Disclaimer: While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Carlisle are not to be regarded as authoritative.

Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Stephenie Meyer; all original characters and story © 2017 FemaleChauvinist.

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This story is the sequel to "My Esme." PLEASE READ THAT STORY FIRST!

Chapter One: Analogy

Carlisle

She wasn't there when I got home.

I was teaching now; it was boring, really, compared with the satisfaction of performing a delicate operation that only I and one other surgeon in the country were qualified for. But it had regular hours, weekends off, and no emergencies, and that was what Esme needed right now.

I had even considered not working at all, but I was afraid staying with her constantly would undo any progress we had made to this point. How could she get accustomed to my leaving her…unless I left her?

Normally she would be pacing by the time I got home, listening for me and running out the door as soon as she heard the car. Today there was no sign of her.

It was with a rising sense of fear that I got out of the car and half ran up the porch to push the door open. "Esme? Esme!" The last time I had come home to an empty house, it was to find that my Esme had been raped, her mind stolen…

"She's fine, Carlisle," Edward called from upstairs. "The girls took her shopping."

Of course…Esme hadn't been alone…she was never alone anymore…no one would let anyone get near her… I leaned my hand on the doorframe, attempting to calm myself.

This wasn't the first time she had left the house while I was at work, but it was the first time she hadn't returned before I did. I wondered if it indicated another step toward healing…or if it was simply what happened when one went shopping with Alice.

I didn't mind Esme shadowing my every move when I was home, but I couldn't help being glad to have a few minutes alone in the house with Edward.

I sat at the desk in my study and glanced at the latest article I had found on counseling rape victims. There wasn't much in it that seemed applicable in this case…to be honest, a lot of it seemed like so much nonsense even applied to humans.

I looked up as Edward came through the door I had purposely left open. "Why is it so hard for her, Edward?" I asked with half a groan.

He came forward to sit on the corner of my desk. "Did you expect it to be easy?"

"No. But Rose was raped; she killed her attacker and then moved on. Why is it different for Esme?"

"Rosalie still thinks about her attack more often than you realize, Carlisle," Edward said soberly. "But, yes…it is different. For Rosalie, it's a human memory."

"She remembers it, Edward," I said almost harshly. "In detail." I didn't have to be a mind reader to know that.

"Yes, but…" He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "It's like a TV, I suppose. A lot of the time, trying to recall human memories is like trying to get a bad signal on an old analog TV; it's all static and fuzz. But even when you remember it well, it's like playing an old black and white movie. No matter how modern the TV set is, it's going to be black and white because that's how it was recorded. Rose remembers everything she was aware of…but she 'recorded' it as a human…black and white. Esme 'recorded' her memories as a vampire — crystal clear, high definition color."

"But he stole her mind first…" I groaned, desperate for any hope.

Edward shook his head. "Not really, Carlisle," he said soberly. "He paralyzed it so I couldn't get a reading, but she was aware of everything. Including when you arrived, if that helps any."

"Only if it helps her."

"It did. Believe it or not, Carlisle, it did."

He was silent for a moment again. "There's another aspect that makes it harder for Esme than Rosalie. Rosalie was raped by a human, when she was human herself. She's never really thought it in so many words, but the idea has always been in her mind that becoming a vampire ensured her safety from it ever happening again. Whereas Esme —"

"Was raped as a vampire, by a vampire," I finished heavily.

Edward shrugged apologetically. "It makes a difference."

I leaned my forehead on my hands. "Tell me honestly, Edward; how is she doing?"

Edward sighed. "Not as well as she'd like you to think. On the one hand, she's convinced you can't possibly love her anymore after what happened."

I growled softly.

"She thinks you're saying you love her because it's what she wants and needs right now, and you don't want to hurt her feelings. But at the same time, she thinks you love her now, but that if she's too 'clingy,' needs too much 'babying,' you'll get tired of her."

"She thinks I love her and is convinced I don't, at the same time?" I asked skeptically.

Edward shrugged. "I read minds; I never claimed to understand them. Her thoughts haven't been completely logical since it happened." He met my eyes with a concerned gaze. "To be honest, even yours have been all up and down the scale."

"But you know I love her; can't you tell her —"

"I've tried, Carlisle." He shook his head. "She knows how good a liar I am." He winced suddenly. "They're on the way back…you'd better go outside to meet Esme."

Next chapter coming next week!

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