Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: Thanks to my beta, ms ambrosia, as always. I appreciate the reviews, alerts, and favorites.
Edward was scattered, his thoughts, his emotions tumultuous. He hated what he had become, yet feared death, leaving him somewhere between relieved and disgusted. Was he not death walking?
The doctor, Carlisle, wholeheartedly believed that he had saved Edward from death, but Edward saw things differently. Although he could still walk, talk, breathe, and think, he was not living in the same way he had been. Everything about him was different.
And he wanted blood. All he wanted was blood.
The man he followed was good; his thoughts screamed sincerity and steadfast belief in the things he told Edward. It was because of the purity of his thoughts that Edward trusted him; well, trusted him as much as a newborn vampire can trust anyone.
Having thoughts that were not his own appearing in his head was trying; at moments he thought he would go mad, answering a question before Carlisle had even voiced it. Edward envied the patience the doctor exuded, taking everything in stride as though having his mind read was the most natural thing in the world.
After Edward's extensive question and answer session and second hunting trip, the rest of their journey was made under the cover of nightfall. They ran together in silence, Edward only asking more questions after they stopped running when the sun came up. Again, they hunted before continuing, Edward gorging himself so that he felt like an overfilled tick, swearing he felt the blood sloshing around his stomach.
When they started again as it grew dark, Carlisle attempted to fill his thoughts with pleasant things - the lovely sounds in the night, the scent of the leaves, the crispness of the air. Edward did not want to tell him it only caused him to feel more scattered. Already, he felt the need to please the man. The pride that had echoed in his thoughts as Edward had hunted the third time had been bolstering. Although he had drank more than he had on the previous trips, he found it easier to stop, and had not been nearly as messy about it. Carlisle had patted him on the back and smiled. Edward was unsure why it had warmed him so. Perhaps it was because he owed the man his existence; Carlisle had seen fit that Edward should remain existing, and Edward should want to see him pleased.
But as soon as he would have the thought to make Carlisle proud of him, his feelings would shift, and he would miss his mother, his father, the comfort of sleep and waking in a warm bed. Why would Carlisle take him and not his parents? Why was only he suited to save? Edward tried to rationalize. The way Carlisle described it, his father had already been dead, and his mother was on the verge of death when she made her request. Perhaps it would have been too much for the doctor to deal with, looking after two or three monsters. Edward already resented being watched over like a child, and could not see his mother handling it. He knew, however, in the part of him that was still human, that he was indeed as dangerous as Carlisle said, and needed to be kept close.
His new body and new senses were thrilling and frightening, exhilarating and jarring. The need to run, to hunt, to track, was overpowering. At times they would pass through areas and there would be the hint of a scent gliding through the breeze, filling Edward's nostrils and swirling in his head, scorching his throat. When he encountered such an aroma, it was as though his body knew there was something more, something better that it wanted and it beckoned him to leave his keeper, to find what it needed. Edward struggled to keep that part of him silent, but could already feel the lacuna that existed inside himself; it was the rift between the wicked creature he was and the human he wanted to be.
When they reached the point where they needed to swim, Carlisle told Edward they would have to go for many miles without stopping. For a moment, Edward pondered how he would breathe before remembering that that was something he no longer required.
Edward tentatively slid into the water, following Carlisle. As the previous few evenings the night was exceptionally dark, a few stars providing light along with a sliver of the moon. The water was black, a seemingly large, empty hole waiting to swallow him.
Expecting the gentle waves to feel cool against his flesh - it being night time in Fall - Edward was surprised when the water felt warm, another reminder of how alien he had become. He took it in stride, welcoming the temperate liquid as it washed away the grime of their travels. Carlisle vanished below the surface and Edward went after him.
He was in awe of how easily he propelled himself through the water and, although he was sheathed in darkness, Edward could peer through the water and see even the tiniest creatures that existed there. He began to grow uncomfortable and fearful the longer he went without breathing. He almost wanted to laugh at himself, an undead creature being afraid of drowning. But the large body of water seemed so limitless, and the only thing he had to lead him was the man that swam beside him, slightly in front.
Carlisle looked towards him several times, but Edward would not return the glances. Once again, he thought of how bizarre and scary his predicament was, feeling a bit satisfied that he had been right when he had sensed something so completely other about Carlisle when he had still been human. As though he sensed Edward was growing uneasy, Carlisle pointedly thought,
Would you like to surface for a moment?
Turning his head towards Carlisle, Edward nodded and began kicking towards the surface.
Breaking free from the oppressive weight of the lake, Edward gasped. The rush of air that filled him was heavily scented by things that made him want to wrinkle his nose. He took many more breaths, still feeling crushed as he glanced around for land.
Carlisle allowed Edward a few moments before speaking.
"I know right now swimming on the surface would seem much more comfortable to you, but it is much safer under water. For that, I am sorry."
"Safer for whom?" Edward replied, feeling indignant. Had he not gone through enough? Carlisle did not answer his question.
"The sooner we go back under, the sooner we will be there," he said to Edward, not giving the obvious answer to the question.
"If I cannot smell people, I will not want to drink them, yes? Is that why?" Edward knew that that was Carlisle's reasoning, but felt like being pushy.
Carlisle answered without speaking and once again went under water.
They swam for what seemed like ages to Edward and he was getting exceptionally bored. The initial fear that he had felt had long since subsided and was replaced by monotony. Everything looked the same, and Carlisle's constant stream of upbeat thoughts was beginning to wear on him.
Finally, Carlisle thought directly at Edward.
We are almost there. Edward had no clue how Carlisle would know they were even at the right place. The mass of land he saw before him could be France for all he knew. Will you stay in the water for awhile, under the surface, while I handle something? There is nothing in this water that can harm you.
Edward wanted to argue, wanted to protest and push back, but he could not very well do that when he could not speak. Images flashed through Carlisle's head of a lighthouse and a keeper's home. There were two humans on the island that he needed to talk into abandoning their post. The pictures in Carlisle's head of those humans made Edward's throat ache. He nodded, although he did not want to at all.
As soon as Edward had given Carlisle the affirmation, he swam upwards, his thoughts filled with trepidation and worry. He loathed the idea of leaving Edward on his own, but could see no way around it.
This might take awhile, Carlisle thought as he broke the surface.
For the first time since his awakening, Edward was alone.
He searched out Carlisle's mind, surprised when he found more than just Carlisle's internal voice present. The other thoughts had slipped in like thieves, and what he saw was odd. The two men must have been sleeping, the words and images disorienting and varied.
One man, his name must have been Justin because in the dream it was painted in the sky, dreamt of his children. He was flying and carrying two small girls on his extended wings in what appeared to be a snowstorm filled with flakes in different hues. Some were blue, some orange, some purple.
A sad smile graced Edward's lips as he tried to remember the last dream he had had, but that had been another lifetime. Could it really only have been a week before?
The other man's dreams were lewd; his name was Harry because the woman in his dream called it repeatedly, and paired with the thoughts of Carlisle and the innocent, familial dreams of the other gentleman, they were appalling. Edward could not tune him out though, could not stop any of the words and pictures that appeared in his mind. He closed his eyes but it only made the things in his head that much brighter. The bout of claustrophobia Edward had encountered earlier was steadily returning. He wanted to breathe.
Edward did not see what it would hurt to stick his head above the surface. Surely he would not be tempted by a scent on the other side of an island.
The dreams abruptly stopped as Carlisle woke the men. They were frightened by him, and Edward was not surprised. Carlisle seemed to calm them with ease, the man with the dreams of his family more wary. The information he gave them was limited, but as soon as he mentioned money, both men seemed more than interested.
Edward wondered how much money Carlisle had. He had been around for ages, and being a doctor was a fairly prestigious position. Still, the amount he offered the men seemed ludicrous. One man was worried about the ships and wanted to make sure that Carlisle knew how to man the light. Carlisle assured him he would look after it well, not wishing harm on anyone. Finally, both men took what Carlisle offered and he reminded them to check in at the end of the season, keep their whereabouts until then a secret, and not to return until the following Autumn.
The mere thoughts of the men had Edward's mouth watering and they were so close by. The onslaught of voices in his head and the weight of the water continued to be oppressive, and Edward started to panic. Kicking towards the surface, he told himself he would be fine; there was no harm in simply taking a few breaths, getting some fresh air on his face - he only wanted to breath; not at all did he want to drink those men.
Just before he reached the surface, he heard Carlisle's thoughts again as he hurried the men along, rushing them to their boat. He worried for Edward, alone and frightened in a strange place. The kindness and care in Carlisle's musings made Edward halt his movements.
With much effort, Edward convinced himself that he could hold off longer, the strength of the man watching out for him becoming his own.
What seemed like ages later, Edward heard the men leaving, heard Carlisle coming to retrieve him. Swimming the final few feet to the surface, he broke out of the water, gulping in the fresh air. The first sight he was met with upon opening his eyes was Carlisle, several yards ahead, standing in the rocky sand, ankle deep in water.
Edward thought it strange how completely different Carlisle looked compared to the man Edward had been leery of more than a week prior. Carlisle's hair was wild, having long ago come loose from the tie he had kept it in, his clothes filthy and wet, his white doctor's coat discarded before Edward had even awakened from the burning. More than ever before, Carlisle looked like the creature he was, the ones Edward had heard horror stories about. He was even more impressed that Carlisle was able to talk the men into leaving the lighthouse in his care.
Swimming towards him, Edward was awash in the scent of the recently departed humans. The odor was pungent and unyielding, forcing Edward to swim faster so that he might get a bigger waft of it.
As Edward reached the shore, Carlisle gave him an unneeded hand to his feet and stared at him a moment, taking in the darkness of Edward's eyes. Carlisle's pride in Edward was once again echoed in his thoughts.
"I know how difficult that was for you," Carlisle said, nodding. "Would you like to hunt now?"
Edward could not answer; the amount of venom that had flooded his mouth was developing so swiftly, he had not the time to swallow. He wanted to hunt - he truly did - but the thought of chasing and drinking another animal seemed disgusting with the heavenly scent of warm humans teasing him. Without giving Carlisle even the slightest clue to his intentions, Edward wandered off, soon running towards the warm, moist, luscious scent that embraced him. The smell called out to him with promises of relief and comfort, its voice as soothing as his mother's, as familiar as an old friend.
Within seconds, he was at the keeper's house, searching the empty rooms where the scent of blood was so strong. The knowledge that a half hour prior there had been humans there, sleeping so helplessly - so easy to take - made Edward want to scream. It was as though he could still hear the echoes of the pounding of their hearts, all the blood being pushed through their tender veins, so prime and ready.
Edward could picture it; he knew what the men looked like from their dreams. With perfect clarity, he saw himself creeping in, the room bathed in the heated aroma of blood. He could imagine touching the hot, living skin of the man, Harry - the one with the awful dreams - and feeling the rush of blood just under the surface. Every beat of his heart would make Edward's mouth water and he would revel in the last moments of that man's life, before sinking his teeth into the flesh of his throat like butter, his mouth instantly warmed by the perfect temperature of blood, while his throat would be cooled by the life-giving offering. Edward moaned, feeling a more acute sense of loss than he had when he realized his parents were dead.
He eventually found himself, in a bedroom with hands splayed on the place where one of the men had slept. The warmth that the body had exuded was still present, but grew cold the longer Edward kept his frosty appendages against the heat. Again, he wanted to scream. How would he live like this?
"The scent will fade."
Edward felt that he would have been surprised by Carlisle's voice had he not been in such despair over what he had lost.
"The scent will fade," Carlisle said again. "And you will grow desensitized. I am not certain that it is not a good thing their scent is so fresh."
Carlisle's statement garnered Edward's attention, and he snapped his head to look at him, his visage in an expression of incredulity. "How is this a good thing?" he asked, fingers twisting in the cooled sheets, the sound of fabric ripping filling the air.
"It will help you grow accustomed to the smell. You now know how much you want them, and now you can start your fight against it."
At that moment, Edward did not want to fight against it. He wanted to swim after those men, to think only of himself and ease his sense of loss, soothe the pain he was in physically and emotionally. It would be so easy...
You are good, Edward. You do not want to hurt those men. They might have families, as you once did.
Edward thought about the man named Justin and the dream of the little girls he flew on his back. The memory of their delighted giggles resounded through Edward, and he knew they would be heartbroken if their father never returned.
Edward sighed in exasperation as he let the relief he sought slip through his fingers, sail away. "Fine. I would like to hunt now," he said, rising to his feet and brushing past Carlisle, who stood in the doorway. Although he did not look at him, Edward knew that Carlisle was smiling.
~oOo~
The next few months passed by with Edward in a consistent state of trying to wake up. Since he was never able to sleep, at some point he had almost convinced himself he was in an elaborate, seemingly endless dream. What he was could not be real; he was simply still in the hospital, his fever making his subconscious go wild. It made sense that the odd doctor would be the feature in his dream, seeing as how Edward had been so cautious of him.
But Edward understood that what he was living was no dream. The strangeness he felt was all too real, the flavor of blood much too lovely to have been something he could think up. It took time to come to terms with what he had become, to get used to the idea of never seeing his parents again, but eventually he did, and Carlisle was there each time Edward became overwhelmed, whether it be by anger or desolation.
That winter was one of the coldest Wisconsin had ever seen, but to Edward and Carlisle it made no difference. Edward, however, had been growing weary of the short, overcast days that were only followed by overcast nights.
Life on Devils island had been interesting to begin with. Edward explored the caves that had men so frightened, stood inside them as the wind caused them to moan and groan and thought the sounds beautiful. He was reminded of the pipe organ he had played for church on Sundays, his fingers itching to play. He had wondered if he would still remember his favorite songs when he was able to exercise them again.
Before long, though, Edward had started getting bored. The island was small and the wildlife unvaried. Carlisle began going to other islands to hunt, bringing animals back for Edward. Edward grew tired of that system, disgusted by cold blood, resenting Carlisle for not trusting him enough to take him along. Soon after Edward voiced his displeasure, the men developed a system where Carlisle would swim to some of the islands in closest proximity, make sure there were no humans dangerously close by, and then think at Edward to follow. Edward found that the longer he knew Carlisle, the more familiar his internal voice became, so he could hear his thoughts even when he was miles away.
With being able to venture out, Edward found a small amount of reprieve. Still, the near constant watch Carlisle kept on him was annoying. Although Carlisle gave him large amounts of freedom when they were on Devils Island, when they went to the others, Carlisle practically held his hand.
Edward took advantage of the freedoms he was granted by taking long walks on his own, looking for solace and comfort in the covering of the trees. As winter finally subsided and spring began to peek its head, Edward began to feel hopeful. The scent of the men in the keeper's house had indeed faded the way Carlisle had said, and Edward had noticed in the six months since they had arrived on the island that his control was getting better. He was able to pay attention for longer periods, able to hunt cautiously, and he had grown used to his over active senses and strength.
And although Carlisle not only kept the lighthouse but also acted as Edward's keeper, he had grown to admire him; their companionship an easy thing. The stories Carlisle had were endless, some exciting. He had travelled everywhere and knew so much of the world. It had become almost a nightly ritual for the two men to sit on the sandy shore as the light of day dipped below the horizon and exchange stories. Edward had run out soon after arriving, but Carlisle still had something new to share every day. Edward was enthralled by the horror stories of the Volturi, saddened by the stories of Carlisle's father, and excited when Carlisle spoke of his studies. Edward still held hope of furthering his education and Carlisle ensured him that he could.
The serene and even tone of Carlisle's voice made Edward almost believe he could sleep again, that the comforting sound could follow him into dreams. Edward still had difficulty believing that anyone could mistake Carlisle for a human. No human could have such patience, such a calm and beautiful facade. No matter how Edward searched his face and mind for an imperfection, he never encountered one.
Carlisle continued to stress the need for salvation, still told Edward he had a soul. Edward knew his own wicked compulsions and could not comprehend something as evil as he still getting into Heaven. He humored the man, though, and did not argue. Everything about Carlisle was so sincere, Edward knew that every word he spoke he completely believed and that he would never be swayed. It was because of Carlisle's sincerity and openness of thought that Edward remained on the island and away from humans, and it was because of the easy companionship they shared that Edward would stay with Carlisle as long as he could. He thought himself lucky - if he was to be damned to a never-ending existence - that he had someone like Carlisle to guide him.
Edward was on one of his walks, enjoying the fresh bit of greenery that was presenting itself. Along with the green came bugs; Edward could hear them crawling around, buzzing through the air.
He stopped walking when he saw a praying mantis slowly crawling across a low lying branch. Remembering how he had always found the insect unnaturally creepy, he walked closer to it and laughed as it tried to scuttle away. He snatched it up, proud of himself when he kept from crushing it. He looked forward to telling Carlisle how controlled he had been. There were plenty of broken door knobs and uprooted trees to attest to Edward's previous lack of control.
Looking at it between his thumb and forefinger, it turned its bulbous eyes towards Edward, its head almost turned backwards so that it could glance at him.
Edward thought the bug still exceptionally ugly, but felt he could understand it better, being what he was. The bug struggled to get away from him, nearly disengaging one of its back legs. Edward blew his cold breath over it and it stilled, momentarily stunned.
The insect once again turned its large eyes on Edward. Taking in its praying stance, stick arms clasped together in front of it, Edward shook his head. The way it reflexively stayed in that position on resting reminded him of Carlisle - always praying. He could hear Carlisle's voice echoing in his head, 'We must remember to pray, Edward. In prayer we remember humility and in humility we remain human.' Edward pondered how he rather liked Carlisle, despite his preaching; a more honest man could not be found, vampire or human.
The bug tilted its head and Edward placed it on his open palm, thrilled that it did not immediately flee.
"You and I are similar, you know. You eat disgusting things, as do I. We are both feared, and we both have big scary eyes." Edward widened his eyes to emphasize his point and got within inches of the bug. It promptly ran away.
Edward laughed at himself for speaking out loud to an insect. The isolation must have been making him desperate.
Edward took a deep breath after laughing, and his good humor abruptly stopped. The scent that filled his nostrils was familiar and already his throat was aching. It was human, and it was on his island. Without another conscious thought he was running.
He could not even ponder it - his body was reacting on its own. Edward could not bring himself to think of the scent as a person; he had forgotten how wonderful the fresh scent of real blood had been. Listening intently, Edward could hear the thunderous pounding of three hearts on the other side of the island. In only a few more seconds, he would have what he had lamented losing six months prior. He would have it and all would be well. Why should he care what Carlisle thought?
Carlisle.
The second that Edward paused he was plowed into. He struggled against Carlisle as he pinned him to the ground.
"Let me go!" Edward screamed, writhing and desperate. Why did Carlisle not want him to have relief?
"No," Carlisle replied, gritting his teeth and exerted all his might to keep Edward in place.
"You want me to suffer. You would deny me forever!" Edward shouted, managing to flip over and look at Carlisle, the expression he was met with sad.
"I do not wish you suffering-"
"Then let me go!" Edward replied, continuing his struggle, his rage multiplying the longer Carlisle held him down. Carlisle's piteous thoughts made him angrier. "I need it. Please! Just this one time. Simply let me drink one of them. I promise I will stop."
"No, Edward-"
"I hate you!" he said, all the venom in his body minuscule compared to that in his words. "I hate you. Damn you for doing this to me, you selfish coward!"
Edward would not look at Carlisle as he flung the most hateful words he could think of. He struggled and mumbled and shouted and cried in the only way one could without tears. Carlisle still kept him down, no longer speaking aloud but trying to think comforting thoughts. Even after Edward spouted such vile words at him, he would not be angered.
Eventually that burning need to drink lessened, and Edward became less aware of the scent of humans and more aware of Carlisle. No longer did it seem that Carlisle held him down, but it simply seemed as though Carlisle held him. He had never been so conscious of the position of Carlisle's hands, fingers, and arms before, never had he paid attention to the length of Carlisle's body. At that moment, he did; he felt every inch of Carlisle pressed against him, his flesh temperate and soothing.
Something changed for Edward as he finally and completely calmed. He wondered if Carlisle had felt it, too. Searching his mind, nothing appeared different. Edward found Carlisle's golden eyes and furrowed his brow. He waited a few moments, expecting Carlisle's anger to manifest once he ceased his movements, but Carlisle continued to look back at him, his features calm.
Carlisle must have been in the water; Edward realized he was soaking wet, his hair loose as a few haphazard strands caressed Edward's face, shielding him from anything that was not Carlisle like a silken curtain as gold as the man's eyes. How had Edward never noticed how soft the tendrils were, or how wonderful Carlisle smelled? The natural scent of him forced any other fragrances from Edward's proximity and each inhale caused him more confusion. What he did know, was that he did not hate Carlisle at all; hate had become the furthest thing from his mind.
"I do not actually hate you," Edward said, apologizing without actually doing so.
"I know," Carlisle said, helping him up and leading him to the water. "We need to get you under water until those people leave."
With a nod, Edward followed, aware of each of Carlisle's movements from the flex of his fingers to the movement of legs as he walked.
