I've wanted to write this for a while. I'm not sure about it though. It's quite dark, and very very angsty. (and stars Edward of course XD). Enjoy! (I don't own Marmite, or anything to do with it.) ALSO I don't know what state this is set in. If I do say Washington specifically then ignore it.

ALSO: I've been writing this since May so please review it would mean a lot to me. XD Enjoy! (If that's the right word.)

"Why?"

"Because they're people."

"Not really."

"Yes, Edward, really."

Edward sighs. Carlisle frowns. Esme stands in the shadows.

"I thought you'd be proud of me."

"Proud?!"

"I'm ridding the world of evil."

"You're becoming evil."

"... Carlisle."

"Yes?"

"That was uncalled for."

"... Not really."

"Yes, Carlisle, re- You sly bastard."

"It was unintended."

"Like father like son."

"Stay out of this Esme."

"He's my son too, Carlisle."

"Of course, dear."

Carlisle turns back to his son. No, their son. Their son, who is standing in the middle of their kitchen covered in blood. Blood from his last kill. He's killed five so far. The Police are glad to be rid of them, but they're also afraid of the mysterious killer who is dropping their bodies off at the station.

"How are you finding them?"

"Jasper."

"Who the fuck is Jasper?!"

"Carlisle!"

"Esme, now is really not the time to be concerned about my language."

Esme gives Carlisle a reproving look, but lets the matter drop. A small smile is twitching at the corners of Edward's lips. However his face once again becomes cold as Carlisle turns back to him. "I don't understand why you're scolding me, Carlisle," He says, his tone as cold as his expression.

"You're killing people."

"Carlisle! How many times?! They're not people!"

"Yes! They! Are!"

"Will both of you stop shouting! The neighbours will hear you!"

They both fall silent. Tears are in Esme's eyes and a hand is resting against her mouth in sadness and disappointment. Edward hates seeing that look in his mother's eyes, but he believes that he is doing the right thing. He killed the man who hurt her, after all. Her husband before she married his father, and they had him. Charles Evenson.

But then he looks at his father's tortured expression, and he wishes he could do right by him too. Edward knows that if Carlisle's father was still alive, he would kill him too for how he abused him. It's the thought that counts.

A small sob escapes Carlisle's lips, capturing Edward's attention. "You wanted to be a painist, son. Or a composer. Not this."

"I'm helping people," He answers blandly, not knowing what to do as his father turns away from him. "Those people deserved to die!"

"You are not God, Edward! It is not your place to determine whether or not one deserves to die!"

Esme shushes them again. They both take calming breaths.

"You're such a hypocrite," Edward accuses quietly, breaking the uneasy silence. "You can't say you've never killed someone. You're a surgeon."

"It's my job to save people," Carlisle hisses back, hurt at the accusation. "I do not kill my patients."

Edward's eyes narrow, and he fixes his father with a hard stare. "Not regularly no. But you can't say you've never made it look like a mistake. Just nicked an artery, so they bled out, or treated them for the wrong illness, knowing the treatment would kill them."

"Shut. Up." Carlisle is beyond angry now. "Yes, people have died on my table, but they were all accidents. Yes, some of them died because of accidents made by me or my colleagues, but compensation was paid. Everything was dealt with legally and formally. Every single death was looked in to. But I have never killed anyone on purpose. How dare you."

Then he turns, takes Esme by the arm, and drags her up to their bedroom. Minutes after, when Edward goes up to take a much-needed shower, he will hear them crying together for the child they surely raised wrong.

"Who's Jasper?"

It's the first thing Edward hears in the morning. He's barely awake, still in his pajamas and his hair a mess, and he has only come downstairs for a bite to eat before retreating to his room for several hours. But Carlisle is ready to ambush him.

Edward rolls his eyes. "A friend from High School."

"Who just happens to know where criminals are?"

"Well, he is a criminal himself. He was arrested and served two years. Made a lot of friends. Kept in touch. Isn't above selling them out to an assassin."

"Is that your new title?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

After those words the silence hangs heavy and cold between them. Esme isn't awake yet. Carlisle is glad. She doesn't need to be present for this.

"Edward..." Carlisle doesn't know what to say. His pride and joy is an assassin, and not for the CIA or some sort of government operation. He's an assassin because he enjoys it.

"Just don't think it about it Carlisle," Edward instructs. "It's better that way."

"I can't not think of it," His father admits. "This isn't what I wanted for you."

Edward ignores the last part. He grabs a box of cereal and a box of Pop Tarts and moves to the stairs. He climbs a few before looking back at his father, who is staring dejectedly at the kitchen floor. "I didn't want to be a pianist," He admits softly, half hoping his father won't hear. But he does hear. He's listening to every word. "I wanted to join the army. But apparently they don't accept hemophiliacs. But doing this means I'm still serving my country."

With that admission hanging between them, Edward goes back to his room.

The next time Edward goes out, Carlisle is expecting the worst for when he comes home. Blood everywhere. The weapon still in his hand. Maybe human intestines in the other. So when his son finally steps through the front door at three in the morning, Carlisle is sitting in the living room in wait, and his eyes catalog everything.

There's no blood. No weapon. No human intestines. His son is smiling as he walks in - a roll of paper under his arm and a bag slung over his back that he didn't have when he left - and he's not alone either. A blonde man steps in after him, he is smiling too, but one side if his mouth is pulled down by a scar that seals his left eye shut. It's gruesome, but Carlisle can tell by the way the man holds himself that he isn't ashamed of the scar at all. No. He's proud of it.

Edward stills as he catches sight of his father. "Oh," He says nervously, glancing back at his friend. "Carlisle. I thought you'd be asleep."

"Clearly," His father replies icily. "I had a late shift. Only got back a little while ago. Who's your friend?"

"Jasper Whitlock, sir," The man answers. His gaze is critical, judging. Carlisle takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Carlisle pauses. He wonders what Esme will think of this. She went upstairs about an hour ago, telling Carlisle he is invading their son's privacy. Some part of him thinks she is right. A bigger part thinks she is wrong. "Of course not," Carlisle says after a moment. "It's a big house, and Edward is hardly a child who needs our permission any more. You're very welcome." He turns to Edward. "Eat something," He instructs. "I doubt you have eaten all day."

Edward ducks his head. His father is right, but that doesn't mean he is going to listen.

That night, Carlisle doesn't sleep. The Jasper is in his house. The Jasper. The one who helps his son find criminals. Perhaps he helps him kill them too. That thought sends a shiver down Carlisle's spine.

His thoughts are restless even though he lies still with Esme sleeping soundly beside him. He has a chance to stop this. It's his house. He could kick this Jasper out. He could tell him to never come near his son again. He could call the police, tell them this boy is trying to convince his son to murder someone.

But what if Edward is arrested too?

But he can't do nothing. He could stop a murder. Because that's what this is, even if Edward argues otherwise. It's cold-blooded killing. And he has a chance to stop it. No one else has to die at the hands of his son and this criminal.

Carlisle's father always labelled him as a coward, and as he turns on his side and attempts to still his thoughts and sleep, he finally knows it's true.

Jasper is gone when Carlisle wakes up. Edward is asleep. Esme has gone to work. Carlisle hasn't watched his son sleep since he was five and had the flu - despite being a doctor and knowing that Edward would be fine he still felt the need to make sure - and he feels a bit like a stalker doing it now. But there's also something peaceful about it. Edward's hair is a mess, as it usually is, and the quilt is twisted around his ankles. Looking at him like this it's easy to ignore what Edward has done, and will probably continue to do. Carlisle grimaces at that thought, and steps further into the room. He quickly rights the quilt so it's settled over his son's shoulders, presses a kiss to Edward's temple, whispers a soft "I love you" and makes his way downstairs.

"You don't drink coffee," Edward states as he walks downstairs to find Carlisle sitting at the table reading the newspaper with a mug steaming next to him.

"I don't," Carlisle agrees, turning a page of the paper. Edward picks up the mug and takes a sip. He cringes, making a sort of strangled gurgling sound as he put the mug back down.

"Ick," He reproves. "I forgot you're British."

Carlisle grins and finishes the rest of the mug in one go. "Being British has nothing to do with it," He says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Tea is the nectar of the gods."

Carlisle turns back to his paper, half listening as his son makes toast. He looks up when the noise stops. Edward is standing at the cupboard they keep jars in. He's holding a black round jar with a round yellow lid and a red and yellow label. "What the Hell is this?" He asks.

"Marmite," Carlisle replies, suppressing a smile even though Edward isn't looking at him. "I brought it back last time I went back to Birmingham."

"They have this in Birmingham?"

"Birmingham, England. Yes. I'm not sure about Birmingham, Alabama."

Edward shrugs and grabs a butter knife. Carlisle laughs silently to himself as Edward liberally spreads the Marmite all over the toast. That stuff is strong; his son is in for a shock.

Edward sits in the chair in front of Carlisle and takes a huge bite of toast. He chews once and then his jaw stills, his eyes going wide. His father doesn't know whether to be disgusted or amused as Edward opens his mouth and allows the food to fall back into the plate. When Edward looks up Carlisle is smiling. "Ew," He tells his father.

"Well, it's slogan is Love it or Hate it. Or something like that..."

"Hating it is the understatement of the century," Edward remarks, getting up and chucking the toast in the bin. Carlisle laughs.

They're silent for several minutes, Edward sitting there with an empty plate and Carlisle still reading the paper. Then Carlisle speaks: "I almost called the Police last night."

Edward snorts. "I was surprised you didn't."

"I don't want Jasper back here," Carlisle commands. "Take it elsewhere."

Edward grins suddenly. "I was expecting this. Besides, Jazz and I weren't plotting yesterday."

"Then what were you doing?"

Edward purses his lips and then glances down at his own lap suggestively. Then when he looks up he wiggles his eyebrows at Carlisle, who chokes on his tea and stands up abruptly. "Oh my God, Edward!" He exclaims, looking slightly scandalised. He has no problem with his son being gay, but that was quite a way to come out and Carlisle is trying to work out how neither him nor Esme noticed. "How... how did we not notice?!" Carlisle asks, and Edward laughs loudly.

"Put some cushions on the floor," He admits without a trace of shame. "Did it there. Didn't want you guys to wake up because of the bed knocking into the wall. Then just sprayed a whole can of air freshener in there. I'm not gay by the way. I don't have a preference."

"Have a nice day!" Carlisle shouts in reply to that, picking up his mug and paper and making his way to his study, his son laughing the whole time.

"Carlisle!" Two nights later Edward is running into the house, shouting for his father. There is a girl in his arms and they are both covered in blood. The girl is unconscious and barely breathing. Edward's eyes are red from tears and he's breathing heavily through sobs.

Carlisle runs into the hall. "Dear God," He whispers, taking the girl from Edward's arms. Esme places her hands over her mouth in horror. Carlisle whisks the girl away into his office, Edward close behind. "Clean the table," Carlisle orders, indicating to a medical table in the corner of the room. Edward drags it closer to the centre before disappearing. Carlisle tries desperately to stop the bleeding - wherever it is coming from - but without a proper gauge on the wound and how deep it is and even where it is it's near impossible. Edward reappears with Esme's cleaning basket and hastily cleans and dries the table. Gently, Carlisle lays the girl down on it. "What happened?" He asks gently, only noticing how scantily dressed the girl is as he begins to remove her clothes.

Edward sobs into his hand as he watches, trying to get his emotions under control. "She was being attacked... I, uh... I tried to get to... I tried to get her away... I just... He cut her. I think she got shot as well. Um... I couldn't get her away."

The girl moans as Carlisle begins to clean the several abrasions and cuts on her abdomen. None of them are deep enough to have hit any organs, but they're deep enough to kill her if she is allowed to bleed out.

Carlisle won't let that happen.

"What's her name?" Carlisle asks his son as the girl's eyelids flutter. Edward doesn't answer. "What's her name?" He demands again, with more force this time.

"Uh... Sparkle... I think. I don't know. It's... Bella? I think her real name is Bella," Edward murmurs, then adds so quietly Carlisle thinks his son is hoping he won't hear it: "She's a prostitute."

Carlisle ignores this bit of information, and gently begins to stitch the girl in front of him. He should take her to the hospital, he really should. It's his duty as a doctor, but if he did she would most likely bleed out in his car, or in his living room if he called an ambulance. But he knows if he doesn't then she can't go to the hospital at all. He will not risk his son going to prison. God only knows what this woman has seen.

He doesn't think she needs a transfusion, so once he's done stitching her. There is no bullet wound, at least not one he can see. After a while Edward leaves to have a shower and go to bed. But Carlisle sits with the girl for the rest of the night, one hand on her wrist, concentrating on her pulse. Despite the fact he has a medical table, and copious amounts of thread, it seems, he does not have a heart monitor.

The girl is fine.

She wakes up in the morning, wincing heavily as Carlisle hands her some painkillers. They're the strongest ones he has in the house, but they're not very strong at all. Edward is in the room seconds after she asks where she is.

The girl's face lights up as she sees him. With a weak hand she reaches out to him, and before Carlisle eyes his son as he takes the hand and kisses it gently. "You saved me," She whispers gratefully, smiling brightly. Carlisle sighs. The girl is only giving Edward more validation to kill. She's essentially telling him that what he's doing is right.

Edward smiles, albeit slightly sadly. "You still got hurt," He reminds her softly, pressing his lips against her knuckles again. She shakes her head.

"At least I'm alive," She tells him, placing her other hand on top of his. He smiles at her again.

"You're an idiot," Jasper hisses, beating him around the head with a newspaper. "You're not meant to leave witnesses."

"She's agreed to keep quiet," Edward says coldly, staring down at the table, batting the newspaper away.

Jasper turns to Carlisle for confirmation. He nods. Jasper relaxes, but only slightly. Edward had panicked when his friend (boyfriend? Lover? Carlisle doesn't even know any more, and he doesn't try to) had called him an hour before, pissed off beyond reason that Edward had actually needed help with a kill, so Carlisle had agreed to confront the man with his son. After all, Edward did kill the man, just didn't have time to dispose of the body if he wanted Bella to live. Jasper has nothing to be angry about (Carlisle isn't sure when he became so defensive of how well his son has murdered someone).

But then Jasper's face turns stony again, his frown making his scar more prominent. "It doesn't matter," He growls to Edward, who pales. "It's the number one rule. You never leave witnesses."

Bella's corpse arrives in Carlisle's morgue not three days after he deems her well enough to leave their house. He isn't sure who put it there. He doesn't want to be.

When he goes home, he says nothing.

When Esme was pregnant and hormonal with their son, she snapped at Carlisle constantly. He felt trapped between work and home.

And so he had an affair.

And the product of that affair is standing on his doorstep with the product of his marriage, both of their eyebrows raised. "This is Rosalie," Edward says testily the moment Carlisle opens the front door to them both (apparently Edward forgot his keys), "She stole my wallet. When she opened it the first thing she saw was the picture of you, Esme and I together. She said 'that's my dad'. Care to explain?"

Carlisle doesn't care to, but he will.

He knows Rosalie. He visited her as a child, telling Esme he was working overtime. He went to her clarinet recital in favour of Edward's piano concert, and went to her graduation as well as his son's. He sent money to her mother until her eighteenth birthday. He once missed Christmas with his wife and son in favour of staying with his daughter and her mother (the affair ended not long after Edward was born), but the look of joy on six year old Edward's tear streaked face as he welcomed him home ensured that never happened again. Yet he still made sure he was a part of his daughter's life, even if it meant he couldn't always be there for his son.

Rosalie leaves after the explanation, giving her father a kiss on the cheek and her new found brother a condescending pat on the back as she walks out the door. Edward is seething. "Does mum know?" He hisses through clenched teeth.

"Of course not," Carlisle replies, looking at his lap in shame. He had toyed with the thought of introducing Edward to his sister over the years, of course, but he never intended for Edward, for anyone, to find out like this. He thought he had moved his family far enough away from the city centre so there wouldn't be any chance meetings. He should have known Edward would be going further into the city to find his victims.

"How long did the affair go on for?" Edward asks quietly, refusing to look at his father. Edward doesn't care, and never has, that he has damned himself already, but he always thought his father was so good. So pure. So fucking genuine. "I said how long!"

Carlisle jumps at Edward's sharp tone, glad beyond a glad person with a very special reason to be glad that Esme has gone to the city today to do some shopping. "Only a few months. It started when your mother was six months along and ended when you were two weeks old. But I couldn't just abandon her, she was already preg-"

"So I gathered," Edward spits. "Since your precious daughter is only six months younger than me. Tell me, did you consider leaving mum? Consider leaving me without a father?"

"No!" Carlisle exclaims, but he is lying. For he did consider it, more times than he could ever bear to admit. Rosalie's mother... She was exciting. New. Carlisle got married young. His wife got pregnant young. He was a young doctor who felt stressed, trapped and tied down. He could easily support his growing family, having come from a rich family, and he could just as easily support his other family as well. But Allison Hale... Was poor. She didn't come from a rich family; never spoke of her parents in front of him and he met her in a strip club (she was working there; he needed new amusement to get his wife off his mind. It started with 'What drink d'ya want?' and ended with sex). The thought of abandoning everything and going to live with her in her tiny one room flat was exciting to him. He was tired of big houses and money and not having to do an honest day's work in his life. He knew if he left Esme his parents would cut him off, and that was fine.

But his son made him stay. His unborn child made him stay. For a while he had a plan to leave after the child was born; he knew his family would care for Esme. She would want for nothing, and neither would the child. Except perhaps him. But when he held Edward in his arms for the first time, when he glanced from his son's sleeping face to his wife - who, sweaty and exhausted as she was, managed to smile, reach out, squeeze the hand he offered to her after making sure the child was secure and thank him for staying with her through it - he knew he couldn't leave.

And that terrified him. What if he felt this way when his next child was born? He couldn't leave his wife, not now, but that meant he couldn't stay with Allison and her child. What would he do?

In the end it was never an issue. Allison gave birth; Carlisle was there. She had twins, which was a surprise to him and not to her. One girl and one boy. Then, Carlisle knew he had to stay with her. He couldn't allow her to raise two children in a one room flat with hardly any money on her own. Esme only had one child and a three story house. She would do fine.

But Allison told him to 'fuck off and go home'. She would be fine, she said. She and the children could survive. Allison's mother could look after them while she was working. They would be fine.

However, the next time he saw them, Allison had put the boy into care. Carlisle was furious. She had done it without consulting him. She had abandoned one of their children. When he asked why she had done such a thing, she simply replied: "So you wouldn't feel guilty about leaving me with two."

As he left, still shaking in his rage, he heard her voice behind him, uttering the words that would run laps around his mind for years to come: "He's at the Happy Home Orphanage if you want to collect him. Just ask me for a copy of the birth certificate. If you don't... Well, for the future, his name is Emmett... and he has your eyes."

Carlisle didn't collect his son, and that decision has hurt him ever since. What if he had? What if he had?

"Well?" Edward's voice shocks him back to the present. His oldest child is standing over him with one eyebrow raised and a murderous expression. Sometimes Carlisle thinks he may not have had anything to do with Edward being conceived. He doesn't think Esme was unfaithful to him, no, it's just that Edward looks so much like his mother that some question if Carlisle was present for the act at all. "Were you even listening?"

"No, sorry," Carlisle says honestly, rubbing at his eyes. "What did you say?"

Edward sighs dramatically. "I said, I'll make you a deal." Carlisle nods. "If you stay out of my business entirely, allow Jasper and anyone else I might be acquainted with to stay here, and don't ask me any questions or act like you know anything at all, I won't tell Esme. Deal?"

Carlisle barely has to think, just simply says "deal" and watches Edward stride out of the room. It barely occurs to him that he has just given up what little control of his son he had left. Instead he thinks about each of his children in turn. Children he has struggled for years to keep equally safe and happy.

Edward is a murderer.

Rosalie is a thief.

Emmett doesn't even know he exists.

Sometimes he wonders what it was all for.

Edward has pissed off Jasper.

Again.

Carlisle doesn't know how. All he knows is that his son is very afraid at the moment, and he doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"Edward, please," Carlisle implores once again. "Just explain to me."

His son paces across the floor in front of him, shaking in either nerves or rage. Carlisle doesn't feel like he knows Edward at all any more, so it's hard to tell.

Edward huffs, shoving his hands through his hair. "I can't," He says again, frustration ripping through his voice. "I can't."

"Why?" Carlisle demands. "Why not?"

"You won't like it," Edward mutters, almost to himself, still pacing. "You won't like it." He begins to shake his head.

Carlisle sighs, placing his head into his hands. "Just tell me."

"Fine," Edward snaps, harsher than intended. "We found a guy in town, okay? He's a rapist. He uses girls and leaves them on the side of the street to die. I followed him to an alley where he had a girl and when I got there he was already using her. I killed him, and you know how our policy is. We can't leave witnesses. No matter what. But the girl saw. I couldn't just kill her; I took her to a hospital. I stayed with her until she got out. Jasper found out somehow. He wants me to kill her, but I can't. No matter what I have done, and what I am probably going to end up doing, I refuse to kill my own sister."

Carlisle chokes on air. Rosalie was raped? "What?!"

"Told you," Edward huffs, flopping down into a chair.

"My daughter was raped and you didn't think to tell me?!"

Edward snorts. "Oh, so now she's your daughter? You know she told me you were never around, that she never felt wanted by you. It seems you failed in your attempts to be a perfect father to both of us."

With that he leaves, leaving Carlisle regretting most of his life choices.

There is a new nurse at the hospital.

His name is Emmett.

He has Carlisle's eyes.

When he introduces himself to Carlisle, the man almost chokes. He shook Emmett's hand, and then pretended to be paged and ran away. Emmett is only training, so he might not actually end up working in this hospital, but still.

Edward visits him at the hospital. He figures it out immediately. He takes one look at Emmett - who is a tall muscled Carlisle with dark hair - and gives Carlisle such a look of loathing that it hurts more than anything that's happened so far.

"Edward wait!"

"You said the affair had stopped after Rosalie was born!" Edward hisses, turning to face his father.

"It did!" Carlisle implores. "She had twins! She put Emmett into care."

Edward laughs at this, taking taking a sudden turn. "And you let her? God Carlisle you're even more of a hypocrite than I thought! All those times you preached and preached about how awful the care system is and how you want to do right by your child or future children I thought you were a fucking Saint! I idolised you! Now I've discovered that you have two illegitimate children, one of which was in the system!"

Carlisle grits his teeth, trying desperately to hold on to what's left of his patience, and to bite back his next words. He loves Edward dearly, he always will, however he can't help himself. "Do you really think you should be worrying yourself about my fucking affair considering what you've done?"

His son reals back with hurt splashed across his face. Carlisle flinches, but takes a step back himself when Edward's expression hardens. "Was that a threat, Carlisle?"

The blond takes a deep breath, trying to remember a time when Edward called him and Esme mum and dad. It hasn't happened in a very long time. He thinks Edward was about twelve when he started calling them by their names. At first they were horrified, but then they grew accustomed to it. They thought it was a phase he'd grow out of. He never did.

"No," Carlisle whispers, for the first time scared of his own son. He takes another short step back. "Not at all. My apologies."

Edward regards him carefully, slowly backing him against the wall of the corridor. "I should hope not." His tone is dangerous and dark. "Because I may have told Jasper I will not kill my sister, but I never said anything about my father."

The doctor's breath catches, and he swallows roughly. His throat and mouth are dry and he stays flattened against the wall until Edward is well out of sight. For a long time after that he stares at his feet, and watches as his tears splash against his shoes. He lets the sobs wrack through his body violently, but not for long. After only a few minutes he wipes his eyes and dries his face, looking up to find Emmett standing in front of him. The man looks concerned for a moment, before he hands Carlisle a photo and walks away.

He looks down at the worn piece of paper. A flash of pain goes through his chest as he realises the picture is of him. It's the only photo in existence of him and Allison together. It was taken at the hospital, and they're each holding a baby. She had insisted on it, ignoring his reluctance due to his worry that the photo would make it's way back to Esme. Looking back on that memory he wonders if Allison was planning even then to give up one of their children. The pain intensifies. As he slides down the wall he realises that this photograph is Emmett's, and that he's known all along.

He can't take this anymore.

Emmett doesn't really speak to him. When he does, it's all professional. Only short, sharp sentences that wash over him completely. Other than that, nothing.

"Emmett." Carlisle can't take it corners him. He thrusts the photo into his son's (his son!) hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," The man replies quietly. "I just... I wanted to let you know that I knew, and that's all. I... well I had a good life. I love my parents. I've always had that picture but..."

"But what?" Carlisle asks, desperate to help in any way he can.

Emmett pauses for a while. "I have a sibling. That boy the other day...?"

Carlisle sighs. "He's your half brother. The other baby in the photo is your sister Rosalie. I can find her and her mother - your mother - if you'd like to meet her."

Emmett purses his lips at this. "I'd like to meet Rosalie... but not her mother. Not yet."

Carlisle nods, and they part friends (sort of). At least he's sure Emmett won't be completely avoiding him from now on. When he goes home he can't wipe the smile off his face, and even though Esme doesn't know what it's for it's a welcome change considering the past few weeks. Esme's happiness makes it so much better.

It's his first victory in a long time.

His peace doesn't last long.

He didn't expect it to.

When Edward comes running in with tears streaming down his face, he's instantly worried. Even more so when his son actually runs to him, throws himself into his arms and says "Dad help me."

Still not out of his shock, he simply holds his son closer and whispers, "Ssshhh, ssshhh, it's okay. What happened?"

Edward cries harder. "I was doing a kill with Jazz and the police arrived. They got him but I managed to get away. I'm not sure if they can implicate me completely cause Jazz had the weapon. I don't think they saw me but I dropped my wallet. They're coming for me. They're coming for me. Don't let them take me."

Instantly, a plan begins to form in Carlisle's head. He knows it's wrong; he knows that this is his chance to turn his child over without the guilt of calling the cops himself. But can't do it.

He can't.

"Okay, Edward," He says, calmer than he expects. "Give me your coat and your gloves. Go upstairs, get my wallet off my dresser and put it in your room. Change your clothes and hide the dirty ones. When the police get here, don't admit to anything, okay?"

His son only nods, looking unsure and scared as he takes off his coat and gloves and hands them to Carlisle. They're saturated with drying blood. Carlisle smiles at Edward one more time, feeling tears well in his eyes as he dons the gloves and coat - which is roughly his size - and leans down to kiss his son on the forehead. "Tell your mother I love her," He murmurs, before making his way to the front door, running to his car in an effort to get away before Edward works out what he's doing. As he pulls out of the driveway he catches sight of Edward standing on the doorstep, looking horrified, shaking his head frantically. Carlisle is almost worried, but he knows Edward will follow his orders, and allow him to do this. Edward has always been selfish, and Carlisle has never faulted him for it. He got it from his father, after all.

"No!" He shouts after Carlisle. "NO!"

After waiting in some ditch for almost half an hour and almost crying his eyes out, he begins to speed back to his home. A police car had passed several minutes ago, but it hadn't come back. He could only pray that they hadn't left his house yet. He knows that he has to do this carefully, or they won't believe him. So he takes a deep breath and wipes his tears away while still driving, forcing his breathing to become more ragged to it will appear as he has been running for his life. He lowers the windows to let the cold in and make his cheeks red. He's been sweating since the full force of his plan hit him, and what it would mean for his family, so he doesn't have to worry about that.

To make everything more convincing he tries to make his expression harder and battle weary. He tries to look scared, which he is. But the icing on the cake is the small knife (it was in Edward's coat, what a shock) he uses to cut into his cheek, almost crying out as the blood spills onto the collar of the coat. As he drives he throws it out the window, deep into the forest.

He speeds up his driveway, inwardly cheering and crying as he spots the police car parked outside. Carlisle knows he has to make this look convincing, so he can't give himself a moment before he gets out the car. The moment the car stops, he throws himself from it, running to the house and refraining from even glancing at the police car. When he goes in Edward is sitting nervously on the couch, looking as confused as he can. His wallet is in a plastic bag on the coffee table standing between him and two officers. They turn to Carlisle as he slams the door, who mutters 'fuck' as if he's only just noticed their presence. Then he turns his eyes to Edward, forcing horror to cross his face as his hands fly up to the cut on his face. Just to make things more convincing, he makes it obvious he's just spotted the wallet and exclaims "Shit!" And turns and runs out the door. The officers chase after him immediately, and they tackle him with ease.

"Carlisle Cullen," One of them says, attaching handcuffs to his wrists. "We are arresting you..."

Carlisle doesn't listen to the rest, it's all just noise. He allows them to put him into the car, and as they do he glances at Edward, who is once again crying on the doorstep. His free son. It's with that thought he knows he won't regret this.

He's taken to a station further into the city. It's only when he's put into plain grey clothes and locked into a cell that he remembers Emmett. "Fuck."

Carlisle requests a phone call, they say yes - reminding him that it is his only phone call. He calls the house. Esme picks up. He almost puts the phone down. "Carlisle?!" She screeches, and he cringes at the pain in her voice. "I just got back from my meeting, and Edward said you had been arrested for murdering a man what's going on?!"

"I'm sorry Esme," He murmurs, almost crying. "I'm so sorry. I love you."

"I love you too," She whispers. "Tell me it's not true."

"I can't," He replies, and she's silent for a long time. "Can I speak to Edward?"

"Yes," She snaps. "Here he is."

"I love you," He murmurs again, but she doesn't hear him. "I'm sorry."

"Dad?" Edward's voice comes through the phone, hurt and scared. He sounds like he's still crying.

"Edward," Carlisle says, resting his forehead against the stone cold wall. "I need you to do something for me."

"What?" His son asks, eager and thankful. "Anything."

Carlisle sighs heavily. It seems he finally has his son's respect, but at what cost?

A cost he must be willing to pay.

"Do you remember Emmett from the hospital?" Edward makes an affirmative noise. "Well he knows I'm his dad. He had a picture of me and his mother on the day of his birth. Rosalie was in the picture too. I promised him a meeting with her. Can you arrange that for me please?"

"Of course," Edward whimpers. "I love you dad. I'm so sorry."

Carlisle smiles at this, albeit sadly. "I love you too, my son. Although you have nothing to be sorry for."

He hangs up after that. He can't take it. When he's taken back to his cell, he cries. Because crying is, now, all he can do.

A year of court dates pass, and Carlisle barely notices. He has nothing to live for anymore. His life is over. It's done. He's found guilty, and so is Jasper. He's been sentenced to prison before his final trial, which will decide if he gets life imprisonment or death.

When Jasper first saw him in Edward's place he wasn't surprised. He simply smiled and winked, which left Carlisle feeling angrier than he has in a while for reasons he can't explain.

Esme and Edward were at all his court dates. Emmett and Rosalie were at a couple. He watched them speaking to Esme, and wondered if she was now in possession of the truth. Her face showed nothing but anger and worry, which were both permanent emotions it seemed, so it was hard to tell. However, in the end it didn't matter. Rosalie's rape came up as Carlisle had supposedly murdered her rapist. They stated she was his daughter. Esme didn't look surprised, however she didn't look surprised about anything anymore.

His parents came to the first date, and then didn't show again. They visited him once, but only to tell him what a disgrace he is. What a disappointment to the family. How disgusting he is.

Carlisle can't bring himself to care.

Out of everyone Edward visits him most. He mouths thank you through the glass so he won't be heard and suspected. He talks with him until they can't talk anymore. He cries in court. He broke down when he had to speak to the court. He cried harder when Carlisle was declared guilty, even though he knew, realistically, it wasn't going to go any other way unless someone confessed, and Edward and Carlisle both hope no one is going to. They certainly aren't.

Personally, Carlisle hopes for death. He knows he won't be able to keep quiet for the rest of his life if he doesn't die soon. Not seeing Esme is torture. Not seeing Edward is torture. He wants to get to know Emmett. He wants to know Rosalie better. He wants to confess to all his sins. He wants, desperately, to be free.

But he wants Edward to be free more. Because if Edward is free (and not killing people) then he knows his son has so much more to give the world. So much more.

Jasper's lawyer fights very hard for him. Her name is Alice Brandon and from the looks they exchange Carlisle wonders if they're fucking each other. Carlisle doesn't care what happens to him, so his lawyer doesn't put up much of a fight. Marcus Volturi doesn't seem to care about much really. At one point he tried to implicate Edward, however Carlisle's reaction afterwards made sure he dropped that allegation quickly. Luckily the police did too.

However Carlisle knows that part of Marcus' job is to try and get him off death row. He can only hope Marcus isn't very good at his job. All he can do now is hope.

Hope for death.

Edward visits him in his new prison. He's the first.

"I'm going to med school," He says, and Carlisle grins widely, but it falters slightly as he remembers Edward's accusations that night in their kitchen. How he accused Carlisle of murdering people on his operating table. He wishes for those days now, when it seemed his son would never be caught as long as everyone kept quiet. He wonders if Edward is going to continue to kill people in that way. "I want to heal people," Edward continues, squashing his father's speculations, but only slightly. "To make up for what I've done."

Carlisle flinches at this, acutely aware that their entire conversation is being watched and recorded. "You've done nothing wrong," He mutters quickly, smiling sadly (who smiles happily these days, anyway?) and pressing his hand against the glass.

"I should have taken the fall for the crimes," Edward insists, and Carlisle wants to tell him to shut up, but that would cause too much suspicion.

"No," Carlisle says firmly, maybe bit too firmly. "I couldn't let that happen just because I was stupid enough to take your coat by accident and leave your wallet there. I'm sorry I took your wallet anyway, but I couldn't find mine."

"This wouldn't be happening if I hadn't taken your wallet," Edward sniffs, and Carlisle senses the guards bristling behind him. They are probably thinking he's sicker than they thought. Not only does he have a God complex but he's managed to get a mere child to love him to the point of wanting to take the blame for crimes he didn't commit.

"No, Edward. Don't think like that," The former doctor implores, but as he stares into his child's eyes he sees true remorse there, and he knows what Edward is really saying.

This wouldn't be happening if I had just listened to you.

"It's okay," Carlisle whispers instead, bowing his head slightly. "It's okay. I love you."

"I love you too," Edward whispers into the phone. Then says, "I have to go now. I promised mum I'd be home soon. Bye."

"Bye," Carlisle says, watching as Edward stands. He stands too, and his son waves to him as a guard approaches to take him back to his cell. As he lies on his bunk he feels more at peace, possibly because he knows that his arrest has marked the end of Edward's killing spree. Possibly because he knows his son is now healing people... Or he's going to, at least.

That is the first night Carlisle doesn't cry.

Carlisle's cell mate is one of the people Edward would delight in killing.

Caius is a sadist. He's a serial murderer, rapist, child molester. Everything that both Edward and Jasper would deem worthy of torturing. He likes to tease Carlisle by calling him 'doctor'. He asks him why he thinks he's better than anyone else in there. Carlisle wants to punch him. Or castrate him (considering his crimes) - whichever.

"Doctor," Caius says, turning over in his bunk to look down at Carlisle, who's sitting on the floor. "Doctor?"

"Yes?" Carlisle replies as serenely as he can muster.

Caius is silent for several minutes. He speaks just as Carlisle thinks he's not going to. "Your kid not visiting today?"

"No," Carlisle says quietly. "Not today."

Caius sighs. "Shame," He mutters.

Carlisle's protectiveness rears it's ugly head. "Why is it a shame?"

The man shrugs, smirking slightly. "It may not be known to the court, but it's a well known fact around here that you're not the one who killed those guys." Carlisle's breath catches in his throat, and Caius laughs. "You don't have to worry," He says, which Carlisle finds hard to believe. "We're not about to turn your kid in. Though it is kinda fucked up that you turned yourself in when you didn't do anything."

Carlisle bows his head, resting his forearms on his knees and letting his hair fall down across his eyes. "Well," He mutters. "He's not killing anymore. He's going to become a doctor."

The man laughs again. It sounds cold and cruel. Toneless. "Or that's just what he's told you, to make you feel like you've done this for an actual reason."

In reply, Carlisle only sighs.

Esme hasn't visited him for months, so he's surprised when she shows up. "Hello," He says cautiously into the phone, worried about her steely gaze.

"Hello," She replies coolly, but her bottom lip trembles, revealing her true emotions. "Edward said you wanted to see me."

"Yes." Carlisle shifts in his chair as he stares at her. He presses his hand against the glass. "Yes I always want to see you. I love you."

A black tear escapes her eye. "I love you too," She whispers, and he almost collapses in the relief as he hears sincerity in her voice. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," He says desperately. "I miss you every day. I love you so much." He's crying now. Some others who are being visited or who are visiting are staring at him openly. He can't bring himself to care.

Esme doesn't reply. She purses her lips tightly. "I'll be at your trial," She tells him. They've been informed it won't be long until it happens.

"Okay," He replies, and then repeats, "I love you."

She nods at this and stands to leave, but then she grabs the phone and hisses, "You're an absolute idiot. I can't forgive you for this." Then she's gone, and he keeps staring at the spot she was sitting as he's dragged back to his cell.

The trial goes better than Carlisle expects. He's sentenced to death, and just as he's about to smile -because he's got what he wanted, Edward is free; there is no chance of him confessing now - when a scream rips through the court room. His head snaps towards the noise, and he's surprised to find Esme on her feet. "No!" She cries. "This is wrong! This is terribly terribly wrong!" Edward tries to comfort her, but she bats him away. "Don't touch me!" She screeches.

"Esme," Emmett (Emmett of all people!) whispers, tugging her back into her seat. He then pulls her into his arms and she just sits there and sobs, while the judge carries on as if nothing happened. Edward simply sits in his seat and cries. Rosalie and Emmett keep their faces impassive, although Carlisle likes to think they care, at least a little.

At the end of it all Carlisle knows is that he's being taken to a new prison. That he's going to die. He feels strangely peaceful. But Esme's pain has sent agony through his heart. Edward's sobs have set of his own. Rosalie and Emmett's carefully expressionless faces have caused a sort of numbness to seep through him. He's not sure how it's possible to feel so emotional and yet so detached at the same time, but he does, and he hates it. He shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't feel anything. But he does, and it only makes him want to die more.

Emmett visits him in his new prison. He's not the first.

"They told me everything," He says quietly, and Carlisle sees the truth haunting his eyes. "I can't believe you did that."

Carlisle can only shrug. "It was something I had to do. I would kill for all of you."

He tries to convey that he would do the same for him and his sister. He can only hope Emmett understands.

Emmett does, although he seems unsure.

"It was nice knowing you," Emmett mutters after a long conversation. "I just wish we could have had more time."

That's the last time they see each other.

It's been eight years since he was sentenced, and a date has been set. He's surprised by how quickly it happened, as he had found out that some inmates on death row had waited around fifteen years. But now there's a date, and he has a week left to live. He was given a date long before, of course, but now the date is much closer. Soon, he's going to be dead. Dead. At fifty. For crimes he didn't commit. It's times like this where he wants to confess. Where he wants to live out the rest of his days with Esme. But Edward is now an oncologist in Seattle, and he can't ruin that. He's been in prison for almost a decade anyway; it won't be possible for him to get a job. No one would hire him, and from he's heard Edward is a fantastic doctor, and he's adored by his growing list of patients. He can't take that from the world.

Carlisle knows he's been asked what he wants for his last meal, but he can't remember what he said. He'll just have to wait and see.

He knows that people are going to be there. That his friends and family are going to watch him die. He wonders who will be there. He knows Edward will be; he said so on his last visit. He's not sure about Esme or anyone else. However he will be happy with only Edward, his son, who has proved his gratefulness to Carlisle in ways he never expected. He's so proud of him, and he will happy as long as someone is there to watch him go.

The officer talks to Carlisle as he eats his last meal. It's just lasagna, nothing special. He asks him how he feels. Carlisle only shrugs. "I'm fine," He mutters blandly. "I deserve to die." The officer looks surprised, but doesn't speak after that. His attempt seemed halfhearted anyway.

When Carlisle lies down in the chair he will die in, he's surprised to find Edward, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, and two colleagues from work there. They watch him through the glass with tearful faces, and it's only when the needle pierces his skin that panic sets in. This is it. He's going to die, and now he can't stop it. They won't take anything anyone says seriously now. They'll only take it as the half-thought mumblings of a desperate man. Carlisle tries to slow his breathing, tries to focus on Edward's face. He can't help but notice that Edward and Esme are sitting with everyone else in between them, and he wonders what everyone else thinks of that.

When he catches Edward's eye his son smiles slightly, and picks up his white lab coat off his lap. He shows Carlisle the embroidery next to the lapel: Edward Cullen M.D. Carlisle grins proudly in response. It's all he can do.

As he looks at his colleagues it occurs to him how everyone's view of him will have changed. It's not something he gave much thought to before. But now he realises that everything he has ever done will be under scrutiny. Every patient that has died on his table will be looked in to again. Every mistake he has ever made will be looked at in a new light. He wants to throw his head back and scream as he realises that he will only ever be remembered well by murderers; that he will never be remembered the way he wanted to by the people that matter because he had an affair. Because they think he murdered people. Esme will remember him for cheating. Emmett and Rosalie will remember him as the man who has never there. His colleagues will remember him as the doctor who killed instead of healed.

But Edward will remember him as the man who saved him, who kept him out of prison and protected him, and that has to be enough.

They begin to release the drugs into his system, and he begins to breathe heavily, whimpering in the pain of this death. There is no physical pain, no, but the emotional pain is almost too much to bear. He knew it would come to this, he always did, but in this moment he decides he doesn't want it. He can live with whatever guilt comes from confessing. He will have to. He's not ready. He's not ready to die.

He doesn't want it!

But instead he looks up again, staring straight at them. Some of them mouth goodbye, but Edward mouths a reverent thank you as tears mar his face as blood once did. It gives Carlisle the strength he needs, so as he feels the blackness begin to creep in, he reaches up as much as his bindings will allow and whispers "Help me." instead. There is a priest and a doctor present, and the priest grasps his hand and smiles sadly, trying to help him through this time. Carlisle throws his head back, but now he doesn't have the strength to scream. He wants to thrash and cry but all he can do is lie there as tears cool his cheeks and he chokes on his own regret. Using the last of his strength, Carlisle takes one last look at his family and friends, the last thing he will ever see - the last thing he ever wants to see, and then closes his eyes. He feels the sign of the cross being signed on his forehead, and it's done.

He has made the ultimate sacrifice, and all for his son.

*Hides behind sofa* So... How was it? I'd just like to say that I have no idea how the American (or English, for that matter) legal system works, so that's why I tried to include as little of that as possible. I hope you guys liked it! Please, please review! I don't normally ask, but this is 9000 words and I've been writing it for months. XD Thanks for reading!

ALSO I haven't proof read this and I'm not happy with all of it so you might receive a revised version soon! Thanks again!

P.S. OH MY GOD I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF THIS IS ALMOST 10,000 WORDS! (9,923)