AN: It's worth noting that I prefer a more imperfect Carlisle and that's why I headcanon him as having less than perfect control as a newborn.

"Sometimes it's okay to just look at the world and say, 'Why? Why? Why? I don't understand. And I will not.'" – Midnight Mass

Carlisle

The house was filled with the usual sounds of everyone being home. Edward was softly playing at the piano; I didn't realize how much I missed it until he came back and started playing again. It was one of Chopin's nocturnes. Emmett and Jasper were engaged in a chess rematch. Occasionally, Emmett would try to get Edward to tell him what Jasper was thinking. "Emmett, just pay attention to the board," Edward said.

"If you feel the need to cheat, you must not be very good," Bella quipped.

"Watch it, missy," Emmett threatened.

"Or what, dingus?"

Edward sighed.

"Stop antagonizing my husband," Rosalie said dryly and I heard her flip the page of the magazine she was perusing.

"The usual" was always slightly chaotic when they were all together. The only calm part of the house was Sydney's room, where she was getting ready for bed, and Esme's study, where she was setting up Sarah's house plants.

And I retreated to my office for some time alone. Despite talking with Esme, my mind still hadn't settled.

It was a special kind of agony seeing someone you love in pain and not be able to do anything about it. Being with Esme through her dark memories and her grief didn't seem like enough. I wanted her to not have to go through it in the first place. Esme was a genuine person, so open hearted. This aspect of her personality was obvious even from the first time I met her when she broke her leg. It didn't seem fair that an empty, black hole of a man like Charles saw her heart and decided to trample over it.

And yet she was still open to love even after the abuse she suffered. She opened herself to me and to Edward, and then each subsequent member of our family. She opened herself to Sarah and Sydney. The more love she gave, the more she had. That was a mark of enormous strength, not weakness, and it pained me that she thought herself weak.

But that's what abuse did – it ground down your sense of self and you're left picking up the pieces even years after the fact. I imagined that Sarah felt the same way Esme did.

Her journal lay on my desk. Every entry was burned into my mind and it was like seeing double – not only was I witness to Sarah's struggle and pain, but also Esme's. Seeing the bruises arounds Sarah's neck was like seeing them on Esme. Now I had a better idea of what Edward saw in Esme's memories and it made me sick.

The last entry Sarah had written was a couple of months ago, after Sydney broke her wrist.

April 2011

Sydney told me that she didn't break her arm tripping down the stairs back in 2009. Mark pushed her.

God, why didn't I see it? This whole time I was so self-absorbed and thought he only hurt me. I'm her mother, I'm supposed to protect her and I didn't.

The handwriting was shaky and her guilt screamed out to me from the page. Was that revelation the last straw? Or Mark's visit? Or Mark trying to take Sydney from her? All of it?

I knew the signs of suicide. Hell, I knew what it was like to be suicidal and it still did us no good. I should have done better to check on her at work. It was cases like this that made me feel that dealing with bodily injury was much easier. Stitching up a wound was straightforward. Dealing with the multifaceted effects abuse and mental illness was not.

I rested my hand on the cover of the journal. If only it hadn't been too late when Esme and I got there that night. I could have saved her. Sarah, I'm sorry.

I heard Sydney's footsteps softly pad to my study and I hid the journal my desk drawer. I couldn't imagine that Sarah ever wanted her to see it and, in any case, it would be too traumatizing for Sydney to read it. Even for me it was deeply unsettling.

She appeared in the doorway, dressed in her pajamas. "Carlisle, can we read more Lord of the Rings?"

I smiled. "I would love nothing better." The escapism into Tolkien's world would be a welcome relief. Frodo's quest seemed easier than what we were dealing with in real life – the source of evil being contained in piece of jewelry that is destroyed in the end.

Sydney found the book where I left it on the coffee table and curled up with it on the couch. She looked at me expectantly to join her. It was a marked difference from how hesitant she was when she first visited my study. She now wore the necklace that Sarah had often worn – a St. Michael pendant. It bore the inscription "St. Michael, defend us." Only now did it hit me how appropriate that was for their situation. Demons weren't always quite so literal. Sometimes they showed up in the form of abuse.

"Where did we leave off?" I asked, settling next to her. I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over our laps.

"Hmmm," Sydney hummed and flipped through the pages. "I think the last thing I remember was chapter two." She handed the book to me and then a thought crossed her face, making her frown and bite her lip.

"What is it?"

She shook her head.

"You sure?"

She chewed on her lip for a moment and then said quietly, "Dad used to read to me too."

Ah. I could understand her hesitation. "Does that make you feel confused?"

She nodded.

"Well, it's okay. You can have good memories of him." Even if it felt so wildly out of place with what was in Sarah's journal. I saw the pictures in my head again.

Something of my disgust must have shown on my face because Sydney seemed to withdraw into herself. "Sorry."

Damn. I made myself relax and smile. "No, there's no need to apologize. He's still your dad and you're allowed to remember good times. I promise." It was different for me when I thought of my father – all I could remember was the constant derision in his voice when he addressed me and the occasional bite of a switch or his hand when I did something wrong as a child. But Sydney must still have good memories for her to be confused.

"Okay," Sydney whispered but she did not seem wholly convinced.

"Do you still want me to read?" I asked. To my relief, she nodded again. I hadn't totally messed this up. I began reading, though now I was too busy taking note of Sydney to get fully absorbed in the story. It seemed I would have to be careful with her like I had to be with Esme and Rosalie in the beginning. Though it would probably be easier with Sydney than it was with Rosalie – she didn't hate me like Rosalie had.

After a while, Sydney relaxed against me, resting her head against my shoulder, and I felt a small sense of victory. When it seemed like she was about to fall asleep, I stopped. "Shall we stop here so you can go to bed?" I asked.

Sydney yawned. "Yeah."

Esme came to say good night to Sydney too. It had become a nightly ritual but it still hadn't lost its impact. This was something I thought I would never had. Esme drew the covers over Sydney's shoulders and kissed her. I kissed her too and hoped that she would have a full night's sleep. She still tended to wake in the night.

"What are you up to?" I asked Esme as she pulled Sydney's door shut behind her.

"I'm not sure. I think I'm going to charge Sarah's phone." Esme shrugged, embarrassed. "Maybe there are some pictures on there that Sydney would want."

I squeezed her hand. "That seems like a good idea."

Esme sighed. "Good, because I thought it seemed silly."

"Keeping mementos isn't silly."

She kissed me and then headed downstairs, just as Edward was heading up.

"Edward," I acknowledged.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Well, you've been holed up in your study. I didn't want to barge in," he said, eyes sparkling with humor.

"That's never stopped you before." He followed me into my study. "What do you want to talk about?" I resumed my place on the couch.

Edward sat with me. "What are you going to do about Sarah's husband?"

I sighed. "The main priority is keeping Sydney safe and away from him. Jasper's working with Jenks to get custody of her for us. Other than that, I'm not sure what else we can do." As much as I hated it.

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"Killing him is not an option. That's not who you are anymore," I said sharply.

Edward shook his head. "I didn't mean that. Turning him over to the police isn't an option?"

It's not like that hadn't crossed my mind. "Sarah's gone now, which makes Sydney the main witness. I don't think it would be good for her to have to relive her trauma over and over in court when the outcome might not actually get her justice." Going through the justice system would be a long, drawn-out process. Sydney was already dealing with enough. It would be cruel to add that to her plate.

Edward was silent for a long moment. "That's a fair point, I suppose. But still."

"I know. It's frustrating to let him get away with it."

And even if we did something to mete out justice on Mark, there would always be men like him.

"It was her fiancé, Royce," Edward said darkly.

Esme's eyes hardened. "Of course it was. It's always the men we know," she said with stark bitterness in her voice. She knew better than either of us.

I closed my eyes, shaking off the memory of Rosalie's change.

The Jewish rabbis once said, "Do not be daunted by the world's grief." But I was. I couldn't not be. I saw up close what damage men could do to women with Esme, Rosalie, and Sarah. Sometimes I even wondered if my mother had survived my birth whether my father would have been cruel to her too.

There was too much suffering and only so much one person could do. Help one person and another takes their place. There was always someone out there doing the will of evil.

Edward let out a low, rueful chuckle.

"What is it?" I asked.

"That's exactly how I felt before I returned in '31. It didn't matter how many rapists and murderers I killed, there was always more. It was exhausting."

I couldn't hold back my surprise. Edward didn't often talk about his time hunting humans so candidly out of shame. He thought I would hate him if he told me because he put me on a ridiculously high pedestal, despite the fact that my slate was hardly clean. Though I hadn't feasted on a human in a very long time, I hadn't been above the newborn thirst. I still remembered both humans I killed vividly. Then there were the patients in my care who had died because the trusted technique used at the time actually did more harm than good, because there was an allergy to medicine I hadn't known about, because I simply wasn't enough to stop death. Whether those reasons made me actually responsible for their deaths or not didn't matter. I felt responsible all the same.

"I wouldn't say the shame is totally gone, but it's…better," Edward whispered. I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "You're still the best man I've known. Even if it doesn't seem like it, you're doing the right thing. You always do."

I smiled slightly. Pedestal.

"Oh don't worry, it's been knocked down a few pegs."

I laughed and then quickly sobered. I didn't always know I was doing the right thing. I merely hoped that I was. Keeping Sydney with us would have to be enough. Mark couldn't hurt her or Sarah anymore.

"For Sydney, it's more than enough. It's everything," Edward said. He thought for a moment. "There are other forces at work in this world besides the will of evil," he quoted.

"When did you become such an optimist?"

"I've been with you for close to a hundred years now, it was bound to rub off on me."

Better late than never I supposed. "I really have missed you."

Edward grinned. "Missed you too, old man."

I almost groaned at the nickname, given to me back when Edward was newly turned. He had been astounded to learn I was born in 1640. It had been a little annoying at first – I was hardly the oldest vampire in existence – but I became fond of it after a while. "I haven't missed you calling me that."

"Liar."

Downstairs, someone's phone started vibrating with call. Edward's face became instantly serious as Esme's voice called, "Carlisle?" It was choked with panic.

I rushed downstairs, panicked myself. Edward followed close behind. What could possibly be wrong? "Esme!" I found her holding Sarah's phone as it continued to vibrate. Her eyes were locked on the screen. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, Esme turned the screen so I could see for myself.

Mark was calling.

AN: I have a long game plan for Mark, so I'm sorry to say that the Cullens will not be killing him. This isn't a revenge killing story. Thanks for reading