Edward Cullen (Part 2 of 2)

Carlisle POV

Edward's racing heart stopped at last, giving one last thud before fading into silence. His eyelids twitched, then a finger, and then he exploded into the air. He landed in an attack crouch, only to scramble away in a panic once his red eyes fixed on me.

"It's all right," I began, holding up my hands peaceably.

Edward backed farther away from me, crashing into a lamp and table. He startled at the noise and stumbled away in the opposite direction, baring his teeth and snarling at me in warning. "It's all right, Edward," I said gently. He looked so afraid! "I'll explain everything."

Edward's eyes darted nervously around the room- to the ceiling, toward the hall, back to me, and finally he saw the window. He began to inch towards it, keeping his eyes on me.

"No," I said firmly, taking a step closer. I remembered, with a jolt of anxiety, the stories I had heard about newborn strength. Would I be able to stop him, if it came to it? "You must stay with me, at least for a while. I assure you, I will-"

"Get away!" he hissed, backing further away in a flash. His hand flew up to his throat, but then he gasped as his back slammed into the fireplace. The bricks crumbled and fell in pieces around him. He spun around in a panic, as if he had been attacked. I should have brought him outside for this part… though in that case he might already have run off. As if in answer to my thought, he glanced toward the window again.

"We'll go outside soon," I promised. "I know you must be thirsty." Edward's hand drifted up to his throat again, and he winced. That was unwise- drawing his attention to his thirst had almost certainly made it worse. "Do you remember me?" I asked, hoping to distract him for a moment. "From the hospital?"

Edward finally straightened up to his full height, though he still wore an expression of mistrust. "Doctor," he began, and then winced again, rubbing his throat. "Coleman?" he guessed.

"Cullen. My name is Carlisle Cullen… but please, call me Carlisle."

"Edward Masen," he said in reflex. He glanced around, frowning.

"This is my home," I explained. "I brought you here to… You were very sick, Edward, and I wasn't able to save you with regular medicine."

"My mother," he gasped, his expression changing suddenly. He waited, his question painfully clear.

"I'm sorry. She didn't make it."

Edward's eyes squeezed closed. The muscles in his jaw stood out, and his hands clenched into granite fists. When he opened his eyes again, they were darker. "What did you do to me?" he asked. It was time. All my preparation seemed so inadequate; how could I explain this?

"I saved you a different way," I said gently. "I made you… like me." Edward raised his hand to inspect it, glancing at my own skin in comparison. I felt too ashamed to speak the word yet, especially here in the face of his grief: vampire.

Edward's face twisted in horror. "Vampire," he said, his voice choked.

I frowned, tilting my head. I didn't recall using the word before, not even when I had explained, somewhat, what was happening to him while he lay changing.

"You just said it," he snapped. He winced again, raising a hand to touch his throat.

"What?"

"What!?"

He was growing agitated; his breathing was rapid and his eyes were darkening further. We would need to hunt, before he lost all control.

"No!" he shouted. "I am not going to be a vampire! I don't want to hurt anyone!" Both hands were at his throat now. His alarm was quickly turning to panic. "Whatever you did to me," he rasped through his teeth, "fix it! Undo it! Now!"

"No, it's all right!" I assured him quickly. "We don't need to hurt anyone. We will hunt animals, only animals."

That got his attention. The tension in his hands, holding his throat like a vice, eased slightly. He blinked. "You don't… kill people?"

"No! Never. I have never killed a human. And I will help you resist as well. It's true that we feed on blood, but that doesn't mean we need to hurt any people. I understand it's very difficult right now, Edward- I know you're terribly thirsty, but you will feel better after we hunt. Animals," I added firmly.

"Animals," he repeated, wrinkling his nose. He swallowed, but finally let his hands fall back to his sides.

I smiled, encouraged. It looked like this would be easier than I had feared; perhaps he would listen to me, after all. I was relieved to recognize my own newborn fear in his eyes, his desperate desire not to become a killer. But the real test was still to come; would he stay with me in the woods? I turned to lead him out into the hall.

"I will," he said quickly. "I promise."

I turned back to face him. "You'll what?"

"Stay with you in the woods."

I frowned, perplexed. I hadn't asked that out loud, had I?

"Of course you did!"

I stared at him, forgetting to breathe as understanding and awe dawned over my mind. I hadn't even fathomed something like this happening. Could it be possible? Edward? Can you… hear this?

He pressed his lips together, looking annoyed. "Of course I can. I'm standing right here."

I shook my head, speechless. Not only was he gifted, but he was gifted like Aro!

"What do you mean, gifted? Who's Aro?"

Excitement coursed through me, and fear. How did I even begin to explain this? "All of us… our kind… can do things that humans cannot. We're stronger, faster… more intelligent. But beyond that, some of us have extra abilities. It seems you can hear my thoughts, as well as my spoken words."

Silence. Edward stared at me as if I had grown a third eye. He finally drew a hesitant breath. "Think something," he demanded. I laughed quietly, shaking my head again in wonder. As a test, I thought about the number two hundred thirty-seven.

"Two hundred thirty-seven," Edward said instantly.

"That's right. Amazing."

A faint smile pulled at Edward's lips. "I was wondering why you sometimes talked without moving your mouth." Then his smile disappeared. "Can you hear my thoughts as well?"

I shook my head. "I have no gift."

"Gift," he repeated, mulling over the word. His hand crept up to his throat again.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "We can speak more about this later; you need to hunt."

Edward looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I've never gone hunting before. I've never even held a real gun."

"You don't need one. Your teeth with suffice." Edward looked like he was going to be sick. "It will come naturally, I promise. I will help you. But it's very important that you stay with me, as I said… as I thought before. There are many things I need to teach you about this life, and it's of the greatest importance that we keep you away from the city."

Edward's grimace deepened. "Because I would… hurt people."

I nodded sadly. "Yes. The temptation is very strong right now, in your first months. As you grow older, you will be able to… never mind," I said hastily. He was growing agitated again, the panic returning to his eyes and his hand kneading at his throat. "We'll talk more later. The important thing is, stay with me. If we should get separated, please remain still until I find you."

Edward nodded uncomfortably, and I led him out into the hall. "Wait here," I instructed. I opened the front door and was outside in the flash, closing it behind me. It was a mercy that he had awoken in the middle of the night; humans were unlikely to be out in the woods, especially with the cold weather this week. I glanced around anyway, listening intently and tasting the air for any trace of nearby humans. I opened the door. "It's all right," I assured him. "You can come out."

Edward moved out onto the porch with me, pulling the door closed as he came. The door slammed and the knob came off in his hand. He stared at it, looking ill again. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"It's quite all right. As I mentioned, we are much stronger than humans. It will take you a little while to grow accustomed to your new... Edward?"

He was no longer paying attention to me. He was staring at the woods, at the sky, the ground, at the whole world as he stepped off the porch and turned slowly in a circle. "There's so much," he murmured to himself. "I can hear… everything."

I smiled, watching as his attention darted from one thing at another at inhuman speed. The chirp of a cricket, the rustling of leaves high above us, the quiet music of a nearby stream. A moth fluttered against the eaves of the house and Edward startled, turning around to watch it for a moment. Another breeze stirred the leaves on the tangled crabgrass of my backyard, and Edward spun back around again to watch them dance over the ground.

"Hunting," I reminded him with another smile. These things- the small miracles of nature, easily observable to our enhanced senses- had become mundane to me after so many years of walking the earth, but watching Edward discover them stirred my heart with pride and second-hand wonder.

Edward nodded, looking back up to the moth with distaste. "What do we eat?" he wondered aloud.

"Not that!" I laughed. "Let's go find you something worthwhile. A deer, perhaps… whatever is out tonight." My own throat burned at the thought, but tonight was for Edward. I would need to keep watch.

"Keep watch?" Edward mumbled, his head turning to the sound of another cricket. I startled as well, realizing that he could hear everything I thought. It was most unsettling. "I'm sorry," he said, looking ashamed.

"Don't be!" I protested. "You have been given a marvelous gift. It will just take some getting used to, that's all. Come on, follow me." I picked up into a run, soon hearing Edward's footsteps keeping pace behind me. He gasped and I turned to see what was the matter, but he blurred right past me into the forest ahead. "Wait for me!" I called, increasing my speed. He was fast!

Edward slowed, letting me set the pace. We didn't have to go far, fortunately, before I caught the faint, earthy scent of a deer off to the northwest. "Stop," I said over my shoulder. Edward halted instantly, staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm not even out of breath," he said incredulously.

I grinned. "It's an amazing feeling, isn't it? The running?" He nodded dumbly. I raised an eyebrow. "The climbing is exhilarating, too. Follow me." I leapt straight up into the air and grabbed onto the lowest branch of an ancient oak, swinging myself up and climbing into the middle branches. I looked back down to where Edward stood a hundred feet below, staring up at me with astonishment. "You can do it too!" I laughed. "Try it!"

He looked doubtful, but sank down into a crouch and jumped, misjudging the distance and flying right past me into the highest branches. They snapped under his weight and he tumbled through several layers before coming to a stop right beside me. His hair was mussed with twigs and leaves. "That was… unexpected," he admitted. He swallowed, looking uncomfortable. All at once his nostrils flared and his head snapped toward the northwest; the deer was coming closer. His lips drew back from his teeth and he tensed to spring toward his prey.

"Wait," I said, laying a hand on his arm. He flinched away, looking suddenly angry. It was the first time I had touched him since his awakening; despite how well he was doing, I needed to remember that his instincts were very sensitive right now. All the same, I wished that I had had a teacher, back when I was new. Edward must not want for anything, in that sense. "I know you must be thirsty," I said. "Just wait a moment, and take in your surroundings. Notice the scents, their direction, their quality. We are not savages, Edward. The hunt is a necessary part of our life, but we do not need to undertake it recklessly."

An impatient growl rumbled in Edward's chest, but he paused and obediently closed his eyes, listening and smelling as the deer slowly picked through the bramble towards us. A new breeze sifted through the trees, rocking us gently in the branches and bringing a surprise with it. Edward's eyes snapped open just as I scented it, too: mountain lion, just a little farther away than the deer. A real treat for his first meal!

"Mountain lion?" he echoed, looking nervously at me.

"It can't hurt you," I promised. "Not only are you far stronger than a human, but you're far tougher. Our skin is nearly impossible to damage." Edward looked toward the scent again, his eyes dark and desperate as he looked back to me.

"Go on," I encouraged him. "It's all yours. Just wait for me after you're done. I'll-" I laughed quietly as Edward shimmied down the tree and disappeared. I felt a bit uneasy about letting him go ahead alone, but I thought it might be best to give him some privacy for the moment. He seemed nervous, and in all honestly I was a little nervous myself. Even mature vampires had a tendency toward violence during the hunt; I was rather afraid of what Edward might do if he felt that he was being challenged for his prey. I waited until I heard the telltale scream of a mountain lion, which went on for a few moments before weakening and quieting. I realized too late that I had not instructed Edward to kill his prey before feeding; I would need to address that. It made the hunt much cleaner, and it was a kindness to the animal itself. I moved silently down to the ground, slowly making my way toward Edward's scent, giving him time to finish feeding.

As I quietly made my way through the trees toward him, I reflected on Edward's first several minutes. I had never met a newborn, and had been alone for my own first year, so I hadn't known quite what to expect. I had heard horror stories both in Volterra and from a friend or two; Edward had done rather well so far, I thought. And his gift- what an incredible surprise! So like Aro's, and even more powerful in at least one way; he didn't seem to need contact to hear my thoughts. I wondered if he could hear them now; surely not, as I was still several hundred feet away. I also wondered if he was able to see all my past thoughts, like Aro, especially since I had touched his arm. It would be interesting to experiment and discern the limits and parameters of Edward's gift; I hoped he would be interested as well, and agreeable. He had responded well to me, so far; I felt a growing hope that he would indeed turn out to be the friend I had hoped for for so long.

I still hoped, foolishly perhaps, that he might someday see me as a father, or something like that. But his grief was still too fresh, for his own parents. It was quite possible he would never be able to move on from that, to conceive of replacing them in any way. I realized that I should not even dwell on such thoughts, as Edward would be able to hear them; I did not want him to feel pressured by my hope. It would be an interesting challenge to not think about certain things! I felt quite inadequate for the task ahead; I knew little enough about how to raise a newborn, and now I had a powerfully gifted newborn. If only the Denalis were closer! Eleazar would know how to advise him better than I. But they were far away in Alaska; they didn't even own a telephone. Perhaps a visit next year, once Edward was ready… if he was still willing to live and travel with me at that point. My chest swelled with pride at the thought of introducing him to my "cousins"… to his new cousins as well, I supposed. I nearly laughed out loud as I imagined what Tanya's and her sisters' reaction what be. Eleazar would be delighted to analyze Edward's gift, and Carmen might enjoy mothering him a bit. But that was a long way off.

We would need to be very careful in these first months. My house was isolated, nearly a mile off the main road, but not as isolated as I would have chosen, had I foreseen raising a newborn here. Humans were in the nearby forest now and then, depending on the time of year, for hunting or camping. Buck season was still a risk, here in early November, so we would confine our outings to the nighttime hours for now. Campers shouldn't be a problem until the warmer months, and by then Edward would be older and, hopefully, ready to deal with occasional human proximity. I wondered if he would be able to hear human thoughts, or anyone's at all, except my own. I supposed it was possibly just a link between the two of us, creator and creation, though I didn't think so. I was so curious to learn more about his mind-reading!

There were other matters to consider. I couldn't imagine leaving him alone long enough to go back into the city. I would need to sooner or later, though, to make arrangements regarding my employment, and also to manage Edward's affairs. As the story stood, he was still alive and recovering in Springfield. I rather liked the idea of letting him "survive"; it would take some doing, and Edward would not be able to meet with any humans for quite a while. I would need to forge not only the necessary legal documents, but also his discharge from the hospital in Springfield, which would require a longer trip… but perhaps I should think about that later. I was becoming acutely aware of my own thoughts now, and worried about overwhelming Edward with the things that were on my mind. I did my best to clear my head for his sake, focusing on the forest around me. It was a refreshingly difficult task; my vampire brain was capable of entertaining several thought processes at once. I endeavored to focus all my attention on my surroundings.

I followed Edward's scent to a small clearing surrounded by immature pines. A little creek bubbled merrily along, winding between the pines. The mountain lion lay dead in the center of the clearing, its neck broken and badly torn. Edward himself had retreated into the shadows, looking ashamed. He was quite disheveled; his hair was still wild and dotted with twigs from his tussle with the oak tree, but now it was streaked with blood as well. The shirt I had dressed him in was already ruined, torn to ribbons by the lion's claws and even more bloodied than his hair. His mouth and chin were coated with blood and tufts of fur. My heart swelled with the most peculiar feeling of warmth, perhaps something akin to a mother doting over her baby in its high chair, laughing indulgently as she watched him smeared himself with mashed peas for the first time. Edward had taken his first step into a new world.

On an impulse I peeled off my suit jacket. I folded it and dipped the corner into the creek while Edward warily looked on. He flinched away as I approached him, but then stood frozen and unbreathing as I carefully drew closer and began to clean his face. I had cleaned many a wound in my long life, dried many a tear from the eyes of young patients, but nothing could have prepared me for the tenderness I felt just now. I thought my heart would burst.

"You did well," I assured him gently.

He did not seem to agree. He stared into my eyes with an expression that was quickly shifting from distaste to horror. "What's the matter?" I asked in alarm.

"I can…" He grimaced. "I can see myself now. In your… thoughts. In your vision."

I shook my head slowly, in even greater awe than before. He could see through my eyes? "Incredible," I breathed.

"It's not incredible," he said flatly. "It's monstrous! Look at me!" He tore his eyes away from mine, looking angrier and kneading his temple with one hand. "Or rather, stop looking at me, please. I can't… I don't know how to turn this off, this thing with your mind, and there's this echo, every time I talk, and I don't even know what happened, I swear I didn't mean to tear that animal apart, and-"

"It's all right," I interrupted softly, hoping I sounded more calm than I felt. If anything, he was more agitated than before he had hunted. What if the animal diet simply didn't work for everyone? What if… stop, I reminded myself. He was hearing everything that ran through my mind! I needed to-

"Why am I still thirsty?!" he demanded, taking a threatening step toward me. "Why do I want to kill everything?! What's wrong with my eyes? Why don't they look like yours?!"

My heart seized as I took a fearful step backward, holding up my hands in defense. At least Edward's last question was an easy one to answer. "It's normal for a vampire's eyes to be red for the first several months," I said. "Nobody is quite sure why; I assume it's because your body still has so much of your own blood left in it."

Edward scowled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Other vampires… most vampires, I mean, do drink human blood. Their eyes are always red. But since you'll be feeding on animals yours will soon turn golden like mine." Edward relaxed visibly, and some muscle unclenched in my mind as well; I had just admitted that human blood was a possibility, and he hadn't rejected my philosophy outright. "There are others," I added quickly. "Others who feed on animals. I'll take you to meet them someday, when you're ready."

"Ready?"

"These first months are unusually difficult. I'm afraid you will always feel some minor temptation toward human blood, but it will fade greatly with time, as long as you continue to feed on animals. You will also begin to feel calmer as these first weeks go on. With practice, you'll be able to be around humans again."

"Like you," he said, hope rekindling in his eyes.

"Exactly."

He paused, looking thoughtful. "How long have you…"

I drew a deep breath. "I was made like this in the seventeenth century."

Edward flinched as if I had slapped him. "We are immortal," I said gently. "Disease, old age, illness… human dangers can no longer harm you." Edward stared into space, taking it all in. Now that he was calming down again, I felt quite optimistic. I had so much to teach him! I didn't even know where to begin.

"So," he began uncertainly, "if I keep eating, I mean drinking…" he gestured with distaste toward the lion's corpse. "…that, then I'll be like you someday? More human again, I mean?"

"Absolutely," I agreed with a smile.

He nodded, looking at me with an expression I often received from my patients: still fearful, still wary, but trusting. "I will teach you all I can," I promised. "Everything will get easier. Including hunting. I was messy myself, at first. Next time I recommend killing the animal before you feed, if you can manage it; it'll make things cleaner, and that way your prey will not suffer."

Edward looked pained again. "I didn't even think about that," he admitted, looking apologetically at the great cat that lay sprawled at our feet.

"I'm impressed that you're doing much thinking at all," I said proudly. "New vampires are sometimes much wilder. You're doing quite well."

"I am?"

Truly, I thought, watching him to see if he would hear me. He did; a weak smile finally appeared and my heart soared. Everything will be all right, Edward, I promised him. You'll see.

.

.

.

One month later

This was the third time I had left Edward alone. The first time, when I had driven to Springfield to alter the records in their hospital to show his admission and discharge, had been nerve-wracking for me. What if, despite my warning, he ventured outside, and a human happened to be nearby? What if he saw his chance and made a run for it? What if I were delayed and he grew agitated? I had rushed home that day, only to smile sheepishly when he looked up from a book and said, "Are you back already?" I had gone out again later that week, to begin making arrangements for his estate, and hurried back again to find my fears again unfounded.

I felt only the slightest worry as I drove home this time. I trusted Edward, by now, to hold to his word. And with the snowstorm still going on, the chances of a human being out in the forest were virtually none. There was only the risk of a car passing by on the main road, as sometimes happened. Edward would startle as he heard the engine and the human thoughts piercing his mind, and he would always experience some temptation, knowing humans were that close. But soon the car would get farther away and he would relax, another test passed. I always marveled at the strength of his gift- those cars were nearly a mile away when they passed- and felt equal guilt at being unable to protect him from these temptations, so early on. But it was too soon to move; I was still settling his estate, and these occasional human thoughts were nothing like the temptation he would experience if he were out travelling. The house was the safest place for him in the daytime right now, even if it was not a complete sanctuary from the human world.

I had gone out for a more pleasant reason this time. Edward, with little else to occupy him at home in the daytime hours, had been reading voraciously through my home library, and I had gone out today to find more reading material for him. He was partial to the works of Rudyard Kipling and Charles Dickens, and, surprisingly, Jane Austen. He also enjoyed poetry as well as more scientific genres. He studied my atlases, encyclopedias, even dictionaries. He had even read through several of my medical textbooks and even some of the medical journals I had laying around the house. I had bought out several shelves at the local bookstore today, including the complete works of H.G. Wells and Jules Verne, which I thought he might like to try.

Thus far, reading was Edward's main pastime. I was at a loss for how else to entertain him, other than in conversation. He was certainly interested in my stories and had asked a great many questions, both about my own life and about our kind in general. But even our tireless ears grew weary of conversation after several hours, and while Edward was certainly calmer now than at first, he required solitude and quiet at times. Frankly, so did I. I was overjoyed to finally have someone at home to talk to, but Edward and I had fallen into a peaceable rhythm of conversation and quiet. I had tried to interest him in projects about the house, and in helping me maintain my automobile, but he was too afraid he might damage things. It could hardly be said that Edward was clumsy, but he was still learning to adapt his new strength to each task. It was good, then, that he so enjoyed reading; I often just looked on proudly as he devoured book after book, recognizing the hunger in his eyes as his expanded brain eagerly took in as much knowledge as he could get his hands on.

The piano was one hobby I hoped he would soon try. After we had returned from our hunt on the first day, I had given him a tour of the house and he had seemed particularly interested in the piano in the sitting room. It had come with the house, and was quite dusty with disuse; I could play, but not well, and I seldom bothered.

"Do you play?" I had asked him hopefully.

"I did."

I had urged him to play something for me, but he had refused, saying he was afraid to damage the keys. His expression had taken on that familiar look of nausea, and I knew he was contemplating the unwelcome nature I had given him; I knew to let the matter rest.

Edward had never once blamed me for what I had done, but he was not glad of it. He had, on his worse days, made it clear that he did not want this life I had forced on him, though he never spoke with hostility or resentment. If anything, he was unfailingly polite on the subject. He seemed to feel that the transformation had somehow destroyed his soul, that he was forever damned or, at least, barred from Paradise. I had tried to share my own hope and thoughts on the subject, but since Edward often grew agitated whenever we discussed it, it rarely came up. I hoped that as he calmed further, I would be able to dispel his doubts through further discussion. It was certainly difficult for him, being trapped in a house like this during the daylight hours, so I could understand his discontent. I had every confidence that as he gained more independence and learned to socialize with humans again, that his disposition would improve.

In any case, he was generally a very pleasant young man to be around. His moods were vibrant at times, but that was to be expected. On every matter except that of his change he was most gracious, even deferential and friendly. I was pleased that he was so interested in the events of my life, and even shared some of my interests, and he seemed to enjoy spending time with me. I encouraged him to talk about his human life, to call up as many memories as he could before they faded away forever. Besides conversation, we had played a few games on the previously-unused dining room table and often simply shared our days in silence, reading and occasionally sharing items of interest with one another. I had not officially broached the topic of what would happen after his newborn year; I suppose I was afraid to hear that he might choose to go off on his own. Instead I took a more cowardly route, briefly discussing plans that assumed his staying on: visiting the Denalis next year, moving to a new location, visiting certain hunting ranges, etc. He never protested my presumption, at least. I was sure he had, at least once or twice, heard me wondering about it.

Edward's gift never ceased to amaze me. He had been agreeable to my ideas for experimentation, and we had thus far sorted out several fascinating elements of its operation. His mind-reading was automatic; that is, he heard my thoughts without effort. In fact, he had little choice in the matter. He simply could not turn it "off", or at least hadn't yet learned how to do so. He could, with intense concentration on one or more other topics or stimuli, ignore the sound of my thoughts, but it was quite difficult for him. He could also "see" through my eyes, as well as smell through my nose and hear through my ears. We had no way of knowing exactly how this phenomenon occurred, whether he was truly accessing those diverse parts of my brain, or from the sensory neurons themselves, or whether he was just sharing in my subconscious processing of the sensory information itself in my frontal cortex. I was eager to try some more involved experimentation using equipment from the hospital, but that would have to wait.

Range was another interesting facet of Edward's gift. While I did not have a straight road on which to employ my automobile's odometer in these experiments, I had a vague sense of distance myself, and simply walked away from the house in a straight line, mentally announcing at regular intervals how far I thought I was at each moment. We repeated this experiment several times, concluding that Edward's "automatic" range of mental hearing was nearly three-quarters of a mile, and he could hear me even farther away than that, nearly a mile and a half, if he made a concentrated effort. His range was largest for hearing thoughts, next largest for sharing my visual input, and smallest for other senses. I had many other hypotheses and questions, but further experimentation would have to wait until Edward could be exposed to other minds. Since he had begun hearing occasional mental voices of humans passing out on the main road, I now assumed he would be able to hear any minds he came across. I was curious how he would fare closer to civilization, where thousands of minds would be audible. Eleazar, when I presented Edward to him, would no doubt have insights of his own.

As I pulled off the main road and began the winding journey through the edge of the forest to my home- our home, I thought with pride- I smiled in anticipation. I hoped Edward would enjoy everything I was bringing him. Besides the books, I had also purchased several of the most difficult jigsaw puzzles the bookstore had, a copy of every available newspaper, an introductory textbook on electronics, and a deck of playing cards. I wondered what card games he knew, and whether he would enjoy learning some older ones he had no doubt never heard of.

My heart was light today; when I had purchased the newspapers earlier I had seen encouraging headlines confirming the rapid decline in the number of cases of Spanish Influenza. While I never once regretted my choice to bring Edward home and change him, I had still felt badly about leaving the hospital when they most needed me; the epidemic had still been raging at the time. It was unsettling to imagine how many lives might have been lost by my absence; not many, I hoped. But Edward was my first priority now, as it should be. It was the grandest feeling in the world to be driving home and know that someone was there waiting for me! That I had someone with whom to talk about my day and my thoughts, with whom I could speak freely, without deception. I had enjoyed encountering others of my kind in the past, and had made extended visits up in Alaska and Volterra, but this was different. This was home, and while the word had not yet been spoken aloud by either of us, this was family.

My mind betrayed me now and then, the word son dancing fondly across my mind in Edward's presence. He usually pretended not to notice or looked awkwardly away as I scrambled to change mental gears. Perhaps my sentiment embarrassed him, or renewed his grief regarding his true parents. But I could not help the way I felt. Edward had changed me forever. I would always find a profound sense of purpose in my work, but it felt as though my entire life was shaped around him now, and I would not have it any other way.

I parked and gathered my purchases in my arms, smiling as Edward's familiar scent welcomed me home. The house was silent, but for the quiet turning of pages every ten or eleven seconds. I went in and deposited everything on the dining room table, going upstairs in search of Edward to tell him what I had brought home. I found him seated on the floor in my home office, surrounded by stacks of books, three of which were open before him, his eyes darting between two of the three.

"I see you've discovered the French shelf," I said aloud. Most of my reference materials were in English, but I still had a dusty collection of books on medicine, art, and music from my time in France.

"Hmm," was his absent response. He read for another moment, then closed both the books and turned his head to smile up at me. "I've got the language sorted out fairly well now," he announced. He had found one of my French novels two weeks ago, and expressed an interest in learning the language so he could read it. I had unearthed my French-to-English phrasebook, and he had done the rest via immersion, in his reading. "Though I've no idea how to pronounce half of it. Would you mind reading some of this aloud for me sometime?"

"Certainly. And I think you'll find it most interesting, when the time comes, to listen to people thinking in other languages." His eyebrows rose in interest. "In the meantime, I picked up some things today that you might find interesting."

"Thank you. And… I have a surprise for you, as well." He looked suddenly unsure. "Join me in the sitting room?"

I followed him downstairs to the room in question. We hardly ever came in here, as most of my books were either in my office in the parlor. Only the piano was… the piano? I asked eagerly.

He nodded, gingerly taking a seat on the bench, which I now noticed was out of place. "I tried it while you were out. I still have to think about being gentle, but it's all right." He looked up at me. "I'm a bit out of practice," he said bashfully.

"Go on," I urged, smiling.

He spread his long fingers upon the keys, hesitating. A look of concentration spread over his features and he began to play. It was some classical piece or other; I had heard it before, but never learned who the composer was. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. The house was instantly filled with Edward's music; it was as if life and color were being splashed upon the walls for the first time. I decided instantly that I needed to purchase a Victrola and some phonograph records the next time I went out.

Edward fumbled in his song, looking up at me with a grin. "That's a great idea," he agreed, and resumed playing. He made a few mistakes here and there, and his pressure on the keys was not always quite right, but his skill was obvious. He hadn't told me he was so talented! He must have taken lessons for years.

"Yes, I did," he murmured, his eyes squinting in the way they always did when he was trying to remember something. "My teacher was an older man… Mr. Fuller, I think his name was. He came to the house on Thursdays. My favorite was Beethoven, and my mother liked to hear Sousa marches…" His song trailed off and he rearranged his fingers, smiling slightly as he began to play Stars and Stripes Forever, and then another march I hadn't heard before. He transitioned into a song, something like classical but not quite, that I didn't recognize. But he only got a few measures in before he trailed off, frowning down at the keys. "I can't remember that one," he admitted.

"I didn't recognize it either. I'll be happy to pick up whatever sheet music you'd like, next time I go out. You could make a list of your favorite composers and styles."

"Yes, thank you."

Edward's fingers shifted on the keys again, and the haunting melody of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata soon began. Edward's eyes drifted closed, and his touch on the keys became more natural. The music was heavenly; I nearly closed my eyes as well, but instead drank in the sight of Edward's contentment as he played. I had never seen him look so peaceful; he seemed to have retreated into some other world, inhabited only by himself and his music. I was moved, not only by the beauty of the piece, but also filled with love and relief as I watched my son discover this new happiness. My heart ached to see how much this meant to him. I hoped that from now on he would play often. Now I almost looked forward to the next time I went out on errands, just so I could hear music drifting from the house… calling me home as I pulled up the driveway.

Edward laughed, finishing his song and beginning another. "I'll be sure to do that the next time you go out."

"Do you know any Chopin?" I asked.

Edward's fingers quieted again, his little finger tapping on its key as he thought. "The name sounds familiar, but…"

I hummed the first few measures of my favorite nocturne. He nodded in recognition, though his fingers didn't seem to remember how to join in. "Put that on the list," he said, moving to start a new song. This one was some kind of exercise, perhaps an etude. He grinned widely as his fingers flew faster and faster through the complex ascending scales, making less mistakes as his confidence grew. Finally his fingers tumbled off the right end of the piano and we both laughed. He began Brahams' lullaby this time, its soft sweetness a nice contrast to the frantic energy of the last piece.

I must have stood there for hours, watching him play. The sun set and still he went on, completely lost now in the world of his music. I didn't think he could even hear my thoughts anymore, he was so enraptured. I relaxed the vigilance over my mind, feeling rather like a parent tucking in a child who had already fallen asleep. My son, I thought proudly. He looks so happy.

Edward faltered in his song; he had heard me, after all. I'm sorry, I thought quickly. I didn't mean to-

"No, it's all right," he said, studiously keeping his eyes on his hands as they played.

It doesn't bother you? To hear me think of you that way? As my son?

Edward played for another moment. "No. I rather… like it."

"Really? I would have thought that with your parents gone…"

"They are gone." He looked up at me, his fingers paused on the keys. "You are my family now. I know you've been wondering if I'll want to stay with you or not, and I do. So if you want to think of me as your son, then maybe… I could think of you as my father. If that's all right?"

I felt as though my heart would beat out of my chest. "Edward," I said warmly, laying my hand on his shoulder. "Nothing could make me happier. Nothing in the world."

He smiled, but still looked uncertain. "Shall I… call you Father, then?"

"Heavens, no!" I laughed, letting my hand fall away. "Are you trying to make me feel like an old man?"

"You are an old man," he retorted, offering his trademark crooked smile, but he looked relieved as he laughed and continued his song. And I may have imagined it, but I thought I heard a new happiness spill into the music, the very same one I felt. Edward had said it perfectly, and I proudly echoed his words in my thoughts.

You are my family now.

Aw, the Cullen family has officially begun! :) As a nice contrast, up next we'll get to see the whole family together in the first post-1950 outtake. It's one I've been very excited about for a long time. Edward is wrapping up a college degree in Music Performance and it will be Esme's POV of his senior recital, with a lot of family fluff in there as well.

Some of you have asked if I'll ever go back and write a Tale of Years: 1918. Not anytime soon, at least, but in the meantime I highly recommend Haemophilus Leona's new work in progress, Eternal Teenager. It's a collection of some important prequel moments in Edward's POV, beginning with a fantastic transformation scene. I also have some other great prequels favorited on my profile, including two new ones in progress: Finding Home by Miki Mouse in Blue Jeans, which covers Edward's rebellious years, and a lovely new Esme story by angelwatson.