A/N: owns all recognizable parts of Twilight.

Thanks to mommybrook for pre-reading this chapter for me. Oh, and I hereby give you a tissue warning.

Chapter 6

I passed the next few days without really realizing it. I went to the hospital, checked on my patients, performed my surgeries, all in a robotic fashion. I barely heard the words spoken to me, didn't notice the sights surrounding me, nor did I register any of the scents around me. And worst of all, I felt nothing.

On Wednesday, I checked on Cassy early, before she had even been served her breakfast, so that I could avoid Bella altogether. I couldn't bring myself to see her. It made no sense to me that, only a few days ago, I was praying to God to remove the temptation from my path, or to make me strong enough to resist it, and now that I had done exactly that, I was more unhappy than I'd ever been.

I actually missed the burn in my throat that had tortured me so completely only days before. I missed the extreme pain that I had so often caused myself by pinching my thigh during conversations with Bella, so that I could fight the call of her scent. I missed the warmth that filled my chest when I saw her kind smile. I missed the way her gorgeous brown eyes had looked into me, how she had seen me. I missed...her.

I couldn't understand why the torture had not ended. I had passed my test, hadn't I? I neither fed from her nor broke her with my desire. Over and over again, I prayed to God, this time for relief from the pain that her loss was causing me.

On Friday, I was barely able to smile to wish Cassy and her parents well as I signed her discharge papers. The little girl remained in the room with me while her parents carried all of her belongings to the car, and after a full minute of watching her looking at me with a worried expression on her face, I finally spoke.

"Cassy, dear, are you afraid of being back home?"

My patient shook her head. "No, Dr. Cullen. I'm afraid for you. You're sad now. I don't want you to be sad."

I forced a smile and shook my head, trying to reassure her. "No, dear. I'm just fine, really."

The little girl scowled at me, and had I been in a better mood, I probably would have chuckled. "Dr. Cullen, you are sad. I'm a kid, but I'm not a dummy. You're sad the same way I was sad when I first came to the hospital and was missing my best friend Macy." I struggled to contain my shock at the incredible amount of intuition possessed by my eight year old patient. Her scowl turned into a knowing smile. "Whoever you miss, Dr. Cullen, you should go see them again."

I was saved from responding by the re-entrance of Cassy's parents. I hugged the little girl good-bye, and promised to see her in a few weeks at her next check-up appointment, then smiled as I said one final goodbye to her parents and watched them wheel her out of the cancer ward, hopefully for the last time.

The next few weeks passed slowly, and I chose to spend much of my time alone. I had been a vampire for so long, but this was the first time that I truly felt dead. My heart, though it hadn't beat in centuries, felt like it was being squeezed tightly in someone's fist, and my lungs, though they didn't need oxygen, seemed to burn for lack of it.

I finally began to take notice of my senses again, but the nothingness that I had been experiencing for the past week was replaced by the ghost of Bella. No amount of hunting could remove from my memory the taste and scent of my singer's blood. I still longed for it. Each memory of the scent of Bella's arousal or her full red lips stirred my cock to life as well, and no amount of self-stimulation could satisfy my desire. I considered driving to Denali, as I had been propositioned by Irina enough times in the past to know that she would be willing to help with my problem, but the thought of her did not seem the least bit tempting.

Each member of my family tried to talk to me, to bring me out of my depression. None of them helped, though, because none of them understood. They couldn't.

Jasper came to me one afternoon, during the second week without Bella. He tried to convince me to go to see her again.

"Carlisle," he drawled. "Not everything in this world is black and white, pass or fail. Don't you think there might be a grey area somewhere here?"

"No," was my curt reply.

Jasper ran a hand through his hair and looked at me exasperatedly. "Listen to me. You have a chance here. You think I don't feel what you feel when you look at me and Ali? Or Rose and Emmett? Or Edward and Tanya? You want what we have, I know that you do. And I know without a doubt that you love this girl. Why are you fighting it so hard?"

"Because I'm not certain that I want her more than I want her blood. It's a risk I won't subject her to."

Jasper was extremely frustrated by my response. He swore that the emotional pain that I was in was by far the worst he had experienced in all his years, and begged me to relieve us both of it. I simply sighed in response. If only it was so easy.

I had been raised by an intolerant man, but one who taught me about God. Even after becoming a vampire, I had held tightly onto that belief, sure that, if I continued to live righteously, abstained from breaking His commandments, that there was hope for me if my existence should ever come to an end. And I had done so, for three centuries, denying the desire for human blood to consume that of animals instead, working to save humans instead of hurting them, and always turning to God in my times of need. I had not been a lustful man, or greedy, or a glutton. I was not one to wallow in despair.

And then Bella appeared in my life. And now I was all of these.

Even without her, I was failing her test.

I apologized to Jasper, and promised to spend less time at home, so that at least he would not be forced to endure the suffering with me.

I did, in fact, stay away. As often in possible, really. But leaving my house did not guarantee time alone, as I discovered in the third week without Bella.

I was laying on my back in my clearing, staring up at the stars late one night, wondering what it might take to feel like myself once again, when footsteps and the scent of maple syrup and pears, with a hint of brown sugar and cedar. Edward.

I moved to sit up, but he stopped me. "Don't get up, Carlisle," he said softly as he laid on the ground beside me. "I've wondered for a long time what it is you stare at when you lay here, I thought I'd give it a look myself."

We lay in silence for at least an hour, each of us contemplating the sky above us.

"Carlisle?" Edward called softly. I turned my face in his direction. "We've spent a good part of a century together now. I've heard your thoughts all through that time. Do you know what thoughts have been most prevalent in your mind in all these years?"
I shook my head, waiting for his answer.

"God, first and foremost. You've never given up hope, never stopped turning to him. I've always been puzzled by this, as you know that I am as yet unconvinced that we, as vampires, are not automatically damned. But you've held on, never giving up your beliefs.

And the second most common thought you've had was of Esme Platt. I remember when you first changed me, when you would think of her when she was your patient at sixteen. You always thought of her wistfully, wishing that you'd see her again. That changed when you found her the second time... Your thoughts, for the first time since I knew you, were filled with regret and guilt. You've blamed yourself for years for not getting there in time to save her, for missing your chance to love her and have her love you."

"I hesitated," I whispered.

Edward smiled softly. "For one so sure of God, this has always amazed me about you. Do you not believe in fate, Carlisle? She died because she wasn't yours."
I looked away, the thought chipping away at my carefully-built walls.

"Even now, Carlisle," Edward continued. "You are convinced that God tests you with Bella. This God you believe in, has He stopped being the benevolent being that you have always believed in? Your strength and faith have been tested for three hundred years now. Has it ever crossed your mind that she may actually be a reward for your patience and efforts?"

My head whipped back toward him. It was not something I had considered.

"There is another possibility as well," he continued. "You are so sure she is your test. Maybe it is, but with the reward attached, in a way. Maybe, if you can overcome the call of your singer's blood, the most difficult test of all, then her love is your reward. Maybe, Carlisle, maybe you don't have to fight both."

"And if I fail the test?"

Edward smiled. "Then I suppose you'd forfeit the reward. And that, in itself, would be the punishment, if there must be one. Just think about it, Carlisle. That's all I ask. You've meant too much to me in my years to see you suffer so." He patted my hand. "I've got to get back to Tanya. See you soon?" He smiled at my nod, and then rose and ran away, leaving me deep in thought.

A week later, I had come to no conclusions. I continued to go to work each day, my shoulders heavy, as was my heart. I was still a good doctor, but I knew that my bedside manner was suffering as I struggled to find the ability to smile.

Finally, the day came for Cassy's check up appointment. I looked forward to seeing the little girl, to finding her healthy and sending her family home happy and ready to celebrate as they had planned. At eleven on the dot, I knocked on the door of her room in the outpatient clinic. Seeing her sweet face light up upon seeing me, I managed a genuine smile for the first time since I had kissed Bella.

"Hello, dear," I greeted my patient before turning to welcome her parents. "Let's just get you all checked out, shall we?"
She nodded excitedly. "Mommy says we can go to Chuck E. Cheese if I'm all better!" I didn't miss the hope in her voice, and said a short silent prayer that I would be giving her the news that they wished to hear.

After a thorough examination, and a look over the results from the tests that had been performed on her blood the day before, Cassy was officially in remission.

After many hugs and thanks, I offered to sit with Cassy while her parents pulled the car up to the door.

As we sat together, waiting on her mother to come retrieve her, I asked her what she was looking forward to most about being healthy again.

Cassy smiled. "I get to play outside with Macy again. That's my friend, the one I told you that I missed so much." Her smile faded then, and she furrowed her brow, studying my face for a moment before she spoke again. "You didn't go see your friend yet, Dr. Cullen."

It wasn't a question.

"How do you know that I didn't?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because even you are smiling at me, your eyes are sad," she said matter-of-factly. "You really should, you know. No one should be sad like that when they don't have to be."

I sat quietly for a moment, the profound words of my eight year old patient making another chip in the wall I had built around my heart.

"I will certainly think about it," I promised. It was the most honest answer I could give.

"The next time I see you, I hope your eyes will smile at me," she said, reaching her tiny arms up to wrap around my neck. "Thank you for taking care of me," she whispered into my shoulder.

I hugged her back gently, not parting from her until I heard her mother's soft footsteps outside the door.

"You go enjoy your celebration now, sweetheart," I said, smiling one last time at Cassy. "And be a good girl for your parents."

I rose from the bed, walking over to shake her mother's hand one last time, and then stood in the doorway, watching as they walked out of the hospital, hoping that the little girl who had touched my life so deeply would live a long, happy life of her own.

Four hours later, I was scrubbing in for surgery when my pager began to buzz. I asked my scrub nurse to check the number.

"It's a 9-1-1 from the E.R.," she replied.

I paused. "I was really hoping to get Mr. Henry's surgery this afternoon. Can you call down to the E.R.? Ask them if anyone else is on call."

I continued to wash my hands while my nurse made the call, but stopped suddenly when I heard her voice drop. I turned to her, concerned. "What is it?" I asked.

"You need to go, Dr. Cullen. It's one of your patients."

Without hesitation, I grabbed a towel on my way out of the scrub room and made my way quickly down to the emergency room. I was met at the entrance to the department by one of the trauma nurses that I knew well, Anne. I recognized the sympathetic look on her face; it was a look I had seen her give to many families of patients that we had been unable to save. I knew immediately that I had been called down here to pronounce one of my patients dead.

It was a part of the job that I hated. In all the years that I had been a doctor, it had never become any easier. I sighed softly, trying to mentally ready myself to walk into the room.

I stepped through the door and nearly fell to the floor. Nothing could have readied me for this.

Laying in the bed, covered in blood, tubes, and wires, and attached to a heart monitor that registered only a flat line, was Cassy.