Okay, so this is day of House Inspection, takes place maybe two hours after last chapter so that makes it three thirty p.m. :)

When it changes to Esme's point of view, it skips to when she's at the hospital, about to enter Edwards Room, okay? It'll remind you at the POV change.

I think I've messed up the birthdays, so this is Edward's birthday in the story: April the third.

I looked it up in a calendar, and May the eighth would have a Friday, not a Saturday, but let's just pretend it was a Saturday. Anyway, this is Thursday the 13 in the story. : )

EPOV

Carlisle and two trainee nurses, one male, stood about a metre away from the foot of my bed. They were discussing something that was probably important, but I wasn't paying attention. The male nurse was paged, and left, and the female nurse picked up a clipboard. She handed it to Carlisle before looking at me. She mumbled something I couldn't make out, and then after listening to Carlisle reply left the room.

Carlisle read whatever the clipboard said, and then moved closer to me. 'You remember those tests you had this morning?' Carlisle asked, each word carefully articulated.

'Yeah.' I mumbled. MRI's or CATscans or whatever they were. I'd had maybe ten tests done early this morning, and some yesterday, and they had just got the results for the last ones back now.

'Well, see here. The lung and clotting that you were so worried about- nothing wrong with it. But one of the shattered ribs that was half-healed re-shattered when your younger brother slammed into you. Reconstructive surgery was successful,' he held up an x-ray like picture and traced one of the line with his finger. 'Look here, the rib fragments have been removed from where they could cause damage to organs and tissue.'

'So…?'

'All in all, because you probably don't want the whole medical explanation, in layman's term, you'll be in bed for the next four to six weeks, with regular checkups. It's most likely that after that you'll be in a wheelchair for another two or three weeks, possibly up to two months. You definitely won't start back at school until after the summer holidays, but with catch up issues it could be as far away as October or November.'

Six weeks in bed and two months in a wheelchair? Ugh. 'When will I be out of hospital?' I pressed.

'Within four days.' Carlisle said, smiling. 'In two days time Esme and I will finish signing the adoption papers. In three days we'll collect Alice and Emmett, and either then or the next day the patient transfer service will send you to our home.'

I smiled weakly in return. It wasn't that I didn't want to be adopted- it just felt awkward. For Alice it would be easy- she'd soon forget she had any parents other then Esme and Carlisle. Emmett was too young to really understand that adoptive parents were different to birth parents.

Carlisle dropped the clipboard to his side, and looked at me, genuine concern in his eyes. 'Do you need to talk about anything?' he asked.

'No, I'm okay.' I said.

'Are you sure?' he bit his lip and looked as if he wanted to add something, but he didn't.

'I'm sure.'

'You don't have to talk to me, the hospital has a therapist. Well, four, actually…'

'No.' I said firmly. 'I don't want to talk.'

Carlisle nodded and walked over to the door. 'It you're sure, Edward.' He went to leave, but turned. 'Esme's coming in soon. She wants to talk to you, Edward.'

'Esme?' I said, bewildered.

'Yes.' Carlisle said. 'Esme. She just wants to get to know you.'

I nodded carefully- sudden movements still hurt sometimes. 'Alright then,' I agreed.

'Mmkay.' Carlisle said. 'So just remember- four to six weeks in bed.' Then his pager went off and he hurried off to some other section of the hospital. I slumped back against the pillows.

EsmePOV (Just outside Edward's hospital room, about four p.m).

Thanking the young nurse who had taken me up to the ward, I knocked gently on door to Edward's room. 'Hello?' I called out.

'He's in there.' The nurse assured me. 'He was awake half an hour ago, when Dr Cullen and Nurse Branberry and the male nurse who's name escapes me, went up to go over his test results with him.'

'Thanks.' I mumbled, pushing the door open. The small room was barely furnished- tatty yellow curtains hung over his head, and the window only displayed a brick wall. The sheets, chair, floor, ceiling and walls were white, as well as the small table to my left as I entered the room. Scattered across the table were files and small piles of paperwork.

Edward didn't look awake to me, his eyes were shut and he was breathing gently. Apart from the yellow curtains, the only colour was his hair. His skin was really pale, and he wore a hospital gown. I winced, before, as his eyes flickered open, rearranging my expression to show a smile.

'Hello, Edward.' I greeted him. 'My name is Esme, do you remember me?'

'Yes,' he said. 'Of course I remember you. You're adopting Elsie and Emmie.'

'And you,' I added softly.

'Yes.' He consented. 'And me.'

I dragged the small white chair from beside the table to Edward's bedside, and sat down. 'Anything you want to discuss?' I asked, I didn't have many things to say to a hospitalized teenage boy.

'Your husband already asked me that,' he said, his mood changing from bored and slightly cautious to sulky in an instant. 'I don't need to talk to a therapist.'

'Oh no,' I said, that honestly wasn't what I meant. 'I meant for conversation topics. Like, sports, for example.' I regretted that once I'd said it. It was probably considered more then a little cruel to ask a temporarily bedridden child about sports.

'I haven't played sports in a while.' Edward said, a definitely wistful touch to his tone. 'I used to love playing football with my mates, or when I was younger just hopskotcherhoop.'

'Hopskotcherhoop?' I echoed, confused.

'Yes, a mix between hopscotch, "cher," which was my friend's name for tag, and hoola hooping. I used to play it in kindergarten and first grade with Beth and James, my best friends at the time.'

I smiled. 'And do you miss first grade, Edward?'

'Yeah.' He said.

'Why?'

'Because everything was so simple then. I was six years old; my birthmother was pregnant with my first sibling, Emmett, although at first she thought she was having a girl! Anyway, I had nothing to worry about; my biggest concern was whether I'd have to make new friends, or if Beth and James would play with me.' He paused, still unable to for a long time, but he pressed on. 'My birthfather was alive, and my mother thought drugs were horrible, had never ever smoked anything in her life, and drank less then half a glass of alcohol a day. I was happy.'

I paused, unsure what to say. What could I say? Aware of my discomfort, Edward decided to talk of something else. 'Do you or Carlisle have any siblings?' he asked.

'I do, my sister, Sarah. She lives in New York. Her husband, John, runs a catering company and she is a journalist. Carlisle is an only child.'

He nodded. 'Neither of you have any experience with adoption?'

'No.' I admitted. 'It'll be a learning experience for the both of us.'

'Both meaning you and Carlisle, or you and me?'

'Let me rephrase that- It'll be a learning experience for all three of us.'

Edward smiled wearily; it was clear that he needed rest and was not used to conversations dragging on longer then a few lines. Still, he was making an effort, and that was what really counted.

'So who are you're current best friends?' I asked.

Edward stared at me for a moment, surprised. 'I don't have any. I used to have three best friends and about five other close friends, but then one best friends moved away, the other started hanging out with the in crowd, and then al this started, and I was in a hospital, then a children's home… there was no one there to be friends with- the oldest kids were two years younger then me.'

I nodded, hoping to look understanding. Inside I was reeling. It made sense of course, but he was such a nice kid. I expected him to have heaps of friends. It was really sad. We chatted on a bit, but while we weren't running out of topics, Edward was getting more and more tired. I checked my watch. I'd been there about twenty five minutes, and I was sensing it was time to leave.

'I've got to go now, but it was nice talking to you.' I said, standing up.

'Yes.' He agreed softly. 'It was.'

I smiled, and leaving the small white chair by his bedside I strode out.

Short chapter, I know. I'm thinking of bringing Angela into this story, NOT ExA, but just as a friend. What do you think? Please review.