Massive thanks to my beta and friend mxpi1970, and my great friend loopylou992 for their support and guidance. To all my readers and reviewers, I say thank you and apologies for the delay. This chapter was a challenge; if I've done my job well I hope it helps you understand why Carlisle is so damaged.

More to follow when I can.

I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all.

All I Want to Hear

Chapter 10

Carlisle's face is pale, twisted with remorse.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. Please, please believe me. I never meant you to feel abandoned. I didn't mean to leave you alone." His words are rushed, desperate to take what he perceives to be his one last chance to make amends. "Forgive me… please?"

He finds peace in Edward's company and in his arms. The very real thought of losing him, the only person that has shown him the beauty of the world outside the walls of his prison, is paralysing. He wonders if he is destined to stay cold and detached, not a part of the world. He wants to be able to trust, to be able to drop his guard for good and not just after sex. This need for self-preservation is strong, but to be with Edward he knows he needs to let him in, to confide and trust in him. He needs to learn how to deal with his traumatic past and to leave it behind him - cast off the shackles and move forward into his and Edward's future, for surely they are meant to be.

Edward stands silent, taking a moment to find the right words. His lover's face is anguished, fearful, teetering on the brink of lost hope. Edward knows the emotional self-flagellation that is taking place in Carlisle's psyche; he understands his pain, but is understanding it enough? Can it ever be?

"You left me. Alone. In a strange city." His voice is modulated, the words carrying a sting nonetheless. Carlisle flinches beneath their perceived weight. "What's going on, Carlisle? Deep down, what's really going on because I think I deserve to know." He fists a handful of his hair, his eyes pinched shut for a moment before he walks, his gait stiff, to the sofa. He is unable to settle and begins to pace the small space.

Carlisle feels the emotional devastation emanating from him in powerful waves and knows in that moment that their relationship is hanging by a fragile strand of silken hope. If that thread were to be severed, he fears he would never find his feet again. His shaky indrawn breath whistles through his chest; the words, when they come, are broken.

"What do you want to know?"

Edward looks up, meeting his gaze, seeing the raw vulnerability behind those blue eyes that have stolen his heart.

"Do you want to be with me, Carlisle?"

His answer is ragged and choked with emotion.

"Yes – more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life."

"Do you love me enough to share both your past and your future with me?"

Edward sees the reaction, knows his words have cut deep, and hopes that emotional bloodletting will help heal Carlisle's deep-seated pain. Unable to answer the question, Carlisle nods, his hands clenching and shaking. Edward reaches for him, but he pulls away.

"No – you don't know… you won't look at me the same way again." He refuses to make eye contact, his guilt engulfing him.

"Did you … did you hurt someone?" Edward can't comprehend this gentle man ever committing such an act, but the question stands as a starting point. He jumps, not expecting the shrill, hysterical laugh that fills the room, the sound both alien and unnerving before it cuts off a second later.

"No, no, I really didn't."

"Then it can't be so bad that we can't get past it. Nothing can stand between us except secrets, and I've had enough. Tell me – tell me everything. Purge it all, I can take it." He is aware that he is begging, anger abating now he is facing the truth at last. "Then watch me stand by your side, because that's where I want to be if you'll have me."

The air around them is thick, nebulous; Carlisle struggles not to choke. Edward is shaky, but determined; the past has to be exposed and the time is now.

~o.O.o~

Carlisle perches on the arm of the nearest chair. He tries to ignore the audience in the room, talking to himself at the start.

"I grew up in California; my parents own a vineyard. I was a loner, and spent most of my time writing one thing or another. As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to write. When I was very young, I wrote silly little poems about my surroundings, my family and my life. As I grew, I started to write stories and to enjoy history. My parents encouraged me the whole time, although it was understood that this was a hobby and I would take my place in the business one day."

His thoughts are far away, lost in the mists of time and memory, back when he was happy.

"It didn't go down well when I announced in my senior year that I wanted to study creative writing and journalism at college."

Edward stays silent, watching Carlisle's face change when he recalls what appears to be a painful memory.

"My parents sat me down and gave it to me straight: I was to join the company and learn the wine business to one day take over the family empire. I'd always known this, but I guess I thought they'd support my dream, my ambition to be a writer and to be heard out in the world. I had never envisioned myself as a salesman, securing deals with distributors and suppliers. It wasn't me." He falls silent for a moment, gathering himself to carry on. "I kept calm, tried to explain my desire for my chosen path, but my father went crazy, shouting and gesticulating as only an Italian really can."

"Italian?" Despite himself, Edward interrupts.

Carlisle nods, but does not elaborate.

"My mother was more reasonable. I like to think that she recognised early on that I would be different to the rest of my family, that I would have different dreams. She dealt with my father while he raged, calming him down just enough to listen to her. I can't say I know what happened exactly, but after a few hours she came to my room and said that I could attend college. The deal was that if my grades were good I could continue, but if I could not garner acceptable passes I was to return home and continue with my training in the wine business. I accepted, thanking her over and over, promising I would make her the proudest Mama in the world." He is clearly overcome, his face twisted in self-hatred. "How could I have known then…?"

Carlisle craves the comfort of Edward's loving embrace, but maintains the space between them, unwilling to allow him close.

"College was hard, but I loved it. I had no friends as such – my time was spent in the library studying for the highest grades I could. I lived on campus and rarely went out other than to class. I didn't go to the bars with my classmates and I didn't date. The others thought me cold, and despite being lonely, I found it impossible to let them in. We were nothing alike – there was no common ground to be found with them, and so I kept to myself."

He stands and walks to the window, looking out over the park below. Edward watches him.

"You told me that your first kiss was in college. I'm guessing then that you met someone later on."

"Yes. At first it was nothing more than a few words after class – an appreciation for something I had written or an opinion I had shared. Innocent enough, especially for a young, quiet student who was unused to anyone praising him, encouraging him. I held those compliments to me as I would a coat in winter – they warmed me. I felt for the first time that I really could succeed – that I could become a serious journalist. His support became vital to me, as necessary as the food I ate, the water I drank."

"That's good, isn't it? That you finally met someone who cared about you? Who… wanted you?" Edward finds the words hard to say – irrational jealousy flaring in his chest for the boy who had first introduced his Carlisle to the joys of love. The air between them grows brittle with mutual anxiety.

"I thought so. I believed that he cared for me. Perhaps he did, or perhaps I was just one in a long line. He knew just what to say to seduce me and he waited until I was primed. I was so trusting, I would have believed anything he said to me."

Edward sees the scenario spool before his eyes: a passionate affair - a young, quiet student, flowering into his first sexual awakening with another man; sweet talked and coerced, awkward and inept, but with growing feelings that are all so new and unexplored. Forcing his gaze back to his lover, he focuses.

"What happened?"

"It was late and I was heading back to the dorm. He offered me a ride – it was quite a walk and the wind was biting." Carlisle is powerless to stop the memories unravelling now. "I remember thinking that I wanted him to kiss me. I had no idea if he planned to or not, but I wanted him to. When we stopped, he killed the engine and turned in his seat to face me. I sat there struck dumb, wanting him so much that I thought he must've been able to tell. My breathing was uneven and I remember his smile then. He stroked my hair, and I think I moaned. That was all it took; then his lips were on mine and I finally understood why the other students spent more time in each other's rooms at night than they ever did studying. I know I was hard from that first touch, and he knew it too. When he drew away from me I was panting for more. He said goodnight and his hand left my hair to glance across my groin, an almost innocent brush that confirmed my arousal. From then on I was his and his alone."

Edward's eyes are closed, anger rising. He knows this cannot have ended well. Carlisle is struggling to continue, the need to finish this sordid tale absolute. Standing by the window, he cannot bring himself to look at his lover's face.

"We began to meet up and go driving on a regular basis. It's such a cliché that we went parking, but we did. We found quiet spots where we wouldn't be disturbed and I let myself be seduced."

Shoulders cowed, he finally turns to Edward, eyes downcast. "Do you want to hear all of this or should I skip forward?"

"Just tell me so that this can be over."

"Very well. The first time he touched me I lost all control. I remember both the ecstasy and the mortification hitting me all at once. I felt I had let him down, but he seemed oddly pleased. My innocence pleased him. He unfastened his own pants and showed himself to me, hard and ready, knowing of course that I would be aroused again almost immediately, and he was right. He taught me how to pleasure another man and he showed me how good sex could be. What did I know? I thought he loved me."

His mouth is dry and with weary steps he fetches a glass of water from the kitchen. Edward waits, hoping it is almost over, yet fearing the worst is still to come. Carlisle downs half the water in two strong gulps before placing the glass down on the counter. He wipes his mouth with a shaking hand.

"One night, we were in the car wearing nothing more than our shirts, kissing and stroking each other when the flash happened. I was too shocked to realise what it was and for a moment I believed it to be from a torch. When it happened again we both saw it was the flash from a camera trained at the car, at us, capturing our exposed bodies. We panicked, trying to cover ourselves, but it was too late. The car was a giveaway, even if we had hidden our faces. He was mortified and swearing, whereas I was cold and fearful of what this could mean for us.

"The reality of it all didn't take long to surface. Photographic evidence was presented to the Department of Education showing both of us in a state of undress and kissing, our bodies clearly in a high state of arousal."

Carlisle is shaking now, his arms wrapped around himself, reliving the memories he has tried so hard to bury.

"I had no idea he had a wife, a family. He never spoke of them, he wore no ring. Without warning, he quit his teaching job, leaving me confused and alone. The Dean informed me that his wife had suspected an affair, had arranged to have him followed to find out who he was seeing. She was waiting for me that afternoon when I tried to leave campus. She showed me the photographs of our tryst and coldly informed me that I was nothing more than a fling, a pathetic mid-life crisis that ended now. She blamed me for the affair; my seduction of a married man a deliberate act to lure him from his family and the marital bed. To my chagrin, I blurted out that he loved me and that I loved him. I remember her bitter laughter at that; she called me naïve, which I was. He had played me when I had believed his affections were genuine, that I was special and that he cared for me. I was devastated. Now I look back and wonder how I could ever have believed that a man so many years my senior would want to be with a teenager."

"Because he could." Edward's voice is steady, belying his hatred for the man who has caused so much pain. "Because it bolstered his ego to seduce a young student and to be desired in return. Don't blame yourself for naiveté, Carlisle. You were young and inexperienced with relationships. Someone took your trust and exploited it – there is no way that was your fault. You know that – right?"

"It gets worse." The words fall like stones into a well. When they hit the water it is with deep resonance.

"A professor suddenly quitting, mid semester, tends to be noticed by the student body. I'll never know how, but it got out and the whole sordid affair was leaked to the local news. I couldn't cope with the whispering and the stares in the halls, being so publicly outed. They openly speculated reasons for the affair, of how and why; the obvious answer was for grades. He was known to be harsh with his marks – they all believed I did it to pass the semester. They weren't shy with their judgements – they called me disgusting and desperate, willing to sell myself to pass his class. Of course, they then turned their attention to my other professors to see if I was whoring myself to the entire faculty."

Carlisle's eyes are bleak. It is painfully apparent that he has not moved past this incident, that he finds himself unable to face the world again for fear of being recognised. It is all so clear now – the inability to touch Edward in public, his terror of showing affection is a deep seated fear of being ridiculed and judged. Despite the likelihood of this ever happening again being so very low, Carlisle has an insurmountable fear in his mind and needs to push himself, to break down the walls he himself has built.

The humiliation turned a shy, introverted young man into a recluse, terrified of the outside world, convinced as he was that everyone he met would know about the disgrace of his having an affair with a married man, his own professor. It was inevitable that he blamed himself, of course, his fragile self-esteem in tatters, beyond repair.

"My parents… they were so ashamed of me. Their friends asked questions – questions my parents couldn't or wouldn't answer. They contacted me one last time to tell me I was cut off. They wouldn't return my calls, my letters came back unopened. I needed them, I wanted to explain, but my family are proud and I had brought nothing but shame and dishonour. My grandparents still live in Italy, and I pray they have no idea of what I have done to the family. My father disowned me, he spoke for both of them. I have no idea what my mother wanted. He didn't leave me to starve – he released my trust fund early and deposited the money in my account. Mama may well have agreed with his decision, but I'll never know now. As they ended all contact, I did the only thing I could do – I changed my name legally to bury the scandal and to release them from the burden. I transferred schools to New York and used my trust fund to pay for the rest of my education."

"So Cullen isn't your real name?"

"Yes – now it is, legally. People assume it's a penname and I don't correct them. My former name was Benefici."

"Oh." Realisation comes as a hard blow to Edward. Benefici. The name is synonymous with quality and culture. Edward recognises the name from the wine list at the Dragonfly – it is what most patrons would call a 'considered purchase' for a special occasion. No wonder he can afford to live here. His trust fund must have been substantial to sustain this lifestyle.

"You've heard of it of course. Everyone has."

Edward chooses his words carefully.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the brand. But I've not heard of what happened. And back in Maine you can be whoever you want to be – this incident can't continue to shape your entire existence." He crouches before Carlisle and takes his hands, begging him to understand. "I need you to forgive that young man who believed the best in someone. He didn't do anything wrong. The best medicine is to put it behind you. It was a youthful error in judgement that hurt you so terribly at the time, but which time has cleansed and all but erased from the collective memory. I can't imagine the pain you've been through, of losing the love of your family, but I need you to look forward now, build a future… hopefully with me. I'm here for you. Let me help. I love you."

Edward will do whatever it takes to protect Carlisle in his new life if he chooses to move forward and leave the pain in the past where it belongs. Once he comes to terms with both the lack of gossip and the acceptance of their relationship, he can begin to heal and be able to accept the love offered to him without malicious intent or ulterior motive. In time he can finally know true love and feel worthy of it.

Unburdened at last, mixed tears of embarrassment and relief trickle down Carlisle's face when he sees Edward's sincerity, understands that he will not run, will never leave him broken hearted and alone. He slumps down onto the sofa.

"This place... I ran here to hide, to blend in and become a shadow. It felt like the right thing to do. I could disappear for good, change my name, and forget my past – move on. But it didn't happen."

"It ate away at you like a cancer, a little more each day, and so, instead of healing, you withdrew from everything until you couldn't face the world anymore."

He nods in silence. Edward wipes away the tears with his thumbs in a nurturing gesture.

"And you miss your family."

"Yes." The whispered confession breaks Edward's heart. He folds him in his arms and rocks him, kissing his hair and feeling the hot tears of long-repressed pain spill out unchecked at last, safe in Edward's arms.

Edward understands now. Carlisle had no friends, no one to help him heal; as a result he didn't date again, making little contact with the outside world after graduation. His only presence in the world was through the written word, finding his niche as a successful writer in his field.

Until he came to the Dragonfly Inn that fateful day.

And so it has come to this.

Two nights in NY.

It started out as an adventure, but now everything has changed.