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lifetimeprelude2010-01-11 07:59 am
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January 1921.
Carlisle and Edward are walking to the hospital. The second semester is starting for Edward and Carlisle will be in surgery most of the day. A new procedure, and challenging - Carlisle has been attempting to minimize his near-obsessive concentration on it for at least a week.
With only minimal amounts of success.
"...and with any luck, I'll be closing by four."
With only minimal amounts of success.
"...and with any luck, I'll be closing by four."
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Before there can be a response to that, to his voice mingling attempt and comment, Edward kissed Carlisle again. Light, but for the necessity of the touch again.
Punctuations on blankness and blackness, on Carlisle's commentary continuing to play through his mind. "There is nothing else in my world."
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"Cultivate a better ear for good classical music."
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It's...the calmest he's sounded since before surgery.
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But he needs it, and them.
"Have faith."
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"I will."
It's shaky, but not going anywhere.
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He'll just settle the moment for no words, for letting his hands slip from Carlisle's face and pulling him tightly into his arms. He'll make this better. He will. Somehow. Whatever it took.
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It'd be petulant and funny-sounding in a different situation.
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"I'll put that on the priority list."
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I'm already so different. I didn't need this too. Beyond how all of this should be impossible, I didn't need this too.
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"You might make someone faint once they leap to the conclusion you might take your first whole week off since starting."
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Carlisle's hand tightens around Edward's wrist. Stability.
"Just stay here. For a little bit."
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But it got them to the living room couch.
"They'll never believe you've run off on them. They know how devoted you are to the patients and the programs. Me, on the other hand," it's at least force-ably toward humor.
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"We'll manage however we have to."
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"You'll have to do my investigating for me." Which aggravates Carlisle to no end. He's calmer now, in Edward's arms - and calmer means wanting to do something. "It had to have been something at the hospital somehow."
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Something, someone, it all sounds ludicrous.
Glancing over his own memories -- his and all the ones that pressed in around during the same time, which were simultaneously his. And nothing. Nothing still.
But he says it and means anyway. "I'll look."
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"If you don't find anything..."
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Even if he hasn't gotten to the moving part of it.
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Even if all he wants is for Edward to stay.
"Will you put some music on for me?"
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It's not wanting to go so much as what if it gets worse while he is gone. What if away is the wrong choice, or staying is. There is no basis to chose from.
And Carlisle at such a loss, Carlisle unknowning.
It's a symphony piece, not too robust given everything.
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He feels terribly...small, sitting on the couch in a room that sounds larger than it is.
"I'll...be here, I suppose."
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No breath out. Only the clench of his jaw and his eyes, before, the willing himself to something sensible and promising at once, "I'll be back soon."
It's from across the room, nearing the doorway and not coming back closer, so he won't stay. He won't be close enough to hear. He turned and walked out.
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