AN: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and this story has been inspired by the world she created. I have borrowed her characters but I have changed their backstories. I have also made some adjustments to her mythology so that it fits in with the story I have written. This means that although the character's personalities are mainly canon, this story is very AU.

I also wanted to warn you that I'm British. I will try very hard to correct any obvious errors in my language. I know that I need to write parking lot and not car park and flashlight not torch but I expect some errors will slip through, so I apologize in advance. If any of my mistakes are too terrible, please feel free to let me know and I will correct them.

The story title and chapter titles are taken from the lyrics of Next To Me by Emeli Sande and Bones by The Killers.

I hope you'll enjoy the story.

Stop The Tears From Falling

1. Heartbeat

"How are you feeling, Edward?"

I tried not to be irritated by Carlisle's empathetic concern because I knew just how valid that question was.

We were sitting in his office on our first day back at work after a month long break from Forks, however I was still not convinced that I was ready to practice medicine on humans. My near slip that had sent us running five weeks ago was evidence of that. As usual, Carlisle had more faith in me than I did in myself and he had persuaded me to come back and try again but the pressure to succeed was immense. My family had put a lot of time and effort into choosing this location, this hospital and our current back story. This town was the perfect place for us. Most of my family would never voice their hopes that I would not cause us to move prematurely, but that didn't stop me knowing that was what they were thinking.

The original decision for me to try and practice medicine alongside Carlisle had been a long and difficult one. Carlisle felt that I needed something to focus on because I had been slipping deeper and deeper into a bored melancholy and my detachment had infiltrated the whole family. The discussions on how to improve my mood had gone on for years. Carlisle had managed to survive centuries alone without becoming depressed and he attributed that to his dedication to medicine. I had been a young doctor when I'd contracted the illness that would have killed me and it was our professional relationship that had inspired Carlisle to change me but despite my human history, I was still very hesitant to resume my medical career. In fact seeing my human self through Carlisle's memories was one of the reasons I'd been so reluctant for so long. When Carlisle remembered our original friendship it was with fondness, but I thought I'd been an arrogant ass. I was embarrassed by my human conceit and even if I could only remember a few blurry images from that time, Carlisle's memories of me were crystal clear. He thought he had seen something special in me, something worth saving but what that something was remained a mystery to me. So I had wanted to find a new path, away from medicine and the tortuous burn that lit my throat on fire in the presence of human blood but nothing had inspired me so I had eventually conceded and medicine it was. I already had two medical degrees in addition to my human training and experience so I was more than qualified to save lives, if only it wasn't for the unfortunate complication of how likely I was to accidently end them. I could hear from his thoughts that Carlisle sensed my doubt and wanted to support me but was very much aware that I didn't want to hear the same repetitive reassurances again. He was saved from trying to present them to me in an original way to an urgent voice over the intercom. "Doctors Cullen to the ER," it urged and Carlisle and I abandoned our discussion to comply.

We arrived to find it relatively empty but we were greeted by the relieved nurse who had paged us.

"The chief called ahead," she told us. "He's bringing in one of his officers. He sounded worried."

At that moment the doors slid open and Chief Bryan Lewis staggered through them, supporting a man I did not recognise. Visually there was nothing remarkable about the newest member of the Forks police department but the scent of his blood pouring from his head was like nothing I had ever smelt before, delicious and compelling and infused with promise to quench my thirst and finally offer relief from over a century of pain. I leaned into Carlisle, casting out with my mind to seek his soothing calm as I had done so many times before but was sent reeling by the realisation that Carlisle was struggling too. He was fighting a battle to ignore the lure of this captivating scent that rivalled the battle I was fighting with myself.

The young man was mumbling reassurances to the chief that he was absolutely fine but Bryan was unconvinced. His thoughts identified the man as Charlie. Bryan was replaying the incident in his mind and I saw an out of control van skidding towards them across the ice. Charlie had pushed Bryan out of the way but had been clipped by the van himself and the impact had sent him careening down a steep verge, landing head first on solid rock. At first Bryan thought he had been killed and had been so relieved when he realised that wasn't the case. He worried that his decision to take him to hospital himself and not wait for an ambulance had been a bad one. In the few weeks that Charlie had been working with him, he had already established himself as a well-liked and valuable member of the team. I focused on Bryan's memories to distract me from the scent of Charlie's blood, seizing on the advice that Alice would give Jasper whenever he was struggling; to try and see past the blood and think of them as people. I was mostly succeeding until Charlie looked up though the blood in his eyes which must be obscuring his vision. When he saw Carlisle and me watching him, his breath caught and his heartbeat flew. I swore I could see recognition in his eyes and, for a fraction of a second, his change in stance postured for either fight of flight, but after mere moments he seemed to catch what he had done and rearranged himself once more, schooling his expression to calm.

He knows, thought Carlisle and it was that startling realisation that allowed us to gain complete control of ourselves. How much does he know? Carlisle directed this question to me and I tried to isolate Charlie's thoughts from the thrum of others in the hospital. It was only then I realised that I couldn't hear them. His mind was completely silent to me.