AN: Hello, all. This is my first attempt ever at writing fanfic. I have no experience in writing prose whatsoever, so constructive criticism is more than welcomed and appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, Midnight Sun or any of the characters therein. I just fell in love with them, like everyone else.


Chapter 1: A Proposal

I was watching her every breath, her every heartbeat, her every move.

Her heart beat frantically, from the pain of her broken leg, and from emotions just now surfacing in her too young heart.

Her breathing, shallow and rapid, as she swallows the pain, and her movement to hide her face as I worked on her.

This angel, this purest of souls that somehow the Lord Almighty saw fit to put upon the earth.

Who was I to rob this world of this pure soul? This beautiful girl, her beautiful eyes piercing me and searching into me, of her humanity? Who was I to rob the world of such a pure soul? Who is to say she was not meant for me? Had I not seen her blush as she watched me? Do I not see the love blossoming in her heart, rising to her eyes, as she searches me? She must have found whatever it was she was looking for in me, for her eyes softened even further, if such was possible, and filled with unshed tears.

Tears!

"Esmé, I am so sorry for hurting you so. Please, forgive me." I begged of her, as I endeavored to set her broken leg in a cast. I wanted to tell her that I was apologizing, not only for hurting her leg as I maneuvered it into the correct position to be set, that hurt would heal soon enough, but for the hurt I caused her as we both realized I could never have this angel, sitting beside me, biting her lip as I toiled to better her condition. I was trying to will her to understand with my eyes, but she would not look at me as she only said "Thank you, Dr. Cullen".

I was driven mad by the lack of eye contact, on the verge of committing the most terrible of sins - touching this angel's face with my stone-cold, monstrous hands. "Esmé, please, do not feel ashamed. Do not hide your pain. I will never judge you harshly for expressing your feelings. Never!" I vowed. She remains silent, watching me as I wrap her leg to stabilize the bones.

By the grace of God himself, her face tilts toward me ever so slightly, and I smile at her gently. If I still had a beating heart, it would have ceased its continuous action as I glimpsed the tears streaking down her gentle, young cheeks. How I longed to wipe those tears away with my fingers, to reassure her, to clutch her to my breast and keep her with me for all times.

But I was a monster. I was a cold-skinned monster, I reminded myself again and again. I would as well steal her virtue as her young, lusciously beating heart. As I swore to God to uphold his law in my heart, even as it no longer beats, I would do neither, I swore to myself. She must remain human and I must detach myself from her forever. I could never bear to watch her age and die, I knew, so it must, then, be forever.

As I finished stabilizing the broken bones of her injured leg, I asked, in what I hoped to God was a casual voice, to help remove the pain from her mind, "Esmé, how did you injure your leg so?"

She smiles at the memory of some past event, as she says, with tears still glistening in her eyes, "I was climbing a tree to watch the storm as it approaches."

To watch the storm. How many times have I done that myself, sitting atop a cliff, high in the trees, or just laying on the grass or earth, watching the stormy skies? It seems, then, we have something in common. I must dare and pursue this topic, then, fully.

I spoke to her more, increasingly amazed at the beautiful mind unfolding before me, falling deeper with every word her beautiful, luscious lips utter, every breath filling her chest, that I would never presume to watch, every beating of her heart as it pulsed the blood through her arteries in her neck.

It was time to take my leave, now, but how could I separate that which has been, at last, after over two centuries of waiting, been made whole? I was in love. This sixteen-year-old wondrous miracle has captured my heart in her chest, and there it rests, silent and unbeating, next to hers. I knew enough of vampiric nature to know that there it must remain, forever. Even as hers stops beating and she lays, silent for all times, in a grave.

That last thought spurred me into action, the pain inside my chest unbearable as I thought of her, cold and still, lying in a coffin. I arose, took my leave, and exited the house, leaving my heart, hopes and dreams with Esmé Anne Platt.

I walked away at human speed until I was deep enough in the wilderness to not be noticed by any beating heart. Then, I let go. I ran at my top speed until I reached my home for that time, entering the house, falling to my knees just behind the door. The pain was so encompassing, so consuming, that I could do nothing other than weep tearlessly at the separation. There I curled into a fetal position, sobbing at the pain, wishing it would go away, wishing my memories of her away, mumbling her name over and over again.

I screamed it as a prayer, I uttered it in worship, I whispered it with love, and as the morning dawned, I said it in acceptance. I knew, then, what I must do. I have become selfish. I have become disobedient to the Lord's word. I have become a sinner.

I arose, only to kneel at my father's cross and utter my confession in tearless cries… "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession. I was never absolved nor will I ever be, but I wish to confess before the Lord Almighty again." I knew these sins, as well as my prior list of sins, would never be absolved. I would never be cleansed of them; I could only hope to do enough good on this earth to weigh my lengthening list of sins.

From thence I arose, renewed in my resolve to do but good on this earth, to heal, nurse and love all beings. I swore before the Lord that I would love them all as I love him, as I love my Esmé. Now, both kinds of love were all-encompassing, all-consuming and unrequited.

Or so I thought.

About a week after treating her, still obsessed and possessed by her image and voice, forever burned into my perfect mind, I was working yet another broken leg case on the other side of Columbus, OH. As far away from her as I could be without leaving town limit. The perfect compromise, as far as I was concerned. I could not bring myself to stray afar from the town and its farms, and I knew why. The sentence kept ringing in my mind, bones and soul – "That, which has been made whole, never again must be broken."

As I finished setting the broken leg, ignoring the patient's advances, I again reassured her. I must have slipped in speech, calling her Esmé, for she said "oh, Esmé feels better, and her leg seems on the mend. She was wondering if the Doctor might be kind enough to check up on her leg, if he is ever in the neighborhood."

I made a conscious effort to remain concentrated in what the lady was saying, being courteous, although my mind was already very far away, by now. On the other side of town, in a small farmhouse, in fact. I took my leave, anxious to remove all thoughts of Esmé Anne Platt from my head, and went for a hunt, my first these past 3 weeks. I have been letting my thirst go unchecked, confident in my control, but this was a chance to dislodge the girl from my thoughts altogether.

I, of course, failed miserably.

As soon as the hunt was done, I was strolling along, not minding where my feet were carrying me, and walking at a leisurely human pace, only to find myself standing outside the small farmhouse on the other side of town... The exact place I was attempting to avoid.

As I watched the dark home, I found myself scanning the dark rooms and the sleeping inhabitants thereof. I found Her window on the third unconscious attempt. I listened to her heart, her breathing, and the general slumbering noises of the entire house.

It is not my place to decide her fate, I know. But should she wish it – I will not deny her a thing. Not this accursed existence, not my money, nor my home, nor my love, nor my hand. I shall never deny her anything she wants.

I am Carlisle Cullen; I am a man of God, if not the Cloth. I am irrevocably and totally in love with Esmé. Esmé. Esmé. Her name kept ringing in my soul and mind for the rest of the night, as I listened to the sounds of the slumbering world around me, acutely aware of Her.

As morning hews of sun swept fire caress your passionate face,

Alone with thee and pure desire to worship untold grace,

My soul would cry in silent prayer to hours swept apart

Your essence warms the evening air as I dance into your heart1

I was reading poetry to her inside my mind.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
2

I kept reading all the sonnets I remembered with my perfect vampiric recall.

As morning arose, did I, listening to the sounds as the world awakens to yet another day, neither brighter nor grayer than the one that did come before it. The world seemed brighter to me, as I came to a few understandings, this time, much more selfish.

I had to admit to myself the depth of my obsession with my love, my Esmé. I knew I could no longer keep away from her, hard as I may try. No distraction could prove strong enough against those memories of her. No amount of fawning over me by my female patients and nurses and midwives could dislodge the image of my Esmé's caramel locks and the luster in them as the light changed in the window and from the candles...

Those memories soon made room for the memories of her words, of the way she saw right through all my masks, straight to my core. "You are often lonely, are you not, Doctor?" she had asked, not expecting a response. I was shocked to my core by the jolt of her words, beyond any ability to respond. Oh, how now I wish I was able to respond to her, "Aye, but no more, my dearest love. No more will loneliness find a hold in my heart, never so long as I have thee to chase it away!"

I wanted nothing more than to wake Esmé up and tell her of all this. But I would let her sleep uninterrupted, for now. She must rest soundly tonight, as the morrow will bring with it great revelations, perhaps disturbing to her. It dawned on me I knew not her feelings toward me. I well knew my feelings for her, and how fast such come to be for vampires. I read love in her eyes, but was it only momentary lust? I was delusional to think she, the perfect human precious miracle she was, could ever feel that way for the accursed vampire I am.

Thus, by late morning, as I stayed hidden from human sight by her home, I was consumed by my self-doubt and pity.

I stood, rooted to my position, wishing to be near Esmé, but dreading the look in her eyes, fearing her words to me, and torn apart by the conflict as it consumed me.

"Courage, man!" I screamed at myself inwardly. I quickly arranged and put my appearance in order, wishing to look respectable as I came before my One and Only.

I moved swiftly, too fast for human eyes to glimpse, to the farthest point on the road still visible from the house, and from there I made my way, in a seemingly leisurely pace, to her home. I was using this self-allotted time to rehearse my words, my replies to anything and everything she may say, positive or negative. I was creating counter-arguments in case she refused me, to make her see reason, or at least my reason.

As I reached the house, as a man of repute, I approached her father first. He must from me hear my intentions for his daughter, before I make them known to her. "Good morrow, Master Platt, sir" I called to him from a short distance away. "And to you, Doctor Cullen, sir!" he answered me in his deep rusty voice.

"What brings you to us this fine morning, Doctor?" he asked.

"I have come to reassess young Esmé's leg's condition…" I started.

"Excellent! She is resting comfortably at the moment, keeping my wife company in the kitchen. I shall immediately send orders to have her moved to a more suitable location for you to examine her." He said, smiling broadly.

"I have one other matter to discuss with you, sir" I said, stumbling over the words.

"How may I be of service, Doctor?" he asked, probably not even considering what I was about to speak of. I hesitated. How to broach the subject? How best to get his approval?

"Well, Sir, this matter does also pertain to your daughter…" I started. His smile wavered.

"Is there anything else the matter with her?" he immediately asked.

"…No, sir… Of course not… Esmé is a healthy young woman… It's just that… I… Well, She…" I stuttered. He watched me fumble the words in my embarrassment for a few more moments and then comprehension dawned on him. It was like watching a candle flicking on in a dark room. He then smiled, his smile growing with every passing moment, and then, grinning, he said "So that is where things stand!" he laughed in good humor. "Have you seen her since you set her leg at all?" he asked gently.

"Not at all, sir. I wished to inform you of my intentions prior to speaking with her about the subject myself. Should you resist, I will, of course, honor your decision and keep away from her…" I said with pain clear in my voice, partly blocking my words from complete coherency.

"Nonsense, Doctor!" he boomed, "You are an eligible bachelor, as is she. You are a respectable and honorable young man with good prospects and I know you can bring my little Esmé Anne joy. You may have her hand in marriage, if she is amenable."

I almost lost my footing just standing in front of him, amazed to be hearing such a positive reaction from the father of a 16-year-old girl. He would gladly give her over to me, even at this tender age. I was at a loss for words. He must have seen it in my face, for he put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Come, Doctor, let us get you in my home, and my Esmé Anne in a private room, where you can attend her injury and your heart."

I smiled a shaky smile as we approached the house. We entered, and Mr. Platt immediately led me to the living room, where he invited me to sit and make myself at home as he has his daughter brought before me. To the sofa I retired, sitting there, frozen as a marble statue from ancient Rome, awaiting my beloved's entrance. I was planning and re-planning, sorting and sifting my words, but none seemed adequate. None that would convey to her the depth of my emotions for her. And then, she entered.

Carried by her father, my beautiful Esmé was wearing a plain frock, her hair tied in a simple but beautiful braid, laid over her shoulder, gliding gracefully to her midsection. Her eyes were alight as she saw me. They were as glowing embers, whispering at me. I arose from my seat on the sofa. Mr. Platt gently set his daughter down on the sofa, kissed her forehead, and exited the room, smiling at me before he closed the door. I heard his footsteps as he left the parlor and entered the kitchen, talking quietly to his wife of what is to transpire in the parlor. I heard her words to him, as well, affirming his decision and hoping I would succeed in winning her over. But all of that was second to looking at her. My Esmé. She lay comfortably on the sofa, her leg propped up on pillows.

"Good afternoon, Esmé" I said, smiling.

"Doctor," she greeted me.

"I have come to check up on you. How are you feeling?"

"I am well, Doctor, thank you."

"Come now, Esmé, do not hide any discomfort or pain from me. I told you, I would never think less of you for it."

She blushed and looked down, saying "I really am well, doctor. Other than the itching, which I know is completely normal at this stage of the healing process, I have no discomfort or qualms. I just wish it could be healed sooner." She giggled.

"Well, may I approach and inspect the offending itch?" I smiled.

"As you wish, Doctor."

"Very well. Please excuse my cold hands." I said as I started to examine her leg, although I knew I would not find anything wrong with it. The healing process had already started to mend the bones, and the itch, as she herself said, was a normal part of it. I was stalling. I had no idea how to broach the subject I so wished to discuss.

As the last time we were in this room, she was observant, and saw through all my masks. "Doctor, there is something new in your eyes. They no longer show such deep sorrow and loneliness, but a deep-seated hope... And Love, if I may be so bold to assume." Again she shocked me into silence as I suddenly took to examining the floor. I was seating on the sofa, near her legs, my hand still on her injured leg.

I thanked the Lord as I turned to her and answered simply, "Yes".

She blushed and ducked her head. I knew then she understood. Without a single word, she understood completely. I put my finger under her chin and gently lifted her face to meet my eyes.

"Esmé, please, do not hide your thoughts from me on behalf of propriety..." I stared deep into her eyes, falling into those pools of earthliness. She smiled, her blush deepening, and simply said, "Your eyes shine with love, devotion, hope and faith."

"They shine only for you, Esmé." I could no longer hide the truth in her statements, nor did I wish to do so.

"As I love, loved am I3" was all she said. It was enough. If I would have tears, they would spill now from my eyes with endless torrents. If my heart still beat, it would again cease its vital function. I sobbed, sagging to the floor in a heap, kneeling before my Esmé, overcome with relief, love, hope, faith and shock. She admitted her feelings to me were of love. Love! My hand was still resting on her injured leg. That fast registered as I looked up to her, and I moved it to hold her hand. The softness and heat radiating from her made my knees give way, and I sat down harshly on the dark wooded floor boards.

"I love you, Esmé, with all my heart and soul." I told her simply and truthfully. I would not be traditional in my courtship. I will not waste a second more without her promise to marry me. Her face shone, tears gliding slowly down her supple cheeks, and a beautiful, radiant and gentle blush graced her face as she said, "As I love you, Doctor." I smirked, inwardly slapping my head, realizing I never spoke my given name to her. "Esmé, I am Carlisle. I will not have you following propriety with me for one more second!"

She blushed a deeper crimson, as she said "Propriety has a purpose, Carlisle. A time and a place that are not here and now, as well." My name on her lips sounded like the most beautiful rocky shore with the waves of the ocean lapping gently at the pebbles. Like a beautiful grassy meadow with flowers growing in between the blades of grass, a creak and an ancient forest nearby. It sounded like spring. And she was right, of course.

"Very well, my love, I agree with you on said subject, but as you so eloquently said, now is neither the place nor time for propriety." We both smile, and her blush deepens even more, as she swallows noisily. Now is the time for me to make my intentions known. Onwards to the gallows, the shackled prisoner walks, his head held high. I smirk, but sober up immediately.

"Esmé, I swear to love you, honor you, cherish you, respect you, provide for you and give you every joy and happiness in this world for all eternity, if you will have me for a husband!" The words spilled from my lips. I could not nor would I stop them. I am a selfish man. Well do I know I deserve neither her attention nor love. But I have them both, it seems.


From the movie "The Three Musketeers" (1993)

Shakespeare's Sonnet 18

From "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more, I will welcome any pm, review etc. from you, letting me know to go on publishing, instead of writing for my "drawer"...