Bittersweet Hurt By just a random writer

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4035198/1/

Part One - The Look

Carlisle Cullen walked with a deliberate pace toward the hospital to begin his
shift. He was not scheduled for duty tonight but he needed a distraction, on this
night most of all. This was the one night of the year his human memories would
come unbidden to his mind, and make his heart ache for the life that was taken
from him. It was Christmas Eve and he was lonely.

How long had he led this life? He was beginning to lose count; the years were
starting to blur together, but every face, every city, and every continent all
seemed the same. Yet, each moment he could spend in the vicinity of humans
helped to desensitize his nose, giving him some sense of control over the
incessant thirst for blood that would always plague him. He chuckled quietly to
himself, thinking that he might yet be able to prove to the others that living
among humans was not an impossible task. It was a simple issue of mind over
matter.

The air settled into a blanket of quiet over the city, heavy with the coming
snowstorm. The only sound Carlisle could hear was the near imperceptible crunch
of snow under his feet, and a few snippets of caroling now and again.

Turning down one particular street he had not used before, a light piano melody
caught his ear - lush and sensual against the still of the night. Carlisle stopped to
pinpoint the sound and heard another faint stanza emanating from the house two
doors down, and he stepped forward in curiosity. There was a large gathering in
the home, as lights burning bright in every room - probably a Christmas feast, he
surmised.

It was a modest home, yet showed signs of wealth. The curtains were a fine
French lace and there was a hand worked iron fence enclosing the front of the
property, and the outside of the home was strung with evergreen and ribbons.
Yet the most obvious sign of wealth was the electric lights that graced the home.
The light bulb was not new to Carlisle, but having it in your home was certainly
not for the middle class. Carlisle edged closer to the window, making sure to stay
hidden in the darkness, straining his ears to hear more of the music coming from
inside.

The scene was a jovial one, full of Christmas merriment. Several handsome
young girls danced around the room with their suitors, sweeping their skirts as
they twirled and laughed and blushed. They were tightly corseted in the fashion
of the day, with hair upswept and soft curls framing their young faces. Servants
stoked the large fire in the hearth which was decorated with evergreen and
stockings. China cups of hot spiced cider and eggnog were being passed around
the room, while the children chased each other around the legs of the adults.

He took another step closer, trying to find the piano player. He finally spotted him
in the corner, but Carlisle was unable to see anything of him other than his back.

He decided he would stop here and wait - he had to hear more. The music was . .
. soothing to him in a way he had not felt in almost 300 years.

Carlisle saw a very young girl who couldn't have been more than 10 or 11 come
bounding down the large staircase, running straight for the boy at the piano. At
that moment the girl had reached her target, and the boy stopped his playing to
reach down and pick her up by the waist, throwing her high into the air as he
circled, eliciting wild peals of laughter from the girl. 'That music . . . was it from
this boy?' Carlisle wondered.

Carlisle finally caught sight of the boy's face, and his breath hitched in his chest.
'Beautiful . . . my god, he is so . . . perfect,' he thought. The boy looked to be
about 16 or 17, and he was very tall, yet lanky, as if he had just grown into his
height and had yet to fill out the rest of his frame. His facial features were
angular, yet not severe - still tempered by his youthful adolescence. But the most
noticeable feature of all was the tousled copper colored hair framing his face.
Carlisle could not tear his eyes away.

"Edward! Oh Edward, do it again!" the little girl cried out, reaching her arms up to
the boy, "Spin me 'round again, Edward!" Her eyes were bright and she was
standing on her tip toes, reaching out for the boy who had decided to tease her
by raising his own arms out of reach. "Edward, you are so mean!" she cried out in
laughter. The boy feigned hurt and shock, "I can't believe you would call me
mean, young lady!" he said in mock seriousness. The girl hesitated for a moment,
letting her arms drop to her sides as her smile faded from her face.

"Gotcha!" Edward screamed as he surprised her with a sudden grab, and
proceeded to twirl her in the air again. Their laughter carried through the crisp air
of the night as he sat her down at last. "I'm dizzy, Mary! I need a break. I'm only
human, you know!" he said. "Why don't you run and get us some cider?" he said,
sitting back down at the piano. The girl shook her head yes and barreled out of
the room to find drinks.

The boy let out a long breath from the exertion, and ran his fingers through his
hair trying to get it to stay out of his face. Carlisle could see the faint sheen of
sweat that covered his forehead just as Edward pulled out a handkerchief from
his breast pocket and began to wipe his brow. The crowd dancers had died down,
moving into the next room in preparation of the Christmas feast, leaving the
sitting room quiet and deserted.

Edward stared at the keys of the piano as he continued to wipe sweat from his
face. Carlisle could only stand frozen in place, watching this human boy, this
perfect human boy, performing the most menial of tasks, and yet it was the most
breathtaking thing Carlisle thought he had ever seen in his long years on Earth.

And at that moment, Carlisle understood precisely why he bothered to keep his
compassion for the human race. It was for this boy alone.

Then, as if God were listening to Carlisle's every secret thought, the boy stood up
and made his way to the window, staring out at the snow - giving Carlisle an
unhindered view. The boy peered out of the glass, his eyes roaming the street as
if he were searching for something. His eyes locked on the very spot Carlisle was
hiding in, as if he knew.

'It's impossible for him to see me, he cannot know I am here,' Carlisle thought to
himself, but taking a careful step back. Just in case. But there was no mistake.
The boy was staring right at him with those warm hazel eyes. Carlisle forgot to
breathe.

"Edward! Aunt Ruth says it's time to come eat!" Mary bellowed as she ran into
the room, latching onto his sleeve. Edward broke his gaze and looked down to the
girl, flashing her a lopsided grin. "I'll be right there, Mary, you go on ahead," he
said, shooing the girl back toward the dining room. Edward turned one more time
to peer out of the front window before turning back and heading out of the room.

Carlisle let out the breath he had been holding, but still couldn't get his feet to
move. 'I have to get out of here . . . this boy - he could be too much of a
temptation,' he thought. A brief image of Edward's face flashed across his mind.
'If only I were not a monster,' he thought, 'I could be near you.' A second flash
came, again of Edward, but this time he was pale, with dark circles under his
eyes - now golden in color instead of honey - a monster just like he was.

Carlisle squeezed his eyes closed. 'NO! He can never be . . . like me!' His breath
came faster and faster, and he felt the harsh edges of panic snaking up his spine.
It would be so easy, to snatch him away, and create a companion for himself, one
who was so perfect, one who would be with him forever. Hadn't he been lonely
for entirely too long?

What had he become? Had the years of solitude and struggle against his nature
finally driven him out of his mind? How he could be such a loathsome creature to
think of making that boy into his companion, to take away his humanity, his
hopes and dreams just so I won't be lonely anymore?

'This is insane!' he shouted in his mind, picking himself up and racing toward the
park. 'I have to get out of here. Edward, you have nearly undone me and you do
not even know it.'

Part Two - The Fever

The summer was sweltering, and people were dropping like flies left and right. An
influenza epidemic was sweeping the nation; highly contagious, it was killing the
young and healthy in a matter of hours.

Once the disease set in, there was very little one could do to prevent death, and
most patients died within 48 hours of the first symptoms - aches, pains, and
fatigue. Soon, most were unable to stand on their own eight to 10 hours after
being infected. The influenza generally caused pneumonia to settle in, and the
vast majority of patients died by drowning in the fluids filling their lungs. The
most ominous sign, however, was when they turned blue. When that happened,
you could guarantee the end of them, generally about 4-6 hours later.

There was a steady line of corpses streaming out of the influenza ward where
Carlisle worked the night shift, and it showed no sign of slowing down. The local
grave diggers were working around the clock to get the bodies buried before
more disease could spread. It made the loneliness Carlisle felt more acute than it
already was - to see all of this life needlessly thrown down the drain. Fathers,
mothers, daughters, and sons - all cut down equally.

It was going to be a long and miserable summer.

He walked quietly to work, concentrating on staying in the shadows as it was not
quite twilight yet. The skies had been threatening rain earlier today and it was
still relatively cloudy out, but you could never tell when there might be a break in
the clouds. The heat was stifling, and the air was thick with humidity. Carlisle

would almost swear he was on the verge of breaking a sweat - not that he could
break a sweat. Carlisle sighed. He needed a change. Perhaps he could return to
Italy to spend some time with the Volturi; it may help him to clear his mind of the
troubling thoughts that had been plaguing him, like those that rushed unbidden
into his mind every time he encountered an adolescent boy with dark hair. 'Take
him out of the side door; down to the empty house you passed this morning; it
will only take three days; no one will notice he is gone; they will assume he is
dead; it's a simple bite; the pain will fade; you can take him hunting in the
forests to the south . . .'

No. He shook his head to clear his thoughts; he can't think like that. He couldn't
allow himself to be so weak. He was a monster, and he could not let anyone else
become like him. He had every intention of upholding the promises he made to
his Father and his God so very long ago, there in the putrid grave of rotten
potatoes. 'I swear I will not become a monster! I WILL NOT become so evil! I
swear I'll do away with myself immediately, if you can only forgive my suicide!'

Yet, the biggest promise was one Carlisle could not never forget, he still fought it
every day. When the pain was too much to bear, and the tears were streaming
down his face, he pleaded for mercy. 'Please, stop this pain! I can't . . . no more!
Please! God, where are you? I swear, I swear on everything I hold holy that I will
never take a human life! Please, I swear if only you will just stop the burning!'
And miraculously, at that moment the burning did stop as if in answer to his
prayer, and Carlisle passed out. He had made the transition to a vampire, and the
life he knew before was gone. He was now left with a very big promise to keep.

Carlisle rounded the corner, headed to the hospital where he was greeted with
the scent of death. He wrinkled his nose slightly. The smell was getting worse,
and the bodies were continuing to pile up. He entered into the east ward, and let
out a sigh at the sight. Rows and rows of beds were lined up in the large hall, all
full of the dead and dying. There were so many patients that the hospital did not
have enough beds. No hospital in Chicago did at that point. The medical staff had
begun to lay patients on the floor around the beds, and in every available space -
the hallways, the exam rooms, the lobby.

Yet, worse than the smell, were the sounds. The moaning, and the wheezing. The
cries of help, the cries of pain, the coughing, and the death rattles. Yes, Carlisle
knew that was the worst part of the epidemic, the sound of putrid death.

He sighed, and began to work.

There wasn't much in a medical sense that he could so for these patients. The
best he could offer now was some sense of comfort while they suffered through
their disease. He started at the first bed on the row and sat down next to the
woman there. She was sweating profusely, and looked to be unconscious. Her
breath was low and shallow, and she was beginning to turn blue, around the
edges of her face, the tip of her nose, her fingertips. She wouldn't last until
tomorrow.

He made his way down the line, offering water or pain medicine where it was
needed. He held their hands, sponged their brows, and put cold compresses on
their forehead. He wiped the blood from their noses and mouths when the
hemorrhages started. He moved their bodies when they passed away.

At the end of the row of beds, he stopped and sat down beside his next patient.
Without looking up, he grabbed a bowl and filled it with water from the pitcher
near the bed. He rang out a rag in the cool water and went to place the compress
on the boy's head. He looked up, and froze.

It was Edward.

The Edward, the one who almost drove him insane last Christmas, almost causing
him to break every vow he had made regarding not harming humans, about
respecting human life. The one that had taken Carlisle too long to stop thinking
about.

And yet here, this perfect boy lay dying. His once brilliant hair was matted down
with sweat and grime and plastered against his face. He was sleeping fitfully,
gently tossing his head to the side, mumbling incoherent words in his sleep. Deep
circles were under his eyes, his cheeks were hollow, and the tip of his nose was
beginning to turn blue.

Carlisle's mouth hung open, shocked that his perfect boy was now withering away
- miserable, and sweating his life out on a dirty bed which countless numbers
died in before him.

He felt a wetness on his arm and looked down to see the forgotten rag hanging
limply in his hand, dripping water on the bed sheets. He brought the cloth up to
Edward's face and began to clean off the sweat. He smoothed back the matted
hair out of his face, his fingers lingering against Edward's forehead. The boy
responded to the cool touch of his fingers, giving off low whimpers at the relief.

Edward raised his hand, feebly trying to reach Carlisle's fingers on his face.
Without thinking, Carlisle grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers, while
reaching down to re-wet the cloth with his other hand. Edward tired to raise his
head, seeking Carlisle's cold fingers.

"Shh . . . it's ok, there's more where that came from," Carlisle choked out, wiping
at Edward's face with the rag, feeling tears he thought were gone forever forming
in his eyes. He leaned closer, clearly hearing just how much fluid was building up
in Edward's lungs. Carlisle knew it wouldn't be long. Edward was drowning.

Carlisle hovered close to Edward's face, close enough to see the stubble on his
cheeks, the pink of his lips, and the pulse beating beneath the surface of his
neck. 'It would be so easy . . . he is going to die anyway . . . just one bite . . .' No
- he couldn't do this. Carlisle shook his head and went to move back from the
boy. Yet before he could get away, Edward opened his eyes and looked up at
Carlisle.

Carlisle felt his breath hitch in his chest. Those eyes . . . those beautiful hazel
eyes . . . they were looking straight at him, recognition flashing somewhere in
their depths. "You came . . . ," Edward croaked out, barely able to speak above a
whisper. "You're here again," he said, flashing Carlisle a weak smile.

'He has to be hallucinating, from the fever,' Carlisle thought. Edward made to
raise his hand and Carlisle helped him along, holding the weight of his arm up for
him. Edward reached out and ran the tips of his fingers across Carlisle's forehead,
and gave him another weak, lopsided grin. "I knew you would come for me,"
Edward said.

"Edward, my name is Dr. Cullen. You haven't met me before," he said, continuing
to hold the boy's arm up, 'His touch . . . It's been so long . . . ,' "Where are your
parents, Edward? Is anyone coming for you?" he asked quietly, reveling in the
soft stroking of Edward's fingertips.

"Dead . . . gone . . . I looked after them. I'm the last one . . ." Edward whispered,
closing his eyes briefly as he stopped to catch his breath - the exertion of
speaking a few words was almost too much for him. He opened his eyes and

looked at Carlisle again. "I do know you. You are in my dreams every night . . . ,"
he managed to get out before the coughing began.

Edward's frail frame shook with each hack, and he was becoming desperate to try
and suck in air between the spasms. He had instinctively raised his hand to cover
his mouth when he coughed, and Carlisle froze when he dropped his hand back
down to his chest. Edward's hand was covered in blood.

Something snapped inside of Carlisle at that moment.

He would not sit here and watch as Edward died.

There was only one solution left.

May Edward forgive him for what he was about to do.

Carlisle looked down at Edward and was surprised to see him staring back at him.
"Yes," Edward whispered, his eyes never wavering, "Carlisle . . ." he whispered as
his eyes rolled back in his head and body went limp in unconsciousness.

"No! Edward, hang on, please. I'll help you, I promise," Carlisle pleaded, sliding
his hands under the boy and picking him up. He raced for the back door of the
hospital, not caring if anyone noticed.

There was no one left who could stand in the way of his ultimate sin.

He was going to turn Edward into a monster.

Part Three - The Turning

Shadow to shadow, building to building, Carlisle darted - not daring to stop. 'I
won't have time to make it to my place . . . shit, Carlisle thought in a panic,
'Where can I take him? He's going to die before I can get this done!'

Carlisle spotted a dark alley and sprinted up to hide in a recessed doorway. He
crouched into the shadow and glanced down, seeing Edward's eyes were partly
open and revealing white under the lids. His mouth moved, trying to speak.
Carlisle leaned in, 'Home,' Edward said in a wheeze. He stared at Edward, 'Was
he . . . answering my thought?'

Carlisle's head snapped up at a distant sound - it wasn't safe to linger here any
further, 'Well, it was a good suggestion, regardless,' he thought. All of Edward's
family was dead; there wouldn't be anyone at his house. It wasn't his first choice
- not knowing the neighborhood or the neighbors - but he was out of options. He
had to get somewhere quiet and safe right away, or he was going to lose Edward.
He leapt up and raced toward the all too familiar street.

Luckily for the both of them, it appeared the plague had ravaged Edward's street
hard; there were few humans left from what Carlisle could smell at first. Carlisle
busted into Edward's front door and paused to get his bearings in the pitch black
house. There was a chaise lounge in the sitting room; Carlisle laid Edward down
on his side before darting back outside to explore the surroundings in greater
detail. His scout of the street revealed no occupants in either of the houses

adjoining Edward's and no living humans until three houses down. He quickly
turned and raced back to scavenge the house for supplies.

Carlisle remembered in excruciating detail just how painful his transformation
was, and he knew he must be prepared for the amount of noise Edward was
going to make. There would be police and city officials patrolling the homes
searching out the dead, and he couldn't take the risk of being discovered while
Edward was in the middle of transforming.

'If he makes it through the transformation,' an unbidden thought raced across his
mind.

A prickle of panic appeared on the edge of his consciousness. His own
transformation had been an accident - and never having witnessed another - he
could only make an educated guess about how to actually go about doing it. ''Just
do it like I was turned - one bite, then feed only for a second - that is all it should
take. Enough to get the venom into his system and do the work. Right?'

'Am I strong enough to keep from killing him?' Carlisle shook his head; he needed
to concentrate.

Carlisle continued to race through the house gathering his supplies - a large basin
of water, some fresh rags, and his medical kit. Throwing assorted cushions on the
floor along with his equipment, he snapped on a side lamp, throwing a dim yellow
light on the walls. It illuminated a painted portrait hanging above the chaise
where Edward was sleeping. And there in the center of the painting, surrounded
by his family was Edward, several years younger. He was a child, no more than
10, yet unmistakable with the copper hair and lopsided grin.

Closing his eyes and pinching his fingers against the bridge of his nose, he looked
up and saw Edward still lying on his side, cheek pressed into the chaise lounge -
and still looking like same child in the picture. A wave of regret ran through
Carlisle.

The preparations were ready. Was he?

Would he be able to stand it, letting this boy die? Carlisle already knew his
answer.

Walking over to Edward and taking a deep breath, he gathered him up, and
headed over to the pile of pillows. Cradling him in his arms, Carlisle sat down
cross-legged on the floor and arranged Edward in his lap. He reached out to
smooth his hair back from his face again. Carlisle gave a small smile, 'He must
have an awful time keeping this hair out of his eyes,' he thought.

It was time.

Slowly and carefully, he undid the buttons on Edward's night shirt, exposing the
pale, sweat slicked skin. Raising him and sliding his arms out of the fabric,
Edward was left bare chested and shivering against the chill of Carlisle's skin.

He looked down to bring his hand to Edward's face, running the pad of his thumb
up across his eyebrows down around the ridge of his cheek. "Edward, this is
going to be very painful for you, and I apologize, it's the only way," he said in a
whisper.

He moved Edward up until his back lay against Carlisle's chest. Gently grasping
the top of Edward's hair, he tilted his head to the side and exposed the nape of

his neck. Carlisle closed his eyes and leaned in, placing his nose against the
pulse.

He hesitated, listening to Edward's erratic heartbeat and wheezing lungs. 'I wish
it could be different somehow,' he thought.

'Forgive me.'

Carlisle bit into Edward's jugular and began to feed.

The warmth of Edward's blood spilt into his mouth and down his throat; the tang
tickling his tongue. The smell instantly drove all other thoughts from his mind
except getting more - it was the first time Carlisle had ever tasted human blood,
and he briefly wondered if he would be able to stop.

Hot blood began to rush through Carlisle's veins and pound in his head -
pounding in time with Edward's heartbeat. The blood surged hotter and farther
into his body with each stoke of Edward's heart. They were one at that moment,
sharing blood and heartbeats for what seemed like an eternity.

Carlisle's attention zeroed in on the point where his lips and teeth were still
latched onto Edward's neck; he began running his tongue against the skin,
lapping up the blood that flowed around his lips. He could taste his own venom
mingling with Edward's sweet blood, bitter among the sweet.

Carlisle couldn't stop feeding. He was losing control to the monster - the
bloodthirsty monster within - he was going to kill Edward, and wasn't going to be
able to stop himself.

Then Edward began to shriek into Carlisle's ear, shattering the silence of the
house.

The noise ripped through Carlisle's awareness - breaking his focus on Edward's
heartbeat - and snapping the control of the monster. 'Stop! Stop! Stop!You're
killing him!' his mind finally shouted above the roar of blood rushing through his
veins. Releasing his bite, he shoved the boy down to the pillows and raced to the
furthest corner of the house, desperately trying to get away from the scent of his
sweet blood.

He stood there, in the darkened library, with his hands against the wall trying to
stop the shaking in his body. The blood was still coursing hot in his veins and
beating faintly in his ears, echoing Edward's heartbeat. He pursed his lips and
tasted the remnants of blood. He gave his bottom lip a hard suck trying to get the
last bit before it was gone, a final taste of the bittersweet. Carlisle let out a deep
shuddering breath. That was too close. He very nearly lost control. He didn't think
the taste of human blood would have such an effect on him.

Shaking his head to clear the remnants of hazy bloodlust from his mind, he made
his way back to the sitting room. Edward was screaming and withering in agony
on the floor; tears streaming down his cheeks and both hands pressed into his
neck trying to vainly to stop the pain.

Carlisle held his breath and made his way to the boy. He reached down and
clamped a shaking hand over Edward's mouth to muffle the screams while quickly
pulling him back to his chest. Grabbing a long strip of cloth, removed his hand
from Edward's mouth and quickly replaced it with the cloth. He tied it into a knot
at the back of Edward's head, and then readjusted him back into his lap, easily
restraining his arms and legs.

And now the waiting began.

He held the boy pressed against his chest as he slightly rocked back and forth.
"Shhh . . . I'm so sorry, Edward. . . shhh . . . I know it hurts, just stay with me. .
. it will all be over soon . . . I'm so sorry," he kept repeating over the smothered
sound of Edward's screams, his lips brushing against Edward's ear as he buried
his nose into the soft copper hair. He could hear Edward's heart racing in his
chest, trying to push the venom out of his system. But there was too much
venom, and Edward was too weak.

And so they remained till the next day, until Edward's voice had finally given out
and he was reduced to hoarse whispers of agony. Carlisle reached up and
removed the gag from Edward's mouth. Finding a clean cloth, he dipped it in the
cool water basin and wiped the boy's face of tears and blood, trying not to look at
the agony etched on the once perfect face.

How close he had been to killing him. He almost let the monster within have
control; he could not be so weak again. But the blood . . . it was so satisfying,
and Carlisle had never felt so complete and satiated in his entire long life. He
understood now, how other vampires believed him to be insane. How could
anyone in their right mind willingly give that up? Edward's blood had rejuvenated
his body and spirit. They were a part of each other now, and always would be.

On the third day of the transformation, Edward began to convulse harder than
before. Carlisle held on tighter, trying to keep Edward from hurting himself. He
shifted Edward around in his lap, bringing his face into his chest, and began to
panic. 'It only took me three days, and I was fine! Why is Edward not better yet?
Why is he still in agony? Did I do it wrong?' he thought. He could only sit and
wait.

On the fourth day of the transformation, Carlisle had decided he was going to
have to put Edward out of his misery because he couldn't stand to see or hear
him scream anymore. Obviously he had done something wrong in the process
and it was just making this poor boy suffer more than he ever should have.

He just didn't know if he could do it.

'Just snap his neck, put him out of his pain. No one should have to suffer through
this pain just so you won't be lonely anymore. He needs to be with his family,
and I need to do the right thing,' he thought.

He picked up the wet cloth again and wiped Edward's face as he debated on the
best way to end his misery. He laid the boy down on the pillows and re-wet his
cloth, going back to wipe up the dried blood on his neck. Carlisle let the rag trail
slowly from Edward's neck and down his chest, removing the sweat that had
accumulated during the transformation. His eyes followed the rag, noticing the
strong muscles underneath the skin and tiny wisps of reddish hair on his
stomach.

The boy had stilled during his ministrations and Carlisle looked up, surprised to
see Edward's eyes open - and staring at him. "Edward! Are you all right? Are you
still hurting?" Carlisle demanded as he dropped the rag and leaned in closer to
Edward's face.

Edward gave the slightest grin as he reached up and ran a finger through
Carlisle's blonde hair. "It's okay," he said in a hoarse whisper before closing his
eyes and going limp into unconsciousness, leaving Carlisle hovering above him.

The sound of Edward's heartbeat slowly faded away and stopped - leaving a
thunderous silence in the room.

Edward Masen was dead.

Part Four - The Awakening

Somewhere in an unending sea of blackness and white-hot pain, Edward became
aware of a slow, repeated coolness running down the length of his nose.

It was soothing sensation, a cold electric current followed wherever the finger
went, helping to extinguish the fire searing through his veins - pain that felt like it
had lasted an eternity. He vaguely tried to remember anything before the pain
yet he only found blackness. His mind could only focus on the consuming agony -
and one beautiful, rescuing angel whose cool touch drove the pain away. Edward
knew he would succumb to the madness without the single, gentle caress of his
savior.

He wondered what transgressions he had committed that deserved such fierce
punishment, yet also awarded him a saving grace. Perhaps he was in purgatory,
he wondered in a haze. But he didn't want to think of answers now; he only
wanted to concentrate on the sweet touch of his savior trailing across his body.

He felt his body respond to the ice by growing dense and hard, his flesh weighing
down into marble at the angel's command. Through the veil of pain, he knew he
owed his existence one of the most beautiful creatures that heaven offered. Or
hell. Edward still wasn't sure where he was at yet.

As his cool caresses continued, the fires receded further. Fading at each stroke of
the strong and sure fingers through his hair, down his chest, and across his
stomach - stopping there to trace a lazy circle around his navel. Blackness was
beginning to fade into a soft light, and Edward wondered if his angel would be
there in the light of day. Would he wake up to find this had all been a dream? Or
would this blonde miracle stay with him? Edward decided he never wanted to
open his eyes again if it meant losing this electric touch. He would stay here
forever content in his own dreams.

Yet the voice would not let him remain content in dreams.

It was becoming pronounced and distinct, full of worry and strife. Someone kept
calling his name. Could his savior be worried? A twinge of guilt began to seep into
Edward's comfort; the voice was full of concern and panic. Somewhere in the
blackness he knew he should be able to understand what was being said, yet it
sounded like another language. Edward tried to concentrate harder in order to
decipher the words, but the fog made it so hard to think. He just wanted to seep
back into the deep murkiness and feel the cool touches across his body.

The voice was worried - the angel was worried about him.

He didn't want his angel to worry over him, so Edward decided to focus on the
voice and leave the darkness behind him. Just please be there when I wake up.

Opening his eyes to slits he looked over and saw his angel, laying on his side
facing him and stroking a cold finger along his nose - stroking away the burning

fires. Edward couldn't help but give a smile at the sight. "I'm glad you're still
here," he said.

His angel's eyes went wide in surprise. Edward began to hear the voice again but
couldn't quite concentrate enough to determine where it came from. 'He's all
right . . . he's even more beautiful now . . . his eyes, so red . . . dear Edward . . .'

The finger slowly drew away, much to Edward's utter disappointment. That is
when the voices started - a sea of voices came crashing into his mind - harsh,
insistent, urgent and screeching - as if a knife was being stabbed down into the
center of his brain. This wasn't the sound of heaven or of his angel. He knew he
shouldn't have woken up; now he couldn't make the screeching thoughts stop.
Where was his angel? Would he not rescue him from this fresh pain?

He brought his hands to his head trying to block out the voices, instinctively
curling his legs into his chest and crying out in pain, "Make it stop, please! Make
it stop!" he shouted to his savior, hoping he would do something - anything - to
make it stop. Edward wondered if he needed to rethink his theory that he was in
purgatory - perhaps hell was more fitting. After all, wouldn't the punishment be
greater if you received a taste of heaven - so you would always know what you
were missing?

He was in hell. He was sure of it.

"Edward! Tell me what is wrong!" a voice shouted at him while icy hands grabbed
his shoulders, "I can't help you if I don't know what is wrong!"

The instant the hands made contact with his shoulders the voices muted into a
dull roar. It was like someone had turned down the volume on the insanity raging
in his mind. It was a dampening effect, the electric current became the focus and
allowed him to finally open his eyes once again.

Relief flooded into his system at seeing the blonde vision hovering over him in
concern. "Voices . . . so many were shouting in my head . . ." Edward said,
thankful for the frigid touches on his arms.

"You're . . . hearing voices?" his angel asked, moving his hands away from
Edward's shoulders in order to sit back on his heels. Edward groaned in pain at
the loss of contact as he closed his eyes and grabbed his head, "No, please!"

"I . . . I don't know how, Edward!"

He reached out instinctively to latch onto his savior's hand and bring it to his
forehead - running the icy fingers along his brow. Relaxing his shoulders, he
closed his eyes to focus on the touch. He would never let this hand go, if he could
help it. Edward wondered vaguely if he could get back to the comfort of his
dreams, where all he could feel was the perfect caress washing away his pain and
soothing his soul.

'He' s calming down . . . something is wrong with him . . . he shouldn't be in any
pain by now . . . I can't believe I put him through this . . . I'm not worth this
boy's agony . . . I shouldn't have done it . . . I don't know what's wrong with him
. . . did I do it wrong? . . . he seems like he is in so much pain . . . I wonder if
he's thirsty yet . . . I need to get him to the forest tonight . . . he needs to feed .
. . '

"Who are you talking to? Are you talking about me?" Edward asked.

The fingers stopped their gentle stroking of his hair. "I didn't say anything,
Edward," the voice said next to his ear, the cool breath sweeping across the shell
of his ear; he could smell the acidic sweetness of the angel hovering next to him.

Edward cracked a ruby red eye open at him, "Yes you did. You were talking about
being thirsty and taking me to the forest tonight for feeding," he said. "You're
very worried that you did something wrong," Edward added.

'How did he know what I was thinking?' came into Edward's mind. He was looking
directly at his face when he heard the words in his mind, yet no sounds came out
of the savior's mouth.

"I heard you, in my mind. I heard your thoughts . . . " Edward answered

'A mind reader!' the thought shouted across his senses.

"No!" Edward shouted, gripping the hand ever tighter - fearful it would be taken
away forever and the screeching voices and sickening images would return. "I
don't know how to stop it! Don't be angry with me! I . . . I'll find a way to make it
stop, please don't leave," he begged in panic, terrified at the look of horror
spreading across the angel's face as the hand began to slowly draw away from
his face.

Golden eyes stared down at him, compassion creeping into his face. 'It's all right,
Edward . . . this is just an unexpected side effect of your turning,' the angel
spoke calmly and surely in his mind, 'Please don't panic,' he said, returning his to
Edward's face, gently stroking his cheekbone.

"It's all right, Edward. I'm not leaving you," he said, 'I have to tell him . . . does
he already know?' the angel's voice flitted into his mind.

Edward opened his eyes again, "Tell me what?" he said.

The cool fingers began to tremble against his cheek. 'I have turned you into a
monster, and I am so very sorry. I couldn't stop myself; I couldn't stand to see
you die like that. Not you - not like that.I'm going to show you what happened,'
as the angel closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Edwards. He began to
see images of the angel becoming a . . . monster . . . fighting the urge to feed on
human blood. A flash to winter - a house that looked so familiar . . . was it this
house? Edward seemed to remember something vaguely familiar about it. That
boy at the piano, the beautiful music he created . . . that was him! This angel . . .
Carlisle was his name . . . had fallen in love withhim? Edward was sure he must
be dreaming now - for this angel to fall in love with a very human boy. Then - a
horrible image of the dead and dying. The influenza. Of course. Edward was
beginning to remember. His . . . parents? A kind female face lay dying. A mass of
graves. Rows of hospital beds. Edward could finally remember what had
happened to his family - he had buried them all and then succumbed to the
disease himself.

He knew he had died.

He knew what Carlisle had done to save him.

Every memory rushed into his mind now and Edward knew what he had become.
He knew his purpose was to ease the pain of this beautiful, perfect creature in
front of him - one who had fought so valiantly against his fate. And Edward
realized he was not upset by that prospect.

"Edward, are you all right? Did I frighten you?" the smooth voice asked in the
quiet of the room as the thought echoed doubly in his mind.

He rubbed his thumb against the back of Carlisle's hand, feeling the stone
coldness and giving him a lopsided smile. "I'm . . . all right," he said. "I'll be all
right," he paused for a moment. "I . . . I think you can take your hands away
now, I'll see if it's better, now that I expect it," he said.

Hesitantly, Carlisle moved his hands away from the boy and winced as Edward's
brow furrowed as he was left to try and tune out the thousands of thoughts
floating around in his head. 'He's in pain,' Carlisle thought.

"It's all right, I just have to get used to it," Edward answered him out loud. He
looked with a sudden glance up, eyes full of apologies. "I'm sorry, I thought you
had spoken that aloud," he said sheepish voice.

Carlisle knew immediately he would be unable to keep anything from Edward.
There would be no space for dark and hidden thoughts that were best left in
shadow. Every thought that flitted across Carlisle's consciousness would be open
fodder, and his mind would be an open book. It was making him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Edward said, turning his head to the side. "It's
just . . . so loud. It's like you're shouting at me. I'll try not to listen," he said with
a whisper.

Carlisle spoke aloud, "I know, Edward. I'm not angry with you. Perhaps you
should rest up now. I'll teach you how to hunt after the sun sets, and there is not
much else we can do until then," he said. 'And we both could use a bath,' he
added with a silent chuckle.

Later that afternoon Carlisle sat in the library, pondering the turn of events since
Edward had awoken. He knew he needed to get Edward out hunting before he
went wild with thirst and started hunting humans. He also needed to get them
out of the city and procure the items from his home (he couldn't forget his
medical kit . . . ). Where would they go? Up north into the Wisconsin forests?

The population would be more sparse there and it may be a good place to keep
Edward for a couple of years until he was in control enough to go on his own. Or
perhaps they could make a hasty retreat to the dense forests in the southern part
of Illinois. There would be plenty of game there as well, and put them close to the
Mississippi River. Perhaps he may be able to find work in a small town there.

Would Edward want to stay with him after he was sure he could handle himself?
Would things ever go back to business as usual? Carlisle chewed on his bottom lip
in worry and felt an intense guilt at leaving Chicago and his practice at a time like
this. Yet there was nothing more he could do for these patients. They would die
whether he was there to watch it or not. Perhaps if he and Edward did go up
north he could return to a normal practice sooner, perhaps the plague was less
severe up there.

"Carlisle," Edward's voice called out quietly from the second floor, "Would you
come here, please?"

Heading upstairs, he found that Edward had taken his advice about a bath. He
could hear the sloshing and dripping of water behind the door.

"Please, come in," Edward said from behind the door.

Carlisle hesitated a moment, hand poised to reach out and grab the doorknob. He
shook his head to clear it, and opened the door to find Edward sitting in the
bathtub looking incredibly tired and drained. His face was drawn into a scowl, and
his brow was furrowed together. He had his arms laying on the edges of the claw
foot tub. One hand was rubbing his forehead while his hair dripped quietly into a
puddle onto the tile floor.

'He still looks in pain,' Carlisle thoughts flew across his mind.

"Your worrying is roaring in my head, and it's giving me a migraine," Edward said
aloud, looking up at him. "Would you mind . . . putting your hand on my head? It
does help dull the noise," he asked in a quiet whisper.

Carlisle gave a small chuckle. "I'm so sorry. It's a habit I've kept for many years.
I will try to worry more quietly from now on," he laughed, pulling up a low stool
next to the tub. He reached out his hand and gently rested it on Edward's
forehead. The skin there was slightly warmed from the hot water of the bath
Edward relaxed instantly, his head dropping back to rest on the edge of the tub,
shoulders drooping slightly.

'Feel better?' Carlisle asked silently.

"Yes, much," Edward said in response to the unspoken query.

"Good," Carlisle said - trying very hard not to think about how good Edward's skin
felt beneath his fingers. He began to smooth back some of the unruly bronze
hair.

"Are you mad at me?" Carlisle asked in the quiet of the bathroom.

Edward looked up into Carlisle's golden eyes. "About being turned into a vampire?
No, I guess not. I mean, if it wasn't for you, then I would be a rotting corpse in
the cemetery by now, " he said. "You needed me - even though it was incredibly
painful, " he said with a chuckle.

"I know, I was there," Carlisle laughed, relaxing a bit, knowing Edward wasn't
mad at him for turning him into a monster. Continuing to stroke Edward's
forehead, he tried to control his mental worries by concentrating on the contact
between his fingers and Edward's forehead. His mind began to go blank and
Carlisle simply followed where they led him.

"Sit up," Carlisle whispered harshly. Edward said nothing as he leaned forward to
expose his damp back to Carlisle, who was reaching over to pick up a rag and a
bar of soap. Carlisle could feel the warmth of the water seeping into his skin as
he worked to lather up the cloth, appreciating the clean scent of the soap.
Reaching over to Edward's back, he began to scrub - and tried not to think of how
the muscles felt under his fingertips. And when Carlisle felt he had scrubbed
enough on the expanse of Edward's back, he worked his way down the side and
back of each arm, scrubbing deeply as he went.

Edward was silent as Carlisle worked on him, the warmth and kneading of his
newly created muscle felt wonderful, and he was content. "Lean back," Carlisle
said, and Edward obeyed.

The soapy rag began to travel across his chest, concentrating around his neck,
the place where Carlisle had taken his blood. Carlisle worked his way down the
front, smiling at the sight of soap bubbles mingling in the wispy copper hairs on
Edward's stomach.

Soon - too soon - Carlisle had finished washing Edward's back and chest, and he
quickly rinsed off the soap and put the rag down. Edward's red eyes looked up
and met Carlisle's golden ones. On instinct - without thinking or caring of the
consequences for the first time in his very long life - Carlisle reached out ran his
hand through Edwards hair, pushing it out of his eyes. His hands moved back and
ran through a second time. Then a third.

His fingers swept across Edward's forehead and trailed down his cheek.

A finger trailing became a palm pressed against the cheek. A thumb ran along the
ridge under his eyes. A fingertip traced the shell of his ear, and down his neck.
Across his collarbone and over the swell of his shoulder.

Edward looked down and saw Carlisle's left hand gripping the edge of the bath
tub. Staring hard at it, he admired the long thin delicate fingers with smooth cold
skin. He looked up to meet golden eyes and decided to return the favor he was
getting. Shyly reaching one fingertip out, he ran it along Carlisle's hand from the
knuckle down to the fingertip. Smooth but strong, the hand clutched tight in
reflex, and Edward pulled his finger back.

'That feels good,' he heard in his head as Carlisle continued gently stroking his
hair and face. Edward reached out again to continue his timid exploration; his
finger traveled up to the wrist, meeting the edge of the shirt cuff he was wearing.
Looking up, he found Carlisle had moved his face down to bury his nose in
Edward's damp hair.

The only thing on Carlisle's mind was Edward's face, as he pulled back to look
into ruby red eyes. Edward reached out to gingerly run a long finger down his
angel's nose - just as Carlisle had done to him when he had woken up. His eyes
closed and he sighed at the touch. 'Wonderful,'Carlisle thought, 'it's been so long
since anyone touched me. I had almost forgotten what it felt like,'

"How long has it been?" Edward whispered, brushing his fingers along Carlisle's
cheek. 'Nearly 300 years . . .' he replied as Edward's fingers moved up to sweep
blonde hair from his face. "You've been so lonely," Edward stated. "Yes," he
murmured in return.

'How are you feeling?' Carlisle asked silently.

"Better, but my head is still killing me. It feels like it's trying to split in two."

'It will help, then, to focus on one thing at a time. For now. I promise it will get
easier. Perhaps we need to get you away from so much civilization.'

"You worry too much, you know," Edward said as he flashed Carlisle a lopsided
smile.

"You are probably right," Carlisle laughed. He glanced over to the window and
noticed that the sun was starting to set, throwing violet rays through the window.
Turning back to Edward, he gave a big mischievous grin before asking, "Are you
thirsty? Would you like to learn how to hunt?"

Edward's eyes lit up at the barrage of hunting images flooding his mind. "I think I
would like that very much," he said with anticipation in his eyes. "When can we
start?"

Part Five - The Hunt

When the sun had set a good distance, Carlisle decided it was time to get Edward
out to hunt. "Remember - whatever you do, just stay by my side. I promise you
will be fine," Carlisle instructed.

Edward walked next to Carlisle's side, marveling at the new strength he felt in his
bones. He was beginning to get a grip on the mental assault of the voices in his
head, although it was still so much to process at one time. Carlisle continued to
worry loudly in his head. Edward decided he liked it better when Carlisle didn't
think. He would have to see what he could do about that.

They had gone no further than the end of Edward's street when he smelledit for
the first time. Blood. Human blood. His head snapped up and he began to sniff
the air in earnest. His feet moved of their accord, turning him in the direction of
the scent. The smell made the thirst erupt in his throat, a deep burning that went
down the entire length, causing his insides to itch with want.

The warm blood beat beneath the skin of the man walking down the opposite
street. Edward could smell it moving swiftly beneath the surface; the tantalizing
aroma was increasing the burning in his throat and made his mouth fill with
venom in anticipation of the kill, bitter on his tongue.

His eyes zeroed in on the human and a vague notion of familiarity came across
Edward's mind - was he someone he knew before he was turned, perhaps? But it
didn't matter now what he used to be. Right now he was just Edward's prey. He
went into an instinctive crouch and took a step closer to his meal.

Carlisle's steely arms snaked around his chest, holding him back. Edward tried to
shrug him off. "Let me go!" he said.

"Edward! Remember what we talked about. We must feed in the woods, not here.
And not on humans." Carlisle said in a low whisper against his ear as Edward
continued to struggle. The neighbor had looked up, his eyes flashed in recognition
of Edward's face and he gave a tentative wave in his direction.

Edward intensified his fight against Carlisle's hold, "I want him! Let me go now!"
Carlisle responded in his thoughts. 'No Edward, I will not. Edward! Stop it! Turn
around and look at me. Turn!' Carlisle shouted. Edward's eyes flicked from his
prey to Carlisle's arms and back. 'Edward! I want you to look at me,' he said.
Reluctantly he relaxed his stance and turned around to face Carlisle's golden
eyes, still held tight in his arms.

'Do this for me,' Carlisle said with a pleading look. 'Trust me when I say that you
can withstand this. You must. There is no other option.'

Edward closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Carlisle's with a deep
sigh. "My throat burns," he said with a hoarse whisper.

'I know,' Carlisle said. 'So does mine,' he said as his fingers rubbed small circles
on Edward's back. 'Come, the forest is not far. We will feed tonight.'

They arrived in a grove of dense woods on the outskirts of the city, far enough
away so Edward would not get another whiff of human blood. The moon was
waning, and the crescent was hanging low in the sky. Standing at the edge of the
clearing, Carlisle stood behind Edward with both of his hands on his shoulders,
instructing him with his first hunt.

'Stand absolutely still . . . you don't have to breathe as a vampire, you know.
That's it, just relax and let the deer forget that you are here. Good. All right, now
easy, close your eyes and just concentrate on your senses. Do you smell him?
The large buck - to your left. Yes, that's it. You smell him, don't you? Can you
sense his mind? His smell is content, he has no idea you are here,'Carlisle said in
his thoughts.

The burning in Edward's throat was becoming unbearable. "Please, Carlisle, it
hurts," he murmured quietly under his breath. "I want it now! Let me go!"

'Calm, Edward. Calm. Your thirst will not kill you. No matter how bad you feel it
to be, remember that you can always resist it. Always. Even if you think it
unbearable, it is. You are stronger than your desires.'

Edward whimpered under the strain of wanting to tear out of Carlisle's arms and
sink his teeth into the warm, pulsating mass of blood . . . the sweet blood racing
just beneath the surface. It was calling to him.

'You are doing very well, Edward. Now I want you to open your eyes. When you
go after the buck, wrap your arms around his neck and find the jugular. You will
find it on instinct, the smell is strongest there. Bite down hard and don't let go
until it's dry,' Carlisle said as he loosed his grip on Edward's shoulder. 'All right,
now - go get him.'

Edward opened his eyes and spotted his prey. Taking off, he had his arms around
the buck before it could raise its head at the sound. One arm wrapped around the
neck while and the other reached under to the belly and grabbed a fistful of hair,
latching on with an iron grip. The buck began to scream a horrified shrill as it
flailed its limbs in desperate movements trying to get free of Edward's grasp.

The smell from the jugular was tantalizing; Edward could smell it pulsing under
the surface. He bit through coarse hair and thick hide and with a sudden rush the
searing hot blood hit his mouth. His pupils went wide; it was the sweetest thing
he had ever tasted. He began to drink.

In the blissful rush of feeding, the voices in his head receded, and for the first
time since he was turned there was complete silence in his mind. No barrage of
thoughts, no worry from Carlisle, no screaming from his prey, nothing. All he
could hear was the rushing of the buck's blood pounding in his ears.

The warm coppery blood filled his mouth and slid down his throat, seeping into
every part of him, tingling as it went, awakening his dead flesh and bone with the
life it carried. He could feel it racing down the arteries in his legs and through the
tops of his toes. He closed his eyes in pure bliss. Edward drank faster - needing
more and more and more - he never wanted this part to come to an end.
Thissensation - the peace of mind combined with the slake in his thirst - he finally
felt right.

He heard the heartbeat of the beast slow to a stop and he finished draining the
buck dry. Edward's senses began to return, hearing Carlisle's thoughts again -
distant through the rushing of blood still pounding in his ears.

'Sweet blood . . . in his veins . . . he's so warm . . . his blood in my mouth . . . I
want it . . . his blood running in my mouth,'Carlisle's thoughts ran though
Edward's mind.

Eyes looking up, he saw Carlisle's golden ones locked to where his mouth was still
latched to the neck. Blood spilled from the wound, matting the coarse hair and
spilling down Edward's chin. Carlisle's tongue slid out to run along his lips.

Edward let go of the buck, dropping it to the ground as he stood up and stepped
to Carlisle, never breaking the gaze they held on each other.

He reached out without thinking and grabbed the back of Carlisle's head, catching
a handful of blonde hair. He pulled his mouth to his and Carlisle responded
immediately by sucking on his lips in return.

He could taste Carlisle in his mouth.

He could smell his scent.

He could feel his smooth skin brushing against his.

He could feel his large hands circling his waist.

They kissed fervently, reveling in the hedonistic pleasure the blood gave them
while igniting heat in their cold flesh. Carlisle continued to suck hard at Edward's
lips, running his tongue along the edge seeking the warmth of Edward's mouth.
Edward opened up and let him explore while giving a gentle suck on his tongue in
return.

Each groaned into the other while hands drew around waists, eliminating any free
space between them. Carlisle felt the warmth Edward had flowing through him
from the buck, it seeped into his skin as they pressed together. His strong, large
hands ran through Edward's copper hair, pulling his head closer, his tongue
seeking deeper entrance. He gripped him tight.

Edward responded with his own exploration of Carlisle's mouth, lapping up the
bittersweet tang of the venom as he fisted Carlisle's shirt in his hands. Edward's
knees went weak under him, and he sagged into Carlisle. They sank to the
ground, still exploring.

The wind picked up around Carlisle, blowing the mesmerizing scent of a doe to
him, burning need erupting in his throat. He broke the kiss, knowing that if he did
not feed immediately he was going to sink his teeth into Edward's lips and draw
out his sweet blood. He pushed away from Edward and turned toward the
direction of the doe.

'There it is! It's unaware . . . blood smells sweet,' Carlisle thought. He took off
like a shot, eager to have his fill of the warmth. Reaching the doe, he had it
locked in his arms before it was aware of the danger.

Edward stood on the edge of the forest watching, unable to tear his eyes away
from the sight. Carlisle had removed his shirt in an attempt to keep blood off of
it, revealing the well-formed muscles in his chest. He was lithe and graceful as he
effortlessly swooped in for the kill.

Carlisle was a dangerous predator - there was no doubt about that. He had the
controlled movements of a surgeon. Nothing was wasted - every step, every look,
every movement. No matter how he may intend to mask it with good deeds
outside of the forest, Carlisle was a killer. It is what he was meant to do, his sole
purpose for being.

Edward smelled the blood coming from the kill, watching this beautiful creature
take his fill. He dropped to his knees in front of Carlisle, still unaware of Edward's
presence. He sat there and watched, eager to lick the blood from Carlisle's lips.

He made quick work of the small doe, pulling the last of his meal out before
tossing the carcass to the side. He looked up, coming eye to eye with Edward.
Red eyes fixed onto his golden ones and their lips found each other again.

There was no hesitation, only the feel of each others lips. There were only strong
hands searching for purchase. There was only the smoothness of each other's
skin. There was only the coppery smell of blood between them, the taste of each
others venom dancing in their mouths.

Clothing tore away like paper under their grasps, revealing cold marble skin
glinting in the moonlight. Edward broke Carlisle's kiss to trail his lips down his
chest, following the coursing blood under the surface and leaving a trail of venom
as he went. Carlisle bent down and buried his nose into copper hair.

Edward found perfect blonde hairs on his chest, rubbing his nose against them
and feeling the softness they offered. His tongue reached out and trailed along
the ridge of muscle, drawn to the smell of fresh blood surging under the skin. He
followed it down further, finally nosing into a mass of soft blonde hair.

He inhaled Carlisle's scent, a musky tang of venom combined with the sweetness
of fresh blood. Pushing him back to lay flat on the ground, Edward reached out to
grab Carlisle's hardness, reveling in the silky feel of the outer skin sliding around
the inner core, a trace of warmth still remaining. He heard Carlisle's sharp intake
of air at his touch, and he looked up to see Carlisle's eyes locked on his. There
were so many emotions there - desire, passion, want. Edward could hear no
complaints in Carlisle's mind.

Smiling to himself, he was happy he could bring such pleasure to this angel. And
so he did what came on instinct - he stroked. Carlisle closed his eyes and threw
back his head. "Oh my God . . . Edward," he said as he pulled tight on his hair.

Edward stroked again, wanting a repeat of his reaction. It brought a smile to his
face each time he heard moans and whimpers from Carlisle's throat. With his free
hand he reached up to explore the lines and valleys of Carlisle's chest as the
other hand continued its stroking.

He reached out with his tongue and gave an experimental swipe along Carlisle's
cock.

Carlisle cried out his name, bucking his hips against Edward's hand. He could
hear the pleasure in Carlisle's mind. Smiling against the hard length, he reached
out for another small taste. Carlisle grasped his hair tighter and groaned.

Encouraged, Edward moved up to the tip and gave a circular flick around the top.
"Ahhh!" Carlisle moaned. Carlisle's head was thrown back, his mouth open giving
off short hard pants. 'Again!' Carlisle shouted in his mind. Edward looked back at
Carlisle's cock - lily white with a faint pink blush, a drop of venom on the tip. He
licked his lips and began to lap it up with long strokes.

Carlisle screamed out his name. "G-g-goooddd! Edward!" he said, hips thrusting.
Edward opened his mouth and took Carlisle's length in.

He let his teeth barely graze the surface, sucking harder to draw out more of
Carlisle's venom into his mouth. His hand moved from Carlisle's chest to trail
down into the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock, and finally down to cup his
testicles. He felt them tighten in his hand and he knew Carlisle was nearly at his
limit, so he sucked harder while giving him another hard stroke. Carlisle's moans
were becoming more insistent.

He felt the contracting of muscles as Carlisle reached his climax, his mouth filling
with bitter venom and he swallowed hard to get every drop. Edward grabbed onto
Carlisle's hips and held on, not ready to let go just yet. "Ahhhhh! Ah! Mmm -
Edward!" Carlisle shouted out as he erupted into Edward's mouth.

Spent at last his body went limp, his eyes closed as he fell back against the cold
earth. Edward let go of his cock with one final flick of his tongue, causing Carlisle
to shudder. He trailed kisses and worked his way up to come face to face with
Carlisle.

Edward gave Carlisle his biggest smile, happy at seeing the utter satisfaction in
his expression. "Are you still thirsty?" Edward said with a knowing smirk.

Carlisle grinned in return. "I will always be thirsty for that," he said.'And for your
lips wrapped around my cock,' he thought.

"I think that can be arranged," Edward said with a huge smile. He knew he was
going to enjoy being a vampire.

Part Six - The Fun

It had been six months since Carlisle turned Edward into a vampire and he had
never felt so free in his life.

It was all gone. The disgust at feeding off of the blood of living beings. The terror
of being caught. The anger at God for allowing him to become something
inhuman. The guilt over what he had become. It was all gone with one touch of
Edward's soft lips against his, a brush of his fingertips against his hair in the dark
night, and the feel of his cool breath against his ear. It was enough just for him
to simply be a man finding comfort in the arms of his lover.

Living with someone who could read your thoughts certainly made less time for
wallowing in one's self pity. Edward wouldn't let him, instead finding creative
ways to take his mind off of his concerns. The boy was becoming quite skilled at
distracting him.

After Edward had turned into a newborn vampire, Carlisle had moved them into
the forests and away from humanity. They soon fell into a comfortable rhythm,
spending their nights hunting and their days worshiping each other's body.
Edward made him thankful to be alive, and Carlisle was more than happy to
forget about the real world as long as it kept his beautiful boy beside him.

Edward rolled over and nuzzled his nose against Carlisle's ear, breaking his train
of thought as his hand came up to lie on his chest. Carlisle held it up to the
moonlight, wanting to memorize every tiny detail of the hand that saved him
from himself. It was large but slightly muscled and his long, elegant fingers
curled around his own, gently stroked along the back of his hand. He brought it
up and brushed each fingertip across his lips.

The nights were consumed with hunting and the wild frenzy brought on by the
scent of blood, each slamming into the other with no abandon, wild and
hedonistic and passionate. But the days - the days were spent in gentle touches
and soft caresses, small whispers of passion. That was how they spent their days,
two damned souls finding comfort in the one place they could - each other.

"Mmmm, you're thinking too much. I can tell it's time to distract you again,"
Edward whispered in a husky voice, the cool breath sending shivers across
Carlisle's skin.

Carlisle grinned. "And may I ask how you plan to distract me?"

Edward responded by raising up and hovering over him. The full moonlight was
streaming through the windows and had caught Edward's eyes, highlighting the
now tawny color. Carlisle's breath hitched in his throat at the sight as his skin
reflected the pale light, a slight shimmer dancing across his features.

"Mmm, I thought I would start with this," Edward said, reaching down to give a
soft kiss across his forehead before thrusting his hips against Carlisle's. Edward
stifled his moan of pleasure with his lips, gently sucking on the bottom one and
running his tongue along the outside.

Carlisle opened his mouth to Edward's prodding tongue, deepening his kiss and
running his hands through his copper hair. Edward continued to grind against
Carlisle's hips, forcing small moans of pleasure out of him.

Edward had gotten very good at everything in the few months they had been
together. Whether it was making Carlisle forget everything he had once been and
held dear, or whether it was hunting for prey with stealth and grace, or whether
it was how to make Carlisle rock hard with a few controlled movements.

There was nothing he looked forward to more than this, the chance to run his
tongue along every inch of Edward's body with absolutely nothing standing
between them, even his every thought laid bare for Edward to use at his will.

It was here in these intimate moments that Carlisle realized how lonely he had
become, and how he had no intention of going back to that lifestyle. The thought
of the never ending solitude drove him to drown himself in Edward.

"Why don't I give you something else to think about," Edward whispered against
his chest. Carlisle could feel the smirk of his lips against his skin. "You remember
the buck we came across last week, the one that was so large both of us could
feed off of it at once?" Edward said.

Carlisle's mind flashed in remembrance. The sight of a naked Edward, skin
glimmering as he stalked his prey with deadly grace and precision. Quickly taking
the buck down and feeding at the neck, Edward's eyes had flashed up at him,
beckoning him to join in. Carlisle wasted no time in latching on directly across
from Edward, their noses nearly touching as they each gave into the rush of
feeding.

"Mmm, your memories are so sharp. It's making me thirsty just thinking about it
again," Edward said as he reached down and stroked hard of Carlisle's cock.

He buried his nose against Carlisle's stomach, his words muffled and the breath
tickling his skin. "I nearly lost it when you let go of the buck and began to suck
on me instead. Mmm, the rush you gave me! Feeding on fresh blood while having
you suck me at the same time," Edward said, continuing his stroking. "Only you
can do that to me," he said.

Carlisle's memories were pushing Edward to stroke him faster and faster, and he
couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed a hold of Edward's hair and pulled him
tighter against him, almost as if he were trying to melt into him and be connected
to him forever. He flipped Edward on his back, and began to fervently work his
way down his chest, stopping to flick his tongue across his nipples.

Edward moaned against his touches as he ran his fingers through Carlisle's hair.
His sweet scent filled his nose as he licked his way down, feeling Edward's length
pressing against his chest, cold and hard and ready to be sucked.

Reaching his destination, Carlisle grabbed onto his shaft and gave a firm stroke
as he swiped his tongue across the tip. Edward responded immediately, bucking
his hips and crying out his name.

Carlisle knew every single one of Edward's sensitive spots. He knew where to lick,
he knew when to suck harder, he knew how hard to stroke him, and he knew
where his fingers should go. He had the patience and skill of a surgeon and knew
exactly how to make Edward's body sing with pleasure.

He licked and stroked Edward's cock until it was rock hard and Edward was at the
edge of his limit. He pulled back and came up to his knees as Edward shot up and
wrapped his lips around Carlisle's hard cock. His eager tongue ran along the
entire length, his eyes looking up at Carlisle as he sucked harder.

Edward worked on him fervently, before Carlisle could handle no more. He
reached down and grabbed onto his hair again, pulling him off of his cock. Their
eyes locked and each knew it was time. Carlisle pushed Edward down on his back
again and grabbed both of his legs, throwing them over his shoulders.

He lined himself up against Edward's entrance, and leaned down to plant a
searing kiss against his lips as he slammed into him. Edward moaned against his
lips, and they began to move as one, driving each other onward.

Carlisle reached in between them and began to stroke Edward's cock again,
drawing more whimpers and moans from him. Carlisle's cock throbbed against
the tightness of Edward, seeking more of everything. More pleasure, more depth,
more moans. Edward's fingers dug into Carlisle's shoulders as he closed his eyes
and found his pleasure, his venom spilling between them.

The scent of Edward's venom always sent him over the edge. He couldn't keep
his control any longer as he thrust hard into him and found his own release.

Carlisle slumped down on top of Edward as stars danced across his vision and he
fought the instinct to pant for breath. He buried his nose in Edward's hair and
decided he never wanted to be anywhere but in this spot forever.

. . .

Hours later in the quiet before the dawn, Edward stood at the window staring out
at the moon.

"I would like to go into town tomorrow, Carlisle," Edward said quietly in the
darkness.

Carlisle had been dreading those words from him, although he knew they would
be unavoidable. On one hand he wanted nothing more to stay hidden from the
world with Edward by his side, but he also knew Edward was young and ready to
explore the world. He couldn't keep that from him, no matter how much he
wanted something else.

Edward turned to him, moonlight shimmering off of his skin. "I won't leave you,"
he said, answering his thoughts.

Carlisle sighed. There was nothing he could keep from Edward.

"What is wrong with staying like this?" Carlisle replied.

Edward smiled. "There is a whole world out there! And we are immortals! We can
go anywhere we want, we can do whatever we want! I want to know what other
things taste like other than deer. I . . .I want to taste bears and mountain lions
and elephants! Please, Carlisle, do this for me," he said, the excitement in his
voice barely contained.

Carlisle closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "All right, Edward. Tomorrow we
will go to town," he said, hoping Edward wouldn't pick up the reluctance in the
back of his mind.

Edward launched himself onto the bed and planted a kiss on Carlisle's lips. "I
knew you would say yes," he said, lowering himself to Carlisle's cock again.

Carlisle stared at the ceiling as Edward worked on him and tried not to think of
the bad feeling seeping into the pit of his stomach.

Part Seven - The Rift

Against Carlisle's better judgement, he and Edward made their way away from
the safety and security of their cabin and toward town. He knew he was probably
going to regret this at some point; it just seemed too soon for Edward to be
among a mass of human temptation.

Edward glanced over and glared at him. "I told you it will be fine, Carlisle," he
said as they walked through the woods to the edge of town. "Now stop worrying
and enjoy yourself, please?"

Carlisle sighed. Edward was in his mind too much, making no attempt to stay out
- digging for bits and pieces every second of every day. It was wearing him thin;
he had no chance to think about anything outside of him, or to have a private
thought for even a second. He needed to learn how to shield his thoughts before
he went mad.

Edward rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "I'm not in your thoughts that much."

"Aren't you?" Carlisle thought, giving Edward a sideways glance.

The forest thinned out and they could scent the city some distance away -
smelling of burgeoning automation, fuel, animals, and always blood - so much
blood concentrated in one area. Edward's throat burned and he began to hold his
breath.

Carlisle had made them feed on deer before attempting their little experimental
journey. Edward was still a newborn and could wreak havoc if he decided he
wanted to sample some of the population.

Edward sighed once more at Carlisle's train of thought. "Would you have a little
faith in me please, Carlisle? I don't intend to kill anyone today," he said.

"It's not your intentions I'm worried about. It's your instincts," he replied.

The pair crested a hill, seeing the town spread out before them, a gray smoke
hung over the city and was mixing with the gentle rain. Edward's golden eyes
looked over at him. "Are you ready?" he said with a lopsided grin, eager to relieve

the interminable boredom the cabin offered. Carlisle felt the excitement coming
off the boy in waves.

"Ready as I will ever be," Carlisle thought, unable to keep from returning his
smile.

. . .

Carlisle had to admit that Edward was handling himself well while faced with the
temptation around him. They had wandered through town and stocked up on
supplies and entertainment. Edward had only needed to be distracted twice,
which was a very good sign.

They had even taken in a moving picture, sitting in the back row stealing soft
caresses of hands and legs and arms under the flicker of the movie, entranced by
the cowboys racing across the screen to save the girl.

All in all it was a good day, and Carlisle was starting to think that he had been too
rash about Edward. They strolled down the main street, passing by soda shops
and dime stores. Edward paused in front of a store window, staring at what he
saw inside. Carlisle turned to see what had caught his attention.

A piano sat near the window.

Carlisle came up behind him. "Do you remember playing?" he asked softly over
his shoulder, his breath tickling Edward's neck. He shook his head no. There were
flashes, bits and pieces of memories, but nothing concrete. All he knew was that
he just wanted to touch the keys, his fingers beginning to twitch as if they were
picking a tune out in the air from memory.

"That was how I first found you, Edward. Did you know that? I was walking to the
hospital on Christmas Eve and I heard your playing," he said, his eyes fixed on a
memory in the past.

Edward looked at Carlisle in surprise. "You saw me before you saved me in the
hospital?"

"I did. Your music drew me in, like a moth to a light. I had to get close to hear
more, so I stood in the shadows and watched you play. It was the most beautiful
thing I had heard in all of my long years," he said. "I couldn't help myself," he
smirked as his expression darkened. "I think if I had not heard you playing, I
would not have been so desperate to save you," he said. He paused for a few
moments, lost in thought. "It was a good thing I changed my path to work that
day," he finally said with a smile.

Edward swallowed hard and looked back to the piano, seeing his human life in
Carlisle's mind staring out of the window on Christmas eve - his eyes green
instead of gold, the sheen sweat on his forehead. He could hear the melody he
had played in Carlisle's mind and his fingers were itching to play the tune again.
"Can we go inside?" he asked.

"Of course."

Inside they found themselves in a darkened shop with high tin ceilings. Numerous
musical instruments lined the walls, anything from accordions to trumpets and
violins. It smelled of must and polish.

Edward noticed nothing except for the upright piano near the window. He walked
over and ran his fingers along the top and down the side. The wood was dark and

highly polished, and the yellow glow of the gas lights flickered in its reflection,
giving it a glow of its own.

"Ah, I see you have immaculate taste in pianos. Do you play?" the shop owner
asked as he came from behind the counter.

Carlisle spoke up for him. "Why yes, Edward does play. Would you mind if he
tries it out?" he asked.

"Please be my guest, and let me know if you need anything."

Edward looked at Carlisle, who nodded his head slightly, and then back down at
the piano. He sat down and let his fingers run across the fallboard. He lifted it up
and marveled at the pristine ivory keys, his fingers sliding across the cool smooth
surface. Edward took a deep breath, and began to play.

It all came out without a thought; his fingers remembered every stroke.

He lost himself in the music, forgetting everything in the world except the sound.
The music drowned out the world around him, it drowned out Carlisle's worrisome
thoughts, it drowned out the voices in his head, it drowned out the tempting
smell of blood. The tension melted out of his mind and muscles, and for the first
time since he had become a vampire, Edward felt truly relaxed.

He had no idea how long he had played. When he stopped at looked up to find
everyone staring at him with their mouths agape, even Carlisle. "I-I'm sorry, it
just came out," he said, quickly standing up to move away from the piano.

Edward stopped when he met Carlisle's intense stare. The shop owner came over
to Edward and clapped his hand on his shoulder. "You are quite the skilled player,
my boy," he said. "That was wonderful."

Edward nodded his head as Carlisle broke the eye contact and walked toward
them. "Edward, why don't you play us another one?" he asked.

Edward nodded and began to let his fingers pick out another melody, not noticing
Carlisle talking quietly to the shop owner behind him.

. . .

They took the short route home, their arms laded with packages. Slowly they
walked along the road of the outskirts of town, the woods were becoming more
dense with each mile.

Carlisle was thinking it had been a good day when a gust of wind blew the sound
of cries to their ears.

And the scent of blood.

Edward's head whipped around and before he could stop his feet, he found
himself running through the woods. Carlisle was right on his heels.

He found her laying in a heap at the bottom of the tree. Her leg was obviously
broken, the bone sticking through skin and sweet blood flowing freely from
numerous lacerations. He stopped and stared at her, the thirst erupting in his
throat.

Edward heard something in his mind, a screaming of some sort. But he couldn't
make it out over the rush in his ears and really didn't try. His mouth was filling

with venom in anticipation of the kill, and he began to carefully stalk his way over
to her.

It was a girl of no more than thirteen, with long brown hair and soft blue eyes.
Her eyes widened in fear and her heart raced faster which only pushed more and
more of her scent through his head. Edward had nearly reached her when he was
tackled from behind by Carlisle. The surprise of it took him off guard and they
both went down to the ground.

Carlisle was screaming in his mind to stop. "Don't kill her! Don't kill her!" as the
wrestled on the ground.

Edward was younger and stronger and threw Carlisle off of him easily, making his
way back to the girl again. Carlisle jumped in front of him and threw a hard
punch across his face.

"Stop it, Edward! Just stop it!" he shouted at Edward over the girl's hysterical
screaming, grabbing his collar and trying to drag him away from the scent of the
blood.

"Let go of me," Edward growled out, trying to tear his hands away. "No one
knows she's here. She's a runaway, Carlisle! No one will even miss her!"

"That isn't the point, Edward! I will not let you do this!" Carlisle yelled, shaking
Edward again by the collar, trying with all of his might to fight against the
strength of a young vampire.

"This is what we were meant to do, Carlisle!" Edward shouted as he pushed
Carlisle off of him. "We were meant to feed on them! And she is meant to be food
for us!" he said as he pointed at the girl, sobbing and screaming and trying to
crawl away from them.

"No, Edward, I'm sorry. I can't let you do this. If you kill her, you will be on your
own, I'm sorry. It's either her or me," Carlisle's voice dropped to a whisper and
catching Edward's eyes. "What will it be, Edward? Her or me?"

Edward relaxed under his grip and closed his eyes as Carlisle breathed out a sigh
of relief. "Now please leave. I am going to treat her and I want you to go back to
the house," he said as he continued to push Edward away from the girl.

He had calmed down enough to be able to hear Carlisle's thoughts. "Please, not
her. She's just like...Esme. Please, Edward. Just go home."

Edward sighed and his shoulders slumped, his mind flooded with images of
another girl's face, a girl with a broken leg and beautiful eyes.

"We were meant to feed on them Carlisle. Why do you deny yourself so much?"
Edward said as anger began to course through his veins.

"Edward, all of life is a gift. That girl needs a chance to live, and I will not be the
one to take it from her," Carlisle replied. "Now please, just wait for me back at
the house. I will be home as soon as I am done."

Edward looked at the girl one last time before turning to leave.

. . .

He paced the floors of the house waiting for Carlisle to return, unable to keep his
mind from replaying Carlisle's thoughts when he saw the girl.

It wasn't the girl they found today that bothered him. No, it was the girl in
Carlisle's mind. Soft brown hair, a pretty face. Her leg was broken just like that
girl's, and Carlisle had saved her several years ago before he had come across
Edward.

All the way home he had listened to Carlisle's thoughts and although he was
taking care of the girl in front of him, his mind never quit thinking about the face
from the past. Esme was her name. Carlisle thought it enough and Edward
couldn't miss it.

There was an unnatural twinge in his stomach and he paced the floor again,
unconsciously rubbing his jaw where Carlisle had struck him.

. . .

Carlisle walked to the house alone on the dirt road, lost in his thoughts. How long
had it been since he had last seen her? Four years? Six years? He couldn't
remember, the years were all starting to blend together.

He had thought of her face for months after, alone in the dark with only his
memories to keep him company. It was full of love and promise and life, and it
made him want for something he knew he could never have. When the loneliness
became too much, he thought of her face and her scent, and suddenly his
existence became tolerable again. Her face had been there on his most desperate
nights.

Her skin was so soft when he had touched her leg. She let out small whimpers of
pain and had tears in her eyes. He had only wanted to reach up and wipe them
away for her. Even though she was still just a young girl, he could feel the
goodness of her heart and it made him think of the life he could have had.

Her blood had offered some temptation, but it was her soul that he had desired
more. But she had been too young with so much life ahead of her. He had often
wondered how she looked now and if she was happy.

He hadn't had a chance to think about her since Edward's... abilities became
known, and he was very good at keeping him distracted from his own thoughts.

She was a reminder of a life he could have had. Of the life he should have had. A
wife, children, a home, a family. Things that he had ached for desperately for
centuries, surrounded by it but unable to have. He stopped on the side of the
road and sat down on a fallen tree trunk and just sat and thought about the face
of a girl and the life he wanted - the one hidden in the darkest recesses of his
mind.

. . .

The house was silent and dark when he finally arrived home, no movement to be
found.

"Edward?" he called out. No one answered him.

He sighed and called out in his mind again. "Don't ignore me, Edward, I know you
are here," he thought.

"I'm up here," Edward replied, his voice muffled and strained.

Carlisle followed his voice and found Edward laying on his back on the roof
staring at the night sky. He jumped up and sat next to him.

Edward was silent, refusing to look at Carlisle in the eyes. They sat there for what
seemed like hours before Carlisle couldn't take it any longer. "Talk to me,
Edward," he said. "Please."

"Who was she?" Edward asked softly.

Carlisle closed his eyes and looked at his hands, knowing there was no way to get
around this conversation. "She was a girl I treated several years ago," he said.
"And she was the first human I ever fell in love with," he added.

"You've thought about her a lot."

Carlisle laid back and put his hands under his head. "Yes I have," he said.

Edward was silent for several minutes. "Is she the one you want in your life?"

Carlisle's breath caught in his throat and couldn't answer.

Edward closed his eyes and only heard the yes in Carlisle's mind.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Carlisle's eyes flew open, honestly surprised at his question. "Edward... I ...I want
you in my life too," he said.

"But what we have isn't your dream, Carlisle. You want a family, you want a wife.
Tell me, Carlisle, what am I to you?"

Carlisle's throat tightened. "You are everything to me, Edward. I never truly lived
until you came into my life, and I will always love you. I am... happy ...with the
ways things are now, even though it was never what I intended" he said in the
quiet of the night, only the sound of crickets in the distance.

"I was never your dream."

"I didn't know you could be a part of my dream," he replied. "I had never
considered any sort of situation like this until I saw you there in the window,
staring out at the night like you saw me. You replaced her face in my mind. You
made me feel things I could only have hoped to feel," he said.

Carlisle reached out and began to run his fingers through Edward's bronze hair. "I
love you Edward, I always will. But the fact of the matter is that you are here by
my side, and she is not. She is human and probably living out a happy life now,
full of kids and pets and a little home. She was a vision of what I thought I
wanted. But you came along and showed me a new one," he said.

Edward couldn't say anything as Carlisle bent down and gave him a light kiss on
the forehead.

. . .

The next morning Edward was sitting in his favorite chair reading a magazine
when he heard the distant rumble of a truck coming toward the house.

Carlisle appeared and smiled. "Good, it's finally here," he thought.

"What's here?" Edward asked.

Carlisle pictured the Edward playing the piano from previous day at the store,
watching Edward's eyes light up as he realized what Carlisle had done for him.
"You bought the piano?" he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

Carlisle chuckled. "It was a selfish gift, I just wanted to hear you play the piano
again," he said, giving Edward a kiss as he wrapped his arms around his chest.

"I would always do anything for you," Carlisle said. "Always remember that," he
said as he tightened his hug against Edward. He pulled back and cupped Edward's
face in his hands. "I'm sorry for worrying you. Just know I would never want you
out of my life," he said.

Edward took a deep breath and forced out a small smile, leaning his forehead in
against Carlisle's lips so he couldn't see the hurt in his eyes. Things would never
be the same again, no matter how hard they tried. Edward would always see
another face in Carlisle's mind, and he would always be waiting for Carlisle to
leave him - to have the life he deserved, the one he should have had if his
humanity had not been snatched away from him.

. . .

Three days later Edward lay in bed, Carlisle's arms around his waist, his breath
warm against his neck, his fingers stroking his chest. Carlisle's thoughts had been
fuzzy and disjointed lately and Edward was having trouble deciphering them. It
was almost as if Carlisle was trying to purposely shut him out.

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" Edward asked quietly.

Carlisle sighed against his back. "Please don't do this Edward. I made myself
perfectly clear about how I feel about you," he said.

Edward closed his eyes and pulled away from his embrace, walking naked over to
the piano. He sat down and began to play, soon losing himself in the melody.

Carlisle closed his eyes and rolled over and breathed in the scent of Edward's
pillow. "I'm so sorry," he thought.

Edward was lost to the music and didn't hear him.

Part Eight – The Choice

They had traveled for months in their new Model T Ford with a few bags between
them and Edward's piano strapped to the top; a pair of beautiful vagabonds
exploring the new world – east to the Atlantic Ocean, back across to the Pacific
Northwest, through the Canadian wilds and down to the depths of the Mexican
jungles. The two stopped for a few weeks here and there, finding small homes to
make their own, if only for a short while. Carlisle and Edward had become like
ghosts flitting around the edges of life – ghosts with no home and no direction -
going only where the wind took them.

Minutes became hours, and hours became days as they rode in their car - Carlisle
driving while Edward fiddled with the radio - few words passed between them
these days. Neither had many words to share of any importance, none left that
were safe anymore, none that didn't bring back memories of the past or their
dreams.

Leaning his head against the window, Edward stared out at the landscape passing
in the darkness, nameless faces and places that all began to look the same;
another forest, another deer, another town full of sweet blood, another night
spent in strained passion.

Edward had gotten exactly what he had asked for – to explore the world with no
restrictions - and Carlisle had given it to him with little hesitation.

Yet it wasn't as fun as he had thought it would be. Edward had dreamed of the
two of them laughing and sharing incredible hunts in exotic locales, full of foreign
flavors and endless nights. Carlisle was humoring him - it didn't take mind
reading skills to see that he was entirely miserable with the whole situation. His
thoughts had been clear enough in that regard, always wondering if this would be
the town they where they could finally stop for a while.

In the beginning Edward had gone through all of his techniques to get Carlisle to
lighten up and enjoy himself, but as soon as the passion was spent, the air
around him would settle into a tired silence, only making Edward feel guiltier –
and soon he just …stopped trying.

So they drove on with only the night, the sounds of the road, and Carlisle and
Edward with the escalating tension between them that even searing kisses and
heated touches could not bridge. Somehow, someway, the distance had seeped
between them like a slow frost. Edward couldn't say when it happened, but they
had gone from the heights of passion to simply going through the motions - a
quick kiss, a light caress, and a firm stroke. How can one feel so distant from
someone with whom he shared his every waking moment?

If they had been normal - if they were not vampires, if they were not bonded
together with their damned existence, if he was more stable with his instincts,
then…perhaps… they might have gone their separate ways long ago. Yet they
were vampires, they were forever tied through Carlisle's actions, and so they
were still together, driving on to the next nameless town.

. . .

It was a hot and humid August day when they found themselves back in the
Midwest - another tiny dot on the map. The sun was setting as stopped at a small
gas station to fill up. The routine was set - Carlisle would go inside to inquire
about lodgings while Edward took care of the car.

The gas pump clicked steadily and the fumes hung heavy in the stifling air as
Edward watched Carlisle through the window. Frustration welled in his chest as
his blonde angel smiled bright and laughed with the clerk while passing him
several folded bills. Carlisle rarely smiled anymore - not like he used to, or at
least not for Edward. Not any more. Not after the incident with the girl.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Ever since that day Carlisle's thoughts had quietly faded behind a fuzzy haze,
growing dimmer with each passing day, and now Edward could barely pick out
even a random thought unless Carlisle purposely let him hear.

It was made perfectly clear Edward was being shut out from his mind, and
Carlisle was making no apologies for it.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Edward opened the hood and began to check the oil and the engine, unable to
shake the nervous knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Something was going
horribly wrong between them and he didn't know how to fix it. He tried to give
Carlisle everything he could offer – all of himself - and yet it still wasn't enough.
Edward knew he would never be what Carlisle really wanted deep down in the
places that no one talks about. There was no way to compete with the memory of
a dream, a dream of a life they would never have.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The pump clicked off with a snap, bringing Edward out of his reverie. Carlisle cast
a quick glance out of the window, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before
turning back to the clerk.

Golden eyes followed blonde hair as Carlisle came out, silently settling in the car.
Edward looked over at him, taking in his expressionless face and tight lips. He
was hiding something, and now Edward was mentally kicking himself for not
paying attention to the thoughts of the gas station clerk. The two had planned to
turn north and continue back into the deep forests, but instead Carlisle swung the
car south and began to head into the heart of town.

"Where are we going?" Edward asked.

Carlisle took a deep breath, his wary golden eyes finally meeting his. "The town's
only doctor passed months ago and they desperately need someone at the
hospital. I thought I would help them out until they find someone permanent," he
said, his gaze going back to the road.

Edward furrowed his brows at the news. "But we are supposed to go to Canada!"

A sigh of frustration escaped pale cold lips. "That can wait, this cannot. We have
eternity to go to Canada, but these people need help now," he said. "I am only
staying until they find a replacement."

Rolling his eyes, Edward sat back hard against the seat and crossed his arms over
his chest. "Fine."

"Don't make this difficult," Carlisle thought.

. . .

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, they pulled up next to a small building that
had seen better days - windows were cracked and broken, green paint peeled off
in large flakes from the deteriorating siding. A simple sign stood in front with the
word hospital spelled out, missing several letters, leaving a ring where they
should have been.

The nurses were tired and haggard after spending countless hours treating the
constant stream of patients. Edward heard the utter relief and thanks in their
thoughts as Carlisle offered to assist them.

Ten minutes after they pulled in, Carlisle pushed Edward into the car and grabbed
his medical bag. "Why don't you go on ahead find us a place to live?" he said,
shoving a large wad of money into Edward's cold hands.

"You're starting right now?"

"Edward, this town has been without a doctor for several months. You saw the
line of patients waiting for treatment; I can't put this off," he said aloud. "I need
this…please, Edward," Carlisle thought, and turned to go back into the hospital
without waiting for a response.

. . .

By the next day Edward had located a small home for them on the edge of a
large swath of forest outside of town. It was a typical farmhouse – white siding
and black shutters, complete with a large porch and tall windows.

It was a home just like the rest they had rented before - nothing particularly
special. There was furniture they would rarely sit in; a bathroom and kitchen they
would never use. Dingy lace drapes hung over the windows – the glass already
starting to ripple with age - their sills filled with the carcasses of flies. The entire
house smelled like mold and must; no one had lived here in quite some time.

Edward busied himself pulling in their bags and moving the piano into the living
room, making the house livable once more. The hours flew by unnoticed as he
scrubbed and cleaned, not paying attention to how much time had passed until
the following dawn began to break over the horizon. Carlisle still had not returned
home.

There was little else for him to do except pace the floor and wait, wander the
grounds and wait, play the piano and wait, sit and think about Carlisle's brilliant
smile and soft blonde hair, sit and think about the passion they had shared, and
sit and think about how strained things had gotten between them.

. . .

Carlisle finally came home two days later. Edward was lying on the bed, staring at
the ceiling when Carlisle slipped quietly in beside him, pushing his unruly bronze
hair back and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. "The house looks fantastic,
thanks for doing this for us," he said, before rolling over and turning his bare
back to Edward, content to simply rest after such a long shift at the hospital.

Deciding he had been left alone for far too long, Edward turned to press his chest
against Carlisle's back, his right hand snaking down the tight muscles, past the
blonde hairs and around his shaft, pressing gentle kisses along soft skin.
Carlisle's shoulders tensed up, "Could we do this tomorrow? I would just like to
rest for a while," he thought.

Edward sighed against his back. "Fine. Whatever," he said, pushing away from
Carlisle and sliding out of bed to search for strewn clothing on the floor, trying his
best to reach past the fuzzy barrier and into the dark reaches of Carlisle's mind -
knowing already he would see someone else there.

"Please don't dig around in my mind, Edward. I would appreciate it if I could have
some thoughts to myself now and again," Carlisle said without turning to look at
him while he pulled on clean trousers. "If you are so bored, why don't you find
something to do? Why not go to college? Or take some music lessons? You have
eternity, it's best to find ways to deal with the boredom now."

"Perhaps I should just go explore the world on my own. That would help me deal
with the boredom, " Edward spat out.

Carlisle was silent for a long moment. "Don't say such things," he said with a
whisper.

Edward stalked out of room without a backwards glance. "I'm going hunting."

Closing his eyes, Carlisle listened as he raced to the forest. Why couldn't the boy
just give him some space? Why was he so upset over a memory, so against him
working at the hospital? He rubbed his fingers on his temples wondering if he
wasn't being punished somehow for turning Edward into a vampire.

. . .

Six weeks after they landed in this small and nameless town, Edward snapped.
Perhaps it was from boredom, perhaps it was from frustration, but most likely, he
thought, it was from heartbreak.

Carlisle came home long enough to hunt and hold up the illusion he was resting
so no one would get suspicious, home long enough for Edward to see the
happiness in his demeanor, the smile on his face, and the soft tune he hummed
under his breath; he was unable to hide the satisfaction he got from attending
those in need. Edward and his problems were obviously long forgotten in his
mind.

His happiness just made Edward more miserable – sitting alone in the house with
the sweltering summer heat - abandoned and swept away for the sake of a
fleeting human life that would be gone in the blink of an eye.

His long and graceful fingers flew over the ivory keys, playing louder and louder
to drown out the wailing siren in the distance, childishly hoping Carlisle wouldn't
hear it, hoping he would forget about the hospital for just one day so they could
go to the forest and hunt and just be lovers again.

Soft fingers trailed down his neck and over his shoulder as Carlisle leaned in to
press a kiss against his temple. "I'm going in to work," he said.

Edward's hands left the keyboard and reached up to hold Carlisle's hand on his
shoulder. "Please…don't go. Just for today, stay here with me. We can go hunting
like we used to – the nurses can handle it, just for today. Please, Carlisle."

"I won't be long," he said, heading out the door and throwing hot and humid air
into the house.

It was too much - watching him walk away time after time, watching the distant
look in his eyes, watching the one thing that made his monstrous existence
worthwhile push him away. Perhaps it was time Edward grew up and relieved
Carlisle of his burden. He only wanted to see him happy again, and if it meant
leaving him, then…that is what he would give his blonde savior.

He knew he was never part of Carlisle's dream, never to be more than a bandage
for the pain and loneliness, a substitute at best. Edward knew he had been a fool
for staying as long as he had. It would be best to just leave, although he had no
idea where to go or what to do.

Thirty minutes later after watching his angel walk away for the last time, Edward
made his choice. Armed with only a small bag of clothes and phantom vampire
tears, he headed into the forest as lightning streaked across the sky and the rain
began to pour down.

. . .

Carlisle couldn't remember how long he had been at the hospital; there were so
many patients to see now that word had gotten out of his presence. The work
helped him clear his mind, to make choices without shielding his thoughts and
emotions, to find some distance, and to be able to listen to his own heart again.

Walking into the small exam room, he pulled the curtain back and let out a small
gasp. There on the bed was a small boy with bronze hair, who looked exactly like
a young Edward. Memories of the plague ravaged city and a dying boy flooded his
thoughts, memories that had been shoved to the back of his mind along with
everything else. Carlisle had spent so much time trying to pull away that he
forgot how truly lucky he was to have Edward in his life - to have someone who
loved him without question.

He missed what they had - their passion and freedom. But most of all he missed
Edward. Perhaps he would be forgiven if he came home early and went hunting
with him they could work through this…maybe Edward would love him in spite of
being such a fool.

. . .

Even over the dull roar of the Ford and the booming thunder in the sky Carlisle
could tell something was wrong. The house was dark and silent; there was no
shuffling or music to be heard within the walls.

This feeling of …dread…had been building all day. It had started out as something
easily swept away in the hectic pace of his rounds, but had steadily grown to the
point he couldn't push it away any longer. It had grown into an ache where his
heart should have been; something was wrong and he already knew what it was.
Perhaps he was already too late.

Sprinting to the house and calling for Edward, he was greeted with silence and
the sound of the pouring rain. Holding onto a shadow of hope that perhaps the
boy had just gone hunting again, he slowly made his way into the house as he
dripped water on the floor.

The house was silent save for the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the
corner.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

A letter sat on top of the piano.

One simple letter, folded in half with his initial on it seemed so innocuous, so
benign.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Hands shaking, Carlisle carefully opened it up, Edward's perfect letters flowing
neatly across the page.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Carlisle –

I'm so sorry for everything I've done to hurt you…I am sorry I was not enough.

I love you more than you will ever know. You should have a chance at your
dreams. Know that you will forever be in my

heart…

Edward

Carlisle dropped to his knees, crumpling the paper in his hands, his eyes shut
tight.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Throwing the letter to the ground, he raced out of the door into the rain,
searching for Edward's sweet scent.

. . .

How many hours had he raced through the forest looking for a sign? A whiff,
something…anything – but the rain had washed it all away. Carlisle had thought
he had more time - more time to find himself again, more time to come to terms

with Edward, more time to make things right again. And now he had run out of
time without even knowing it. He had lost the one thing that had made his
existence worthwhile for the sake of his own stubbornness.

Carlisle ran for miles in every direction, calling out hundreds of time in his mind.
There was nothing anymore, only the silent sounds of the forest and his own
empty thoughts. Had it been worth it?

At some point he found himself back at the house – their house – now silent
except for the ticking of the clock and the steady drip of rain; only a faint
lingering of Edward's scent remained among the dust and dirt. Silently, without
thought or reason Carlisle wandered to every room – hoping for a clue, a sign,
something – that Edward was sill there and he was not alone once again.
Wandering to the bedroom where Edward's sweet scene was strongest, he threw
himself down on the bed and buried his face in the pillow and for the first time in
his long existence wished for sleep – sleep deep enough to forget it all, to forget
the hollow nagging in his chest, to forget it all. But sleep never came.

Carlisle wondered if it were possible for a vampire to die of loneliness and regret.
Their relationship had happened so fast, a flash of brilliant love with bronze hair
and beautiful eyes that made him forget everything – who he was, what he was,
and what he tried to be. Yet now the brilliance had died and he was forever
changed, unable to handle the flash of love – too many years spent alone had set
him in his ways. The desire to settle in one place, his need for distance was too
deeply ingrained in him.

He thought about the letter again. Edward had been wrong – he was not the one
lacking, Carlisle was. He couldn't hang on to this brilliant and beautiful creature
because he was a fool, and now he has lost him for good.

The sun had risen and set again and Carlisle was still on the bed with his face in
the pillows when the distant sound of a wailing siren wafted across his senses.

Minutes later he stood at the edge of the forest and listened to the ambulance
grew louder. With one last sniff of the forest and mental call, he turned and
began to make his way to the hospital.

. . .

It was four months to the day when Edward came back.

Carlisle was hunting in the deep forest north of their home when the faint acidic
sweetness of Edward floated on the wind. Golden eyes scanned the forest,
searching and hoping…there across the clearing, stood Edward as lanky as
always, but dirty and disheveled and looking miserable.

A moment, a second, an eternity passed between them in that brief instant and
without a thought each sprinted to the other, meeting in the middle.

Each stopped and waited…not touching, always hesitating. Edward finally broke
the silence. "I…I'm sorry Carlisle…please forgive me," he said, barely a whisper.

Carlisle reached out and pulled him into a hug, running a hand through soft
bronze hair and down along the side of his cheek. "Edward…I was so worried
about you. Please don't apologize – this mess was all my doing…you owe me no
apologies," he said.

Edward held on tighter, afraid to let go, afraid this moment would end and that
Carlisle would push him away again. He buried his face into Carlisle's chest. "I'm

so sorry…I was a fool. I'll change, I'll stay out of your mind, and you can work
wherever you want I won't say anything about it anymore, just please... I let you
down, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you" he said, pulling up to
look into golden eyes – Carlisle's eyes, the eyes he had missed so much,
dreamed of, and came back for. He couldn't stay away from him.

He had tried, but no matter how far he went or how hard he ran, Edward could
never escape the memory of those eyes and soft blonde hair. It was slowly killing
him to stay away, and now he would do whatever it took to stay by his side – he
wouldn't say a word to whatever Carlisle wanted – as long as they were together.

"Please," Edward begged, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against
Carlisle's, feeling the pinpricks of phantom tears. Edward took a deep breath,
wanting more of his sweet scent.

That's when Edward smelled her on him.

Pulling back with a start, he searched Carlisle's eyes. They were pained and wary,
and an image of her face – Esme, the girl from so long ago - floated across his
mind. Only this time she was not a memory of a human girl. She was a vampire.

"Edward… I'm…sorry," Carlisle thought, his eyes blinking, unable to look him in
the eye.

Edward choked and pushed Carlisle away. "You…when?" he said. There was
plenty more he should say, but there were no words to come.

Carlisle shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Two months ago," he said
quietly. "She was dying, and I thought you had left me forever," he said in a
whisper. "I couldn't face being alone again, and I couldn't face watching her die
before my eyes. I was…afraid."

Seconds passed as they stood face to face. Carlisle had apparently moved on, so
very good at forgetting him without a second thought – and Edward felt the fool
for thinking he would have been missed.

The breeze ruffled through the trees and Edward snapped his head up. She was
there behind the trees, peering out at him with faded red eyes.

Part Nine - The Ghosts of the Past

Carlisle sat at his desk and rubbed his eyes. If he were human he was sure he
would have a splitting headache.

Edward and Esme. Two halves of a whole, if only for him alone. Two halves that
were pulling him in opposite directions - away from the fine line of love and
penance he tried so carefully to follow - a line that was becoming more obscure
by the moment. Both wanted more from him than he was able to give and all
would end up hurt in the end. It was only a matter of time.

He deserved nothing more than to drown in eternal sorrow for his actions, and
more importantly - his inaction. The turning of Edward, his gluttonous joy of
Edward's affections, Esme's stolen life, the hundreds of innocent dead by both his
father's doings and his own silence... the list went on and on - centuries worth of
sins stained his hands and Carlisle felt the weight of them all. Edward had once
been able to make him forget everything - who and what he was, his past - all of

it, but nothing broke through the regret now, not even the forbidden touch of
cold skin and bronze hair shining in the moonlight.

Carlisle wandered aimlessly in front of the bookshelves in his study; his eyes
landed on the worn and cracked leather binding of his father's Bible - a piece of
his past he had never been able to part with. The pages were yellowing and
flaked with even the most gentle of touches, belying their passionate and
vengeful past. There were times, such as tonight when the present seems one
with the past that Carlisle could almost hear the hellfire and brimstone of his
father's voice and the long-buried screams of a dying girl...

Looking through the pages, he knew without a doubt that the vengeful God his
father spoke of was no figment of the imagination. God was alive and well - and
ensuring Carlisle received his taste of hell regardless of whether or not his soul
would make it to the afterlife.

Out of years of habit he began to recite prayers of contrition, well worn in his
mind. No number of centuries would ever be enough to forget them. Forgive me
Father for I have sinned... They would probably do him little good considering the
monster he had become, but he could at least try to make amends to someone in
this life, even if it went unnoticed and unwanted.

And so passed the time of Carlisle Cullen - a vampire forever plagued by guilt and
begging forgiveness from those long turned to dust in their graves.

. . .

Esme brushed golden fall leaves off of the downed log and sat down to watch the
swiftly moving waters of the river. She had spent the last several hours
convincing Carlisle to leave his self-appointed prison in his study, finally sealing
the deal with a few well-placed tears. Although she disliked resorting to such
measures, the man she had known as compassionate and happy had slid into the
darkness of his mind. He was too kind and too beautiful to be marred by despair.

And so now Esme and Carlisle found themselves in silence on the edge of the
river, watching the sun break over the horizon.

Carlisle stood on the banks away from where she sat, figuring it would be too
presumptuous to sit next to her just yet. So he contented himself with finding
fascination in the swirls and leaves making their way on top of the water. Round
and round they circled, one after the other, all the same - fallen leaves of brief
beauty carried away to places unknown.

He could have been standing there for a few minutes or an eternity; it was hard
to tell anymore. Esme softly cleared her throat and patted the seat next to her.
"Come sit down, Carlisle."

Thinking it would be too rude to refuse her offer, he joined her - intensely aware
of the closeness of their shoulders, of the soft smell of her rosewater perfume, of
her. The one he was never supposed to have now sat as an innocent temptress in
a peach sun dress with her soft skin barely brushing against his.

Esme looked down at her shoes, her toes curling inside as she debated over and
over on how to best bring it up, deciding that the direct approach would be best.
"You can talk to me about what's bothering you, if you want," she said.

His body stiffened with tension, panic ran fleeting down his spine and through his
legs. Perhaps he had not been as careful as he had imagined in his self-contained
melancholy. Struggling to find a response without childish stammering, he looked

down at his shoes, his toes curling inside as he debated on how best to answer
her. "I...uh...there's nothing bothering me," he said, managing to look
everywhere except her soft eyes - those eyes that could see to the depths of his
soul in a way that no telepath ever could.

The wind rustled through the trees and blew her hair about her face. Esme tucked
the long strands behind her ears. "No one who sits in a dark room looking at an
ancient Bible for hours on end can say that nothing is bothering them," she said.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but...I kind of miss the old
Carlisle."

Carlisle closed his eyes at her words. Should he tell her? Could he tell her? It
unsettled him - the notion of even contemplating exposing his most shameful
secrets. He had been a solitary creature for too long, living in his own mind day
after day and year after year for centuries - not having to share feelings and
thoughts with anyone but himself. Even Edward had been disinclined to talk
about his or anyone's past, instead distracting him from the gloom with rough
kisses when all else failed. And it had worked for a beautiful brief while.

Now he stood at the edge of a precipice from which there was no return. There
would be no physical avoidance with Esme, not with her. She deserved better
than that. Carlisle looked up into those eyes and knew it would all come tumbling
out at once - and then his foolish notion of a chance at a fairy tale life with the
girl who had haunted his waking days would be over. She would know his scars
and sins and demons and hate him forever for bringing her into this world when
she had only longed for death and to be reunited with her lost baby. Esme had
never asked for this existence, and Carlisle had snatched her out of heaven's
hands at the last second, from a chance at heaven and doomed her to an eternal
life of thirst.

He took a deep breath and decided it was time. For Esme. For himself.

"Did I ever tell you of the life I led before I was turned into a vampire?" he asked
quietly, the breeze rustling the leaves. Esme shook her head no. "I spent
countless hours in my father's church listening to sermons on all the evils of man
and the terrors of eternal damnation," he said, fidgeting with a loose thread on
the sleeve of his shirt. "My earliest memories were ones of sitting in an
uncomfortable pew, and listening for hours on end as my father preached on how
every single one of us will end up burning in hell for the sins we cannot control
and for the things that are in human nature to do."

Esme said nothing as he paused, searching for the words to continue on. "My
duty was to my father, there was no room to question that," Carlisle said, his
eyes focused on the distant past. "He was a passionate man - quick to judge and
long to forgive. I don't think he ever forgave me or himself when my mother died
in childbirth with me." he said and paused, a rare smile coming across his lips.
"She was supposed to have been very kind and pretty, according to my
grandmother. But my mother was young, and there were complications. Before
my grandmother died she told me my father had spent hours praying for the life
of his young wife, but to no avail. It was after her death that he devoted himself
to the church, often writing sermons well into the dead of night."

He ran a hand through his hair. "My father was training me to follow his footsteps
for service to the cloth, and when I was 11 years old he took me out on my first
witch hunt. He had become something of a zealot in his pain and devotion, and
had become a leading figure in the movement to eradicate evil from the land. It
would have been around 1651 then; the people were in a state of hysterics as
England was in a civil war of Protestants and Catholics. I knew my father led

witch hunts, but to me witches were the things of fairy tales - grotesque women
cavorting with the devil," he said.

Carlisle paused. His eyes locked on the past, his arms unconsciously wrapped
around his middle. The story was telling itself, and some part of his mind sat and
watched as an outsider - surreal and terrifying at the same time. But his voice
kept going. "Yet the first so-called witch I ever met was anything but a fairy tale
legend. She was a 10 year old girl I had known from several streets over."

Esme sat frozen on the log, his words holding her to her seat. Somehow in the
farthest reaches of her mind, she knew this story - just as she knew now there
was a reason Carlisle had come for her. He went on, unaware of anything except
the memories. "Her mother had the unfortunate luck to attract the wrath of a
petty and ugly neighbor, one jealous of her beauty. The mother was publicly
accused of being in service with the devil, which of course she were not. The trial
was quick - if one wanted to call it a trial, and the mother was found guilty of
witchcraft."

He paused again, his long and graceful fingers picking at his sleeves; his shoes
pushing small piles of dirt around on the ground. Carlisle closed his eyes and
went on, his mind clear as if the day had happened yesterday.

"The mother was sentenced to burn at the stake, along with her young daughter.
My father believed that the children of witches were witches themselves and
spared none mercy," he choked out, long buried memories bringing back things
he wished to forget forever - his vision blurring with tears. "I knew she wasn't a
witch any more than her mother was, but there was little I could do," he said,
lowering his head. Esme's eyes never left Carlisle, all else forgotten in the mild
and breezy autumn day.

"They were kept in the cellar of my father's church throughout the trial, and it
was my duty to take them food and water each day. Each were separated in their
own cell," he said. "The mother always cried and begged for me to help her
daughter escape. Yet, each time I went to the girl's cell, she never cried or
pleaded with me. Instead she just looked at me with those sad eyes, eyes I could
never forget."

He went on. "Every night those eyes haunted my dreams, with their silent plea
for help. I couldn't stand it anymore, and so for the first time in my life, I found
the nerve to ask my father to spare their lives," Carlisle said. He halted and the
fidgeting stopped and his eyes grew dark and hard. "My father lashed me with his
belt and then with his fists until I passed out. When I came to, he dragged me in
front of the altar and lashed me again as I was was made to say contrition for my
sins and the evil I was allowing into my heart."

Carlisle's voice settled into a whisper that even Esme had to strain to hear. " And
when the mother was found guilty, a large stake was set up in the square, with
an enormous amount of wood piling around the bottom. At dawn my father drug
me to the scene by my collar for the last bit of my punishment," he said. "The girl
and her mother had already been tied to it, and the mother was screaming to
anyone for mercy. I could barely see them through my swollen eyes, yet I could
hear every whimper and plea."

He stopped and buried his head in his hands; and Esme laid a gentle hand on his
shoulder. But Carlisle didn't notice. "He forced me to light the pyre, Esme. My
own father shoved a torch in my hand and made me light the pyre that sent
those two innocent souls to their death," he said, his back hitching with dry sobs.

"I had to watch them burn and there was nothing I could do about it," he choked
out.

The scent of vampire tears filled the air as Edward edged closer, having heard
every word. He had also seen it in Carlisle's mind.

Whether Carlisle had let him see on purpose or not, the horror of it was drowning
out all else.

"I had horrible nightmares for years - of the screams of pain, the smell of burning
flesh, of the cheers of the crowd. Even after I became a vampire those
nightmares didn't stop. They simply became a waking vision constantly replaying
in my mind. It never ended, not matter what I did or how much work I did for
distraction. Not until I saw your face," Carlisle said, looking into Esme's
concerned eyes. "You are that girl, Esme. I know it in my heart," he said. "I have
never believed in reincarnation before, but all I know is that the screaming in my
mind stopped completely when I first saw you again ten years ago."

Esme sat there in silence, unsure of what to say - if there was anything she could
say at the sight of Carlisle's tears. So she did what she knew best, and wrapped
her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. "It's all right, Carlisle. It's over
now." He clung to her tightly and buried his face in her shoulder.

Edward stood frozen in the trees watching Carlisle and Esme embrace, knowing in
the depths of his heart he had already lost Carlisle for good.

. . .

Edward walked for hours, finding himself alone in the deserted streets of the
town, going over and over the scene of Carlisle's past in his mind.

The girl.

The flames.

The screams.

It all made sense to him now - the inexplicable attachment to Esme, the ever
present guilt, the obsessive need to assist those in help. How could he have
overlooked this? Or better yet, how had Carlisle managed to keep it hidden from
him for so long?

His boots crunched softly against the dead leaves as he turned down a side
street. Carlisle had not touched him once since he had come home - but not for
Edward's lack of trying. Gentle touches in the hallway as they passed, a heated
look as they hunted - all rebuffed with an awkward silence and a mental whisper.
"Please don't."

Edward had nearly walked away the same day he had come home to find Esme in
the mix with her red eyes and innocent mind. Carlisle's quiet plea was the only
thing that induced him to stay, even though he felt the fool all the while. And now
Carlisle and Edward were in a rut of repeated words. "Please stay. Don't go. I
can't. Don't ask. Don't leave me."

He truly was a fool. A fool for staying, a fool for not being able to go. A fool for
loving someone else who was destined to be with another.

There was no one to blame but himself.

A shadow came in front of his eyes and he looked up, finding himself standing on
the doorstep of an ornate church, dark and silent against the moonlight. Edward
stood and stared as something in him broke loose. This was the cause of all of it.
This notion of guilt and sin and penance was what was tearing Carlisle away from
him, not Esme.

He stood silent in its immense black shadow - his depression cracking apart and
anger beginning to trickle through his bones, the anger turning into a flood of
rage. His breath quickened and his hands balled into tight fists at his side. If
only...

Making quick work of the lock, Edward swung the heavy doors open and stepped
into the quiet blackness.

The sounds of the night were muffled and soft light filtered down through the
stained glass windows and casting a soft glow on the altar, adorned with several
lit candles. With slow steps Edward made his way to it, passing through the long
dark shadows of the colonnade of statues. It had been years since he stepped
foot in a church of any kind, and the first time since he had become one of the
living dead.

The pew creaked as he sat down, and the building seemed to come alive with
breath as the wind gusted against its sides. Shadows flickered and danced
against the large cross as Edward sat in silence, debating on why he was here in
the first place.

His body shook with anger and he heard the distant sound of sobs - until he
realized they were his own. Carlisle had been torn away from him all for a long
dead girl and a centuries old sense of debt - brought on by a long dead God.

Unbidden memories of soft blonde hair, Carlisle's gentle caresses, and his
beautiful smile sent tears down his cheeks. He missed him and missed what they
had when it was good. The months he had been gone had been miserable,
tramping from place to place while spending his nights longing for a strong
embrace and soft lips against his skin.

And now he was alone again. Carlisle had moved on, and Edward was left behind.

And it hurt.

And Edward didn't want the pain anymore.

He looked up to see the cross - silent on the wall and mocking his pain.

Edward decided to rip it down.

It landed with a large crash, breaking apart against the altar and sending wooden
pieces scattering across the floor. "Why are you doing this to us?" he cried out,
grabbing the edge of the heavy altar and tipping it over as well. "We didn't ask
for any of this! Carlisle didn't ask to kill that girl. Esme didn't ask to lose her
child. I didn't ask to lose my family! Why are you doing this?" he roared over the
sound of splintering wood and destruction.

Piece after piece went crashing to the floor until there was nothing left to break
and no more tears to shed. Edward sat on the floor amidst the mess, seeing a
shattered vase of wilted flowers in front of him.

Roses.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "I hope you are happy now," he
whispered, standing up and walking out of the church and into the night.

. . .

Part Ten - The Covenant

Time flies when you are busy getting rid of the last shred of your humanity,
becoming the monster you believed yourself to be. Four winters had come and
gone, four winters that went by in the blink of an eye since he had walked away
from his life with Carlisle – the shattered ruins of their faith in each other left
strung across the floor of some nameless church in some nameless town.

If God wanted to tear Carlisle away from him, then he would destroy the apple of
God's eye. Tit for tat, as they say. The blood of animals held little appeal in
relation to what his kind was supposed to feed on – what Carlisle would never
consider feeding on.

Human blood tasted better than he could have ever dreamed of. And the blood of
sinners wearing the guise of piety was the sweetest of them all. They were
always easy to pick out of a crowd – the dark taint of evil trailed them wherever
they went.

In the darkness of night, they would always beg for their lives. They would
always plead with him for mercy. They would always go on and on about the ones
they supposedly loved. Edward showed no pity or mercy, for he had been shown
none himself – for his damned existence, and for the punishment of having to
walk the earth alone for the rest of eternity.

. . .

"Please don't kill me! I have a family that needs me! Please! For the love of God!"

Edward leered at the sniveling mess in front of him, begging on his knees. "For
the love of God, you say? Tell me – why hasn't God struck me down yet if your
life is so worthwhile? You should consider this a blessing in disguise that I am
sending you to your absent maker and relieving you of the burden of life," he
said.

As his teeth bit into sweet blood the voices in his mind stopped momentarily, a
shadow of peace bought with the hefty sum of human blood – but never to high
of a price to pay to catch a glimpse of the love he once knew. And in the silence
that followed he could only see blonde hair and honey eyes and know it was gone
forever.

. . .

But Edward could never bring himself to kill the blonde ones. No matter what
heinous crimes they had done, no matter how easy it would be, he could never
do it. His lips would have to be next to that hair, next to those pleading eyes and
it was always too much. Too many memories, too many waking nightmares of the
ghost of his past lay in those straw colored strands.

Yet to the dark-haired ones he would be their avenging angel, destroying their
humanity along with his own, piece by piece and drop by drop. Slowly but surely
he was ridding himself of the notion of good - of everything light and decent

inside of him. The darkness was taking over his soul, and he wondered how many
souls he would have to kill before he stopped thinking of him, before he stopped
finding his feet taking him back to him, before the pain in his heart died forever
like the rest of his body long before.

He had gone everywhere he had wanted - back to places familiar, yet found
nothing of comfort there. The house he thought he once lived in had been taken
over by a new family and the city streets he remembered rang hollow with the
steps of his boots.

Long he wandered until the dead winter finally gave up its cold grip to the gentle
awakening of spring – and the promise of hope it brought. Change was on the
wind, and he had little else to do but follow wherever it may lead.

Eventually Edward found himself in front of the first house they had shared
together, wandering through the forest where Carlisle had taught him to hunt,
where they had shared their meals, happy and content once upon a fairy tale.
Had it all been a delusion? Had they ever been as happy as Edward remembered?
Or had it all been a means to avoid centuries of pain and loneliness?

Day after day he lived with the heartache until it became part of him, the only
constant in his life other than the thirst for blood. The voices in his mind blared
constantly - bits and pieces of the detritus of human thought flit unwelcome
through his mind, slowly but surely driving him insane. On the worst of the nights
he holds his head and screams at the noise, wishing something would shut them
out, but no one answers.

Not that he deserved anyone to answer his plight, he thought. His feet moved of
their own accord, and he simply followed through the motions of existence, his
rage crumbling into nothing but a pile of blackness and regret.

Edward lay in on an old mattress in an abandoned house, staring at the pattern
of water damage on the ceiling, seeing only shapes from his past in the lines. He
closed his eyes and wished for the thousandth time that it had turned out
different somehow. There was nowhere left to run to, nowhere left to explore –
just the endless stretch of eternity before him with no one to keep him company
save the dregs of human life that sustained his monstrous life.

He had truly become a monster with little chance of redemption by anyone.

The sun made its way below the horizon line and Edward stood up to slip on
clothes he had taken from a poorly locked store in the previous town. It was time
to hunt once again.

And so passed the independent life of Edward Masen – an avenging angel who
scavenged for clothes and stole money from his prey and ran away from blonde
sinners in the dead of the night.

. . .

Edward knew he was simply torturing himself, yet he couldn't stop. He really
could never say why he sought out their new home, or why he wanted to hear his
voice one more time. It would only stir up memories best forgotten, but he had
always been a masochist when it came to Carlisle.

Their home was small yet well cared for – a new coat of paint on the siding, soft
gauze curtains shone with yellow light, and freshly planted flowerbeds were
beginning to bloom. From the outside it looked the perfect refuge from the world.
Edward shook his head against hazy memories of his human life and the warm

comfort of a stable home. Esme had created the perfect sanctuary and it took all
of his willpower not to run begging for entrance. Carlisle had made his choice
long ago.

Circling the house, Edward made sure to stay well enough away that his scent
wouldn't carry. But he could hear their minds well enough as he settled himself in
the boughs of a large tree. Esme had always thoughts of the most mundane
things, like lampshades and wall colors and rugs, yet below that was the love in
her mind - the love that he couldn't stand to hear, the love that made him want
to tear her to shreds and set fire to the remains, the innocent love in her mind of
Carlisle and all he was.

Carlisle's mind, on the other hand, was a jumble as it always was. His thoughts
were still fuzzy to him, although better than it used to be. But there was no
mistaking the contentment and simple happiness.

And there didn't seem to be a lingering thought of him anywhere. Apparently he
was not as missed as he had hoped. Just being in the proximity of Carlisle helps
to deaden the voices in his mind, if only a little bit and for a short while. But
enough to finally feel some relief from the overwhelming shouting in his head, to
have a moment of clarity for once in a very long time.

So he perched in the shadows and loathed himself as he eavesdropped on their
life, overhearing their conversation on new water faucets and the purchase of a
refrigerator. Life went on, even without him. There was no room in their life for
the monster he had worked so hard to become.

The notion of happiness Edward thought he had shared with Carlisle was nothing
more than a lie, and those times were long past and well trampled on.

. . .

Carlisle knew he was there, just as a heart knows when a piece of itself returns -
something in the mind becomes clear, and the world becomes right, if only for a
brief moment.

Sneaking away from the house, he heads to the woods, tracking him, not
knowing what to expect. Frankly he was more than a little nervous on what to
expect from himself – would he be able to stand with at least some dignity when
Edward walked away once again?

Edward was there as he knew he would be, perched in the tree and peering down
at him with bright red eyes. Carlisle took a deep breath at the anger and pain
etched across Edward's once beautiful face, now twisted with hurt and hatred.
Hurt because of him and his failure to control his feelings, for his inability to act,
for his irrational devotion to Esme.

"Edward…it's been so long…I have missed you," Carlisle whispered.

Red eyes shut tight against the kind words, wanting anger instead, wanting
another fight to make it all go away. The anger was so much easier to take than
the kindness he didn't deserve. "But you sure kept yourself busy in the
meantime," he retorted, leaping down from the tree.

"I don't want to fight with you; I only want to know that you are happy," Carlisle
said, the guilt of the pain he had caused reopening old wounds that never fully
healed.

Edward snorted and turned away, kicking at stray pine cones littering the forest
floor and sending them skittering through the leaves. "I'm fine," he lied. "Just
been taking in the sights, having a grand old time and doing what pleases me."

"I see that," Carlisle said, nodding at the color of his eyes.

"I'm sure you have a lecture in store about the sanctity of human life."

Carlisle shook his head and closed his eyes. "No Edward, I don't," he said quietly.
They stood in awkward silence before the other – so familiar and yet so different
now with the few years between them. This person looked the same as his lover,
but Carlisle wasn't his lover any more. That blonde hair had once been his alone,
smooth skin he had explored every inch of, soft lips that had explored his own.

The moments ticked by. Finally Edward broke the silence with the question he
had wanted an answer to all along. "Why didn't you tell me about your past?
About everything you were going through? Did you not think I wouldn't
understand?"

Carlisle gave a small shrug to his shoulders. "Those memories were best left
buried deep and I preferred not to think of them if I could – you offered me the
chance to not dwell on them at all. You were my salvation, Edward, more than
you will ever know. Only you made me realize there was more to this life than the
past, and that there was joy to be found," he said as he stared off into the
distance. "But I could only ignore those secrets for so long. I am sorry I shut you
out, but there are some things that are better left in the darkness. I thought I
was doing the right thing."

They stood in the quiet silence of the new dawn; their pale skin shining red in the
cold morning air as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

"Esme and I were married," Carlisle whispered.

"I know."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"I know. We could have changed the future together," he said. "I didn't want this
to be the way we end, Carlisle. We were good together. We were happy
together."

"I can't be what you need Edward, and we both know that. I need my space to do
what I love to do while you need someone who is only focused on you. We were
good for a while, but we could have never been happy for long," he said, his eyes
downcast.

"I think you're wrong, and you know it."

"Perhaps I am. Only time will tell," Carlisle said. "Edward, if you hear nothing else
I say, know that you were my greatest love, and I could never let you out of my
life. I need you by my side, if not as a lover, then as a companion. You are my
strength. You drive away the memories of the past like no other, and I will be
forever grateful for you," he said.

Carlisle looked down at the new sprigs of grass beginning to emerge from
amongst the dead debris. "I have missed your beautiful face every minute of
every day since you have been gone," he said. "And I know I have absolutely no
right to ask this of you, but I will not be able to stand my conscience if I do not."
He looked up and met ruby red eyes, striking in their harsh and deadly beauty.

"Come back to me, Edward. Even if it is just for a while. Let's try to start over as
a family. You have always been the first member of my family."

Edward looked up in surprise at the request as Carlisle continued. "Esme and I
are planning to move to Rochester in a few weeks for a fresh start. I think we
could all use one."

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Carlisle should hate him for what he has done,
for his red eyes, for being the monster he sought so desperately to be. The
kindness disarmed him and Edward was speechless.

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder – one touch muting out the years of
screaming voices – and he closed his eyes in relief. Carlisle stood before him, his
hand trailing from Edward's shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling them close
until their foreheads touched and Edward could feel warm breath and soft hair
and the scent he has missed for so long.

"Do you know how many people I have killed, Carlisle? Do you know how much I
love the blood of the pious?" Edward sneered at the surprise on Carlisle's face. He
dropped his voice down to a whisper. "That's right. It is the sweetest thing you
could ever imagine – the aroma of sin over rushing blood. I know you crave it.
You can't hide that from me."

Carlisle refused to release his grip, holding him tight. "I don't care," he said.

Edward closed his eyes, unable to meet those golden eyes full of pity for him.
"You were supposed to despise what I did. It would be so much easier if you
would just hate me. Why do you always make me act the fool?"

The tips of their noses brushed against each other as Carlisle spoke. "I can never
hate you. There is no bigger fool than I, Edward, for being unable to let you go –
for even hoping against hope you would come back one day," he said, his fingers
twining through bronze hair.

Carlisle's lips met his with the softest of touches, pressing a gentle kiss as his
hand let loose of his hair and traced across Edward's cheek. "We can be a family,
Edward. Come with us to Rochester. Forget the anger and hate and come with
me."

He opened his eyes finally, swallowing hard at the sight so close before him.
Edward had come looking for the anger he needed to continue his unholy
existence but found nothing but a kind touch and the invitation to start over once
again. With one caress he had ripped his life apart once again.

"I have something for you," Carlisle said as he pulled away from Edward's arms
and retrieving a small package from his pocket, handing it to Edward. Ruby eyes
met honeyed ones as he slowly opened the case, revealing an antique silver
brooch. It gleamed in the moonlight, casting glints of light on Edward's skin.

"What is this?" Edward asked, turning it over in his hands and running a finger
across the raised coat of arms.

"It is my family seal, and the brooch was my grandfather's," he said as he took it
from Edward's hands and pinned it on his lapel. "I want you to have it. You are a
member of my family and I want you to be a Cullen as well," Carlisle said as his
voice broke up.

Edward searched his eyes for the truth, and Carlisle let the fog clear from his
mind. "I want you to have this...I can't give you much Edward, but I can give you

a family. I can give you this as my word of love that I will never let you go," he
thought.

Carlisle turned and tugged on Edward's hand, heading back to the house.
Edward's feet followed automatically, quite certain he would probably regret this.
But he has always been a fool for Carlisle.

Chapter Eleven - The Atonement

Here we are,

In the darkest place.

To keep from forgetting,

I picture your face.

And I wonder,

While we count the cost,

Which is sweeter -

Love or its loss.

-Tom McRae, 'My Vampire Heart'

Carlisle raced through the sparse countryside under the darkness of night, in the
chilled night air as mist tracked across his skin in tiny rivulets - echoing the
memory of long-forgotten tears. With only the moonlight as his company, he ran
from his duty, ran from his pain, ran from the hurt he managed to leave
everywhere he went.

Life was nothing but the same fight with each rising of the sun; every day a
struggle to do what was right, to make the honorable choice - only to have his
every good deed served back with twice the pain...and now...now he didn't even
want to try and be good anymore.

Perhaps eternal loneliness was his penance.

Perhaps it was all he ever deserved.

It was cold for April. Frost fogged from his breath and the town scurried inside to
seek warmer shelters, safe from the biting wind.

The world was silent in this moment as it waited for something just out of reach,
hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right time and place...time itself held its
breath and waited...

Carlisle paced the streets of Rochester. It was too soon to return to work and
escape in the mass of blood and the incessant burning in his throat...too tired to
return home and face two sets of honeyed eyes expecting him to ease their pain.

And so he paced, and he walked, and he nursed his torn heart, and looked at his
watch once again.

Still too soon.

A quiet bench overlooked a small pond and it beckoned him to sit and look up to
the stars - steadfast throughout his long centuries. Carlisle found each of his
favorite constellations one by one. Orion. Cassiopeia. Leo. Some magical pieces
of the universe that managed to stay the same regardless of time...to stand
outside of the ebb and flow of life untouched and unspoiled.

A small flutter of a breeze rustled through bare spring branches, and brought with
it the smell of blood.

A lot of blood.

Panic flicked its icy fingers down his spine. Did Edward do this?

His feet raced through dark alleys, houses and trees and fences blurred in the
side of his vision, the smell growing stronger...until he was there...and all that lay
before him was a tiny pile of broken bones and flesh and blood.

This was not Edward's doing.

And he breathed a sigh of relief. And shame. But there was no time to think on
that now.

Several foul scents mingled on her body; some group of evil had wrought a
horrible crime against this petite and shattered young girl. Striking blond hair
flowed and shined in the soft light of the moon, her face was beautifully peaceful
except for the blood pooling beneath and around while she let out soft whimpers
of pain.

Carlisle closed his eyes and sighed at the depravity of it all. It made little sense
for humans to fear otherworldly creatures such as vampires and devils when none
wreaked such havoc in the world as their own kind. He knelt down and swept soft
hair away from the face of this fallen angel, her eyes unseeing and her heartbeat
slowing.

A young girl's face from centuries ago sprang unbidden in his mind, one that
haunted his memories like a ghost...

This girl didn't deserve such a fate as this...

Perhaps...

She was very pretty.

Perhaps...

Edward had always liked blond hair.

Perhaps...

Carlisle's fingers slid beneath broken bones and through pools of sweet blood -
the burning clawing at his throat and the muscles in his neck straining to reach
down and sink his teeth into her pale skin as the bliss took over and their
heartbeats merged and he could catch a brief glimpse of the peace...

He shook his head against those thoughts...it isn't right...and gathering her tight
against his chest, raced into the darkness with his chance at atonement bleeding
out against his skin.

When the sun finally began to peek above the distant horizon, Carlisle stood on
the edge of the craggy shore along the cold Atlantic Ocean. Waves pounded
against boulders, drowning out all of the thoughts...and it was just him, alone, as
it was always meant to be.

He was a fool.

His life was nothing more than an entire existence built upon the shaky notions of
what was right, of what was expected, of things he needed to do in order to be
good and decent in the eyes of a vengeful God.

His entire life was a lie.

Esme's delicate hand slid down the front of his chest and Carlisle closed his eyes,
wondering if he stood still long enough she would decide against wanting this, not
tonight, not with...him...in the house.

Soft lips wandered against the bare skin of his back, her long hair sliding across
his arm.

There was nothing - no spark, no desire. Love, yes. Concern, yes.

Desire, no.

And he sighed.

Their wedding night had fractured all of his well-meant intentions; leaving only
the sinking realization that love and desire were two very different things and a
marriage built on this unsteady half-love could never right the wrongs of the
past. He had been a fool to think a set of meaningless vows would change
anything.

Perfunctory at best, their first encounter was full of awkward pants and
embarrassed silences lingering in the aftermath. Only the memory of Edward's
naked form had allowed him to finish the job with a modicum of dignity.

But now was too late for regrets now. Carlisle had made his choice with Esme,
and it was his to live with until the end of time.

He was such an utter fool.

Carlisle bit his bottom lip in frustration as Esme tugged on the string to his
sleeping pants; her warm breath ghosting across his back, a slight smile on her
lips. The cool breeze fluttered against his naked skin and there was still nothing
at her touch. Her silk nightgown rustled in the darkness before dropping to the
floor leaving nothing between them, and there was no way to do this without
thinking of him...and no way to hide those thoughts...and no way to make it
seem the least bit right.

If only Edward had not been reborn with his abilities...then all of this pain might
have been avoided somehow, someway. They could have lived in relative
happiness - Carlisle with his space, Edward with his boyish fantasies, and Esme in
her death. It would have been for the best, really.

Yet it could never be so easy, not for someone like Carlisle. God was only toying
with him now.

Esme's fingers brushed across his length and she set to work, yet his mind was a
thousand miles away, unable and unwilling to go back to those old memories of
bronzed hair, to have his secrets and shame bared open, to have his mistakes
shouting into Edward's mind, to have him see the wretched mess he had become.

Carlisle knew he wasn't going to be able to do this - not with Edward here now.

Carefully he pulled out of her embrace and turned in her arms, giving an
apologetic smile and a small kiss to her forehead as he whispered in her ear. "I'm
sorry, love. I...I can't...right now. I need some fresh air, I think."

She stood naked and silent, the silver light of the moon shimmering against her
skin; hurt and embarrassment radiated from her while he quickly gathered his
clothes and started to head out of the bedroom door. She called out to him.
"Wait," she whispered. "Wait, Carlisle, please."

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, unable force himself to face her, he
couldn't bear to look into those eyes right now, couldn't bear to see the hurt
etched so deep - the hurt he had put there.

"Whatever is bothering you, you can talk about it with me. We can work it out
together," she said. "But please, stay."

He was such a fool and so very good at hurting those he loved. It seemed that
was also part of the territory in being a vampire.

And he was tired of it all.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly closing the door behind him.

Cold breezes from the sea rifled though his hair, sending wayward strands flying
across his vision, and he absently brushed them away. His life had come down to
this - each lie built on top of the other, each new wrong an attempt to make up
for events out of his control.

Years had been wasted doing what he thought was right, years had been wasted
in dark rooms absorbing endless books and words and pages, years had been
wasted following the rules of those who came before him - his father's Bible,
medical texts, law guides, whatever might hold the key to making sense of his
life.

When a problem arose, there would always be an answer awaiting him there,
some inkling as to what would be the right thing to do...some notion of how to
proceed, how to act, how to live, how to love.

Yet, there was no book on how to deal with Edward or Esme - and now, Rosalie.
There was no book to tell him how to balance duty and love, regret and choice, of
the great divide between the public facade and the private reality for a being such
as himself.

He was hopelessly lost.

And he was hopelessly tired of it all.

Step after bumbling step had clouded his vision; each misstep haphazardly
repaired with a new mistake. He hated himself for not being able to stumble
through this existence without a book to tell him how.

"Rosalie Hale? Are you insane?"

Edward's eyes were furious as tension and anger set in his muscles while his fists
clenched at his sides. "What were you thinking?"

Carlisle couldn't meet those eyes, so he turned his gaze back to the thrashing
form prone on the bed. Yet Edward pressed on. "Stop shutting me out, and tell
me what you were thinking!"

He stood silent for a long while and then whispered softly, "I don't know."

"Great. This is just great. You don't know. Wonderful. We're going to have to
move again now," Edward muttered under his breath as he paced the floor, his
hands running from his hair down to the silver brooch around his neck, his fingers
nervously tracing the outline.

Esme offered a small empathetic smile and patted his shoulder gently before
setting down next to Rosalie and wringing out a cool washcloth to place over her
forehead. "Shh, it will be all right...it will stop soon, I promise," she said softly.

Carlisle could only stand there and watch, silently cursing himself once again.
Turning away from Rosalie's agony, he looked over at Edward met his gaze,
betrayal showing bright in his eyes. He stopped pacing for a moment and held his
breath, and suddenly, he quickly brushed past Carlisle on his way out of the
room.

His feet acted of the own accord and followed down the hallway after Edward.
"Wait," he called out. "Edward...wait, please."

Edward stopped but refused to turn around. His head drooped forward, his words
strained and whispered under the muffled screams coming from the bedroom. "I
can't believe you did this to me," he said. Carlisle closed his eyes, his fingers
itching to reach out and touch him, to try and wipe it all away. Edward spoke on.
"After all we have gone through, after everything that has happened...after you
begged me to come back as a member of your so-called family..." he whispered.
"I cannot believe that you tried to distract me with someone like her. You've
made a mockery of me, of us," Edward paused. "I hope you are happy now."

Carlisle flinched at the hurt in his voice. "I...I didn't mean it that way."

"You never mean anything."

And with that, Edward walked away. Carlisle sunk to his knees, surrounded by
Edward's absence and Rosalie's screams.

Wave upon wave crashed against the giant boulders below the cliff side, in
rhythms that mirrored the ebb and flow of disaster that marked his life - never
ending, never ceasing - only falling into a momentary lull, the quiet before the
storm of grief that would inevitably find him.

A lone white seagull swooped down in front of him; white feathers bright in the
morning sun. Carlisle watched with rapt attention as it swooped in lazy circles,
riding against the wind in an easy grace...

He envied that seagull. How simple and wonderful it would be, he thought, to be
able open his arms and fly away from this life of lies, to soar higher and higher
away from those he would hurt... to be free of it all.

Carlisle sighed, closing his eyes and wiping away the wet spray of mist from his
face. Decades had been spent yearning for the quiet peace of death; freedom

from the expectations, knowing he wasn't on the wrong side of morality anymore,
not having to justify the life he had thought was so wrong - so terrible that only a
greater sin would wipe it all away.

The seagull cried out and flew away, up towards the sun.

Such a blissful relief was not to be had for those of his kind who were eternally
cursed to carry the weight of the memories on burdened shoulders.

The sun was glittering against the water, melting into golden ripples of a dark
and cold sea that held so many secrets...so much depth and so much silence.
Maybe, he thought, just maybe, one more time and God might see fit to allow
him this one request - to let him cleanse his sin and to stop the endless tragedy
that followed him.

His foot inched toward the edge, small pebbles tumbled down the steep side as
the wind continued to toss through his hair.

Maybe this time...

Closer.

Maybe this time...

Closer.

Please, let it be this time...

And with one tiny step, one small movement - there was nothing but open space
beneath his feet. The wind cradled its arms around him, here in the soft space
where only the smell of the sea and a chilled breeze existed, where time stopped
and there was no more darkness and he was free...

It felt like he floated for an eternity, weightless and free..something rushed
through him that had only once been a dream...hope. Hope that this would be the
time his prayers were answered.

And so he fell, arms out and eyes closed...and a smile on his face.

The memory of a lop-sided grin flashed through his mind.

Edward.

I'm so sorry for everything, Edward.

It was for the best, really, if God finally saw fit to grant him this once chance at
reparation. Edward deserved so much better than someone like him - he
deserved a chance at happiness without the years of rotting baggage weighing
them down.

I always loved you, Edward.

Carlisle smiled against the caress of the breeze, saying a silent prayer for Edward
and Esme to find peace without him in the way.

Please, let it be this time...

The ground rushed up to meet him.

The impact was nothing more than a loud shatter of boulders against bones and
freezing spray of the sea, cold and dark and deep...and as he lay there, a glint of
sunlight caught droplets hanging in the air, becoming golden like Edward's
eyes...warm and honeyed and gentle.

And he was still alive.

His fists curled into balls, beating against the rocks at his side and turning them
into dust.

Why? Why not now? Why can't I rid the world of my presence?

Carlisle lay frustrated in the cold mess of water and rubble, the sea continuing to
throw sprays over him with each new wave. His own futile hopes lay smashed
against the shore as he wished his body to be. but instead there was only another
day of lies, another week, another year just like the rest.

With a resigned sigh Carlisle slowly picked himself up and brushed off the bits of
rubble. With one bounding jump he leapt back up the cliff side - only to find
himself face to face with Edward.

They stood in silence for a moment; seagulls crying in the distance. "You know
this never works. Why do you still try?" Edward asked softly.

Carlisle shrugged his shoulders. "Because one time I might actually succeed," he
said, looking down at his waterlogged shoes, toes curling inside.

"Do you hate your life so much?"

"I...I hate the mess I have created."

Edward paused, and then murmured, "Including me?"

A breath caught tight in his throat, stomach twisting painfully in regret. "I could
never hate you."

Edward was silent, his eyes unfocused while those long fingers ran absently over
the brooch once again. When he spoke it was little more than a whisper under the
crashing waves. "When I ran away and fed on human blood, it wasn't the taste
that kept me coming back to them."

"It was the memory of you...of your hair and your smile and the feel of your
skin...all of it would come back in the quiet after I fed," he choked out. "I missed
you so much that I would do anything - anything - to feel it all over again, even if
was just a glimpse of a memory," he said quietly. Carlisle looked up, and met his
gaze.

He blinked, and sucked in a breath to say something, anything...but he really
didn't know what to say. "Edward..."

With a graceful saunter, Edward approached, his skin shimmering gold in the
warm light of the new day. Closer and closer until they were mere inches apart,
and Carlisle could focus on nothing but his sweet scent.

Lithe fingers brushed wayward and drenched strands of blond hair out of his face,
slowly tracing their way down his cheekbones and along his eyebrows, across his

face...like he himself had done so many years ago on Edward's first night into this
life...so innocent and unexplored and so very beautiful.

"No matter what facades we create for the world to see, it doesn't change what I
know in my heart - that even though it may not beat anymore, it still knows how
to love," he said, pressing Carlisle's hand against his chest. Edward leaned in and
pressed their foreheads together. "What I feel for you will never change in
here...and I don't care if you want to call me your son, nephew, brother,
whatever - nothing changes the fact that my heart knows the truth - I will love
you forever, regardless of what may come."

Carlisle squeezed his eyes and pulled him into a tight embrace. Soft and sweet
breath ruffled against his ear as Edward whispered, "I always went back to those
moments when we were happy...they guided me through the darkest of days and
back into your life," he said, his lips brushing against the shell of Carlisle's ear,
"where I have had to learn to be content with the remnants...but your heart
knows it as well as mine," he said, pulling back slightly. "So do what you must for
the world to see - and then come back and find the truth here," he said as he
pressed Carlisle's hand harder against his chest.

And Carlisle couldn't say anything. The truth...it seemed such a simple concept -
to be able to hold onto one moment of clarity in the midst of the world full of lies
and false smiles and to always be able to return home once again...

Home.

Edward.

He pressed his lips against Carlisle's forehead. "Yes, let's go home."

Carlisle sunk lower into the warm depths of the bath, dried sea salt and dirt
flaking away from his skin. Water dripped quietly from his hair, and the sound of
rippling echoes sounded against the tiled walls.

A soft tap sounded against the door. Esme. He owed her an apology.

"Come in."

She entered silently, closing the door behind her and leaning against the frame,
her eyes downcast. "I am glad you are home," she whispered. "I was worried
about you."

"I...apologize for my earlier behavior; it was inexcusable," he said. "Could you
ever forgive me?"

She offered him a small smile, her eyes finally coming up to meet his gaze. "As
long as you are all right now."

He paused. "I...I am all right now."

Carlisle sat upright in the tub and leaned against the side, beckoning her over.
She obliged and kneeled down on the floor beside him. Running his damp fingers
through her soft auburn hair, he pulled her forward and placed a small kiss on
her forehead.

Esme relaxed in his embrace, letting her fingers ghost down his arms. His lips
trailed down her cheeks to her lips, capturing them in his own.

The truth.

Home.

Skin pressed against skin, lips pressed against lips...Carlisle and Esme wrapped
themselves in the timeless embrace of lovers, yet it was not her in his mind.

His mind was consumed with visions of bronze hair and golden eyes and strong
hands and the memories of Edward's passionate kisses. Carlisle let the hazy veil
hiding his thoughts drop away like the last remnant of clothing between lovers,
leaving him stripped naked to the one who knew what lay in his heart, and still
loved him anyway.

And Edward lay silent in his sparse room...his own mind filled with blond hair and
golden eyes and strong hands and memories of their love...as his own hands
slowly slid down his chest, pretending they were his; sheets drug against his skin,
pretending it was his gentle touch; his own tongue ran against his lips,
pretending it was his...

Edward's pleasure came as Carlisle found his...

The two of them finally knew the truth behind the lies and deception, each willing
to take a glimpse of the other, no matter the cost...or what they must sacrifice in
return.

Chapter Twelve - The Last Kiss Goodbye

This is the last time

That I'm ever gonna come here tonight

This is the last time - I will fall

Into a place that fails us all - inside

-Dishwalla, 'Angels or Devils'

The years melded together - blurring into one endless day of light and dark, of
truth and deceptions, of right and wrong. Life had become a facade, full of
deceptions and lies carefully constructed on top of the other and fragile as a
house of cards that could tumble with the slightest breath of air.

The lies always remained the same.

"I'm seventeen."

"I've never taken Biology before."

"I don't miss the blood of humans."

"My name is Edward Mas...Cullen. Edward Cullen."

"I don't mind being alone."

"Carlisle is my...father."

"I'm fine."

But they were all his lies - Edward's life of lies - and he embraced them, accepted
them, and had almost talked himself into believing them.

Almost.

When a finger accidentally grazed across his...when they shared a knowing gaze
and a remembered memory...a stray thought of lost passion...a casual brush in
the hallway...those were the moments that scattered the deceptions as a brief
ray of sun on a rainy day - reminding him that there were more colors in the
world than gray...and that there were some truths left buried deep in his heart.

And in those beautiful and brief moments, he would remember who he truly was.

He was not seventeen.

He had taken Biology approximately 22 times.

He missed the taste of human blood every single day.

His name had once been Edward Masen.

He did mind being alone.

Carlisle had been his lover.

And Edward was most certainly not fine.

But then the sun would slide behind those clouds of his half-life and he could
almost talk himself into believing the lies once again.

Almost.

There were no regrets.

This is what he had chosen - to be ensnared in a complicated tangle of desire and
honor - this web that held them together and yet kept them apart...unable to
stay, unable to leave...unable to have, unable to let go.

The days drifted into years, the years into decades...in and out, light and dark,
cold and warm, and his thirst burning... and Edward waited for the clouds to part
once again and catch a glimpse of happiness and dreams long buried in the
depths of his black heart.

And on one day just like the rest, a red sun set behind ragged Alaskan
mountains, coloring the snow into fire, glinting against pale skin and blond hair.

Edward wondered if Tanya's hair would feel the same as his...if her lips would be
as warm as his...if her love could burn away the memories of him...

She was bold and hungry, pressing her body against his and running her fingers
deep into his hair. Her breath ghosted across his ear as she whispered, "What is
it you want, Edward?"

There were so many things he wanted...to bury his nose in her soft hair, to savor
the taste of her skin, to glimpse something other than the past...to shed this
weariness and be...free of it all.

But in the multitude of wants, only one came to his lips, whispered in the sacred
valleys below building storm clouds. "I want...to forget," he softly murmured, the
wind catching his confession. It echoed off their surround of sparkling mountains
and continued on the breeze, rising further and further into the stars...destined to
lay next to millions of unanswered prayers, rotting in their desperation.

The breeze refused to relent, sending her hair in all directions...and Edward felt
his world begin to shudder as her lips brushed across his skin and her fingers
trailed down the back of his neck.

He wanted desperately to lose himself in her. Tanya kissed him, her lips eager
and urgent and he kissed her back with wild abandon, trying everything to ignore
the unsteady foundations of his deceptions, to ignore the memories of his last
kiss so long ago, to forget everything...and it almost worked.

Almost.

Her thoughts trickled into his head - images of the two of them naked in the
snow, of naked skin against naked skin, of her own past lovers, of the jealousy
she harbored...and the trickle soon became a flood, and the flood became a
torrent.

Tanya could never make him forget.

He could never offer what she needed.

Edward reluctantly broke her kiss and pulled away - his weary mind heavy and so
tired. Large snowflakes began to fall between them, settling in her hair and
eyelashes and glimmering in the silver light of the moon.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I can't do this."

And so Edward left Tanya standing there in the snow-covered plains of Alaska as
the stars shined against the blackness of the night. He was jealous of those stars
- circling around their tiny fragile world while they stayed safe and content far
above the maddening sound of life.

That was when he knew that his love with Carlisle had completely shattered his
soul, sending the pieces skittering across the black sky like the stars above.
Forever fixed in place - never closer, never farther away - just the same constant
distance that no bridge could cross now.

It hurt to remember. It hurt to know.

And so Edward went back to his safe life of lies, still weary and still tired and still
remembering everything.

"I don't mind moving back to Forks."

"High school again? Whatever is needed."

"I don't mind being alone."

"I'm seventeen."

"Carlisle is my...father."

"I'm fine."

Edward enrolled himself in high school again for the forty-eighth time, bought
another pack of brand new pencils and crisp blank paper - and created another
false life. This time around would be no different than the rest - days parading
with the mask firmly in place for everyone to see and nights spent finding
distraction wherever he could get it.

But there was only so much distraction to be found in the world - only so many
languages he could learn, only so many books to read, only so many songs to
play before those ghosts of his past came to haunt him once again.

Edward Masen Cullen hung weightless in his darkness, remembering to act
human while forgetting to feel human, not thinking about how much he missed
human blood, not thinking about blond hair, and no thinking about how much he
missed him.

"I'm fine."

Out of boredom - and a desire for some much needed privacy from a house full of
vampires - Edward began to roam solitary in silent streets in the hours just
before dawn - away from the sounds of Rosalie and Emmett's enthusiastic
lovemaking, away from Jasper's knowing glances, away from Alice's empathic
eyes.

"I'm fine."

But Edward had never been one to be content, and soon his explorations moved
from wandering empty streets to wandering through silent houses.

It had started innocently enough when he noticed a door standing open,
forgotten in the bustle of life. He honestly meant to just close it, but
somehow...Edward found himself in the middle of a living room with the sound of
peaceful breathing upstairs, the errant flashes of a stranger's dreams, surrounded
by the detritus of a life not his own.

Edward couldn't say why he didn't just leave. Somewhere his brain knew it was
wrong - to creep like a ghost through these living doll houses, staring silently at
brief and flickering souls sleeping in blissful oblivion to the monster standing at
their feet, watching them sleep and peering into their lives and thirsting after
their blood.

After the first house, it became a compulsion.

Now he would routinely wander aimlessly through strange living rooms, running
his fingers along bookshelves, reading homework assignments taped to
refrigerators, flipping through photo albums filled with endless school photos of
freckled kids, wondering where each piece of the puzzle fit in their lives, briefly
hoping one house might hold a clue as to what it was truly all about.

Yet it was the same over and over again...the same photos of the same birthday
parties at the same location with the same cakes...the same televisions, the same
food in the refrigerator, the same paint on the walls, the same shells of life were
everywhere.

He couldn't stop.

He didn't want to stop.

Their shells were no different than his own, with the same nameless faces and
stack of deceptions that hung around his neck like an albatross. And so like a
lonely ghost he wandered through his half-life of well-worn lies and shameful
distractions.

His carefully constructed false life blew away with the gentlest of breezes.

It was a normal day like any other. Shower. Dress. Put fresh pencils in his
backpack. Print out yet another report on William Shakespeare. Accidentally
brush against Carlisle in the garage. Share a glance as they got in their cars and
headed out to another day of deception. Endure the purgatory of high school for
the forty-eight time. Try not to think about blond hair.

And as he sat there waiting to suffer yet another lecture on mitosis, the scent of
blood unlike any before it suddenly hit his nose and hammered through his brain
- shattering his world with each heartbeat.

Edward Masen Cullen's patchwork life was ripped apart with one gentle breeze.

Bella.

She was the devil himself, come to tempt him back into the darkness - to be
offered the heady bliss of feeding on her blood, blood that sang to him, blood that
called out to him...and he almost gave in.

Almost.

Later on he would lie to his family that he had wanted to stay true to their choice
to not feed on humans, that he didn't want to be a monster anymore. But what
saved Bella's life that day had nothing to do with that.

It was the pain.

The burn, the clench of his throat, the lock of his muscles, the teeth biting
against his tongue wiped his brain clean of everything but her. No past, no
present, no future...nothing but the delicious tang of her blood wafting through
his brain burning all of the old webs away, burning him clean with her fire in this
purgatory...

Edward's tempting demon and saving angel came gift-wrapped into one clumsy
and delicious package, promising both death and life...and she didn't even know
it.

He had cursed God first.

Then himself and his entire life.

Then his incessant weakness that sent him driving away like a coward into the
night, seeking the refuge in the icy winds of Alaska...but over and over her face
and smell filled his mind and her fires continued to rage inside of him...burning
his old self into dust to be scattered on the wind.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

It had been three days since her. Three days of thinking of nothing but Bella
Swan and her delicious scent. Edward closed his eyes and clenched his fists. It
would be so easy, he thought, to simply walk away from that life...to become the

monster that lurked behind his golden eyes and to have the sweet taste of his
temptress' blood burning over his lips...

It would be so easy - kill the girl and walk away forever.

So easy...

A trickle of something...excitement...hope...flowed into his veins. He could simply
walk away...

And then he tried to remember the reason he had stopped feeding on humans in
the first place.

Carlisle. It had been all for Carlisle.

His eyes opened with a start. It had been three days since he had even thought
about Carlisle...three days since he had felt the weariness in his bones...he had
spent nearly 80 years living on scraps of attention, of remembered dreams -
always knowing he was never enough, living every single day with his weakness
for him.

Just the thought of returning to that life made him so tired, made the weariness
creep back among the shadows, all the more heavier after knowing a brief
moment without it.

He didn't want that life anymore; he could never return to the life he once led -
not since her blood had burned away all of his defenses and lies, leaving him
naked and defenseless...and finally free.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

It was surreal how much life had changed in the span of one simple year, Edward
mused. And how quickly something as simple as one little paper cut could destroy
it all. But then, paper cuts were never a trivial matter in a house full of vampires.

He might have laughed at the irony of it all - enduring the pain to find himself
anew through her, risking their lives to keep her close to him, managing not to
accidentally lose control and break her incredibly fragile bones...and yet this tiny,
breakable human girl had shattered the lives of unbreakable vampires with one
drop of her blood.

She was too good for someone like him. Bella had already given him a rebirth,
and he would be forever grateful...but reality always had a way of intruding
where it was not wanted. They were vampires, she was human.

Bella would never be safe as long as they remained - as long as Edward was
selfish enough to stay in her life.

This time he would be strong, Edward thought. This time he would do the right
thing and leave.

"It will be for the best," Edward murmured, throwing a large suitcase of clothing
in the trunk of his silver Volvo.

"Best for whom? Her? It certainly won't be best for you," Carlisle questioned as
he leaned against the garage door. "You've become a new person since
Bella...and I don't know if I can stand to see the darkness on your face again."

Edward's jaw set and he paused with his hand on the door handle. "I will survive.
And so will she. That's all that matters," he said, his fingers running along the
keys in his hands, his eyes distant.

Carlisle sighed and stepped towards him, laying his hand on the hood of the car.
"Don't go," he murmured.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head. "I can't risk damaging
everything we have built here. I'm not worth it." I can't go back, he thought.

"We have started over before, and you are definitely worth it." Carlisle paused.
"Where will you go?"

"I...I don't know. South America, maybe. Europe, perhaps." As far away as it
takes.

Golden eyes glanced over at Edward trembling in the darkness, and their
matching golden eyes met. "For how long?" Carlisle thought, letting out a long
sigh.

Edward was silent, refusing to meet his gaze. "I don't know," he lied. Never, he
thought.

"Do you remember, Edward? Do you remember what you told me when you
found me on the cliff?"

Edward closed his eyes as Carlisle stepped closer - feeling the heat trapped
between them. "You told me to remember the truth here," he said, pressing his
hand against Edward's chest, silent where a beating heart once was. "I will do
whatever it takes for you to come back," he whispered.

Carlisle's hand came up and brushed along Edward's cheek, along his closed
eyelids, smoothing out the worried creases in his flawless skin. It felt good...too
good. Edward sighed softly and his hands came up to rest on Carlisle's hips while
he pressed his nose into his hair.

Those arms that he once missed so much - no, craved - were tight and strong
and comforting around his shoulders...and then their lips met...softly at first...a
blessing for the journey.

The past rushed up to meet them, to remind them of the passion that once held
them together, to remind them of two souls destined to forever alter the path of
the other.

I would have done anything for this once, Edward thought.

And then slowly, there was more - and tongues found lips and teeth and fingers
wound into hair...and it was just the two of them once again - as it once was, as
it should have been all along.

But I can never go back.

One kiss for love remembered.

Loud voices in the hallway echoed off of the tiled floors, breaking their embrace,
and like the secret lovers they were, they broke their kiss, each panting and
trembling in the aftermath as Edward slid into the front seat of his car.

The engine flared to life and he glanced up, seeing Carlisle standing there
watching him with those deep eyes - and wondered if he had ever truly seen him
before - solid and silent, keeping all of his emotions buried deep, refusing to cry
out - no matter the cost.

Edward could see him, burning in agony of change - biting his tongue, his hand,
anything to keep from someone finding his weakness...and this was how he lived
his life - no one knew his weakness, he refused to cry out, he refused to let his
emotions in the open, and he suffered every day for it.

Edward rolled down the window. "I'll...I'll come back one day, Carlisle," he said.

The anxiety washed away from Carlisle's face, and he leaned into the car, his
fingers winding into Edward's hair, his soft lips crushing against his own. "I'll do
whatever it takes for you to come back to me," Carlisle thought.

And one kiss for goodbye.

Red tail lights disappeared into the darkness, and Edward was gone.

Carlisle stood in the garage, staring out into the night as his family opened the
door and began packing out their belongings for yet another move.

He already missed him.

One kiss for love remembered, and one kiss for goodbye to their bittersweet love.

The End