Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

Author's Note: I've been waiting for a Carlisle and Esme oneshot to write for a long time. One picture prompt later and this is what you get. Reviews are love. -Delta

Saving Lives Isn't a Hobby

It hadn't taken long for Esme to recover after the change.

Her loving, motherly nature seemed to deter away from death as much as Carlisle's compassion had for him. She still had the never ending thirst, the pain. She wouldn't allow herself around humans for many years.

She wandered the house, tidying things that were already straight and dusting, always dusting.

That was when she came across Carlisle's room. Or The Library, as Edward liked to say.

Carlisle stood, amazed as she studied the books, some she knew, some she didn't know, some she wanted to know.

"How did you come to have so many in your possession?"

Carlisle swallowed needlessly, almost nervous.

"I've had a lot of time on my hands the past…two hundred years."

She looked up at him, marvel in her brick red eyes.

"Two hundred years," she breathed, "And this is what you've been doing?"

"Well…" he stuttered, "I've done much more than just read Esme, you know that I…"

"Yes, I know but what do you do for fun?"

Carlisle's eyes seemed to frown then, and he looked down to the wooden floors, asking them for an answer.

"I save lives Esme, there's not much else I can do at midday."

"Oh, Carlisle, I'm sorry."

Then she reached forward, and she hugged him.

Her arms, almost warm, wrapped around his body and for the first time in years, his body responded. His own arms found her waist, like he remembered witnessing at the hospital with patients and their kin.

Loved ones.

He squeezed her even tighter, and vowed to never let go.