I do not own the content of Stephanie Meyer's "the Twilight Saga"

TW: Mention of Rape and Murder

Chapter 4: Redemption

My brother freezes in the way only vampires can. Utter stillness, like living stone. I get the feeling he's taking me in the same way I am taking him in. Looking at my brother for the first time since I've left him in that street in London, letting him turn into a vampire. He didn't see me shove off the vampire that bit him, or me chasing that vampire out of London before murdering him.

I didn't see the transformation finish. I always wondered what he'd look like, what he would be like. As a human, he always radiated this compassionate aura. It softened his face, made him handsome in a pure way. Vampirism magnified that sevenfold. He was always a kind human, I can only hope that kindness might persuade him to spare me.

The sibling he didn't even know existed.

A few more seconds pass in utter silence and then he blinks.

"I know this is probably a shock Carlisle and I'm so sorry to barge into your life after almost 360 years of you never knowing I existed. I just - fuck," I pull at my hair, trying to contain the hysteria that lies just behind my rushed words.

"I figured you deserved the truth. The truth of who I am, who our father was, the truth of your past." I don't need to breath but I'm gasping. Some human traits never leave, panic is one of them.

For Carlisle's part, he merely observes me, not saying anything. His eyes trace over my face. Then, he takes a step towards me.

This is it, the moment where he either kills me or listens to me. I close my eyes, too afraid to know which. If death is coming, I'd rather not look. I wouldn't be trying to stop it anyways. If the choice comes down to Carlisle or I, it's obvious who deserves the right to exist more. Plus, oblivion is such a tempting place to disappear to.

I feel the air stir as he reaches out his arms to me, hear the sound of his clothes rustling with the movement. I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. His sunshine, purely Carlisle scent. It's been centuries since I've smelled anything close to it. Centuries since I've smelled him, my brother. I want his light to be the last thing on my senses before I die.

His arms wrap around me and it honestly takes me a few seconds to realize he is hugging me. This is one hug I don't mind, but now I see where his family gets it from. Fucking hippie vampires.

I hug him back, fiercely. It's been so long since I've had a touch I've desperately wanted, I feel starved for the affection. We stay like this for minutes, holding each other, basking in the feeling of having family again.

Then he pulls back and puts his hands on my shoulders, like he has to keep touching me or I'll disappear.

"It's like looking in a mirror, in a way." His warm voice washes over me. I see what he means though, blonde hair and similar facial features makes us look like we could be fraternal twins. Nevermind that I was 25 when he was born in 1640. He doesn't remember when he was born, but I do. I was there when he was born in London, August 15th, 1640. I was watching from 3 roof tops away, peering into the window of our mother's room as he made his entrence into the world as a healthy son. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a button nose to tie the perfection all together. Our father was pleased, he finally had a son to pass his torch onto. Much better than the angry daughter god foisted on him decades before.

That pleasure died quickly when his wife got childbed fever. She was gone within the week. Being a woman in the past was a dangerous thing. It still is a dangerous thing, but now we have amoxicillin. Well, the humans do. Still, I think my mother got off easy. Death is preferable to living with a monster, since wives still couldn't divorce their husbands without just cause. Like impotence. Yes, your husband could beat you and rape you, but god forbid his penis not work right. I truly prefer living in this day and age.

I smile at my brother and huff out a laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose it is. Our parents only knew how to make one type of face."

We both laugh at that.

"Come with me, let's talk in my office." He darts up the stair case and I'm a quarter second behind him.

Inside his office, which looks like a dean's study, are dozens of paintings and pictures. Bright swirling colors in some, others in a monochrome. The placement looks eclectic, no rhyme or reason. I know my brother though, from when I watched him as a human. There's always a reason.

Then, off to the side of all the pictures, a small oil painting catches my eye. Homesickness invades my mind as I cross the floor to stand in front of it. I would know this view from anywhere. London, old London. I haven't been back since I lost my mate. I couldn't bring myself to face my past.

Carlisle steps up next to me and places a hand on my shoulder.

"How long has it been since you've been home?"

I swallow, "Almost 200 years."

"Why so long?"

"I've left a lot of things buried or burned in London. There are... things there, things that I'd rather not face ever again. Memories, demons, ashes on the wind. A myriad of torture just for me. Don't worry, there is plenty more to the world than London and I've kept myself sufficiently distracted." Grief is a distraction, right?

Carlisle puts a comforting hand on my shoulder and I lean into him. I know I owe him answers and I'm being cowardly by not explaining further into my story, but this comfort that I've been denied for so long is addictive and I'm afraid, once he knows, I'll never receive it again.

Our past will either make or break our relationship before it's even barely begun.

As I look over the rest of the wall, I see the story of Carlisle's life. I see my ancient friend in a large, gaudy portrait. Carlisle is in the background of that one. He spent time with the ancients centuries ago, Marcus told me they were flabbergasted at his lifestyle choice. I am too, to be quite honest. Why one would rather feed on deer than people astounds me.

Carlisle's vampiric life has no shadows sans loneliness, but he took care of that a century ago. It's a stark difference from my life of agony and memories my mind will never let me forget. I'm about to add some shadows to his clear mind.

I pull away from him and take a deep breath.

"Carlisle, I have things I need to tell you. Many things. I would ask that you hear me out and then cast judgement. At least listen to all of it because I owe you that and you owe yourself that."

"Of course, whatever you have to say, I will listen. Though I doubt anything you say will cause me to judge you harshly."

I almost scoff.

"Firstly, I'm the one who killed our father."

He freezes and stares at me.

"Secondly, I am the reason why you became a vampire."