11. Carlisle

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At some point Carlisle had made his way over to Esme. He stood there next to her, one hand holding hers and the other casually in his pocket. Everything about his stance screamed human, and from a distance that was what I would assume he was.

Looking around the clearing I realized that was true of all of them: they blinked, they fidgeted, they twitched. With seeming thoughtlessness, Emmett played with Rosalie's hair and Alice smoothed her blouse, then ghosted her fingers over Jasper's hand. Their mannerisms were all human. It must be something they worked at to enable them to blend among humans, but I still didn't understand to what end. Why did they strive so hard to appear other than they are? And why high school? That still made no sense to me.

I made a mental note to find out later, and leaving part of my brain to keep tabs on everyone's mind and Bella's heart rate, turned the rest to Carlisle.

"I'll be happy to tell you my full story later," he began, "but for now suffice it to say that I had been alone for a very long time, over two hundred fifty years. I had been unable to find a companion among my own kind, and although for some time I had been considering creating one, I could never bring myself to do it. I thought it a very selfish, and possibly immoral, thing to do, and so I continued on alone. As to how I met you, do you remember that you volunteered at Cook County Hospital during the summer of 1918?"

"I remember a little about it."

"We were introduced by one of my colleagues shortly after you began there. You volunteered during the day, of course, while I generally worked nights, but I sometimes saw you when I arrived for my shift, and admired what I saw of your demeanor and your interactions with the patients. I had no intention of changing you," he added quickly, responding to a shift in my expression. "I wasn't watching you for that purpose. I only mean to say that when you and your parents arrived at the hospital ill with the influenza, I already knew something of you. It was actually your mother who convinced me."

"My mother!" I interjected, astonished.

"Yes." He chuckled. "I was surprised as well. But let me back up a little. Your father died shortly after arriving at the hospital and you and your mother grew ill rapidly. Your mother continually tried to nurse you and gave the staff fits with her refusal to stay in her bed." He saw me nodding. "Do you remember that?"

"Yes," I said quietly. "She would get out of bed and wipe my face, and say..." My voice trailed off and Bella nestled under my arm and slid her arm around my waist. I reflexively kissed her head and continued dully, "It's the last memory I have of her."

"She loved you very much, Edward," he said compassionately. "It was obvious to everyone. The third night you were there, I came around to check on the two of you shortly before the end of my shift. You were unconscious, very near death, and while your mother was still awake it was clear that she hadn't much longer either. But when she saw me, she glared up at me and demanded that I save you. That I must do everything in my power, that I must do what others could not."

I saw it in his mind as he spoke, my mother, in far worse condition than my final memory of her, putting the last of her strength into a plea for my life.

"She couldn't have known what she was asking," Rosalie protested, and I realized this was the first time his coven was hearing this story as well. Except for Esme; I could hear in her mind that she was familiar with it.

"As to that, I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not sure what she thought I was, but she clearly knew I wasn't human. At the time, however, I was certain that she did indeed know my secret. She didn't say anything else after that; she slipped almost immediately into unconsciousness and died less than an hour later. You were still alive, Edward, which surprised me, as from the start your condition had been so much worse than hers."

I caught the fleeting thought he tried to push away. "Getting out of bed to care for me killed her," I said flatly.

He hesitated. "There's no way to know that for certain."

"But that's what you think."

"I think it's likely." His mind was full of sympathy I didn't deserve. "But I don't know for sure. People's reaction to illness often surprise me; there are always people who die or survive when I least expect it."

I stared sightlessly at the ground, awash in guilt.

"It was her choice, Edward," Bella said softly. "It's not your fault. I'm sure she knew the risk she was taking."

"She did," Carlisle confirmed. "The nurses informed her, as did I, on more than one occasion."

Esme said firmly, "She was your mother and she loved you. Even if she knew for certain that nursing you would kill her, she would have done it anyway. That's what any good mother would do." A faded image of an infant was in her mind, an old grief. There were no words, but I knew- she would have willingly died for him.

"I'm sure you're right," I replied distantly. "I just… I hadn't… and for it to be because of me…"

"You didn't know that she had died," Carlisle said, sounding surprisingly upset. "Edward, I'm so sorry. I should have realized that you might not know."

I tried to shrug it off. "I knew she was dead—I mean, obviously, if I was born in 1901 she couldn't have been born later than the early 1880s. She was very ill, I remember that, but I always hoped she had somehow survived. That she had grown happy again and lived a long life..." I felt Bella's breath hitch and looked down to see the tears I couldn't shed once again slipping down her cheeks. "I keep making you cry," I said regretfully.

She scoffed and swiped at her face. "You're not making me do anything."

I rolled my eyes and gently wiped away the tears she'd missed. "My mistake. Clearly, the fact that you're crying right now has nothing to do with me."

She rolled her eyes back at me, wordlessly dismissing my argument, and I surprised myself by chuckling. Immeasurably comforted by her and her ridiculous stubbornness, I turned my attention back to Carlisle, who was watching us with fascination. "So, after my mother's death you decided to change me?"

"Yes. After so many years of denying myself, of debate and uncertainty, I just went ahead without giving myself the chance to reconsider. I pretended I was taking you to the morgue—you were motionless enough that no one knew you were still alive—then carried you out the window and across the rooftops to my home."

I watched it all in his mind: our trip through the hospital corridors and his nervousness that someone would realize I wasn't dead; passing the stacks of bodies in the morgue before he leapt out the window; the first glow of dawn in the sky as he raced the sun to his home outside the city; his hands placing me gently on that narrow sofa I saw myself on earlier in his mind; his desperate prayer before he bit me; and then him talking. Talking as I began to frown, talking as I began to flinch and squirm, talking as I began to scream. Telling me what was happening, that he was sorry, that everything would be all right.

"I remember you talking to me, in the beginning, but after I woke I thought I had imagined it."

"No, it really happened."

"So how did this other guy get him away from you?" Emmett asked eagerly. "And no just telling Edward in your head!"

I pulled Bella a little closer, expecting Carlisle to be irritated at Emmett's impatience, perhaps even do something to assert his dominance, but instead he just smiled tolerantly. "I'm getting there, Emmett. After I was certain that the change was going smoothly, I had to leave for a while. I went to the hospital in time for my shift and after doing my rounds and some routine paperwork, I falsified your medical record to show that you had left the hospital, located your home address, then pretended to be getting ill and left. It was the middle of the night by then, so it was no problem to break into your home. I filled a trunk for you, gathering some of your clothes and books, as well as photographs, letters, your father's will and other important papers, your parents' jewelry— anything I thought you might like to have."

He paused, his tone becoming more matter of fact. "We still have it all for you, as well as some other things I took from the house later. Esme or I check periodically and everything is still in good shape. The house in Chicago is yours also; I arranged for you to inherit it from your father in 1918, and then from yourself in 1987. We've had renters in there for most of the past eighty-five years and the rental income and what you inherited from your father is all invested. We've had to pay taxes, property managers, and for maintenance and renovations of the property from your accounts, but the rent has more than covered it over the years. You can look at the books later, or whenever you like."

I was grateful he'd saved some of my belongings for me, and the house, but was a bit confused by the money talk. "So you're saying I have some money in the bank?" I hoped so; it would be nice not to have to steal things all the time.

Everyone reacted with varying degrees of amusement. "You have a lot of money, Edward," Carlisle said, sounding almost sheepish. "It's in many different accounts under a few different names, of course, as we all have to do, but your only expenditures have been on the house and even on a bad year that makes money for you. I haven't checked for some years—I handle the house while Alice manages your investment accounts—but you had several hundred million the last time I looked."

"Million?" I gasped. "Several hundred million?"

"Actually, well over a billion now, not counting the house accounts," Alice piped up cheerfully. "I happened to review them yesterday and shifted things around a little bit. Just routine stuff."

Bella and I exchanged wide-eyed looks then slowly turned our heads back towards Alice. "How can I possibly have that much money?" I asked, bewildered.

She leaned toward us, her eyes dancing. "I really, really love to play the stock market."

Carlisle, Esme, and Rose smiled at her enthusiasm and Jasper laughed. I felt his happiness and love brush against us, and Bella sighed and rested her head against my chest. I wondered if he had been aiming the emotions at Alice and we got the overflow, or if he accidentally projected at times.

Emmett grumbled, "Yes, and we're all very happy about it, Alice, but can we go back to the story now? I still don't know how the guy took Edward!"

A/N: I'm so sorry for dropping off the face of the Earth! I had an unusually vicious migraine and it was a few days before I could be on the computer at all, much less write anything. I tried to get all of Carlisle's side of the story in here, but it got too long and I had to split it. I had Carlisle take Edward Senior's jewelry (at a minimum he likely would have had cuff links, shirt/waistcoat studs, and a pocket watch) since I imagine Carlisle would think that is something Edward would want- it certainly would have been more useful to him than Elizabeth's jewels! I've put some pictures of their jewelry on my Tumblr if you're interested- whilewewereyetsinners DOT tumblr DOT com. I'm completely guessing at how much money Edward would have, but considering that Carlisle had enough money to buy Esme a tropical island I don't think I gave him too much- in fact, if anything I may have low-balled it. How much money do you think he would have? Next chapter will be up Tuesday or Wednesday!