Chapter Four

The shrieking of nothing is killing me

- David Bowie, Ashes to Ashes

The trip home was smoother as Edward was no longer incapacitated and could run alongside Carlisle. But his manner remained altered. The faster of the two, he had once thrilled to the chase, leaving Carlisle far behind. Now he passively loped along, never thinking to overtake him. Carlisle tried not to dwell on the matter, feeling the trip had been worthwhile as Edward seemed to be on the mend. He had to repeatedly remind himself to lower his expectations of any immediate return to normalcy. Away from home was one thing; returning now to resume their daily routine at the scene of the crime was altogether another. He was already feeling anxious, and, knowing that this was all the harder for Edward, did his best to avoid thinking about what lay ahead.

The house was dark and dank from the two weeks it had been vacated. Carlisle busied himself lighting lamps, setting the fireplaces, and then turned to unpacking, sorting through their laundry and toiletries.

Edward stood motionless in the living room in the same place Carlisle had left him, looking at his piano.

Carlilse glanced nervously at him once or twice as he passed through the room, wishing he would at least breathe.

"You could play something," he suggested in what he hoped was a casual tone on his third trip past Edward.

Edward did not even turn to look at him; no emotion crossed his face. He merely shook his head slightly.

Damnit. But he knew he had no right to feel frustrated. He occupied himself with the mail that had accumulated in their absence, looking up frequently to see if things were improving on the other side of the room.

He set his lips, wishing he didn't have to bring it up. "You'd best come in with me tomorrow." He tried hard not to think about why. "You can spend the day at the library" or... well, wherever you want.

That way... just in case... He frantically backpedaled in his thoughts trying not to follow the logical course.

"I'll be switching to nights soon enough. So you'll have a bit more liberty outside."

Edward just nodded, but his relief was tremendous. He didn't want to tell Carlisle that he was terrified by the thought of being left alone in the house or that it had been his intention to follow the doctor to the hospital tomorrow anyway.

Well. He gave up trying to appease him. Alright then. He grabbed the stack of newspapers and turned to walk up the stairs, sensing the situation with Edward was only going to deteriorate as the night went on. I'll be upstairs if you need me. He had a sinking suspicion that Edward would probably spend the rest of the night standing exactly where he was, immobile.

He sat down on the sofa in his study to catch up on the news in the papers, trying to concentrate so that he wouldn't fret about the person downstairs. He was buried in the editorial section when he started, surprised to see Edward in the doorway.

Are you alright? The thought had formed before he could check himself. "I'm sorry, Edward, come in." He put the paper on the ottoman and gave him his full attention. He longed to hold out his arms to beckon him, but he still wasn't certain if that constituted a transgression of the unspoken limits Edward had placed on their relationship.

The younger man stood fixed for another several minutes, and then walked to the opposite (far) end of the couch to sit stiffly and stare at the floor. Carlisle was uncertain whether he was expected to speak or not. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"I know you're worried, but everything is going to be fine, I promise." He spoke softly, but firmly. "They won't be back anytime soon and I will have dealt with the problem long before then. I'm just worried about your being lonely, that was the only reason I suggested you come with me."

Carlisle always thought speaking out loud made it more convincing, but he actually was quite certain they were out of any immediate danger (it was the Volturi modus operandus to initiate chaos and sit back to watch how it panned out). And he really did feel uneasy about Edward's emotional state.

Edward nodded again, all but imperceptibly. He took comfort in the certainty of Carlisle's thoughts.

Carlisle picked up his paper again, thinking it best to be quiet and let Edward muddle through it on his own. He knew tomorrow would be unbearably stressful for both of them, but he had lived long enough to know that Edward would simply learn to cope with the changes in his routine. He wasn't being callous - he would readily undergo one hundred times whatever Edward had endured if it would have spared the boy. He was simply realistic.

After a long while, Edward moved to lay down on the sofa, resting his head against Carlisle's thigh. It was not a lover's move; rather, a simple act of inexpressible loneliness from a stricken creature seeking comfort. Carlisle bent over him to kiss and stroke his hair, murmuring reassuringly to him. At some point in the night, Edward crawled into his arms and nestled himself against the older vampire's neck. They stayed that way until breaking dawn.

Carlise left him at the hospital steps, reminding him to stay within earshot and check in periodically. Reluctantly, he turned away and walked through the front doors.

Throughout the workday, he would call to Edward, who would answer from the coffee shop beside the hospital, or the newspaper stand in front, or the small market on the street corner.

Edward, in turn, would listen for his thoughts each time he returned from a tour of the block. He was starting to feel discontented from the boredom of having to endlessly circle the hospital when he called for Carlisle and didn't get an immediate response, an occurrence that sent him fleeing up the hospital steps in search of his reassuring voice.

I'm here, Edward. Just cleaning up. Let me see if I can hand off this chart and I will be right down. Or you can come up and wait in my office if you like.

He wasn't quite as bored as he had thought. He sat anxiously in Carlisle's office until the doctor came through the door, smiling apologetically at him. "A baby threw up on me and I had to shower. I didn't think you would want to smell me!"

By the third day, Edward had established himself as a fixture in Carlisle's office. Dr. Cullen manufactured the excuse that his younger brother had suffered a mental breakdown and needed supervision until the doctors deemed him ready for re-entry into society. With their parents deceased, the task fell to him. This earned him the approving sympathy of his colleagues and made Edward a pet with the nurses, who would rush him into Dr. Cullen's office, bringing him hot tea and cakes.

Edward found the charade irksome (he understood the nurses better, towards Carlisle as well as himself), but he truly enjoyed being with Carlisle at work. He loved sitting at Carlisle's desk and doodling on the notepads (Edward, you are making a mess of my notes. Find something else to draw on!), looking out the window at the busy streets below, and even learning to type.

He felt singularly comforted in the orderly world of science. The hospital was clean and organized, the staff efficient and purposeful (save when Dr. Cullen was in their midst), and every problem appeared to have a solution! He loved the sterilized environment, the stainless steel equipment and all of its intricate workings, the microscopes that yielded access to a tiny world he never knew existed, the charts that detailed the many particulars of the human anatomy. He errantly wondered how his (and Carlisle's) differed and made a mental note to ask him after work.

Yes, Edward liked the hospital very much indeed.

He mentally followed Carlisle on his rounds, listening in on his conversations, admiring the calm and ease with which he diagnosed each patient. It was a side of his maker he had never seen, save his own time in the hospital, and those memories were steeped in grey, harder and harder to retrieve.

By contrast, their life within the house changed little from their first day back. Edward spent most of his time at the piano, while Carlisle retreated to his study to bury his nose in medical journals or French novels. The latter tried hard not to remember the days and nights the two had spent more pleasurably occupied. He avoided the bedroom altogether, because the thought of Edward...

He tried harder not to even look at him.

In the rare moments when Edward was reading alongside him on the couch or running with him in the woods on a hunt, Carlisle could briefly pretend that things were getting back to normal. But the harsh reality that a barrier had settled between them came crashing down at regular intervals, shattering his reverie. When Carlisle took the time to be honest with himself, he recognized that their existence disturbed and depressed him. He had the unsettling sense that their relationship was permanently damaged. He was starting to feel like Edward's guardian and little more. And he was certain that Edward was hiding something from him, for at random moments, he would look up to catch the boy staring searchingly at him, a lost, pained look in his golden eyes.

Carlisle desperately longed for the easy camaraderie as much as the intimacy of their relationship. If only they could simply return to the early days of their friendship when they had been so open with and trusting of one another! He tried to remind himself that deep wounds were slow to heal and that they were hardly short on time. It had been little more than a month since they had been thrown into the tempest, and Edward really was doing quite well considering. He seemed almost himself at the hospital.

But time and again, he found himself alone in his study, crying out to the silent house surrounding him, Edward! Come back to me! I miss you terribly!

And for the first time in his existence, Carlisle knew that he needed human help.

Action

Carlisle walked purposefully toward Dr. Cooke and sat down opposite him in the physicians' dining hall. Dr. Cooke looked surprised by the addition to his table, but nodded his assent.

"Dr. Cooke," Carlisle began politely by way of apology, "I am so sorry to intrude, but I very much need your assistance in a matter."

"Yes?" Dr. Cooke was completely taken aback, but pleased. Dr. Cullen had been at the hospital little more than a quarter and already he had assumed command of the place. It was hard not to dislike a man who had so thoroughly replaced the most senior members of the staff in terms of skill and was so damned charming and perfect that he had everyone under his spell. Dr. Cooke had not spoken more than ten words to the man when he realized how very uncomfortable he felt in his presence. He was therefore all the more astounded by his appearance at his table.

"It's about…," Carlisle hesitated, "Edward."

"Ah!" Dr. Cooke nodded knowingly. The entire hospital knew the very unfortunate circumstances of Dr. Cullen's younger brother. "You're thinking it might be time to have him committed." It only made sense. The boy could hardly spend the rest of his life in his brother's care, and it must make life for the young doctor hard as well. Still, such a difficult decision to make. Dr. Cooke was all sympathy.

"Well," Carlisle hesitated again, "It's a bit more complicated than that." He scrunched his face up, trying to find the words. "You see… Edward is not actually my brother. He's my," and exhaled,

"companion". Carlisle knew from Edward that Dr. Cooke also had a companion.

Dr. Cooke froze, fork in mid-air.

"Edward was," he started again, but with more hesitation in voice and manner as he leaned closer in to take the older doctor into his confidence, not meeting his eyes, "brutally raped a month ago. And he hasn't been coping well."

Dr. Cooke was speechless.

"I fear that Edward is not recovering the way I had hoped he would."

Dr. Cooke looked as though he might never be able to recover.

"He is doing well enough in his everyday tasks, he's more open and talkative, he reads and he's starting to come out of his shell with others – he interacts some with the nurses here, but," and here Carlisle really did feel uncomfortable enough to mentally squirm, "We haven't…. well….."

"Been intimate." Dr. Cooke supplied.

"Yes," said Carlisle looking down at his hands, and he would blush if he could.

Dr. Cooke nodded, quickly re-establishing himself as the consulting physician on hand. "Perfectly normal. These things take time. You say he was raped…."

"Gang raped," said Carlisle, surprised that he could discuss the matter so clinically as though he had not spent the last month mentally ripping himself to shreds, as though there were not threadbare paths in the carpet in his study from pacing back and forth for hours on end. "Near our home. And it was even worse than that. He was tortured as well."

"So you think maybe Edward should seek some sort of psychiatric help?"

"No, no," Carlisle corrected mildly, and was then once again utterly astonished that he could sit here and simply discuss the matter as though this were just another complication in a case at work, as though this were not his existence hanging in the balance.

It felt good to talk to someone about it. He felt, oddly… relieved. "I think Edward still feels insecure in his relationship with me. You see, we had only known each other a short time when I made the decision to move here. Edward had no surviving family, and he was completely uprooted. He was already having problems adjusting to our life here when it happened."

Dr. Cooke cocked his head, listening attentively, encouraging Dr. Cullen to continue.

"I think, even prior to the assault, Edward was… lost. Didn't really feel he had a purpose or place in my life. After his parents died in the influenza epidemic, I nursed him back to health and we spent some time traveling. He had been an only child and was very close to his mother, and in some ways he replaced her with me, if that makes any sense."

Dr. Cooke nodded thoughtfully.

"Edward was young and…" Carlisle exhaled again, "Unformed, I think, in his character. Looking to me for guidance. I had never thought our relationship would take the turn it did – not that I have any regrets, no – and I had been a bachelor my entire life." And how! "So we had first to get over the hurdle of learning to be with one another. And then suddenly we were here and I was occupied with work.

"I rather think he felt abandoned."

Dr. Cooke nodded solemnly.

"Our relationship was already fraught with tension before he was raped. And now," Carlisle sighed heavily, "Now I feel as though we have the veneer of civilized interaction with nothing more underneath.

"I just can't seem to get through to him on anything more than the most superficial level."

"How can I help?"

"I think Edward needs a bit more security in his life to help him move on." Carlisle said thoughtfully. "Something that would make him feel permanent and, well, special in my life."

"And?"

Carlisle knew how it was going to sound, and screwed up his face again. "I think it would help him if we were married. I mean, actually married."

Dr. Cooke chuckled, finally understanding. "You need someone to perform the ceremony."

"Precisely!" Carlisle beamed at him, feeling lighter than he ever had.

"I know just the person," Dr. Cooke laughed. "You know, we are quite a large community. You would be surprised."

"I am so grateful to you." And Carlisle really was grateful.

"I can arrange a meeting…"

"That would be so helpful."

"When?"

"As soon as possible. I don't want to lose any ground."

"Ah! Such a tragedy. It is good he has you." Said Dr. Cooke feelingly, taking a genuine liking to Dr. Cullen.

"There is one more thing..."

"Yes?"

"I have a ring for Edward that I would like to have duplicated. So that we have matching rings…"

"A jeweler? I know just the person!"

"Dr. Cooke, thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me. I shall be in contact soon to gather the necessary information from you." Dr. Cullen stood as two other colleagues approached the table. "Gentlemen." He nodded a greeting and left the room.