Disclaimer: I don't own any of the twilight saga or its characters cause if I did there would be a lot more of Carlisle and Esme and Jasper ( for jess =])

Carlisle and Esmes story as they meet again

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CPOV

The Day before…

My shoes clicked a rhythmic beat as I walked down the ghostly, empty corridor. My skin was almost the same colour as the cold walls. I fastened my pace. Strange, the site of my skin still managed to get to me. I shook it off, slightly agitated. The hospital was so much different to what it had been like 10 years ago; the staff, the décor, the patients. I thought maybe this was cutting it a bit close. I hadn't aged a day in over 200 years. But Doctor John Howard was such a dear friend to me, and he had helped me get used to the ways of the hospital when I first arrived 12 years ago. He was devastated the day I left, and was hurt I did so abruptly, of course I felt bad for lying and telling him it was family emergency made me feel worse, but we had kept in touch; written to each other.

He was the same age as me, or the same age I should have been. We were both '35'. He'd been shocked to see me look me turn up at short notice, but he had welcomed the help. I was glad he hadn't noticed my exact alikeness to how I looked before. He merely had said I had been blessed by time. I had sniggered. I could hardly agree with him. So I was back at the hospital I'd practically run from 10 years before and it was no surprise that a personal favour from John meant I was now on morgue duty for a week. I didn't mind much. It meant John could spend time with his family; I envied him terribly for this. Family. Another plus side was the staff would have no reason to doubt me and my constant woken state when I appeared at rounds the next day. They would assume I'd slept during the night. To be honest, the morgue wasn't the most exciting and active place to be in a hospital. But then being a morgue you couldn't expect much else.

The room was small and dark and I could smell death. I placed the paper work I had in my arms onto the small battered desk, and lit the small oil lamp and sighed. I sat looking down at the orange glowing paper. I just needed to sign of some people…well their bodies. Not the best of jobs, but someone had to do it, and tonight being in the morgue, it was my turn. I was looking through the first of the seven reports from todays fatalities. Nothing really unusual. Mr Robert Charles Bingham. 60. Deceased. Natural Causes. I signed it in one swift movement. I didn't tend to dwell on these reports. To be honest, they bored me, I liked the action of helping someone heal, fixing someone, like I fixed my angel. The angel that I ran from 10 years ago. I placed the papers on the opposite side of the desk and moved on to the next set. Mrs Chloe Gills. 47. Deceased. Child Birth. My mind began to drift. Was my angel a mother like she'd always wanted to be?

"Snap out of it Carlisle" I said to myself. I repeated the same signing process another 4 times.

The last report caused a lump to come to my throat. An infant. A baby boy. I looked at the name of the child, slightly shocked. Christopher Carlisle Platt. 4 Days old. Deceased. Fever. Platt. Surely not. I frantically searched through the papers looking for the Childs birth certificate. I held it in my hands for a few minutes. Staring wide eyed at I for what seemed like an age. Mother: Esme Ann (Platt) Everson. Esme. It had to be the same Esme. My Esme. My angel. Too young when I had met her before. A child. Too inappropriate for a 23 year old man, or rather a 250 something year old vampire. And besides she smelt so sweet and good. I had to get away from her, and here she was. Still in the town. But childless. Maybe she had become the mother she'd always wanted to become. I'd imaged her, a loving husband at her side 4 or 5 beautiful children running around. She'd be staying strong for them, even though she'd just lost a son.

She'd remembered me. Christopher Carlisle Platt. Carlisle. I was still in her thoughts. I thought maybe tomorrow I'd go around town, before my morgue shift started, and ask whether anyone knew where to find her. A smile crossed my face. Even if she was meant for me. She was in better hands with her husband. I signed the papers and walked over to where the Childs body lay. I closed my eyes, and pulled back the white sheet. The small tiny body of the baby lay motionless. The lump grew bigger in my throat; it was as if someone was gripping it. Stopping me from breathing, well if I needed to breathe that was. He was stilled dressed in what Esme, I'd guessed, had put him in the day he died. A long white gown and wrapped reasonably tightly in a creamy blanket.

"I could have saved you little Christopher." I cupped the top of his tiny head with my hand and smiled slightly. "You look so much like her little one. She must have loved you very much."

I covered him back over; shaken by the images of all the deceased children I'd seen in my time. His face now imprinted in my mind. Child death was not an uncommon occurrence for my eyes, but it still haunted me. All the lives lost, the distraught mothers, the fathers in denial. I'd never stopped thinking about Esme Platt. Her young heart-shaped dimpled face. Her glorious beaming smile. I sat in the wooden chair in front of the desk once more. It creaked terribly as I sat in it. I rested my elbows on the table, giving my head a perch as I ran my fingers through my hair, sighing. Tomorrow I would go find her. I would find my angel and see if she was alright. She remembered me and I'd never forgotten her. I packed the reports away and lent back in the chair smiling. I guess you could say I was excited at the thought of seeing Esme again. Seeing the family I'd pictured, seeing the house she lived in and how she had made it a home for her and her children. Seeing the man she had most probably married. The man who gave her what I could never give her. I could find out why he was not on the birth certificate. Even though I knew I couldn't have her. I wanted to see her…see her one more time before I lost my angel forever.