It wasn't usual to find Carlisle in his office. In the few spare moments that his job would allow him, he would most likely be found conversing with the patients, and in short, going the extra mile for them- Except, for somebody without limitations like himself, that mile tended to be overstode by quite a length. He enjoyed spending a short time with the longer-term patients, making their time remotely more comfortable and enjoyable if that were possible when there was a particular reason that they were in the hospital in the first place. For the women, it seemed to light up their faces when he entered the room, anyway.

Today however, he would be ashamed to admit that his patients remained (to his standards) neglected, barely receiving an acknowledgment as he drifted through the routine procedures. What made it worse was that anything practical was covered by the nurses, checking pulses and blood pressures, whereas he simply needed to check the charts every so often, and assure the patient that they were recovering as expected. It didn't help his unusually withdrawn manner that he had enough free time to allow his mind to wander over the past while.

Naturally, Bella's short examination was foremost in his thoughts. No doubt to each member of the Cullen family it had come as a shock, but Carlisle in particular felt aggrieved more for his son. After having the pleasure of centuries' worth of Edward's company, he would have been worried had he not been able to estimate the reaction that he would have received had his phone calls managed to reach Edward's cell. Whereas the lack of update from his son worried Carlisle, the reverse circumstances that now presented itself where Carlisle was working to inform Edward set him even more on edge. It wasn't similar to the times before when Edward had willingly parted with the family- on those times, he had done so willingly whilst now he was close to being held captive, remaining in Volterra for the one reason that had now impregnated itself with another. Carlisle failed to find a silver lining so soon after the incident at hand.

Of course characteristically of Carlisle, he found it difficult to feel anything close to hatred toward Bella. The circumstances were too extreme for a human to grasp and it was expected that Bella would have went through emotional trauma, even if she was as accustomed to their lifestyle as she had been. It had been a foolish move, inconsiderate and wrong in his eyes surely, but Carlisle was not aware of the environment that the situation between herself and Jacob had been brought about in, and he continued to retain his judgment until further notice. When that was exactly, he had no idea and didn't wish to think about it anymore than necessary. On that note, he stood from behind his desk- The first movement of his in over ten minutes. Replacing the cell that had been in the mahogany desk's top drawer with the papers he had been pretending to himself that he was working on, he left the room while hitting speed dial.

Within seconds, Edward's voice spoke of his absence and he retained from leaving a message. The number would appear whenever the missed call message appeared,and there was no need for Carlisle to elaborate. For one thing, he did not wish to worry his son, and friend, more than necessary, and for another, he still had no idea whether Chelsea had managed to sever Edward and Alice's ties to their family (which no doubt would be attempted), and he knew his voice would betray his fears. Carlisle merely hoped that Alice had not seen the situation before Carlisle managed to warn them. The last time that Alice felt it right to explain to anyone such a dark situation had nearly ended in Edward's demise and Carlisle wished to avid such extremes a second time. It didn't occur that Bella may already have reached him.

Carlisle hung up his phone, cutting Edward's recorded voice off, and hit hit button roughly that would turn the cell off, aware of the machines that surrounded him as he made his way down the corridor. With the minute action, he focused himself to shut off his worries as well, having already decided to check on his patients. Immediately his face smoothed, eager to ease their pains alongside his own, and he took a left into the room which the temporary sign announced as "Charles Bedford." The chart that hung was ignored, Carlisle having already done his rounds and now it was merely a leisurely visit. However, upon greeting the man that was sat on bed, and sitting in the nearby chair, the shrill bleep of his pager forced him to acknowledge the vibrations in his pocket. The message played across the small screen in an unwelcome interruption and he politely excused himself. "I will be back, Mr. Bedford, to check up on you later."

It took only minutes to transverse back to a medical room, as instructed, nodding and exchanging pleasantries with those he passed in order to occupy his much-agitated mind. The door opened silently, to the empty white box of a room. The smell of disinfectant was sharper than he remembered there, and he sniffed against the sting. Behind him the door clicked shut, but he waited a moment as he got used to the acidic air before moving, lifting his white coat to the hooks while simultaneously hitting the intercom. "Margaret," He called clearly. His name was acknowledged. "You can send them in now." He sat down on the assent, waiting for his next patient, ignorant of what harm may have become them.