Tags: suicide, domestic violence, pregnancy, loss of a child, canon typical vampire violence

Can't not think of the cost
And the things that will be lost
Oh, can we just get a pause
To be certain we'll be tall again?

- Evermore

1921

The scent of human blood halted Carlisle in his tracks.

He had been wandering aimlessly in the forest around his home outside of Ashland, Wisconsin and now he turned toward Lake Superior. It was long past midnight and the temperature hovered around freezing. Humans shouldn't be out there at this time but Carlisle's experience taught him that humans were everywhere, even when you least expected them. He followed the scent with irritation, hoping that maybe whoever was injured was only so mildly and didn't need any medical intervention. He was in no mood to be Dr. Cullen at the moment.

The day had been a difficult one. At work, Carlisle had a patient involved in a car accident. The man had massive internal bleeding in his abdomen and head. Carlisle could immediately tell that it was too late to save him and it frustrated him. What was the point of having heightened senses if he couldn't save them all? Then again, it seemed that humans were inventing new ways to destroy themselves. As cars became more common, so did the accidents. They were convenient but they were also death traps if one wasn't an immortal. Then there was the destruction of new weaponry. He had read many reports of the injuries soldiers suffered during the Great War. Disfiguring facial injuries were common and the medical community had to race to catch up with treating war wounds. It wasn't the first time his profession progressed because of massive suffering.

By the time he had arrived home, he found Edward in a more sullen mood than usual. He sat at his piano, playing one of Rachmaninoff's moodier pieces but he never progressed past the opening bars before he started over again. "Good evening, Edward," Carlisle called. Edward merely raised a hand and continued with his playing, if it could really be called that. Carlisle had gotten used to Edward's mood swings - after all, he was still physically seventeen, with all the trappings that came with being that age - but it would be a lie to say that he wasn't annoyed by the lack of greeting. It seemed they were in for an uncomfortable night with both of them in moods.

Carlisle focused his mind on everything he was doing in the moment to avoid thoughts about the hospital. Unwanted visions of blood made affected Edward's thirst. He climbed the stairs and dropped his work bag in his office. It couldn't rightly be called a bedroom despite the fact it had all his personal items in it. He shed his jacket and changed into fresh clothes that didn't smell like the hospital. All the while, the broken Rachmaninoff played in a loop. For God's sake.

"Something on your mind, Edward?" Carlisle asked when he reappeared downstairs.

"What tipped you off?" Edward retorted. He started the piece over.

So he was in the mood to pick a fight. Carlisle placed a hand over Edward's. "Please, stop playing it like that and talk to me."

"Annoying isn't it? Starting over and over and never progressing."

"Yes, it is," Carlisle said honestly. "But what's your point?

"I'm exactly like that. Back in high school in a grade I've already done, listening to the teachers drone on about the same information I already know and being bombarded by the insipid thoughts of my classmates."

That was a rather creative comparison. Carlisle had to give him that. "You shouldn't hold their thoughts against them, especially since they don't know you can hear them."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to hear them. Most of them are vile, even coming from the girls."

"Are they really so explicit or are they merely thinking that you're handsome?" Which is hardly a crime. It wasn't the first time Edward caught a girl's attention. Sometimes he caught a boy's attention too.

Edward scowled. "Trust me. They're explicit."

Carlisle had the feeling that they had different definitions for what counted as explicit. But then again, he didn't know what exactly Edward heard. "Remember the blocking exercises that Eleazar taught you? Have you tried them?" he asked. A few months after changing Edward, Carlisle sought Eleazar's help in how to handle his gift. With his ability to sense other vampires' gifts, the Volturi had often used Eleazar in training their collection of gifted vampires. Aro wanted their gifts tested and pushed to the limit if he was going to use them to bolster their power in the vampire world. Carlisle didn't have any such aspirations. He merely wanted Edward to be comfortable and, selfishly, he wanted a modicum of privacy back. It would make both their lives at home easier and if Edward was going to be around humans for any length of time, he needed to handle the constant onslaught of their thoughts.

Edward gave a magnificent eye roll, one only someone his physical age could achieve and one that implied that Carlisle was stupid for asking. "They barely help. You know that."

That meant he hadn't really tried but Carlisle let that slide. Eleazar had gotten into enough arguments with him about actually making an effort into the exercises. Edward could be really self-defeating at times. "If you're that unhappy, we can pull you out of school. You know that I'm not requiring you to be there." It had merely been the simplest cover story they came up with before moving from Chicago. Edward was posing as Carlisle's nephew, orphaned during the Spanish Flu epidemic. He had started as a sophomore last year when they arrived and was now a junior. He never got to attend his senior year as a human.

"And how would we explain so that the humans don't get suspicious?"

Carlisle sighed. "The explanation doesn't matter as long as you're convincing about it. Besides, it's not that uncommon for people to not finish high school."

That didn't satisfy Edward and he rolled his eyes again. "No, I'll stay in school. It's not like I can do anything else because I'm not getting any older, thanks to you."

At that point, Carlisle left the house before he could say something he would regret. He hoped Edward would get over the resentment of being a vampire, but it was still there. At times like this, it seemed to have only grown.

Carlisle loved him, but sometimes Edward really got on his last nerve. He tried to reassure himself that this was normal in any family relationship, but he didn't exactly have a good baseline for what normal was. His own father had resented his existence because his mother died giving birth to him. He didn't have any siblings, though to have Tanya, Katya, and Irina tell it, wanting to kill each other from time to time was normal. He had to take their word for it.

Not for the first time, Elizabeth Masen's words came back to him. Save him! You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, this is what you must do for my Edward. If she were here now, would she still think that this was the best outcome for Edward? He was miserable. Maybe it would have been better if Carlisle hadn't listened to her.

Immediately, he felt bad for entertaining the thought and desperately hoped he was out of Edward's mental hearing range. Despite his moods, Edward was a wonderful companion. Carlisle couldn't imagine his life without him. Edward brought so much life to their home with his music, his humor, and his love of baseball. It was more than Carlisle hoped for when he changed him - a friend who would stay, a friend who wouldn't leave. It was the only thing Carlisle wanted. He was tired of being left behind and being the one doing the leaving.

Now as Carlisle got closer to the cliff line, he grew more bewildered. The scent of human blood was stronger, but there were no humans around. The only sign was footprints that perhaps belonged to a woman, judging by the size, but that wasn't always a good indicator. He reached the place where the scent trail ended and stared out across the dark blue water of the lake, illuminated by the weak light of the thin crescent moon. Where…?

Then he had the good sense to look down.

A woman lay bloodied on the rocks below, half in the water. His chest gave an odd squeeze at the sight. Impulsively, he scrambled down the cliff face even though he was fairly certain she was dead. There wasn't a heartbeat -

No, wait.

The woman's heart gave a feeble squeeze and another. She was still alive, but it was unlikely that she would survive being taken to a hospital. His hands felt oddly shaky as he gently turned the woman over.

He nearly fell back in shock.

Esme Platt.

She had a big grin as her father wheeled her towards the exit. "Ready to be home again?" Carlisle asked, though he knew the answer. Esme had grown more and more restless the past day waiting for her cast to harden.

"Oh, yes," she answered brightly and then made a face. "Though I suppose you're going to tell me to stop climbing trees."

Carlisle had gotten the feeling that she was often told no and it was a shame to see one with her spirit with clipped wings. So he said, "No, I wasn't going to tell you that. Keep climbing those trees, Miss Platt."

She was older now, but there was no mistaking her. This was the girl who was his patient ten years ago. The girl who fell from a tree because she wanted to see a rainbow after a thunderstorm. The girl with the messy sketchbook that showed her heart and the openness with which she viewed the world. The girl who believed in a kinder God. The girl who read Jane Eyre. The girl who saw his loneliness when nobody else did, who had so much potential, who should not be here alone at the base of a cliff near death -

The sea winds whipped at his face as he toed the edge of the cliff. He prayed this would work, though he didn't know who would listen to his prayers. He wasn't worthy of being heard by God now. He wanted this nightmare to end because he didn't know how to live with himself as a vampire. He stepped off and gravity pulled him down with astonishing force. Rocks broke his fall and the pain was blinding. The waves swept over him and saltwater burned his lungs. Despite all that, he remained stubbornly aware. Death rejected him too.

Carlisle shook his head. That was ancient history. It didn't matter now. What mattered was the woman in his arms. How did such a bright sixteen-year-old girl turn into this broken, dying woman? What had the world done to her?

"Esme?" he whispered her name stupidly, as if she would be coherent enough to respond in her condition. He cradled her against his chest, resting his chin on her head. She was going to die if he didn't do something and he was caught between two choices. He could hold her as she died because she did not deserve to go through it alone. God, nobody deserved to die alone.

Or he could do something to save her. If she didn't deserve to die alone, how much more she deserved to live. He was thoroughly sick of carrying on while the people he knew died. He was sick of being helpless before death. The deep, entrenched loneliness in his soul reared its head and made the decision for him. In a very selfish act, he gently turned her head to the side to bare her neck and bit.

Her sweet blood flooded his mouth and it was like a battering ram. He lost himself to the taste, clutching Esme's body closer. Animal blood tasted like dirt in comparison and his body shuddered in relief, ever hopeful that he would return to his natural diet. It demanded more and more, but he made himself remember Esme as he'd known her. With enormous difficulty, he snapped out of the frenzy. He injected as much venom as he could into her carotid artery before sealing the wound and moving to other pulse points at her arms and legs. He was possibly going overboard, but with her condition, he couldn't take any chances. When he was finished, he wiped the blood from his mouth and washed his hands in the water. There were still no other human scents around, which was lucky because it would have been a nightmare trying to explain what he was doing down here with a dying woman. The worst kind of rumors would spread around town.

"Hold on, Esme. Stay with me. Keep fighting," he murmured as he adjusted his grip on her so that he would have a free hand to climb back up the cliff.

Carlisle raced through the trees to home, listening to Esme's heart for any indication that it was getting stronger or if his intervention was too late. It shouldn't have been - the heart only had to be beating. It didn't matter how bad the injury was. Venom could heal it. Her pulse was weak, but steady. No matter her intentions on that cliff, it seemed some part of Esme wasn't ready to give up yet.

Maybe, like him, she hadn't truly wanted an end to her life, only an end to the situation she was in.

Whatever that was.

The house came into view, warm lights glowing invitingly in the windows. Carlisle only had time to wonder how he would explain this when Edward burst out the front door.

"What is this?" he demanded, face livid. "What have you done?"

Carlisle grimaced. "I found her at the base of a cliff near death." He breezed past Edward and laid Esme on the couch. She was still unconscious and unresponsive. With her clothes soaked and covered in blood, she'd need to be cleaned up and given a change of clothes. Maybe borrow some of his or Edward's.

"Why didn't you take her to the hospital?" Edward continued angrily, ignoring Carlisle's train of thought.

"She wouldn't have made it."

"So that warrants changing a stranger?"

"She isn't a stranger. Her name is Esme Platt." Carlisle opened my mind to Edward to show him the memories - memories he kept from him, though he couldn't explain why. They had always felt private, somehow.

Edward was unmoved. "You knew her ten years ago briefly. How do you know that family won't be looking for her? How will you explain her disappearance? How will you explain to her what you've done?"

Logically, he knew they were all very fair questions, but it felt like a continuation of earlier when Edward was merely looking to pick a fight. "I don't know! I'll figure it out."

Edward scoffed. "Unbelievable. You'd do this again to someone who didn't ask for it and pat yourself on the back for saving her when all you're doing is dooming her to a damned existence!"

There it was again - his resentment, disguised as concern for Esme - and Carlisle bristled with anger. "Enough, Edward! I am not going to argue about this with you right now. It's already done and I can't take it back!"

Esme let out a whimper, the first sign of life from her. It was such a small sound but it immediately diffused their argument. Edward softened, tilting his head as he gazed at her.

"Can you hear anything from her?" Carlisle asked.

Edward winced slightly. "Only that she's in pain." He cleared his throat. "I'll get her some of my clothes. They'll probably fit her better." He darted upstairs without another word. For the moment, it seemed Carlisle was forgiven.

He kneeled by the couch. "Esme, if you can hear me, I want you to know that you're safe." She didn't respond but her heart continued beating. It already sounded marginally stronger. That counted for something.

Edward reappeared by his side and held out a blue button up shirt and black slacks. "Here, she can use these. You might have to roll them up a bit since she's shorter than I am."

Carlisle took them. "Thank you." He saw that Edward had a coat on and an inexplicable flash of panic went through him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to hunt and then I'll scout around town to see if anyone is missing her," Edward said.

Carlisle nodded. "And you'll come back, right?" He hated the neediness in his voice but he had to know that Edward wouldn't leave now because of this. He didn't want to drive Edward away by saving Esme.

There was something like pity in Edward's eyes. "Yes, I'm coming back. You are my family, Carlisle. You know that." Despite his words, the door slamming behind him didn't feel reassuring. It was obvious he was still angry.

But Carlisle couldn't focus on that. He had to take care of Esme. The blood from her head injury and from where he bit her needed to be washed off before she started smelling it. He gathered towels from the closet and turned on the tub, making sure the water was warm. He wasn't sure how much she could feel right now, given how quiet she was, but after finding her in the freezing lake water, it seemed wrong to leave the water cold.

"Esme, I'm going to clean you up and change your clothes so you'll be more comfortable. I promise that's all I'm going to do," Carlisle said as he carried her to the bathroom.

Carlisle switched his mind over to the clinical setting he used while working in the hospital. A body was a body. There wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. But when he saw the scars on her arms, the bend in her right arm that suggested a badly healed broken bone, and the softness of her abdomen that suggested a recent birth, the mental mask slipped. Those were not there the last time he saw her. It all painted an ugly picture. He took an unsteady breath and resumed cleaning her off as quickly as possible. By the time he got her dry and started dressing her in Edward's clothes, his hands were shaking in barely suppressed rage. He accidentally tore off the last button on Edward's shirt and muttered a curse. That hadn't happened since his newborn days. Then Esme let out another whimper and it seemed like she was somehow aware enough to sense anger. "I'm sorry. Forgive me," Carlisle murmured.

He wasn't quite sure if he asked forgiveness for his anger or for turning her.

He carried her back to the living room and laid her on the couch, tucking a blanket over her. Her soiled clothes went in the fireplace. He stared into the flames, but all he saw in his head were the old injuries on Esme's body.

Someone had hurt her.

Repeatedly.

She wasn't wearing a wedding ring, but it had to have been a husband. Surely not her father. Carlisle hadn't known him well, but she hadn't had those scars and the broken arm when he last saw her under her father's care.

Then there was the recent birth. Did she leave a baby behind or did something happen to it? It was hard to imagine that a mother would end up in Esme's position with a new baby, but Carlisle had heard of mothers experiencing prolonged sadness after a birth. Is that what happened here? The thought that he changed her when she left a baby behind made him sick.

A sudden sob welled up in his chest and he leaned his forehead against the mantelpiece. God, what a mess. He only wanted to save her, but instead he created more problems.

.

AN: Well. Let's try this again, shall we? I realized I started in the wrong place the last time I attempted this story. This is more canon-friendly, but I reserve the right to Do What I Want lol. Hope you enjoyed, let me know.