A/N: This last chapter is quite short, and it's also pretty "epiloguish" since it jumps ahead in time, but it's not the epilogue. I'll be posting it on Saturday. I hope you enjoy!


"I cannot remember exactly the first time your soul whispered to mine, but I know you woke it. And it has never slept since."

- JM Storm -


Healing

"What if it's a girl?"

My voice was quiet, just a notch above a whisper. I felt Carlisle shift, and he withdrew his hand from the slope of my stomach and reached over me, turning on the bedside light. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. His hand slipped back under the covers, pulling back the hem of my T-shirt, and then his palm came to rest on my stomach again.

Maybe it was his warm touch that had woken me in the first place a couple of minutes ago; it wouldn't be the first time. Countless times before, during the past weeks, I had stirred awake to the light touch of his lips or the gentle stroke of his fingers on my slowly growing belly. And countless times before, quiet, murmured words had reached my ears, words that were too quiet for me to hear.

Some people talked to their unborn child, some people played music, some people liked to sing. But Carlisle...Carlisle always whispered. It was as if he was afraid of scaring the baby. It was as if...as if he was afraid of breaking the spell. It was as if he was afraid that, if he began to speak out loud, everything around him would disappear.

I kept hoping that, maybe one day, he'd stop whispering.

Gently, he ran his hand over the arch of my belly. The touch was careful, protective. I knew it soothed him to feel the movements and kicks of the baby against his palm. And it soothed me, knowing that feeling those things brought him comfort. Peace.

The baby had begun to give me bruises a week earlier; there was still a dark, purple patch where my ribs ended, and even though it was a little sensitive to the touch, I didn't mind at all that it was there. If I wasn't so scared of needles, I might have considered having the bruise tattooed on my stomach after the baby was born. That was how much I'd miss having him – or her – doing cartwheels inside my womb. We had decided to wait to find out the gender, but whatever it was, this kid was a kicker.

Sensing Carlisle's gaze, I turned my head to meet his eyes; he was lying on his side, facing me, his head propped up by his other hand.

"What if it is?" I asked again. "A girl?"

He was silent for a moment. "Why do you ask? Do you...do you think it'd make me sad?"

I regarded him silently. "I don't know. Would it?"

A small frown pulled at his brows. He stroked his hand over my stomach again.

"No. I don't think it would," he answered eventually, speaking slowly. "Not long ago, I was worried it might. I was worried...it'd make me remember things I didn't want to remember. But...maybe that's something I shouldn't be worried about. Maybe I should remember. Maybe...maybe it's about time I stop being afraid of...remembering things."

I gave him a soft smile. "Maybe you've been remembering the wrong things until now," I suggested, "And maybe you've forgotten the things you should remember."

He gave me a long look. "That's a wise way to look at it, I suppose."

I smiled again. "Someone once said something like that to me," I admitted, thinking about the little girl with hair full of sunshine.

Carlisle leaned down to press a soft kiss on my cheek. "Do you have a feeling, then...that it might be a girl?"

"There's a little girl in my dreams. She keeps coming back."

He smiled. "What does she look like?"

"She has your blue eyes and your sad smile. And she has your golden hair as well. It's all unruly and disheveled – I suppose we can blame her Uncle Edward for that."

He chuckled. "And what will she get from you? If she has my eyes and my hair..."

"Well, I hope she won't get my clumsiness. Because...imagine if she turns out like Seth – imagine if she's just as restless, always going, going, going, never staying still. The poor thing will be covered is stitches and bandages. We might have to build a brick wall around the house, you know."

"That's a good idea. When she grows up and becomes as beautiful as you, we'll be having a lot of trouble keeping all those young men away. I'll have to put locks on her windows, and when we get her a car, I'll have to disconnect the battery cables every night before we go to bed."

I chuckled, pleased he was able to talk about the future so lightly, even joke about it. He'd come a long way during these last few months. "That won't help, you know. She'll be hanging out with Rosalie, after all. And Rosalie will teach her everything about cars. I'm afraid we'll have to find another way to keep Mar – I mean, her, in check."

Carlisle gave me a curious look. "What did you just call her?"

I gave an embarrased laugh, hesitating. "In my dreams...her name is Marie."

He smiled softly. "Really?"

I nodded.

He stroked my stomach again, very gently. "Marie...that's a beautiful name. Why haven't you said anything until now? That's perfect, since it's also your middle name."

"I got that name from my grandmother," I murmured. "As for why I haven't said anything..." I hesitated. "I don't know. I guess I was worried, since...well, Alice was Mary Alice. I assumed that, maybe Marie resembles her name too much."

Carlisle considered my words carefully, staying silent for a moment. "Mary was the name of my mother. Mary Elizabeth," he revealed, his voice soft. "Esme wanted Alice to be her middle name...and we somehow ended up calling her that. She always just looked like an Alice to us, you know?" he chuckled quietly, and I was surprised to see him smiling. "But the name Marie...I think it's a beautiful name, like I said. It reminds me of Alice, yes, but...you know, for some reason, I find it almost...comforting."

I smiled. "Okay. I'm glad to hear that. I like Marie as well. Would it be her first name or middle name?"

"You often see it as a middle name, I guess. But...I think it should be her first name." He shifted, resting his head on the pillow, pressing a soft kiss on my shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I think I like it. And I think we'll have to find a middle name for her now. Oh – ow!"

Carlisle hissed in sympathy, as the baby kicked – hard – and then he chuckled softly. "She either disagrees strongly about the name, or else she has something other to say."

It took a while until I managed to answer – I was still trying to catch my breath. "You know, I have a thing or two to say to her as well. Or they're polite requests, more likely."

"Let me guess. You'd appreciate it if she left at least some of your ribs unbroken, and if that's alright with her, you'd also kindly like to ask if there was any way she could adjust her sleeping patterns to match yours?"

"You read my mind. I don't understand what Mother Nature was thinking, making babies more active at night. That's just...illogical. If she keeps us awake now, what will it be like when she comes out?"

He chuckled. "Maybe that's the point. Maybe this is a way to prepare us for staying up all night long."

"Long-term sleep deprivation is a poor way to prepare for anything."

The baby kicked again, and he smiled, his hand leaving my stomach, as he reached over me to turn out the bedside light. It was dark, then, and I sighed contentedly, as Carlisle's hand returned to the curve of my belly.

It was silent for a while. It was a silence full of breathing and quiet heartbeats, a silence full of unspoken thoughts. And then, that peaceful silence ended abruptly, as the baby gave another kick that was so hard, Carlisle's hand shifted. He broke into quiet chuckles.

"Usually, only girls have such precise aim," he stated. "No wonder you have bruises."

I gave a soft laugh. "I don't mind the bruises. Actually, I think I'll miss them, as strange as it sounds." I closed my eyes, covering his hand with mine. "Have you thought of a middle name yet?"

"Is that a subtle way to say I get to choose it?"

I smiled. "Of course. It's only fair, since the name Marie came from me."

"Hmm. I suppose I have some thinking to be done, then. Or maybe not – maybe the name will come to me in a dream, just like Marie did for you."

"Maybe."

It was silent again, then. In a few moments, only the baby and myself were still fully awake; very soon, Carlisle's inhales and exhales deepened, slowing into an even rhythm.

During the night, his hand never left stomach, and the baby never stopped kicking, never stopped moving. She – or he – persistently kept me awake, but just like I didn't mind the bruises, I didn't mind the sleeplessness, either. Carlisle didn't wake to the restless movements of the baby, but I had a feeling that, on some level, he was completely aware of them, even in sleep.

I wondered what he was dreaming about. Would the girl with golden hair and blue eyes visit him as well? Maybe. I was suddenly certain he'd get to sleep without nightmares tonight. That he wouldn't have to awaken to an empty darkness, to the loud beating of his scared heart, to the sharp sound of his own breathing. His mind wouldn't be filled with memories of Alice's last day.

Maybe he'd start reliving other memories. The good memories. Maybe he'd remember her first smile, instead of her last. Maybe he'd think about her first laughter, her first steps, her first words.

Maybe...maybe there would be healing. Peace. Even for him.

The baby kicked again, and in his sleep, Carlisle stroked his hand over my stomach in a soothing manner and sighed. Even in sleep, he never stopped protecting, never stopped loving. I smiled in the darkness, closing my eyes and trying to leave the world of wakefulness behind.

Yes. Maybe there would be healing. Peace.

Even for him.