My wonderful readers, first, thank you for your patience. Those who read New Sunrise might remember that I hoped to have this first chapter published by the end of April 2018 and instead it was June. During this story my PhD program kicked my behind, but fortunately I passed my comprehensive exams, defended my dissertation, and became a doctor! Secondly, I feel the need to apologise to those of you who read and enjoyed A Little More Heart (ALMH). The amazing kiwihipp, who generously beta'd, read the chapters in ALMH in Carlisle's pov one day asked me if I could write a story set entirely in the past and where Carlisle has even more heart and risks even more. Consequently, much of what was written in Chapter 2-4 of ALMH can be found within the beginning of this story. The tone is different, as this story is entirely set in Carlisle's pov, and I made some modification, since the chapters found in ALMH are Esme's imagination of Carlisle's past rather than how I imagined Carlisle considering himself. I momentarily thought about just referring readers to ALMH, but ultimately decided not to because the themes and tone wouldn't be consistent, two things that matter greatly to me as a writer. Nonetheless, I ask for your forgiveness for using my own work liberally in order to tell a different story. Despite this, I hope that you enjoy watching Carlisle have even more heart.
Dedication: This is dedicated to kiwihipp who without remuneration other than a thank you beta'd A Little More Heart and New Sunrise. You have kept me honest as a writer and encouraged me to improve my prose. This is for you.
Title: Vir Fidem
Summary: There are few truly concrete things I remember about my father. One of them was his certainty that I lacked faith. In my youthful ignorance I decided this meant that I lacked the will to blindly accuse others without proof. Consequently, I went out prove to him that I was, in fact, a man of faith, while also refusing to do so by my father's methods. If someone in town were said to be a witch, instead of merely taking the accuser at their word, as he would have, I sought out evidence to support or refute the accusations. This caused the number of burnings to be decreased and my father to be increasingly upset and rigidly point out how I lacked conviction. It was therefore with firm determination that I set out to prove to my father than I could convict and find evil based on evidence and reason, rather than accusation. That choice cost me my human life and planned future. Nevertheless, once becoming the monster I had hunted, I dogmatically set out to live my new life by the morals that had guided me in my human years, including my search for evidence, proof, and truth. This way of seeing the world and living served me well until one Miss Esme Platt came into the hospital with a broken bone. With her what was straight became crooked and what appeared wrong seemed right. In this turmoil that she brought, I was forced to ask myself, at my core was my father right?
Rating: Starts out T, but eventually becomes M (As the later themes and struggles as well as a few scenes in this story are meant for adults, not to mention some of the topics discussed, would not be suitable for most teens, at least in my opinion.)
Disclaimer: I did not create the original characters found in this story, however the plot is entirely mine.
Warning: This story is ultimately meant to be about a man and his relationship with the divine, and how life events impact that relationship. Thus, this story will contain religious themes, including prayer, holy scriptures, and conversations with religious leaders. These references are not intended to offend anyone, promote one religious view, or proselytize in any way. Nor do they necessarily represent my views. Nevertheless, as religion can often be a topic that ignites strong reactions, you are duly warned.
Now that is out of the way, please enjoy.
Chapter 1: Reason is Right
By all accounts I had witnessed the earth move around the sun more than a hundred times when I was told point blank by one of our kind's three kings that human memories were meant to fade and were inferior, just like the species. With respect and humbleness, I disagreed with him, as I believed his argument to be a fallacy, earning the snickers of many in court.
First, the premise lacked concrete evidence. To concur that vampires were physically enhanced in comparison to humans was easily straight forward. We were absolutely faster, stronger, and had more powerful senses. Indisputably, we were more durable and lived longer lives than humans, although no creature truly lives forever. Additionally, for a few with some slightly unusual capacity in their human years upon transformation often manifested into a significant extrasensory power, giving those individuals additional superior skills or capacities. All around, vampires were more powerful than humans. The proof for that conclusion was self-evident.
Where I believed the fallacy arose was the conclusion that because vampires were the more powerful species, that they were consequently the superior species. The definition for superiority was significantly different than for powerful, and to suggest one equalled the other was a basic logical fallacy.
Aro disagreed.
For years after that first debate he and I engaged in debates over the merits of what made something more superior than something else. My premise of superiority was not based on strength or power, but on how such things were used. I easily assented that his coven, the Volturi, who ruled vampires by enforcing the law were superior to other covens based solely on how they conducted themselves. Yes, they consumed human blood, much like other covens did, but that sustenance was what our bodies called for. I was aware, sometimes painfully, how odd my diet of animal blood was for my kind. Despite the fact that they saw humans as nothing more than sustenance and occasional entertainment, they did not kill any of the humans in their city of Volterra and refrained from bringing mothers and children into the castle for the purposes of feeding.
Aro considered these policies nothing more than good common sense. "Ending those that are breeding is simply a poor policy and the young have little in them to be worth the bother," he had stated once almost sounding irritated and as if these were elementary facts not worth a discussion. Although I did not push that aspect of my thoughts further, he would have seen when he touched me that I saw these policies as purposeful decisions that also set the standards for all vampires. Before his decisive brushoff, I had argued that these policies demonstrated the Voturi's potential to do more harm than they choose to do, particularly because they choose to limit themselves when nothing was requiring that they do so.
What spoke even more forcefully to their superiority within our race, I argued, was that they had used their power to create the law of secrecy, which protected both vampires and humans, and used their self-proclaimed leadership of our kind to enforce this law unilaterally. Thus, overall, they had used their power to create a more peaceful society for vampire and human alike. Aro chuckled at this statement each time I brought it up, dismissing it easily, saying that it was simply the best way for our kind, and taking no credit for these accomplishments. His minimalizations of the good he was doing and the fact that they used their power to create peace I attempted to rebut by pointing out how their superiority was shown in the fact that other covens that might wish to govern the vampire world would use their power to create chaos, as, according to the stories, the Romanians had done.
Caius regularly chastised Aro and I for having what he declared to be "a pointless endless conversation" before storming out of the room in a huff. Aro, however, appeared to appreciate our exchanges and nicked name me Stregone Benefico for my insistence that superiority was found in acts that created goodness, kindness, gentleness, peace, patience, joy, faithfulness, and love.
Often Aro would shake his head indulgently, mutter how humans had twisted the words of some crazy Jew, and seemed to seriously contemplate how to have my brainwashing undone. To this, I would simply point out that most religions had similar beliefs asking its followers to strive towards reducing suffering. When I used the very scrolls entombed in his libraries to support my opinion, he would simply chuckle and in an indulgent tone tell me how vampires had no need to follow such human ideas and human religions, because our species was superior.
Pointing out his fallacy in using his postulation to prove his conclusion usually caused him to retort, "My dear Carlisle, how I wish I could have you and Aristotle argue these points." Then he would shake his head and rise, claiming Volturi business.
One time, I mentioned how the Volturi was able to peacefully keep such high numbers of our kind in one place and that surely that showed their benevolence. That statement garnered the only chuckle I ever heard from Marcus in my decades with them, although it was dark and bitter tinged with an almost hatred that I could not discern.
"Yes, brother," he seethed, "certainly Chelsea is a demonstration of our superiority."
Aro looked at Marcus in a sad apologetic manner for a moment before he waved his hand dismissively. "It is a valid point, brother. We have the largest group of our kind in one place. Her limitations demonstrate the error of your thinking most clearly. She merely ensures that we do not lower ourselves to the behaviour of nomads."
"According to you, brother," Marcus snarled, "but how can we be sure, when you are the one wielding her?" At the end of his challenge he drooped as if this outburst had exhausted him.
"Your own gift confirms my words." With a frown and a brief pause he told Marcus, "You are invaluable, and we could not rule as we do without you. Please, brother, let this go, or at least remember how you used to be before Chelsea assisted you."
"Assisted or enslaved, brother?" he asked without any force as if voicing the words were hurtful to him, but there was a cutting tone that hinted at wanting to be more forceful, if he had more strength.
"She gave you back you ability to live," Aro answered sadly.
"Well if binding all in Volturi to you and you alone is benevolence then we are surely superior," he retorted sarcastically before rising and leaving the room in a huff.
The exchange was completely baffling. Chelsea's cloak colour indicated that she was a valuable coven member. Not to mention that I had always found her presence to be enjoyable, as if she brightened the atmosphere and decreased any concerns I might have had before spending time with her. On a few occasions, I had suspected her of having the gift of offering comfort or something similar, but the conversation I had just witnessed seemed to imply that she was capable of more than that.
It was as if I had witnessed a family argument that I was not meant to see. Daring not to move, I waited, as Aro seemed lost in his thoughts. Hours later when he began to notice his surroundings he saw me and smiled a sad smile.
"I'm sorry you witnessed that Benefico. Can I count on your discretion? It is an old argument going back over a thousand years. See, Marcus lost his mate. In his grief he occasionally blames his continued existence on me and my desire for him to be at peace with us here. He will get over it and no doubt in one hundred years we will have the same argument."
"Of course, Aro, you can depend on me to never speak of it again," I vowed. "It is your own business. I only apologise for inadvertently bringing up a sensitive topic."
He nodded contemplatively, tapping the chair. "It is a lot to ask, but I would also appreciate it if you would never utter what he said about Chelsea. Mostly because it is not fair on her and he spoke in anger, but also because Chelsea is very private and would be mortified if others were to learn that she was gifted."
"You have my word, Aro," I swore.
"Good man. Thank you for your discretion. It is most appreciated." Then he waved his hand to dismiss me.
I bowed a little, as I did each time I left his presence, in a manner to convey, as I had been taught, the honour given to kings and rulers.
A few hours later, Chelsea came to see me and we talked. Keeping my word to Aro, I never hinted, even to her, that I had confirmation that she was gifted. I appreciated her company and by the time she had left, I was even more convicted of my belief in the Volturi's superiority and grateful for how Aro managed things.
With more contemplation the conversation I had witnessed deepened my sympathy for Marcus, gave me a new appreciation for Chelsea and her quiet humble manner, and endeared me even greater to Aro. To be king was a heavy burden, and clearly Aro had acted in Marcus' best interest, even though it clearly pained him to have done so. And for him to take such critique undeservingly was admirable, which also increased my opinion of him.
When Aro was indulgent, I would use the Volutri as an example contrasted against those who broke the law as I argued my points, suggesting that it was not that vampires were superior and humans inferior, but that some vampires were more superior through their acts than other vampires and some humans more superior than others for the same reason. After a few years, Aro consented that my argument might be true, but that did not therefore suggest that the two species were cross comparable.
In his view, even the worst vampire was significantly superior to the most superior human. He pointed out how most humans disregarded their instincts, allowing themselves to be led toward being consumed, could not accurately remember the most basic information, allowed others to misuse them, produced offspring that they did not adequately care for, and had unnaturally short lives, often ended through disease, parasites, or the murdering of each other. He would give examples of individuals the human world might have revered or worshiped that had been easily led to the feeding hall and consumed.
"Irrelevant of how they judge one another, ultimately they are nothing more than meals, Benefico. Nothing that they create, nothing that they do can ever compete or compare to being a vampire. I will concede that in comparison to each other, some are more civilized than others. Surely no one would argue that the Greeks and Romans were more refined that the savage Celts of the North, but all have ceased to be. Each human empire I have seen rise has fallen, yet we remain. The words and thoughts of those that past humans worshiped rest within me and these walls. Even if they were not made a meal, they no longer live. Would their life not been better served to sustain us than be wasted in their pointless unlasting pursuits? Do not mistake me, I hold you no ill will in your wish to learn more about them. At one point in my life, I did just that. But learning about the ant does not make it superior. You best remember that."
For reasons unknown, that speech, although similar in many ways to others, stood out. Perhaps it was because of the particular wording, or even the timing, but directly afterwards I walked the castle gardens. As I did so, the irony of his argument only cemented my desire to assist humans improve the qualities of their lives. After that speech I had spent much time, when I was not in the castle or hunting, learning about local herbal remedies and trying new mixtures in my lab that Aro purchased for his amusement and my intrigue.
For more than a year after he had the lab set up, he gained great enjoyment in reading my thoughts watching my experiments. Each time I had succeeded in nothing but causing an explosion he would let go of my hand, shake his head in amusement, and warn me that one of these days I was going to burn my hair or eyebrows and ruin my looks.
By the time I left for the New World we had still not reached an accord, but I had grown restless and was ready to explore more of the world. Decades later, upon reflection, I concluded that our different perspectives were informed by our different inherent inclinations. He seemed destined to ruled our kind, and did so well and benevolently. In comparison, I desired to use my life to heal others. In order to rule as he did and continue his consumption of human blood as he did, there had to be a part of him that saw himself as superior. It was his internal explanation in his right to rule and to sustain himself with human blood.
It took over a hundred years to realize that a root of my perspective in the arguement was that I refused to see Jesus in his human form as less than me, not to mention that to agree with Aro would have meant giving up everything that I had held onto tightly up to that point. We each had too much riding on our opinions to have found true accord, although I continued to miss how he challenged me. As I met other vampires, they often were bemused by me or claimed me insane, but none had really taken me as seriously and engaged in a theological and moral debate as Aro had. I missed it.
At the same time, I could not refute that in many ways, I stood in direct contrast to him. My arguement had insisted that his right to rule was not because he was superior, but in how he conducted himself. The manner in how he did so made him superior. Nevertheless, these assertions also meant that if how he ruled changed, then he would lose his position of superiority. Perhaps this alone was unacceptable to him. The Volturi were truly visionaries, as they seemed to grasp before it was true how poorly the modern human would take to the knowledge of vampires' enhanced capacities in comparison to their own. My gratefulness and the unchanging nature of Aro and the Volturi consumed me as I headed towards the hospital to start my shift.
The time when I would need to move on from this particular location was coming close. Even though changing locations was a necessary part of keeping the secret, while still allowing me to tend to the healing of humans, the first six months grated on me, even more so as the decades had gone by, since it was nearly always an exact replication of the last location. It was if humans had no ability to deviate from each other, despite the disparities of locations and years. The women would swoon in my presence and within a few months one of my fellow doctors would feel the need to tease me about it in a good-natured manner.
At this hospital it had been Dr. Clark who approached me in a joking manner by saying, "You sure do have all the nurses in a tether over your pretty face."
Smiling to hide my irritation of having this conversation once more, I had replied, "My mother is to blame, unfortunately. I was told that she was strikingly beautiful."
Dr. Clark had chuckled appearing gleeful at my reply. "Then certainly some dame has caught you in her web and is attempting to domesticate you?"
"Unfortunately, my mother was also unendingly kind and generous of spirit. Her standards have made it difficult to find someone worth pursuing," I had answered telling a lie, one of the few that I was proud to tell, because it was a lie I had told myself as a human child. It was a lie that had been meant to comfort me when my father had been particularly harsh or when I simply missed her and wanted nothing more than to have a mother. My imagination of whom my mother would have been, if she had not died was more fairy tale than reality, but the lie had soothed my childhood woes and I enjoyed still employing it.
"Well, I shall not be the one to tell the poor nurses here that they do not meet your standards," Dr. Clark had told me smiling as if my words had been a joke. But there seemed to always be some knowing there in the eyes that caused me to feel exposed. It was in that moment when I became nothing more than a man discussing to another man this very human of matter. Time and time again whomever had been brave enough like Dr. Clark appeared to know that my words were a lie in some way, while also knowing that whatever the true reason my single status was of my own choosing.
More often than not, what got transmitted after the conversation was that I was single, which only made the situation worse. Fortunately, for me, Dr. Clark had chosen instead to lie and spread the rumour that "Our dear Doctor Cullen is simply too focused on learning the skills of doctoring to entertain ladies." A few, after that, had pursued me, but his lie had made the process of keeping distance between myself and the nursing staff easier. I had yet to find a way to repay him before he was promoted and we only ever saw each other as I left for my shift and he entered for his. And then only a few words ever passed between us. Still, I wished to find a way to reimburse him.
Despite these and other small irritations from the path I had chosen, I was pleased at how my life had been progressing thus far. My father would, no doubt, be irritated that I hadn't remained on the path of becoming a pastor, but I believed my occupation better suited to me. Hopefully, if given the chance, he would have been impressed that I had become not just a doctor to humans, but a surgeon. It had seemed like an unfeasible task, but with patience, determination, and time, I had managed to achieve what all others of my kind had made into an impossibility. Yet, I could not deny, even with my accomplishments that I missed my conversations with Aro. Of late when I felt this wistfulness I would contemplate what he might say in regards to the possibility that his enforcement of the secret had, in fact, helped fuel the European man's belief in their predestined right to dominate the planet and often other humans.
Since leaving Italy, my intellectual engagements on the topics we had shared had diminished to coded messages sent through messenger on occasion. Each letter was a blessed arrival, no doubt through Demitri's assistance via his gift, but they were not enough. In truth, I missed my friend. Smiling at the thought, I had to admit that I did not miss the human screams that accompanied meal times in the castle, or the ribbing the guard gave me, or how Caius sneered at me, or how I had been tested on my resolve to abstain, I suspected by Caius, in order that I would be "cured" of my strange ways. Nor did I miss the subtle and sometimes not so subtle ways that the single ladies of Volturi had attempted to take me to bed.
When Aro had taken my hand after one such encounter, he smiled wistfully at me. "There is nothing amiss with passing the time in someone's company that wants to enjoy yours," Aro instructed me in an almost paternal manner.
"Certainly you understanding my reservations," I replied keeping my answer vague since we were in the throne room rather than his study.
He waved his hand as if my statement was inconsequential. He frowned, but there was a playful mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh do try my dear Benefico to indulge in something other than knowledge."
Smiling respectfully at him I had changed the topic. Truthfully, their behaviour had been more flattering than the annoyance I felt about the nurses' flirtations. Because the females in Volturra were of my own kind, I was confident that their attraction to me was more due to my character than being a vampire, which I could not discriminate with the nurses. Thus, the nurses falling over themselves to be near me, them paying more attention to me than the patients, and their squabbles that I could not help but hear pushed the limits of my patience. Fortunately, at this location, Dr. Clark's lies had allowed all the hoopla to die down before I had gotten to that point. It was something small, but nevertheless I was not looking forward to having to start that process again at the new location. Each vampire paid some price for keeping the secret. My time in Volturra showed me that the Volturi were no exception.
Although in Volturra there had been a real temptation to say yes to one of the lady's offers, but as I was a guest of Aro's, it seemed rude to do so, not to mention that I did not want to discover the consequences if I were to ever to upset a guard member. Besides my sense of hospitality and honour, there were my own morals that often stopped me. Women were to be respected, their heart not to be trifled with. Then there were my father's reminders that any child out of wedlock would be a bastard and thus a disgrace to our family name that often gave me pause, even if the outcome was no longer possible, based on the lack of children in Volturra and Aro's warning about immortal children.
That was not to say that I agreed with the taboo nature in which the present era and culture where I lived looked at relations between a man and a women. I had a tendency to see it from a scientific and therefore biological perspective. The body was designed to copulate and to find solace and intimacy with another. My desire to have company was acute, especially as the decades had passed since leaving Volturra. What I truly yearned for was my mate, and each time I almost succumbed to the temptation of physical release with another, I would imagine whether my potential action was something I would want to tell her. This reflection had stopped me each time, as I had yet to find a vampire with whom I believed I could be with carnally and then meet again and there be no ill harm wished to me or my future mate. Even though my celibacy might have pleased my father, it created a deepening loneliness. Despite that consequence and others due to keeping the secret, I was overall pleased in how my life had turned out.
Barely starting my shift, I was called into a minor surgery. The young man in question had been impaled. Unfortunately, the removal of the object was bound to create as much damage as when it had gone in, perhaps even more. I overheard many of the nurses and those in the theatre mutter at the unfortunate loss of his leg. The aorta artery had been torn by the rod, while it had also been keeping the blood from spurting. So instead the wound was slightly oozing. Its scent indicated the presence of a high concentration of white blood cells suggesting that an infection might occur if the rod was not promptly taken out. Upon removing the rod, my first call of business was to sew up the artery and stop the bleeding.
It was just the type of medical procedure that allowed me to use my vampire senses to heal and do good in the world. As long as I moved in a human way, I could keep from them how my eyes saw tears and rips that no else would have, or how my sense of smell told me the composition of particles in his blood implied that he was already beginning to heal and no longer in the acute phase. I left the theatre pleased with my work, allowing me a brief reprieve from the quiet desperation that had been my constant companion of late. It was only in the reprieves that work could give me where the usual weight pressing down on me temporarily lightened and I could hope that one day my burden might be no more.
Time would tell, but my prognosis was that he would not lose his leg after all. As I cleaned myself and reviewed the surgery mentally, I chuckled internally at the image of what Caius would have remarked if he had seen me today. The blood covered my gown and had even managed to leave some drops on my face.
Alone in the bathroom locking my muscles in place, I carefully licked a few drops of the blood adhered to me. It was not the first time I had performed such an exercise. I was testing myself, pushing my limits, allowing myself to taste what my body craved, while reminding myself that the very thing on my tongue was not nourishment. Just like I had trained myself to be around the smell of human blood, I reminded myself its taste was an indicator of health for the person it came from. Even though it had been only a few drops the demon that lived within me reminded me of its presence, but like I had practiced, I forced myself into a diagnostic mindset and reviewed what his blood told me about his well-being.
Apart from the surgery, it was another routine shift. After finishing up, turning in my notes, and leaving my charges in good order, as had been my custom, I walked to a bench that I had claimed as mine, at least in my head, shortly after my first shift at this hospital and prayed. The lack of new patients meant that I had walked out the door only an hour past the working hour expected. Honestly, if they would have let me, and it would not caused suspicion, I would have preferred to work through the day as well.
Walking towards my bench, I passed a couple arguing. Even though their voices were harsh whispers, I was incapable of giving them the privacy they clearly sought.
"I have to go, Beatrice," he stated firmly the sadness and certainty mix in equal measure.
"No, you do not Donald. You do not have to do anything. You could choose to stay here with me, rather than chasing after a dream that might never come true," she claimed her tone making her heartbreak clear.
"I love you. I do. Please do not doubt that, but if I do not take this opportunity, I will come to regret it, and maybe even one day, come to regret you. Selfishly, I would like to take this opportunity and keep you with me, but that is not a choice. In a few years when I am more established, we can be wed and then there will be no questions asked, no obstacles. I would like to ask you to wait for me. Nevertheless, I will not, especially as I cannot guarantee that I will return. I understand the risks, and I do wish for you to wait for me, but I will not ask this of you," he told her with a complex emotional mix of longing, sadness, regret, and excitement.
"You are choosing your dream over me. You are saying that pursuing money and status is more important than our love. How am I to take that in any way other than a rejection? How am I to wrap my mind around you setting our love aside and risking yourself, while telling me that you would wish me to wait for you?" she accused him her voice cutting.
He winced.
"What your actions are telling me is that your status is more important than anything, more important than me, than love. Is that the kind of husband I want? Someone who would sacrifice others feelings along with the ability to be cared for and receive affection at the alter of accomplishment and prestige? I understand that if you stay, you will resent it. I know you well enough to know that you must go, but do not fool yourself. Recognise that you are worshiping something that is not God and is not love." By the end the girl sounded winded as if the words had stolen her life force.
"I am so sorry," he muttered sounding torn in two. "I do love you."
"I know," she told him sweetly, "but for you our love is not enough. I hope that the future has everything you hope for." Then she kissed his cheek and walked away.
For almost fifteen minutes he did not move from his spot, then slowly he turned and left.
Once sat down, my mind reran the thoughts that had comforted me in the past when I had been faced in hearing humans living their lives. I was a doctor, before I was a man, before I was a vampire, before really anything. The only part of my life that was more imperative than being a doctor was my diet. There were numerous things I enjoyed about being a doctor. First and foremost, it allowed me to fill my day. What other single vampires did with the hours afforded to them was mysterious to me, but lounging around seemed frightfully dull to me. Second, my work allowed me to make some good of my life. I liked that my hands and heightened senses aided in the healing of humans. It was particularly gratifying, like the surgery on the young man, when those capacities offered hope to someone that by all other accounts would not have had much. Short lives or not, there was something sublime about aiding humans in making their years as pleasant as possible. And third, it engaged my mind in curious problems. What I did in the world was eminent.
Did that make the girl's accusations true of me? Was my lack of company more to do with where I had placed my focus than the options afforded to me? Somehow, though, the thoughts that had comforted me for close to a century looked something akin to the young man's words, and the young lady's accusations pierced my being, as if they had been spoken to me. Looking back over my time in Volturra, my years since, and even what I remembered of my human years, I had to admit that I had much in common with that young man. I had been so focused on proving myself worthy of a station in society, of proving myself to my father that love and intimacy had hardly been within my consideration. The same was true once I was turned. First, I had been consumed with how to adjust to this new life, while hoping to make my father proud, and keeping to my values. Then, I had been focused on creating for myself a profession. In all of that I had barely registered how alone my focus and determination had made me, even, at times, when I lived at Volturra.
Even if I had never considered my actions from the point of view that the girl had accused the young man, I had been aware that as the decades since Volterra had passed, a restlessness had pressed upon me. With each decade, watching the years go on, I had wondered how the Volturi managed such long lives without the centuries and millennias causing any negative side effects. Perhaps Caius had been correct in his assessment that I was abnormal. Other vampires seemed content with their lot in life, why was I not more like them? Instead I pushed myself, was insatiably curious, and quietly discontent. Ironically, Henry David Thourough's essays and his descriptions of how most men lived quietly discontent lives had given me hope that perhaps my oddities were because I had retained more of my humanity. It was a pleasant thought, if not completely unconfirmable. Was I similarly comparable to this human and his seemingly human desire?
After some continued contemplation, I decided that although I could not go back in time, I had to believe that if Father Almighty had a woman intended for me that she would eclipse everything else, even my work. When she arrived, I would not repeat this man's mistakes and throw away the love of a woman. Instead, I would ensure that she and my love for her were primary and not my occupation. Sighing heavily outward the reality was that she was not here, and thus until she manifested, there was nothing I could do but wait, as there was no way to know if she had already been born or not, let alone a vampire yet.
Often when I contemplated how long before finding a woman I would love, I would think of something written by Benjamin Franklin, a man whose speeches I had enjoyed listening to, "situations have their inconveniences. We feel those of the present but neither see nor feel those of the future; and hence we often make troublesome changes without amendment, and frequently for the worse." Instead of falling into this trap, I tried to be grateful for what I did have. Yet, at some level my unease seemed unavoidable. Despite my attempts to stem the tide of my loneliness, my desire to improve my control over my nature and my skills as a doctor seemed to bring along with it a type of quiet discontent that centimetre by centimetre was devouring me from the inside. Frustratingly, even after much introspection I could not discover a good reason as to why that was. My incapacity to simply be grateful for the gifts God had given me and trust in the future irritated me, only increasing my restlessness and morose mood. The girl's words made this worse. They had cracked open the parts of me that I had insisted were content forcing me to properly consider the cost I was paying for my unending pursuit of my occupation, and caused me to wonder if the words Maggie, from the Irish coven, had told me were more of a curse than a truth.
Sitting on the bench, praying, all while watching the sunrise behind the heavy cloud cover, I attempted to set these thoughts aside by noticing that I was surrounded by the beauty of fall. Attempting to find serenity within myself, as there was no easy solution to my isolation, I focused on the beauty of the Creator. The leaves had been turning and the trees were still mostly full of their vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. I spent time noticing each leaf's unique pattern and colour until my insides felt calmer. Attempting to also put aside the couple's words and what they meant to me, I forced my mind into the moment and to be grateful for what I did have. Only then did I begin to reflect on my shift. As had become my habit, since the first time I had aided someone medically, I listed all the names of my patients from the previous shift, occasionally adding someone who had been discharged already, if the case was especially dire. Despite the words and intention of my prayers, they seemed flat in comparison to decades past.
What had become clear a few decades ago was that my restlessness caused me to want more. What that more was I still did not know. It seemed like a shadow that, when I turned to grasp it, would automatically avoid my capacity. I had taken to studying at least one Psalm nearly every day when this discontent made itself evident, reminding myself that all things were in God's hands and it was not my place to question God's plan for my life. Although I meant my prayers, it was as if they were said insipidly, much like many other things in my life. Somehow the vibrancy I had once felt had faded.
My bench was not the place for excessive self-contemplation, as the streets were beginning to fill. The sun was unlikely to show itself directly; nevertheless, I headed over to the library.
Given the time on my hands and my lack of Aro's labatory, I had begun reading every non-fiction book whatever local library had in stock. When I had gotten through those, I would start on the books in the fiction section. The head librarian at the central location for this city had gruffly commented that at my rate of consumption I was bound to have the whole library read. Little did she know that she was not far off, seeing as I had skipped all the books I had previously read, unless they were a favourite. The library's collection was not that large in any case. This thought always led to the temptation of applying to a posting in a larger city where a larger collection would be had, but I was not ready for that yet. Smaller hospitals tended to have moderately skilled doctors who were grateful for my abilities and tended to overlook my oddities. Perhaps in a few more years, it would be worth the risk just for the library.
Standing in the stacks, I sighed frustrated at my impatience. After collecting my next book selections, I made my way home.
Probably, by most human standards, my place was not that nice. I had gotten it, because it had no direct view of the sun, was inexpensive, and had no neighbours whom could see easily into my windows. Upon returning, I sat down in the one chair in the single room that made up the space and began reading the book I had put aside yesterday. By the time it was getting near to my next shift I had finished that book and three more. I changed my clothes, checked my appearance before I left the house, and headed back to the hospital.
This time during my walk my mind was full of a conversation I previously had with Garrett, shortly after our meeting. He had insisted that no governing body, irrelevant their intention or the good they might have done, could be as benevolent as I had described the Volturi. He had argued that the Volturi were not superior because of how they ruled. In fact, they were not superior at all. Like the American Revolutionary he was, he insisted that all higher-level thinking creatures had been made more or less, in the grander scheme of things, equal.
"Carlisle, morals are simply thoughts, that if someone wishes to, can be altered over time. Your moral code and your reasoning mean that you attempt to aid others and cause them less harm, as much as you can. But how can you say that the man I consumed yesterday, so that I might live, was not meant to die at my hand? You live your life by your moral code, and me by mine, but how are we to judge which is more worthy?"
This, naturally, had led into a conversation about the scriptures and their place as a measuring stick by which to guide our thoughts and thus behaviours. Garrett had been raised in the church, not too dissimilar to myself, but had reevaluated the scriptures usefulness after his change, whereas I had clung to them more securely using them as a buoy in the storm of those first years.
My reminiscing was cut off by my arrival to the hospital. I concluded that my loneliness must be especially acute if yesterday I was thinking of Aro and today Garrett.
My shift started in its regular way. Each hospital had its own unique routine of how to move through the transition of its personnel. The way this hospital did it was not entirely poor. I had experienced worse. The doctor I had relieved had informed me that the hospital had not received any new patients in the last hour, so I started the shift by doing rounds, greeting each of my charges already admitted and making sure nothing else could be done for them.
My rounds were nearly half complete when I heard the cry of a male come into the hospital asking for help. Despite what I had just heard, I was required to ignore it. It had been one of the most difficult things to learn in order to work in the medical environment. I finished up with the patient in front of me, ensuring that my body portrayed none of the frustration I felt, as the urgent footsteps of the head nurse came towards me. Fortunately, she was an older woman and an experienced nurse who had never openly flirted with me, although her body always gave the telltale signals of my proximity, a combination of attraction and fear. Also, to my blessings, once Dr. Clark's lies circulated, she had taken to reprimanding the nurses under her charge when they attempted to express their interest in me as if she were a mother hen. The experience of having someone behave motherly in my presence was uncomfortable, if not also appreciated. As a result, we had developed a respectful professional relationship that I cherished. More than once I had praised her work to my superiors in hopes that her generosity towards me would be repaid by a promotion or pay increase.
"Dr. Cullen?" she called loudly when she was near enough that a human would have heard her while continuing to approach me.
Those first decades of learning the doctoring trade had been spent in close observation of the distance, volume, and tone between medical personnel till I had discovered with fair confidence of what those measurements across a multitude of settings and individuals were, so that I could hide my true capacity assuredly. Naturally there were adjustments needed in each environment, but over the years they had proven to be a good standard. These types of minuscule details had been one of the many conversations I had with Aro, who was fascinated on how I interacted with the women who sold herbs and things in the Volterra marketplace. He seemed to have no desire to learn such things himself, as he always employed humans with the lure of being turned if they served him well. Nevertheless, his desire to absorb what I had learned seemed insatiable, even after taking my hand and seeing it for himself time and time again.
This was not the time to add to my considerations of Volturi superiority how they treated the humans that worked for them. Although I had never found a moment when it seemed appropriate to pursue the topic with Aro, and he had never offered anything on the subject, despite my unspoken questions, I had often wondered if the humans the Volturi employed believed themselves to be treated well, and if the kings were a fair employer, especially given Aro's views of their inferiority. Jesus' words from the Gospel of Mathew, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" often came to mind. Given Aro's perspective of Jesus, I doubted voicing such sayings as evidence for my point of view would have persuaded him.
Pushing these thoughts aside and finishing my notes, I turned to her. "Yes, Nurse Halstead?"
"You are needed, please," she requested then with barely a pause turned around and returned from where she had come assured that I would follow.
"Certainly," I told her replacing the clipboard to its designated location.
The politics of this particular hospital was not that bad, as they came. They gave the nursing staff a moderate level of respect, and promoted based on merit rather than connections. Nevertheless, if the conversations I was not meant to overhear were to be believed, the most senior surgeon was annoyed at my knowledge and skills at my presumed age. The reason for his annoyance was no different than most other senior hospital staff members, as the majority of them assumed that my capacity as a doctor implied that I was interested in a more senior position than the one I had been hired for, which could not have been further from the truth. For this and many other reasons, I preferred to work the night shift. It was the most logical of choices after all.
The fact that I worked with Nurse Halstead was a particular bonus at this hospital. Her confidence that I would follow her pleased me, and showed me the mutual respect for one another that we had built. Even though I continued to recommend her for promotions, I would be sad to lose her when it happened.
Keeping two steps behind her, I made noise with my shoes on the linoleum floor. We entered the admitting area when I experienced something completely foreign. On the bed was the most beautiful creature I had ever had the fortune to lay my eyes on. She had long dark golden hair that might most apt be described as dark caramel with a slight curl. Even in this light white blond and strawberry red highlights could be seen. Her eyes were as blue as the Mediterranean Sea that, despite the pain, sparkled in a mischievous way that told of secrets she dared not share.
Standing there, mesmerized, my body felt buoyant as if joy had been returned to me. Since Nurse Halstead had not even coughed yet, I figured that the time elapsed must not have actually been that long as it seemed to me. It was if my sense of time had slowed down from the moment my eyes had come upon the creature in front of me. A vague human memory surfaced of an eligible woman from my village who had similar coloured eyes that I had admired from afar. This young woman in front of me must have reminded me of her, which explained my initial reaction. I was grateful for the human memory this patient had given me, as well as its intrinsic link to my humanity.
She had given me a rare gift. At the same time, it re-sparked the ponderings that the couple's argument had ignited within me. My mind wanted to dwell in that space and ruminate over it until I could see a solution. Fortunately, I was well practiced in denying myself this inclination and instead forced myself to be present in the events happening around me. It was only a distraction from my role and her medical need, I reminded myself, set it aside, and forced my mind to pay it no more attention.
Noticing more than the young woman, I turned to the man standing next to the bed as propriety in this era dictated that as a gentleman was in the room he would speak on her behalf. He had informed the duty nurse that he was her father, although I was not yet supposed to know that. I minded my language, ensuring to give nothing away, briefly reminded myself of the proper conduct for this era and local customs, as well as his social standing based on his clothing, and asked, "What brings you in today?"
"She broke her leg," he explained with a tone that contained an exasperated tiredness that I did not understand.
Breaks were common enough, more commonly with boys, but humans were fragile and there was little protection their bodies' provided them for many of the tasks required of them to provide for themselves their food and shelter. In this way, I had conceded to Aro, vampires had an advantage.
"She fell out of a tree while reading," he added reluctantly as if admitting a sin.
Literacy, generally, had improved amid humans since my era, and, although I had read newspaper articles over the last half century encouraging literacy among females, it seemed from my vantage point that most young ladies knew little more than the basics. Even within the nursing staff, who were quite educated women, literary conversations were rare and, even all these centuries later, seemed reserved for the wealthier classes. Thus, I had to presume that this young woman's reading habits were causing her father some sort of displeasure. What kind I could not imagine, unless it had to do with her doing so in a tree.
Perhaps her literary pursuits got in the way of her chores on the farm. I could only imagine my own father's displeasure if he had found me reading as much as I did now. It brought me a rebellious giddiness to think that my present reading habits would have placed me in the same position as this young woman. As soon as the thought passed through my mind, I chided myself. The scriptures called us to honour our fathers and mothers. If her activities dishonoured them in some way, then who was I to judge? I did not know their family, her responsibilities, or in fact what had caused the fall. Nevertheless, I could say for certain that she was the first human female I had encountered to have had broken her leg due to reading in a tree. Whatever the reason for her family's reaction, I suspected that this had ended her tree climbing days.
The young woman in front of me did not look abashed at the revealing of this information. If I had to guess, in fact, I would say she looked sad, as if she was waiting for her dog to be put down. It was then that I took note of the fact that she was not even wincing. The combination struck me as brave and slightly brazen. For reasons I could not name that combination reminded me of the young woman of my village that had similar eyes to the young woman in front of me. I could not remember much, but within me I could say that my father would not have approved of that attribute. Yet, if my memory was accurate, I had found it attractive. It was an unusual similarity and one that, once again, gave me back a small sliver of my humanity. Once more, I found myself to be in this young patient's debt.
"Nurse, would you mind escorting Mr.?" I asked waiting patiently for him to fill in his name, as I was not meant to have known it yet.
"Platt," he filled in authoritatively.
"Platt," I repeated, smiling kindly at them both, "to the waiting room."
Mr. Platt looked reluctant to leave. The reaction was not uncommon with those from the rural areas. They were accustomed to being treated in their homes and the clinical nature of the hospitals often put them off. It was curious why they had travelled the distance rather than calling on their local doctor. Clearly if this man was willing to travel to the city, trust strangers in a hospital, and pay the extra costs for such treatments, he cared for his daughter greatly, even if he was displeased at her reading and the broken leg.
"I promise to fetch you as soon as I have examined her and mended the break," I told him reassuringly, smiling in a way that charmed most humans.
He nodded curtly, and then walked out briskly.
His willing to leave was appreciated, but more than that I admired how he was handling himself. Over the years, I had seen many different reactions, and Mr. Platt's, in my esteem, was the bravest of them all.
As he turned to leave, my mind was already attempting to puzzle out why this young woman had returned to me more human memories than any person, human or vampire, had done in the past. Even though I admired her composure, and was grateful for the memories, I could not stop the sense of discomfort I felt. Scolding myself a little to return to the business of medicine, I put aside the personal sentiments she had inspired reminding myself repeatedly that she was simply a human patient and I had a job to do.
A/N: I hope to be able to publish a chapter every two to four weeks. However, since I am applying for jobs after achieving my PhD, I might not be able to keep to that plan. Nevertheless, the story is written and only needs editing, so it shouldn't be terribly more than that.
I am excited to hear your thoughts and feedback about this opening chapter and how it portrays Carlisle.
Till next time, blessings and peace.