Seattle had grown crowded—too visible, too fast. Carlisle knew of a quieter place, a town where routine outweighed curiosity and a doctor could work without attracting notice. That was how Walter Moon came to Forks.

He took a position in the emergency department of the local hospital, filling a vacancy that no one had realized had been left behind. His adjustment was seamless. Patients spoke easily in his presence, offering details they often withheld from others, and the staff found themselves relying on his calm judgment without quite knowing why. Forks accepted him quickly, attributing his effect to an unassuming charm and a steady competence. There was no reason to look deeper. No one needed to.

His connection to the Cullens was not new. He and Carlisle were old friends, bound by a shared belief in restraint and responsibility, even if their paths to those principles had differed.

After a few weeks, the Cullens returned as quietly as they had left, slipping back into Forks as if their absence had been nothing more than a collective oversight. Carlisle resumed his place at the hospital, and with him came the unspoken understanding that Forks was no longer merely quiet, but guarded.

It didn’t take long for Walter to learn about Isabella Swan.

The story traveled the way all stories in Forks did: indirectly, softened by understatement. A human girl. Too observant. Too close. Edward Cullen’s name followed hers with a consistency that invited conclusions. Walter drew them quickly enough, and with a measure of skepticism he didn’t bother to hide from Carlisle. A human who knew the truth was a liability; a human targeted by the Volturi even more so.

Still, it wasn’t his concern.

Edward’s choices were his own, and Carlisle had already accepted the risks that came with them.

One afternoon, midway through an unremarkable shift, Alaric stood at the counter with a patient’s chart open beneath his hand, the steady hum of the hospital fading into background noise. That was when he noticed Carlisle speaking with Bella Swan a short distance away. Their conversation was brief, subdued. Bella nodded, thanked him, then turned aside and reached into her pocket. She flipped open a Nokia phone.

He wasn’t listening—at least, not intentionally. A voice answered on the other end of the line.

He froze, the chart forgotten.

The call lasted only seconds. Bella murmured a reply, closed the phone, and walked away.

He pushed away from the counter and crossed the hall toward Carlisle, his lab coat drifting behind him with unnecessary grace. He allowed his tone to remain light, almost idle.

“She’s not threatening to expose your secrets, is she?” It was phrased as a joke, delivered with an easy smile—but the subtle pull of his ability lingered beneath it, coaxing truth to the surface.

Carlisle didn’t hesitate. He smiled back, unguarded. “Of course not. Her half-sister arrived two days ago. Bella and Chief Swan asked if I could help her find part-time work here at the hospital. That’s all.”

Half-sister.

Walter inclined his head, the expression unchanged, though the word settled more heavily than it should have.