A/N: Happy Christmas Eve, friends. I paused all my domestic duties (apparently, the unemployed one gets to cook everything. HUMPH) to post for you.

Carlisle plucked at his guitar, trying even now - an hour before he was set to be on stage - to find the song that had been trying to form for a week. He knew it was there. All week long, he wanted to put what he felt into music and lyrics, but his tongue was tied; his ear for the right tune was malfunctioning.

He couldn't stop thinking about Bella, not even long enough to process what he was feeling into a song.

In his younger days, things would have been much different. He might have embarked on a little romance with Bella, and the last seven days would have been charmed. It would have been an idyllic story. They'd have shared kisses out and about in Seattle, or perhaps in Forks after she...

After she got out of school.

There was a sobering thought.

The tune he was playing became heavy with guilt.

Frustrated, he unstrapped his guitar, setting it down. Restless, he ventured out backstage, listening to the opening act for a moment. Finding he was still going a little out of his skin, he headed for the stairs to the private balcony.

He found a space where he could watch the crowd but they couldn't see him as easily.

It wasn't until he saw her that he acknowledged he'd been looking for her all along. After all, Portland was about equidistant from Forks as Seattle.

For a few moments, he lay his head on the edge of the short wall between him and the floor below, just watching.

She was there alone which automatically made his protective instinct flare. He glanced at the people swarmed around her. He saw couples. Groups of girls. Women his age, dressed up like they were... Bella's age.

He quirked his lips, rubbing at his chin.

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle turned as his long time friend and manager joined him. "Alistair," he greeted, looking back out onto the floor.

"What are we looking at?"

Carlisle hesitated, but then he extended one finger, pointing.

"The brunette bopping there alone?" Alistair sounded confused for a minute, but then Carlisle could feel his friend's stare boring holes in the side of his head. "Carlisle... Tell me she isn't the reason you've been a ghost this last week." Another pause. "Is this why you asked if this is an all ages club?"

"I think you know me better than that." Carlisle spoke to the question Alistair hadn't asked. He paused. "Will you bring her back?"

"Carlisle..."

At this, Carlisle finally lifted his head, looking at his friend. Alistair had seen him at his worst. When Carlisle thought he was invincible - riding high on fame, drugs, and the exhilaration of the stage - Alistair kept him safe, from fans... from himself.

Putting on an easy smile, Carlisle clapped his friend on the shoulder. "It's fine, Alistair. I helped her last week is all. Her truck broke down." Alistair only stared. "I know what I'm doing."

Alistair studied him for another long moment before he nodded. "Fine then. Have it your way.

~0~

Bella was annoyed at first when the man approached her, trying to get her to follow him. He was a little creepy - dirty blond hair and beard combo and a hint of discomfort about him.

He seemed exasperated when she rebuffed his advances. "Bloody hell. I swear to Christ I should make him come out here and get you himself." He shook his head and tried again, taking her arm so she couldn't cringe away from him. Before Bella could react - and she had every intention of shoving her palm right up this guy's nose if he didn't let her go - he whispered in her ear. "Listen to me, sweetheart. I'm trying to get you backstage and not on my account. You understand?"

Bella froze, her eyes darting up to the stranger's.

"Oh, interested now, aren't you?" The man laughed and jerked his head. "Come on then, follow me."

"I'm sorry about before," Bella said when they were away from the crowd.

The stranger laughed. "Frankly, dearie, it's a little refreshing. Most girls your age have no sense of self preservation." He gave her a knowing look. "But I'm not as pretty as he is. This I know."

Bella was suddenly glad of the dim light because she was sure she was blushing scarlet. Before she could speak though, she heard her name being called by a soft voice.

She couldn't help her smile when she turned and saw him there. Her breath caught. This was not the kind hearted stranger offering her a ride in the middle of the night. He wasn't the man who'd sat across from her - a little tired as he bought her dinner and a warm drink. He wasn't the man kneeling by the side of her bed, his eyes wide and vulnerable before he took her face in his hands.

The man standing before her now was a rockstar. He was devastatingly handsome, and though he was standing still now, she knew just by looking at him he could swagger. He could command the stage with a smile and a tilt of his chin. Suddenly, Bella felt more than a little intimidated.

He ducked his head, a small, familiar smile playing at his lips.

She swallowed hard, reminding herself he was, after all, just a man. "Nice mascara."

Carlisle laughed. His friend straight out guffawed. "I'm glad you're here."

He had precious little time, but he showed her around the backstage. There were a lot of others. Bella noticed their stares - some with judgement, some with curiosity. For the most part, Carlisle was keeping his distance. He would touch her arm to get her attention or put his palm to the small of her back to guide her. Once, when one of the stage hands leered at her, he stepped to her side, angling his body in a distinctly protective - somewhat possessive - gesture.

"Five minutes," one of the hands said all too soon.

Carlisle turned to Bella, his expression regretful. "I'm sorry."

She had to grin. "This is the part I came for, remember?

There was that grin she'd seen so many times on shaking hand held YouTube videos, all sex appeal and a deceivingly bad-boy image. It made her breath catch, and he chuckled, knowing damn well what he was doing.

He raised his hand, brushing his fingers under her chin, his eyes straying down to her lips for the space of a breath. "Then enjoy the show."

Bella didn't realize she hadn't moved until she heard laughter. The man who'd come to get her put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, lovely. I'll show you the best place to stand. I'm Alistair by the way. In case you care," he teased.

He led her to a place just off the stage where she could watch.

Carlisle Cullen on the stage was a revelation. How often had she listened to his words, his music, hearing the truth about life, about love? It was different here. The energy filled her every pore - a power, an undeniable energy embodied and supplied by the man on the stage. He poured his soul into every word, from the playful songs where he seduced the audience with a sexy come hither stare to the songs of lost love where his pain was acute. Bella could feel her heart twist where she stood.

And for Bella, it was as if she could see him whole for the first time. The man who sang for everyone in that venue was passionate and so alive, but the man she'd glimpsed a week ago was present in the space between the notes, the words that filled the silences between lyrics.

He was beautiful.

Bella had no words, no definition for the adrenaline that made her blood flow hotter through her veins, pumped faster by her heart. She had no way to explain the emotion in her, and no choice but to simply let it run through her.

He ended the night with an old song - one of his first. It was about the spark of unlikely love, about a bewitching girl he just couldn't get out of his head.

And when he sang, he turned his body slightly so he was looking not at the audience but at her.

It was far and away the most visceral moment of Bella's entire life. She felt exposed and titillated - like her body was bare before him, her every nerve ending alive and aware. She rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes locked with his, her throat dry as sand.

It felt like an age before he was finally wishing the crowd goodnight. But then he was stepping toward her - his pace quick, but not as quick as she would like.

Neither of them said anything when he was finally backstage. They were surrounded by other people, and yet the intensity between them was a physical entity. Bella was frankly astounded it wasn't more obvious. Before he could be engulfed, Carlisle reached out, grabbing her hand. She walked at arms length behind him, the voices around them a blur. Bella was vaguely aware he was responding to questions and little bits of conversation being thrown at him, but she couldn't concentrate at all.

Finally, they reached his dressing room. There were fewer people by then, but still, Bella was shocked - and eternally grateful - when Carlisle pulled her into the privacy of the room behind him.

She absolutely could not help her reaction as soon as the door snicked shut. Her arms were around his neck in an instant, and she pushed up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. This wasn't a gentle kiss, not like the slow kisses they'd shared before. This was all her pent up emotion, the intense energy that only minutes ago had filled the whole venue welling up through her.

Apparently, they were on the same page. He pressed her back against the door, his body pinning hers. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands went to her thighs. His lips on hers were hard, keeping up easily with the fevered pace she set. The taste of his skin was salty, but the taste of his mouth - as her tongue sought his - was sweet somehow. So good.

When they were both breathless, she opened her eyes, breathing in the air he breathed out. She devoured him with her gaze, trailing her fingers up to trace the tattoos along his bare arms. She grinned at him, purposefully smudging the eyeliner he wore with the pads of her thumbs. For a moment, she let herself admire him like the rockstar he was. Then she worked her fingers under the wig he wore, thinking she preferred him as a blond.

He smiled against her lips when he kissed her again, a little calmer this time.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked between kisses.

She had to laugh. Part of her wished she was smoother, more confident, so she could tell him the first thought that came to her mind without stammering or blushing or generally making a fool out of herself like she knew she would if she tried.

She wanted much more than dinner from this man.

"Yes," she said out loud, reluctantly putting her feet back on the ground. "I'll have dinner with you."

~0~

Part of Carlisle wanted Alistair to stop him, or if not his friend, then for someone to say something. No one commented, though, when he and Bella emerged from his dressing room together. There were a few disapproving glances, but Carlisle knew all of these people had seen much worse than a forty-year-old rockstar holding hands with an eighteen-year-old fan.

Before they parted ways, after Bella was already in the passenger seat of his car, Alistair clapped his shoulder, his wise eyes understanding. "I see it, you know." His tone was musing. "There's something about her, something in her eyes that's all spitfire, and yet there's something so sweet about her nature. She sees people - not color or gender or... age, but people - the same way Esme did."

Carlisle stared at his friend, waiting for him to say how wrong it was on so many levels.

Instead, Alistair just sighed, his expression serious. "Be careful, Carlisle. Not only with her heart but with yours, too."

He could have driven straight to the hotel. Part of him wanted to. There was a large portion of his... mind preoccupied with how her body had felt pinned beneath his against the door, how amazing it was when she ran her fingers through his hair.

How her kisses reminded him he wasn't as old as he felt sometimes. He was still young, still capable of having these amazing experiences that were a hundred percent new. How could he have guessed? He'd been with a fair number of women, and he'd begun to think he'd experienced the full spectrum of emotions a kiss could elicit.

Not so.

But he was conflicted about what he should be feeling, what he should be doing. Yes, she was an adult and capable of making her own choices - to belittle that would be wrong - but could it be right to be with her like that when he was as old as her father? A few months older, if he was doing the math right.

Then again, Charlie Swan had been a young father.

Either way, rather than take her back to his hotel room where things would surely get out of hand too quickly, they found another quiet all night diner.

There was a hectic look of excitement that sparked in her eyes, colored her cheeks, even as she sat across from him sipping hot chocolate again. She was so stunning, captivatingly beautiful.

Distracting himself, he engaged her in a game of twenty questions. One question for him, one for her.

He asked where her mother was and watched her face as she spoke of a woman who flitted about as she pleased. Bella's expression was patient, when she spoke of her mother, adoring and understanding.

The look on her face turned coy when she raised an eyebrow and innocently asked him if he'd ever kissed a boy. Shocked, he laughed and answered more than one.

"And you?" he challenged, wondering privately if he really wanted to know.

Her cheeks tinged pink. "One boy," she muttered to her plate before lifting her head, looking at him with hooded eyes. "And one man, I suppose."

He only had time to ponder that for a handful of seconds before she was on to the next question.

Carlisle found himself increasingly fascinated, leaning across the table as he was caught up in her answers. She tried to joke off how much trouble she'd be in with her father, who'd grounded her after last week's escapades. She tried to look nonchalant, but he read more into the furrow of her brow. She simply wasn't used to being a troublesome teenager and didn't like to worry her overprotective father.

Her face was so animated, her hands waving to emphasize her words, as she spoke of the future. She wanted to be a doctor or a scientist - one of those scientists who worked on curing cancer or something like that. She wanted to help people, which was something he understood. He'd toyed with the idea of being a doctor before music and fame claimed him. He tried to make up for it by donating money where he could. At least once a year, he did a benefit concert, or agreed to be part of an ensemble act to raise money for whatever cause caught his eye that year.

And toward the end of the meal, Carlisle realized with only a small degree of surprise he was entirely smitten with this woman. It was more than the way she reminded him of Esme, reminded him of the life he'd let slip through his fingers. Bella was unique - entirely separate and breathtaking in her own way. She was all passion and honesty. She didn't know how to mask her emotions, so she was shy one moment and brazen the next. She was a conundrum he was endlessly fascinated with and desperate almost to the point of pain to figure out.

"It's late." Even he could hear the intent in his voice when they came to the end of their meal and it was either time to say goodbye or let nature take its course. "You shouldn't try to drive home tonight."

Her eyes locked on his, wide and wanting. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "I've got nowhere to stay."

Tentative, he reached out and cupped her cheek feeling a deep adoration run through him as he looked on her. "You know that isn't true."

~0~

By the time they got back to the hotel, neither of them was trying to deny what they were doing. They were discreet up until they were behind closed doors, only holding hands as they walked, but the second they were safe in his room, they were tangled up in each others arms.

Carlisle couldn't remember the last time sex had felt this urgent - where he bumped against walls and stumbled and fumbled trying to get to a flat surface. Briefly, he considered letting them fall to the floor, but somehow he couldn't do that. Before they could tip, he turned, pressing Bella up against the wall so he could kiss her as thoroughly as he wanted to.

Far from arguing, Bella had her legs wrapped around him again in an instant, her arms wound around his neck and her hands in his hair. She bucked her body against his, urging him on.

Making sure his grip on her was firm, he pulled away from the wall with her still in his arms. It was one of those miracles of lust and magic that he could somehow navigate the room while still attached to her at the lips.

He did manage to get them into the bedroom before he tripped, sending them both sprawling. He landed on top of her on the bed, both of them huffing out a startled breath.

Somewhat amused at his own fervor, Carlisle rolled onto his side, holding himself above her for a moment. He ran his fingers over her lips thinking how young and innocent she looked with her hair fanned out, her hands up by her head. But when she took his finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, he felt lightheaded. She could be such a vixen.

Leaning in, he claimed her lips again, bringing his hand down to rest on the curve of her breast. The way she moaned into his mouth, her hips pressing up against his, drove him a bit out of his mind. He brushed his thumb over her nipple just to hear it again.

He pulled them both into a sitting position, ghosting his hands over the soft skin of her belly before running up to cup her breasts. His fingers were deft. He undid the clasp of her bra easily, and had her shirt up and off a second later.

God, she was glorious. Perky little breasts. She was so sexy. When she bit her lip, tugging at his shirt, he pulled it off for her and lay her back down on the bed, skin to skin, reveling in the feel as he drew his fingers up and down her spine.

He touched her everywhere, exploring, finding out quickly what made her gasp or moan. The way her body responded to him had him in a tizzy, he was so dizzy with want for her.

They were both moving against each other so much, it took him a moment to understand she was trembling. Hard.

He pulled away, pressing the back of his knuckles against her cheek. She was clinging to him, her fingers pressing into his back so hard, he was actually a little surprised he hadn't noticed before. And her eyes were screwed tightly shut, her mouth hanging open slightly as her breath came harder than was typical even for this kind of circumstance. "Bella?"

"I um... Can we... can we stop?" she asked between gasps.

He shifted instantly, putting some distance between them. Sitting upright, he gently pulled her up with him. Grabbing his shirt first because it was closer, he pulled it over her head, helping her get her arms through the tangled sleeves. "There," he said soothingly, stroking her hair.

"I'm sorry." She was very close to tears, he could tell by the tone of her voice. "I'm so sorry."

Quickly, he wrapped her in a tight hug, comforting this time instead of titillating. She sagged against him, trembling, trying to catch her breath. "Don't apologize," he whispered into her hair, rocking them slightly. "It's fine. Just fine."

"I want... But..." she sputtered, and it broke his heart just a little. He remembered her words from earlier. She'd only ever kissed one boy before. How overwhelmed she must have been if he was the first one to touch her, to see her like this.

And maybe her body had not been responding to histouch but the newness of anyone touching her as a lover would.

Carlisle blew out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to find his right mind. "It's okay," he said again. "You're fine."

"Can you sleep?" he asked a few minutes later when her breath had evened out and she'd stopped shaking.

Her eyes were uncertain as she looked up at him, slightly ashamed and every bit as young as she actually was. "Will you stay?" she asked in a small voice. "With me, I mean."

He thought he understood what she needed. Despite the fact she wasn't ready to go further with him, she didn't want to feel rejected.

Smiling, he tilted her chin up and pressed a lingering, chaste kiss to her lips. "I'm right here."

He lay awake for a long time after she fell into an exhausted sleep. In the darkness and silence of the room he thought about everything. He thought about his forty years of life. What he'd lived. What he'd lost. His experiences in love, lust, and shared moments between two people.

He thought about all the things he wanted, and what he could have.

He thought about the millions of possible futures that lay ahead of him, of her. He didn't believe in right or wrong experiences, but age had given him the perspective of the responsibility he had in his choices.

There were so many paths in front of him, and he knew he only had until morning to choose the one he could live with.

A/N: Happy holidays to you all. Much love to each and every one of you.