Intertwined - A Bellisle story

by utterlybewitched

A/N: Disclaimer: I do not intend to make money out of this. All characters and settings belong to Stephenie Meyer and I thank her for creating these wonderful characters! I am simply borrowing them and twisting them for my evil schemes.

Chapter 1

"How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?

Leading you down into my core

Where I've become so numb.

Without a soul, my spirit's sleeping

Somewhere cold

Until you find it there, and lead it back home."

- Evanescence

"Never, never tell them. Try and remember that. Never tell anyone anything ever. Never tell anyone anything again." – Ernest Hemingway

It still astounded him how through all the centuries and eras that humans were a constant inhabitant on this earth, on this very ground, the sky hardly altered. The ground changed, people were born, lived their lives in solitude or company, in pure bliss or agony, impacted others with their virtuous or sinful behaviour, and found their ends in graves deep down under the soil. It all starts with life and ends with death before starting over and over again. Earth changed constantly, yet when he looked up to the heavens it stayed the same. Each morning when dawn broke through dozens of branches of trees and made their way to the soil, it announced the sun rise and warmed the earth and its inhabitants with life, till at twilight light started to fade and the lunar circle was now a substitute for the elementary reason for existence – the sun.

The heavens above him stayed the same throughout all the centuries – each morning he would watch the sun rise, observe the sun at its peak, even though often times clouded, until he would see the sun disappear behind the gray mountains of Canada's wilderness. Each day he knew the sun would rise and be gone by the time he was finished with his work at the hospital so he could safely excuse himself and make his way home without raising any suspicion. And each and every day he found peace and tranquillity when he looked up to the heavens above him, whose cycle would never change, and would go on even when the humans around him grew old and could not observe the sky any longer due to their short life span. He would observe the sky as long as mankind existed, probably even beyond that, as long as God would have him, as long as Earth could still gravitate around the sun.

So it was no surprise that this morning Carlisle decided to close his heavy, dusty, old leader-bound book, filled with contents of thousands of Latin terms of the human anatomy that he had long memorized since reading it the first time in 1667. The pages were yellowed, not due to lack of care on his side, god forbid – he would carefully turn the pages, worshipping each page, each word, each particle that cohered to the other - more so it was yellowed by oxygen that he himself did not need. He could place his books on a shelf with UV- filters to further prevent the pages from yellowing, he could further store his precious books at the optimum temperature around 70 degrees Fahrenheit, but oddly enough he rejoiced the fact that his surroundings slowly faded from age and usage while his cells were forever frozen at the age of 23 – no more growing, no more changing. It gave him pleasure to see his artefacts growing older and therefore remembering him of his true age and all the experiences that came with them.

Moreover, he could cease reading his books altogether, for every word was already memorized in his complex brain and he could easily enumerate that after cervical vertebrae it was thoracic vertebrae, lumbar vertebrae, sacrum and finally coccygeal vertebrae that followed, Carlisle, however, liked reading the familiar words that calmed his whirling, racing thoughts; they turned from a burning fire, making its way to ignite even more until nothing was left but ashes, to a constant burning of a candle light – the fire still remained present, but did not threaten to inflame everything around him. So did his thoughts: he would still think them, simultaneously keeping his mind busy with the anatomy of the spine, but they would be distracted to a certain degree and kept securely behind closed doors where he wanted them.

After closing his book with utmost care, he slowly made his way towards the windows which were facing the blue mountains. He could have used his vampire pace; it would have taken him exactly one - quarter of a second to be at the windows, he, however, chose against it. Unlike his family members who were exasperated by having to use the human pace in presence of them, Carlisle was content to walk in human pace occasionally. It made him feel human. And what use had vampire pace when he had forever? He was not stressed; he was not worried about running out of time as many humans his pretended age were.

Patience is a virtue, he thought, as he watched light red and yellow hues form in the clouds behind the Brobdingnagian mountain chain, announcing the beginning of a new day not yet lived.

Still, no sane person would have waited as incredibly long as he did; and often times Carlisle harboured the thought that he indeed lost his sanity sometime around the eighteen hundreds. The young doctor has read dozens of books – his friends as he fondly called them, and he held them all close to his cold, non-beating heart. He learned through them, he felt with them, laughed with them and cried silent tears with them. Still it was not enough for he longed deeply for a physical companion. Carlisle had waited almost 300 years to turn someone, to make him experience the exact same pain of the infernal transformation, to bind him tightly to an invariable eternal life he himself had never wanted. Evidently, one bite did not guarantee that his partner would forever remain at his side, but Carlisle silently hoped still that his friend would be someone special, someone who he would not have to shield away from, someone who would understand him, and most importantly – someone who could share his rigorous views.

Only later he realized that it was never enough.

In the end, it was his own selfishness that had forced him to turn the handsome, bronze-haired boy with green orb-looking eyes into an immortal monster back then in 1918 in midst of the Spanish Influenza that had caused thousands of helpless victims to succumb to death. An unusual plague had started spreading in January 1918 – whereas the first epidemic wave hit mostly weak individuals such as infants and the very old, the second wave killed previously healthy young adults; mostly young men – juvenile boys who had been ecstatic first to stand up with heavy armour to protect their Fatherland's front. The general population had an expectancy that the Great War would end as quickly as it had begun, but no one could have presumed it would last four awfully long years. As though it was not enough to read the long death roll in the newspapers each day, reminding Carlisle of the youthful lives who were being exploited by a needless war, now, however, those who had scarcely survived had to fight another obstacle that seemed impossible for the physicians to overcome. The doctor's hands were bound, they had to helplessly watch victims suffer from causes that were hard to fathom. The folks were familiar with pandemic diseases such as typhoid, yellow fever, diphtheria, and cholera, so it came as no surprise that doctors misdiagnosed the strange new case as such. Carlisle, however, knew better - haemorrhages from the nose, stomach, and intestine or bleeding from the ears were fairly new symptoms that could not be associated with these diseases; moreover the colouring of the skin with a blue-ish tint was novel altogether. Carlisle confirmed his suspicions - it was indeed the deadly Spanish influenza.

It was in 1918 that Carlisle worked night shifts at a local hospital in Chicago, Illinois – here he had patients who suffered from the evil as well for barely any place on this world was untouched by the devil himself.

Carlisle was now fully immersed in his memories and they took him many years back to a most fateful day in August 1918.

"Doctor Cullen," nurse Maggie, an elderly woman, called his name out in fright, "make haste, make haste!"

Her voice usually sounded quite unaffected and filled with boredom and the staff often times wondered why she was in such proficiency in the first place. Now, however, her voice screeched and echoed through the corridors so loudly that Carlisle feared patients could be awoken, had not most of them been unconscious already. He almost shushed her, telling her to keep her voice low from now on, but he feared that questions would arise on how he could make out the most silent noises countless of rooms away. Carlisle hurried down the gloomy – lit corridors, each and every space occupied either by hospital beds or medical equipment, until he arrived at the quarantine, his impeccable black shoes, echoing in the hallways, would not be admired in such a place. His smile that met many patients on his way to the quarantine was overcome with grief – his attempts at easing the illness had been in vain, and it was a feeling entirely unexplainable to those who were not in his footsteps. Many years he had to witness thousands of people dying. It was a most angst-burdened feeling to be the confidential victim himself, utterly dependable on the doctor's skill, but to watch from afar how the light left someone's eyes was never a sentiment he would grow accustomed to.

Primum non nocere – first, do no harm – was a phrase he tried to live his whole life after, but oft-times abstaining from doing anything felt as atrocious as doing harm. He felt like a failure and his mind constantly scolded him to work faster, harder, better, to research more thoroughly and efficiently, to open up his arms widely as a shield and keep humanity from any harm. Somehow, his arms were not long enough, not sturdy enough despite being made from granite, so that instead of ricocheting, all evil simply made his way through him.

The door was opened already and the nurse appeared in his sight. She need not make any explanations for it was clear for him to see what exactly had occurred. The sight was regrettably familiar.

Elizabeth Masen – a petite lady with bronze hair and green eyes, just like her son's - was moaning and writhing on her bed, sweat covering her forehead from exhaustion and fever.

"EDWARD", she cried out in agony. Her eyes were closed, one could mistake her from having a nightmare; the blond doctor, however, knew better. Carlisle's brow creased and he silently made his way to her bedside and put his arms securely around her fragile shoulders. Her motherly effort at being a helping hand and caring for her son had made her ill herself.

"Mrs. Masen, everything is alright. You are safe", he assured her. He knew the fever conjured the most scattered hallucinations, but he found that speaking in a soft tone, reassuring the patient of their surroundings, helped immensely. Despite all of his efforts, Mrs. Masen kept on moaning and crying out her dead husband's name while Carlisle turned to the nurse and ordered her to bring him a bucket filled with water. Elizabeth Masen's condition had worsened exponentially. It was only yesterday that Mrs. Masen had complained about a blazing pain in her head and limbs, and although she showed signs of bettering, her fever was reappearing again with more intensity.

Carlisle tried to calm her frenzied state by steadying his arms around her shoulders to prevent her from further hurting herself as she thrashed around. Nurse Maggie immediately reappeared at his side with a bucket of lukewarm water and a cloth.

"We must keep her fever down. She is delirious." He informed. His voice sounded exhausted and although it was not possible for him to be so physically, his mind was a whole different matter.

"EDWARD", Mrs. Masen cried out again, her eyes opened and glazed over as Carlisle winced internally at her ear-piercing scream. Then she was silent. Her husband Edward Masen Senior had died 2 hours after the same fever had made him ill.

"Look after her son, I shall take care of her.", Carlisle uttered as Nurse Maggie placed the bucket on the nightstand, only to nod in understanding and leaving hastily.

Carlisle slowly opened the bed sheets to prohibit a heat stroke and dampened the cloth with lukewarm water. The lukewarm water would feel cool on her overheated skin. His eyes immediately raked over her form to detect any changes. Her skin had turned to a blue-ish hue, indicating that haemorrhages were filling up her lungs and he could smell her weakened blood - she would have only 2 hours left at most. He pitied her as he pitied all of his patients, but he could not allow himself to care too deeply for them, otherwise, he would go crazed. Still, he did - he cared too deeply for them, more so than he should have. Oftentimes a memory of a tired smile would reappear in his mind of a dying child or a joke spoken in times of hopelessness and despair. He had memorized all of his patients, their faces, their words, their fears, their stories. He was grateful that he was the one whose eyes would last see the light of the dying patient in their eyes as their soul left their tenuous bodies. In his head, he prayed for them to do well on the other side and he was grateful that their earthly sufferings had finally come to an end.

Not 4 hours ago, Mrs. Masen's husband had died, leaving only her and their son behind. Both were doomed to die and there was nothing left for the blond physician to do other than calming and caring for his patients, already on their deathbeds. As he placed the damp cloth on the lady's delicate forehead with gentle care, Elizabeth Masen briskly opened her eyes, awoken by the cold of his hand that she could feel through the damp cloth of cotton.

Green eyes met golden ones.

Elizabeth immediately recognized the pale figure in front of her.

"He is my only hope", she thought silently.

Her hand, laying on the bedspread, shoot up to her forehead and she took hold of his hand, gripping him tightly. Her hot hand felt like fire atop of his. To Carlisle it came utterly unexpected that she would awake; probably she had sensed that they were not in a presence of another soul and any occurrence or word would not leave this sanctuary. Carlisle was astounded by her sudden strength. His motions came to a halt, looking into her eyes as confusion was clearly written on his face.

"Doctor, my Edward...", she whispered, her voice raspy from crying and screaming. Her eyes, hooded from fatigue, were searching his face for the truth. She was now fully alert and conscious.

Carlisle sighed. The bitter truth would do. "He is dead. He died peacefully not 4 hours ago." He lowered his head in shame. "Forgive me, but there was nothing we could do for him."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He could see her scrutinizing his appearance, but most importantly, his sincerity. Then she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

"No. My son, Edward."

Carlisle failed to reply, his eyes searching hers to detect her meaning.

She took another laboured breath and spoke the words no other being had spoken to him before.

"I beg of you. Promise me! You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward." * Her eyes spoke nothing but of love for her son. She and her son were almost inseparable, a nurse had informed them. Both only had each other when the father was away for another business trip.

Carlisle froze completely, becoming statuesque. In that moment Elizabeth confirmed her suspicions.

She knew.

She knew what he was, but had kept silent. She had probably feared and damned him silently under her unsteady breath, yet she still wanted him to turn her son.

Into a monster. A damned monster! But she could not know what she was asking of him. Anything would be better than this existence! It was not a life he would have chosen for himself willingly.

"I- I- How?", asked Carlisle whispering, almost inaudible for human ears to hear. He could have sworn that one could cut the heavy tension with a knife as Carlisle anxiously awaited her reply.

But no answer came.

All of a sudden Elizabeth closed her eyes and started writhing again.

No! Carlisle thought. He had to know. She was gambling with her son's life. He had a right to know. But it was too late, she had fallen unconscious. Carlisle let go of her completely and stared at her unceremoniously. Her heartbeat was slow, but steady, as though she would not rest in peace until he made his promise.

It couldn't be! The woman knew of his diabolic nature and demanded of him to change her son, her beloved, most precious son, to become a devil himself. Realization dawned on him – despite all circumstances, she wanted her son to live. She was, after all, a mother. Every loving mother would sacrifice everything in order to keep her child alive and safe. Yet he couldn't grant her wish. It was spoken in disarray, she did not mean them; shecould not.

Without another look, he left the room and nodded to another nurse at the door to take care of her.

Still, what a thought! She could not know what desires she had awoken in him that he had long buried deep inside him. For centuries now, he had played with the idea of creating a companion, someone he would love unconditionally. He would stay by his side as a mentor and guidance and aid his fellow friend to keep his more humane side instead of succumbing to his bestial desires.

His vision almost became blurry as his thoughts whirled around in his head. Carlisle slowly arrived at his office and locked the door, his footsteps heavy from all the weight he carried on his shoulders. He silently sat in his stool and succumbed to his inner demon.

He could have denied Elizabeth Masen's wish to do what no other could do, as she had uttered in that fashion. He could have abandoned her last wish to care for her son whom she loved ardently with most abundance and fervour. Carlisle could have simply forsaken him and let the young boy sleep peacefully forever, but his blasted selfishness and loneliness haunted him and cried out for a companion. Was it not for his frozen heart, he could have sworn it shattered into million pieces as he gazed upon the young boy later, barely being able to lay in his bed in the quarantine, a victim contaminated by the cruelty.

What possibilities! What future he must have had ahead of him! Carlisle thought as he sat at the foot of the young boy's bed and contemplated.

Edward with his long-fingered piano hands could have easily become a well-known, most famous pianist; he could have married a young lady and become a father whose children bore the same green eyes. If Carlisle were to bite him, he would take away any remaining hopes for a human life. Gone would be a life in the light and fatherhood; he would have to succumb to an existence in the shadows forever.

Carlisle's conscience forced him to believe that this boy still had a whole life ahead of him. But as Carlisle had gazed at him with his skilled vampire eyes, he knew that Edward had no remaining chances of survival – his place in the morgue was safe, his stone at the graveyard almost engraved with his name directly below his mother's. Dark purple shadows graced his features, the green eyes glazed over as though he saw the angel's choir before him already, and his breathing sounded laboured. Death was knocking at the door and it was only mere hours when it would burst in.

Although his horrific condition shadowed his face, Carlisle saw beyond the many facets of death. Carlisle saw such purity in the young man's face; he saw intelligence, a soft heart that had suffered all the same, which were emotions unlike any other he has seen on a human in such intensity, so clearly written all over his face.

Edward simply shone with goodness.

He is perfect, Carlisle admitted in his thoughts.

You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.

The boy's mother begged Carlisle to keep the young man on this earth. He could not blame her for her want. Such grace, such bravery, such purity, such compassion was a rare sight to behold.

Elizabeth Masen saw beyond Carlisle's mask and it was the unbreakable love of a mother that lived beyond the realms of death that reminded him of the mother he possibly had and wished he had had. And so he had promised her, whispering in her ear as she died 2 hours later.

He foolishly believed that it was her beg that he still heard repeating itself in his mind, even hours after she died, that finally urged him on to save Edward from death when he took the boy into his arms and left the quarantine as fast as his vampire pace allowed him to. He acted on impulse now. The more he thought about it, the more his conscience and rationality would kick in. He still believed her words as he hurriedly carried the boy in his arms while flying through the shadows, and he still believed it when he safely placed the boy on his bed in a small secluded cottage. He still believed it when he regarded Edward's aorta that pulsed deliciously and pumped red blood through his veins.

No, focus, he chided himself. Edward's skin slowly turned from a pale complexion to a dark blue and purple colour and his nose started to bleed – it was only mere minutes until the inevitable would happen, what no human could save him from.

And Carlisle still believed he heard the mother's voice ringing in his head when he felt the venom pooling in his mouth and he neared the boy's neck, a finger's width separated him from a nearly unconscious boy.

I promised her, he calmed himself.

Please.

But it was not Elizabeth Masen's voice he heard at this moment to keep his promise, seconds away from biting – it was his own heart that begged him to succumb to his wishes and fantasies for a companion, a dear friend, a most beloved son. In that moment, he simply wanted to let go – he wanted to let go of his nagging conscience that begged him to let this boy die in peace, he wanted to let go of his fear of failing to turn him successfully, and he wanted to let go of his persistent solitude.

Please.

So Carlisle let go and did what no other could do.

Please help me, God!

Carlisle took an unnecessary breath and whispered into the boy's ear, Edward's ear,

"Forgive me, my son."

And then he bit.

Edward's fate was decided.

Carlisle heard Edward's footsteps ascend the top of the stairs next to his office and Carlisle snapped out of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

He turned around and gazed at the person he only saw seconds ago in his memories. He could have sworn the man in front of him was more mature, more experienced, which he undeniably was, yet he was still the same – in all his glory. He gazed at his son, his friend, with whom he had shared every passing thought his mind had entertained in his entire existence – up until now.

Is something the matter, Carlisle questioned in his thoughts, worry lacing in his tone.

Edward stood in the doorway and smiled sadly, "You often think of this lately."

I can't help it. It was you who was my first and only true friend, my companion. You suffocated my solitude. You mean so much to me, Edward, my boy. It was you who finally made me think of creating a family for ourselves. I must always thank God for his kindness.

"And I am forever grateful for it, father. You gave me a friend and a connection I longed for in my human life. And most importantly, you gave me Esme."

Edward's eyes shone with love – love for a long-time friend, love for the want of bettering himself and fighting his inner demon due to his father's vegetarian way he offered him, love for a father he never had as a human, love for his family and most importantly – love for Esme, his wife.

I always wanted you to be happy.

"And I you. And that is why I must ask you – why do you mask your thoughts for me? What is it that bothers you lately? Forgive me, but you do not look well, Carlisle."

Carlisle sighed and faced the window again, carefully masking his facial expression and emotions that, fortunately for him, Edward could not read. He was glad Jasper and Alice went on a hunt, otherwise, this would have been difficult. He knew they all used their talents and played against him and his privacy. As much as he loved his family, and loved their talks in all openness, he occasionally needed time for himself. Carlisle closed his eyes painfully; it was a mistake he would not make again. He should not have allowed his thoughts to wander to his innermost desires when Edward was around. But it was so easy to open up to God when a new day broke through and at these times he felt closest to God, it almost happened beyond his reach - unconsciously.

Instead, he made sure that Edward only read thoughts of him observing the sky and its beauty again.

I am simply indulging in memories, Edward. You know, better than anyone else, that I am a melancholic by nature.

He heard Edward sigh and open his mouth to speak further and keep his inquiries. For months now, he and the others had tried to help Carlisle and understand what was bothering him. Carlisle, however, would not open up as much as it pained him and his family members - who could do nothing but watching from afar how Carlisle silently suffered - and so they accepted his wishes to simply leave him be. And often times Carlisle was indeed happy, as Jasper assured Edward. Still, as his oldest companion and dearest friend, he had a suspicion that Carlisle, the altruist he was, kept something from him and his family.

"I do not mean to pry, Carlisle."

Carlisle turned and put a hand on Edward's shoulder.

I know, my son. It is simply time for me to leave for the hospital. I will arrive at noon tomorrow.

Edward raised his eyebrows in surprise which should not have been one for him. It was for four months now that Carlisle had been taking the 30 hours shift and they barely saw him anymore apart from bits and pieces of his body when he rushed through the house to arrive in his study that he kept firmly locked most of the time. He was never at home for leisure time, moreover, Edward and the others were sure they would never see him if it weren't for his family and the sake of appearance he had to keep – humans had to rest and he had obligations to care for his children. All of them feared that they would somehow lose their beloved patriarch and father.

"Another 30 hours shift? Esme wishes for some family time. We all do."

They need me.

"We need you, too. Never forget that, Carlisle."

It was later when he was out of earshot of Edward's ability that he decided that he would not indulge in his deepest fantasies and pitiful feelings in front of his family ever again. He would only think of them when at the hospital or when he was completely alone.

Carlisle's thoughts are in italic.

A/N:

Hello, guys! This is my very first attempt at writing a fanfiction story and I am still unsure if I will continue it. Probably I will leave it at that. Personal matters hinder me from doing any writing at the moment. Therefore, if I may not contine it - regard this chapter as a One Shot, but we will see what the future brings!

I apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos you may encounter whilst reading.

I am not a native English speaker, so please bear with me. If, however, you do find some mistakes (and I am absolutely positive that you will), please write them down and mention them in your review or simply PM me. I'll be happy to oblige and correct them.

On top of that, this is my very first fanfiction – if there are any difficulties reading this story due to the format, I apologize in advance as well. I am fairly new to this page and wholly unaccustomed to publishing any of my work, or formatting for that matter.

Also, I often like to play with words and adverbs, therefore my chapters turn out to be quite lengthy.

I love to put effort into my writing, carefully choosing each and every word and oftentimes re-writing a paragraph.

And finally, be warned – the story is M-rated. In the following chapters, if there will be any - we will see, you will encounter sucicide attempts, depression, DP/DR and GAD (generalized anxiety disorder), later on we move on to sexual intimacy as Bella's and Carlisle's relationship progresses. And this chapter was quite angsty as well. So if you have any problems with that or are quite inexperienced or sensitive in that matter, please read at your own risk or put the story aside for a later time.

Now, on to some information about the story.

The glorious quote from my summary was directly taken from "forksfiction" on twilight. Please check out her wonderful twilight postings and her very own fanfiction story "The Literary Pharmacy". I love it!

The information about the Spanish Influenza and the anatomy of the spine can be found on wikipedia. It was so much fun to google and dig into the history!

*You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward. That quote is directly taken from New Moon. Other than that, I have slightly altered the retellings of Edward's and Elizabeth's hospitalization. Not everything is exactly as Carlisle told Bella in New Moon, but that was done on purpose.

To clearify on whether Carlisle is OOC, because I can almost hear your answers: I see Carlisle as an INFJ from the Meyer's Brigg's Type Indicator. For some he may seem an optimist, he is for me, but we must view him as someone who did not find his soul mate yet. Carlisle resembles Edward, in my opinion, and vice versa. And of course, after all these years of being together, they have adopted some personality traits and thought patterns of their companion. Both are melancholic by nature, Edward simply had his music to keep him going and his family, Carlisle had his medicine, his family and his faith. But we must not forget that in my fanfic it is Edward who never had to wait 100 years for his mate – he had to wait for her for 5 years at best.

And even though Carlisle suffers, he would not give in like Edward would have and showed his displeasure openly for everyone to see (see Twilight). Carlisle is altruistic and he is guilty for his desires, because he has more than he could have ever wished for, so how dare he wish for a mate...

Also, this is my fantasy and my Carlisle (lol, how possessive I am). For some he may seem OCC, but keep in mind that he is not entirely the Carlisle we know from all the Twilight series. We do not know as much about him as I would have liked, because SM wanted to show Edward's and Bellas's story, therefore their feelings. We do not know really how Carlisle is, only the surface and INFJs are complex beings anyway (I am one myself, we are very contradictory and complex) because everything is from Bella's POV, and we do not know how Carlisle would have been behaving without a mate. Here is where I explore his character and his story.

Please review and share your thoughts!

Thank you very much!

With lots of love and until we read from each other again,

utterlybewitched