Chapter Text
Edward
Thunder cracked overhead, making Mickie start slightly. But she was a trained professional, and I knew it was probably only my vampire eyes that could see the slight jerk of her hand.
"Jim!" Mickie snapped. "We're barely crawling; what's the problem?"
"You try driving in this!" Jim called back. "It's raining so hard, I can barely see a foot in front of me."
Mickie grunted, concern for the patient spilling over as irritation. "Well, do your best; he needs a hospital, and fast. Edward —" She broke off as I handed her the syringe of medication she was about to ask for. We were keeping the man alive with repeated injections, but Mickie was right; he couldn't last much longer.
Briefly I considered offering to take Jim's place at the wheel; even my vision couldn't pierce a near-solid curtain of rain, but I knew this road like the back of my hand and could drive it blindfolded.
Before I could come up with a convincing argument for letting me drive, there was a crack, a rustling, and then a crash that stopped the ambulance with a jarring impact and the sound of shattering glass. Jim cried out, the scent of blood suddenly permeating the air.
My hand flashed out, steadying Mickie as she stumbled from the impact. "What happened?" she gasped.
"A tree fell across the road; one of the branches hit us and shattered the windshield. It looks like Jim's hurt."
"You go check on him," Mickie ordered.
I was already ducking through into the front of the ambulance where Jim was slumped over, blood running down the side of his face.
I put my hand on his arm. "Jim?"
He stirred and blinked up at me. "Edward…ow."
"Easy there. Let's have a look at that cut."
He winced as I sponged blood away from the gash. I couldn't tell whether he had been cut by the tree or a piece of the windshield, but I could detect no glass in the wound. Pressing a piece of gauze over it, I bound it firmly in place.
"Jim's all right," I called back to Mickie.
"Then how about getting us out of here so we can get this man to the hospital?"
I grimaced, squinting through the pouring rain. "I don't think it's that easy, Mickie." Not without a bigger display of vampire powers than was safe… "That tree is huge, and it's right across the road. I might be able to lever up the branch and get us free, but there's no getting through here."
"Then he doesn't have a chance," she said grimly. "Not if we add another hour backtracking and going around… Edward, if we don't get him to a doctor within the next half hour —"
"But…we can. My house is a mile back on this side of the tree; Carlisle should be home." I had my phone out even as I spoke, scrolling through and selecting Carlisle's number.
He answered as if he had been waiting for my call, and mostly for Mickie's sake I quickly told him what had happened.
"My study is all set up for you," he assured me.
"Tell Alice thanks," I said wryly, just loud enough for the phone to catch. "Jim got a pretty bad cut on his head," I added, unsure how much detail Alice would have seen.
"Right; I'll make sure everyone's out of the house," Carlisle promised.
"See you in a few minutes," I told him and closed the phone. "Jim? Can you back up if I lever that branch up?"
He blinked at me, then licked his dry lips. "Yeah. Sure, Edward."
I jumped out and was instantly drenched. But I was grateful for the obscuring curtain of the rain as I pushed the branch off the front of the ambulance. Not that either of them would have seen anything anyway; Mickie's attention was on the patient, and Jim's vision was slightly fuzzy; when I told Mickie he was "fine," I meant he wasn't in any immediate danger. The front of the ambulance was badly dented, but picturing the parts of the engine under the damaged sections, I was fairly certain it wouldn't affect its performance.
I gave it a push backward to free it from the last of the tree's grasp, then swung myself back on board. "Move over, Jim; I'll drive."
"No…I'm fine."
I narrowed my eyes. "In the first place, Jim, you have a concussion; you shouldn't be driving. Besides, the turn-off is pretty hidden; even in good weather you can miss it if you don't know where to look."
"You're wasting time, boys!" Mickie snapped. "Jim, just led Edward drive; he's too wet to help me back here anyway."
Jim made way for me without further argument, his movements slow due to his aching head. I knew his injuries were worse than either he or I had admitted to Mickie, but he could last until we got to the house; his Masen factor remained high enough that I knew his concussion wasn't immediately dangerous.
I backed up until I reached a slight widening in the road, then turned the vehicle almost in its own length and sped back toward the house.
Even I might have missed the turnoff if I had had to rely on my vision, but I knew precisely where it was and made the turn without hesitation. I tried to avoid the roughest patches of the lane, wondering vaguely why we had never bothered to pave it. Surely our cars would require fewer repairs if we weren't constantly driving over a gravel lane…though that might leave Rosalie with less to do and more time to be dissatisfied with her lot as a vampire. Maybe after all an unpaved lane was best…
Carlisle was waiting on the front porch as I pulled up, then turned and backed the loading doors as close to the roofed area as I could. I heard only Esme's thoughts from inside the house, though I surmised Bella must be there as well; everyone else had left to avoid the blood. I was sure Carlisle would have attempted to send Esme away as well; she must have insisted on remaining.
Carlisle was inside the ambulance as soon as Mickie had the loading doors open, and I joined them from the front. "Masen factor three point two oh and falling," I murmured as Mickie gave him the man's other vitals.
Carlisle's lips tightened. "How's Jim?" he asked briefly, even as his mind seemed focused completely on his patient. All vampires could think about two things at once to some degree, but Carlisle had perfected the art — perhaps as a means of blocking me, as I only heard one of the sets of thoughts.
"Six point nine seven zero. He has a fairly deep cut and a moderate concussion," I added in a tone Mickie could hear, "but nothing Mickie can't patch up until you're free to look at him."
"Good. Give me a hand with him, Edward; we'll take him straight to my office. Mickie, better see if Jim needs any help getting in."
Mickie didn't question the authority in Carlisle's voice, moving to the front of the ambulance as I grasped the head of the stretcher.
Is she paying attention to us? Carlisle asked.
I shook my head briefly.
Then let's go.
At vampire speed we carried the stretcher across the short gap between the ambulance and the porch; even in the downpour he barely got damp. Mickie and Jim wouldn't be so fortunate, but I was sure Bella would find some dry clothes for them to wear.
We kept the stretcher perfectly level as we carried it up the stairs to Carlisle's study, once more set up as a hospital room — the transformation slightly startling even to me.
"I'll change and join you in a minute," I murmured.
Carlisle merely nodded, already bent over his patient.
I flashed to my room, where I quickly put on dry clothes and returned to Carlisle's side less than a minute later.
He glanced up. "He needs surgery right away."
I nodded. "You want my assistance?"
"Yes. But I'm worried about Mickie…"
"She's busy with Jim."
"I know. But officially, you could do that just as well, while she's slightly more qualified to assist me."
"Do it without telling her. Bella will keep her downstairs, and we can lock the door to be sure."
And afterward, when she questions my competence allowing a "mere EMT" to serve as anesthesiologist and surgical assistant?
I shook my head. "She won't," I assured him. "She's convinced I can pass my paramedic's exam the day I turn eighteen…she knows I saved Kendra's life a few months ago."
"All right," Carlisle agreed. "We don't have much choice anyway…"
"The worst that can happen is that we have to move," I reminded him, locking the door and stepping to his side. "His Masen factor's still dropping; let's not waste any more time."
Carlisle and I worked together with all our usual smoothness, each fulfilling the duties of two or three people, not to mention several monitoring machines. At the hospital, Carlisle wouldn't have dreamed of performing this surgery without two or three units of blood at the ready. Here, able to move at vampire speed, he sealed off the bleeding so quickly that a transfusion was unnecessary; the saline IV drip was sufficient.
Indeed, the whole surgery was completed in so short a time that Carlisle and I realized in the same moment that our biggest problem was not explaining to Mickie why I had aided Carlisle, but convincing her that we had had time to do it.
Carlisle briefly considered simply telling her that he had found surgery to be unnecessary after all, but quickly dismissed the thought; when the man was eventually admitted to the hospital, it was important that the staff be aware of what procedures he had had.
I could just wait up here until a long enough time has passed, he mused.
I shook my head. "Jim's cut needs stitches; and I don't think his concussion's that bad, but you should evaluate it. Look, tell Mickie you haven't done the surgery yet; fix Jim up, then come up here and stay long enough for her to believe you've performed it."
You're sure she won't insist on trying to help me?
"Positive, no, but you can convince her if you turn on the charm."
All right. Keep a close eye on him, Edward, and call me if there's a problem.
I gave him a crooked smile. "What, don't trust my skills as a doctor?"
You know I do. Flashing me a grin, he hurried out of his office and down the stairs.
I paid attention to Carlisle's thoughts as well as Mickie and Jim's as he hurried down the stairs, at the same time monitoring our patient for the slightest change.
Jim lay on the couch, an ice pack over the throbbing lump on his head; Mickie had insisted he shouldn't have painkillers until the doctor had seen it. Both of them were in dry clothes now. Mickie's fit fairly well; she was about the same size as Bella. But Jim was a good six inches shorter than Carlisle, who at six foot one and a half was the shortest of us Cullen men. At the same time, he was developing enough of a paunch that Emmett's clothes fit the most comfortably around him. He was wearing a jogging suit I wasn't sure why Emmett even owned, the impossibly long sleeves and pant legs rolled up. I smiled slightly; obviously Alice hadn't foreseen this very far ahead, or she would never have allowed such a fashion heresy.
Mickie looked up sharply as she heard Carlisle come down. "Do you need my help?" she questioned.
Carlisle shook his head. "We've stabilized him for now. The surgery will take some time, so I wanted to take a look at Jim first."
Mickie looked a little doubtful, but she didn't argue as Carlisle pulled over a footstool and sat down beside Jim, taking his wrist to feel his pulse. "So, Jim, couldn't you duck fast enough?" he teased lightly.
Jim grinned and then winced. "Never saw it coming, Doc."
Carlisle chuckled. "Well, let's just see how bad it got you. Can you tell me if you've been experiencing any dizziness or nausea?"
"Little dizzy if I move my head too fast; it's not too bad."
"But no nausea?"
"Not to speak of."
Carlisle frowned. "Is that a yes or a no, Jim?"
Jim sighed. "Just a little queasy," he admitted.
"Any blurred or double vision?"
"Not really."
Carlisle sighed. Edward?
"Very minor nausea; no significant visual disturbances," I answered, speaking in conversational tones that I knew he could hear from downstairs.
And what exactly does that mean, Edward? You're no more helpful than he is!
"Because he's being completely honest; the symptoms are very mild and vague. Based on symptoms and Masen factor alone, I would diagnose a moderate concussion; I can't give you more than that."
I'm sorry, Edward.
"Apology accepted."
Carlisle checked Jim's eyes with a penlight and gave him a basic neurological exam, agreeing with my diagnosis. Only then did he remove the bandage I had put on. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was still gaping and ugly, and Carlisle winced as he saw it. "Ouch. That must hurt."
"Yeah."
"I'll numb it in a minute," Carlisle promised, gently prodding around the swollen area to check for any injury to the skull. Edward, you say the branch did this?
"It must have; a shard of glass wouldn't have given him a concussion."
True.
Carlisle injected the local anesthetic before cleaning the wound and putting in seven sutures. "There we go," he said, dressing it and applying a bandage. "How are you feeling?"
"All right."
"You'll be more comfortable in bed," Carlisle told him. "Can you stand?"
"Yeah."
Carlisle offered him a hand, helping him to his feet and watching to make sure the man was steady. He wavered slightly, and Carlisle instantly had an arm around his waist. "Here; let me help you."
It was in Jim's mind to protest, but another wave of dizziness decided him otherwise, and he let himself lean on Carlisle as my father helped him up the stairs.
He led him to Jasper's room, unused for the time as Alice and Jasper were living separately as a married couple. Esme had already turned down the covers on the bed, and Carlisle helped Jim to sit on the edge of it. "Here," he said, handing him two pills and a glass of water from the nightstand. "These should help with the pain. I can't give you anything stronger because I don't want to risk a sedative with your concussion, but I can get you another ice pack if you need one."
"No…I'm fine."
"Mm. Well, let me know if you change your mind when the numbing wears off. Here, lie back and rest."
"It's…all right if I sleep?"
"Yes. Someone will be waking you up every couple hours, but rest is the best thing for you right now. Call if you need anything." He pulled the blankets over him and turned out the light as he left the room.
Mickie was waiting for him in the hall, hoping in the darkness he wouldn't notice the slight trembling of her hands. "I…suppose you want my help for the surgery, Dr Cullen?"
"Not at all," he said smoothly; "Edward and I can handle it. You look tired; why don't you have a hot bath and go to bed?"
"Well, I…"
"Bella, do you have a nightgown that will fit her?"
"Of course," Bella answered. She smiled at Mickie, and Mickie followed her without a word of protest, leaving Carlisle a little puzzled at her easy acquiescence.
What only Mickie and I knew was that Kendra's failed operation had left her with a fear of surgery. As it didn't affect her job, I felt it wasn't my place to tell even Carlisle. She had been nearly making herself sick at the thought of having to help him, almost ready to suggest herself that I do it instead.
"I hope you haven't been indiscrete, Edward," Carlisle commented as he walked back into the room.
I smiled slightly, shaking my head. "She thinks I'm a genius, and far better than most EMTs, but I've never heard her question my humanity."
Carlisle merely nodded, guessing there was something I wasn't telling him, but respecting Mickie's right to have me preserve her privacy as much as possible,
"How is he?" he questioned, moving to our patient's side.
"Stable. His Masen factor has been variable, but on the whole there's a slight upward trend."
"Is he in any pain?"
I shook my head. "He's still too far under from the anesthetic, though it's starting to wear off a little."
Carlisle nodded, checking the man's vitals. "Keep an 'ear' on Jim, too; he should be all right, but that concussion is severe enough to bear close watching. I'm not sure he'll let me know if he needs an ice pack, either."
"He won't," I said dryly, "but I don't doubt Esme will get him one whether he tells her he needs it or not."
Carlisle chuckled. "True enough."
Carlisle gave me the task of waking Jim through the night, as I was better equipped to judge his neurological condition. By morning the concussion had begun to resolve, though the headache and dizziness would likely remain for a day or two and he would need to restrict his activities for at least two weeks.
The storm spent itself in the night, and shortly after dawn we received a call from Emmett that he had removed the tree from the roadway…I doubted he had bothered to use a chainsaw.
So after Mickie and Jim had eaten breakfast, we set about transporting our patient to the hospital. Carlisle wouldn't hear of Jim driving, insisting that he needed to be admitted to the hospital himself for observation.
So I drove, while Carlisle hitched a ride to work with us and assisted Mickie.
You know, Edward, he mused, you could never pass as old enough for a doctor, but next time you go through medical school you should at least intern for a while; maybe enter a residency program.
I smiled to myself; it bothered Carlisle more than it did me that my eternal youth precluded me from following in his footsteps even now that I had sufficient control. I enjoyed practicing medicine, as far as I could, but not to the level Carlisle did.
"What makes you so sure I'll be going to medical school again?" I questioned softly, though I suspected he was right, if only because in another hundred years or so I would have cycled through all my other interests and hobbies. A hobby. That's all it was to me, really; to Carlisle it was a calling.