a/n These will just come when I have time, but ideally each "chapter" will be based around the idea that, since Carlisle created a family, it takes time to actually accept the family. Each chapter will be someone's realization that they are part of a family, not just a random assortment of vampires.

That said, I do not apologize for making Edward a true White Sox fan. SOUTH SIDERS, BABY!

Catching On—Wisconsin, September 1920

It was official. Today was the worst day in the history of Edward's life so far. He glared down at the newspaper headline, wishing yet again that he was able to cry.

Eddie Cicotte and Joe Jackson Admit to Taking Bribes in World Series

It was tough to keep from going back to his home town to raise hell. A die hard White Sox fan, Edward had been keeping close tabs on his team since speculation had begun about the Sox throwing last year's Series. Now, with the admission of two of the players, Edward felt more let down by the White Sox than he ever had before.

The front door opened then closed again, and Edward quickly hid the newspaper as Carlisle entered the sitting room. Carlisle's thoughts at the moment consisted of a recap of the day's work, and considering hunting again tonight. He smiled warmly at Edward as his eyes fell on him.

"Hello, Edward." Carlisle sat down in a wing-backed chair and crossed his legs. "Have a good day?" His eyes were twinkling, but he was still thinking hard about hunting.

Edward shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it.

Carlisle's smile turned a little smug. Should have been a Cubs fan, son.

Damn it all. "How did you already hear?" Edward cried. "The paper just got here, and you already know!"

"I passed a newsstand on my way home," Carlisle said, pretending to be occupied with a stray thread on the cuff of his shirt. "It's a hard headline to miss. I don't know how you can still be a fan after this."

"Yeah, don't rub it in," Edward muttered, frowning down at the newspaper again. "And I'd sooner eat human food every day for a year than root for the Cubs."

Carlisle chuckled, sitting down in his chair and picking up a medical journal he'd been reading before work. His thoughts turned to the inner workings of the digestive system, and Edward heaved a sigh.

"If you're bored, you could run out to the car and get the box in the backseat." Carlisle's lips were turned up a bit around the edges, and he was translating the Bill of Rights into Latin in his head.

Curious, Edward followed Carlisle's advice. In the front drive, Carlisle's Ford was parked under the little shelter they had built for it. As promised, there was a sealed cardboard box in the backseat, and Edward glanced back to the house as he reached for it. It had his name on it.

Was he supposed to open it?

Slowly, he walked back inside, trying to find out from Carlisle's thoughts what might be inside. There was nothing but Latin and medicine.

You can open it, son. It's for you.

For some reason, Carlisle was thinking about the front page of the paper again. Kind of annoying, really, that of all the things he could think of he was thinking about the complete debacle the Sox were now in.

Sighing, Edward opened the box.

When he saw what was inside, his mind flashed back to another time, another place, another life...

It was September of 1917. The sun was bright overhead, and the air was just starting to cool a little. The breeze coming off the lake was nice and cool, and Edward pulled his arm back and shot it forward again as hard as he could.

"Ouch!" Laughing, his father pulled off his baseball glove and examined his hand. "That was a good one, son!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Edward readied his glove for the return throw. He caught it at the same time a voice called from behind him.

"Eddie, don't you dare get your pants dirty." His mother was frowning at him from under her umbrella. "We don't have time to change before dinner."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Mother, please stop calling me that."

"Stop calling you what?" Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with teasing mischief.

"Eddie." He threw the ball back to his father again, feeling a little bit of pride when Edward Senior winced again.

"How will you know I'm not talking to your father if I don't call you Eddie?" She leaned back in her low chair a bit and inhaled deeply.

"I don't know, dear." Edward watched as his father tossed the ball up in the air and caught it again. "I call him Edward all the time and he always knows I'm talking to him."

His mother rolled her eyes. "That's amazing, dear."

"You could just call me 'Edward.'" Edward caught the ball when his father finally threw it, trying to catch his son off guard and failing miserably. "Besides, dad gets a kick out of people calling him Ed."

"Sure do, dear."

"Alright, darling, I'll call you Edward." Elizabeth smiled. "Your father can be Ed." Her eyes were watering a bit, and Edward was certain he knew what she was thinking.

Her little boy was almost a man. A man who was going to go fight in a war as soon as he turned eighteen.

Trying to ignore the pain in his mother's eyes, Edward threw the ball back.

Pulling himself back to the present, Edward stared down at the two gloves and the ball in the bottom of the box. On the porch, he heard Carlisle's footsteps as he walked slowly out of the house.

"I'm still learning," he said softly. "But I asked a few of the doctors and all of them said they like playing catch with their sons."

He doesn't like it. Carlisle's thoughts were worried. I shouldn't have-

Edward could do nothing to stop the smile that crossed his face as he looked into the box again. "Really? You want to play catch?"

Carlisle nodded. "If you'd like to, that is."

"I've always wanted to see how hard I could throw it now," Edward said, the words coming out in a rush. "I used to play in the street sometimes after school and I always threw the hardest." He was thoughtful for a moment, remembering back, before he added, "I ran the fastest, too."

Carlisle laughed, and Edward could hear the relief in his thoughts. "I've never had a chance to play before. I was always too worried I'd hurt the humans, and I've not had anyone else around, really." He was at Edward's side in a flash, and he pulled one of the gloves out. "Come on. Let's see how hard you can throw."

Two hours later, the pair of them were standing about a hundred yards apart, yelling playful insults at each other, laughing as each tried to throw harder than the other. It was a wasted effort, both of them nearly equal in strength, but Edward couldn't remember having so much fun with his new father.

New father...

As he threw, Edward remembered Carlisle's thoughts of Edward as his son. How he'd always wanted one, but it was something he could never have. He thought of how Carlisle was his father in so many ways already.

His patience. His genuine love and concern for Edward's happiness, and the five thousand dollars he'd spent ordering and having delivered the grand piano in their living room, the grandest Edward had ever played on. Of how Carlisle listened to him play, happy to see Edward happy. How, when Edward had had a few slip ups in his earlier days, Carlisle had not judged him, and had coached him through learning resistance with little tidbits of advice.

How, knowing Edward was going to have had a bad day, he brought home something to cheer him up.

Those were the things a father did.

Edward knew, as he threw the ball back, that Carlisle would never try to take his father's place in his heart. But he decided that he would make an exceptional adopted substitute.

a/n This will go chronologically, so up next... MOMMY CULLEN!