…" I didn't dare say the words for fear that he'd think it was an accusation. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him blush so violently that his neck flushed pink, his shoulders instantly stiff.
"I think we've…we've got to a point where it's just platonic. I do still…love him, obviously, but I think it's…he's just my friend, and I like it that way. We weren't- we weren't ever going to do well in a romantic relationship," he explained awkwardly. "And this is…being here is better for me; I haven't given anything up. I'm living with my mother in the bedroom that still has all the shit from when I was a kid, and while I'm here, I don't have to wake up every day and be reminded that I didn't turn out the way my parents wanted me to. I don't have to go to the grocer and make small talk with people who wouldn't speak to me while we were in highschool, and I don't have to tell them I'm unemployed. It seemed like a good choice for me to move back there at the time, but now I don't really have a plan, and I don't know what I'm doing anymore. All my friends are here - the only people I see are my mother and grandparents; it sucks, I hate it." I was sure that was the longest speech I'd ever heard Alistair make, the most honest he'd ever been with me.
There was a long silence, both of us watching my niece and listening to the footsteps in the apartment above us. "Move back here, then. We need to find a new apartment before staying in this one freaks Carlisle out too much; we could find a place together - you're practically living with us anyway," I suggested eventually.
He sucked in a shaky breath. "I, um, actually, I tried to get Carlisle to agree to move, but he even wouldn't speak to me about it."
"He's the one that suggested it in the first place," I sighed.
"What about..how would you feel about moving to Georgia?" he broached carefully.
.
.
Alistair spent the next fifteen minutes trying to convince me of the plan he'd tried to present to my boyfriend. We'd move together, find a home to share once we got there. His mother held a fairly high position in a law firm, and we'd both be able to take jobs in the office there - not dissimilar to my previous job. I'd marry Carlisle, and he'd hopefully get his residency approved. No more Caius, no more Heidi, and no more worrying about getting time off work when Carlisle deteriorated.
Carlisle refused to talk about it with us. Wouldn't talk about marriage, shut down the prospect of even moving apartments. He avoided us for most of the evening, and I knew far too much about Alistair's personal life after a few hours. I was sure he was sick of hearing about mine too. Kate had woken up and started to whine, clinging to me as her fever made her uncomfortable despite the tylenol. As much as I loved her, it was a relief when Eleazar came to pick her up. We were both confused when Carlisle appeared in the kitchen, shoes and jacket on, keys in hand.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Al challenged, neither of us standing as we watched him.
"For a walk," he told him tightly.
"You can barely walk down the damn hallway; you're not going anywhere outside," he grumbled.
"You can't hold me hostage in my own home - I am free to leave," he snapped back.
"Technically, yes, but-"
"Neither of you have any problem telling me what I can and can't do, but you can't force me to move states!"
Alistair rolled his eyes. "Fine, but you physically can't go for a walk."
"I don't want to stay here and talk about this anymore!"
I could already see that he wasn't about to be talked down from this. That there was no solution that ended without angry words and a meltdown with him staying in the apartment. "Can I come with you?"
He hesitated, floundering, drowning, wanting to refuse me, but ultimately nodded.
I quickly jumped up, snatching my car keys off the table as I shoved on my shoes. He was too much of a flight risk to let out of my sight. It wasn't until I had my arm around him in the elevator that I felt the shaking. "Would you rather go for a drive instead?" I asked softly. Thankfully, he agreed to that too.
I drove aimlessly around the city until he was visibly carsick, but he didn't ask me to stop. I doubted he would - he quite obviously didn't want to go home. He'd barely said two words since we'd left the apartment. I didn't know what to do with him.
"Can I get out, please?" he asked eventually.
I sighed, resigned. "I guess, but don't go too far, yeah? Have you got your phone?"
"I'm not going to go anywhere; I just need to stop - I'm getting sick."
I nodded. I brought us to a stop in the carpark of a grocer, watching him as fought the tensing in his stomach. "I think we should go home, Carlisle - I don't think we should be triggering your nausea if we can avoid it."
He shook his head, dropping his chin against his chest as his breaths caught. Tears weren't far off again, as much as he was trying to suppress it.
My own throat got tight. I didn't want to watch him cry again but didn't think I could stop it, didn't want to sit here while it would make me cry too, while I knew he'd try and comfort me and endlessly apologise. "You okay here by yourself for a few minutes? I'm going to get you some water, alright?"
He nodded, choking back a sob, shuddering when I touched him.
I couldn't watch it. "I'll be right back; don't go anywhere." I essentially ran from him. Hid in the grocer for longer than I needed to, clutching a chilled bottle as I paced the aisles. My heart was racing, hammering in my chest, the burning behind my eyes starting to blur my vision. I couldn't just sit in the car with him - couldn't make him deal with me while he was already feeling terrible.
.
.
He was calm by the time I came back. It didn't hide the irritation rubbed into his cheeks. I got back into the driver's seat, setting what I was holding in his lap. The water, he understood - the bread confused him. I had to swallow a few times to be able to get the words out. "I thought we could go to the park and feed the geese," I told him unsteadily. Anything to keep him with me, to stop him running while he really wasn't able to.
Thankfully, he managed a small smile and nodded. He didn't speak as we drove, nervously fidgeting with the bag around the loaf, the condensation on the water bottle leaving wet patches on his jeans. I pretended that it was just because he was feeling ill.
There weren't many other cars when we pulled into the parking lot. Despite numbly watching the road in front of us for the entire drive, he looked unsure now. It briefly occurred to me that I'd never taken him here before, that he hadn't been well enough to come when I'd brought my niece here for the same activity.
"It's not far; there's a little lake and some birds - it's nice," I promised. It was a pond really, slimy but full of ducks, and I didn't think he'd care right now if it meant he didn't have to go home.
Again, he just nodded. I took the bread and the bottle from him, crossing around the front of the car to open his door, offering him my free hand. The air was cold enough to bite into my skin, worse on his, no doubt. Going out with me apparently still felt better than going home, even if it was starting to get dark.
Every attempt I made at conversation was a deadend. He was only getting a few words out every couple of minutes, dazed as he held my hand. We slowly made our way across the boardwalk toward the water. Even standing there, torn up bread in his hands while the ducks pecked at our feet, he was still disconnected.
"You know you don't have to move with Alistair if you don't want to," I reminded him quietly.
He gave me another wordless nod.
"Or me - if you don't want that either."
This time I didn't get a response at all. I tore another slice up, passing it to him to drop in front of us, still needing to prompt him to let go of the pieces.
"But the offer still stands - I still want to marry you."
"Garrett, if I die, you'll inherit my debt, and it's not going to get any less with all this happening."
"I don't care," I told him truthfully. "You aren't going to die; this is all to get you better."
Again, silence, both of us trying not to break.
"We can get divorced once it's over." My voice cracked at the thought of it.
His hand instinctively jerked to my forearm, his breathing catching.
"Just consider it, Carlisle, please?"
He thought so hard about it that one of the drakes grumbled its annoyance with how long its dinner was taking, its beak nearly meeting his fingertips as he dropped another piece. "I love you, it just feels awful."
I snuck my arm around his waist, pulling his shoulder into mine. "I know."
He just shrugged. The cold was making my hands numb, leaving him shivery. We weren't going to be able to stay out here much longer. Still, I let him pick apart most of the loaf before suggesting we move on.
"Feeling better?" I asked in the car.
He sighed tightly. "Yeah. Sorry."
I slipped my arm over his shoulders, pulling him into my side as I kissed his temple. "It's alright, you've been through a lot in the last few weeks."
.
.