FAQ: Shouldn't Carlisle and Edward sue? A: I briefly went over that in a previous chapter. Yes, of course they could sue. However, a lawsuit would drag their personal life into the public eye. It wouldn't be difficult for their vanilla friends and their employers to find out. In other words, there could be other repercussions. They have to weigh that chance with the possible outcome. Note, the best possible outcome is not getting their children back. They were never the children's legal guardians, so they have no rights when it comes to only thing they could hope to gain is money, and I think you might agree that going through a lengthy and embarrassing lawsuit is not what the boys need right now.

Being busy doctors with demanding schedules, Carlisle and Edward rarely got those slow-start mornings where they had the luxury of drifting back to consciousness. At first, Carlisle only knew that he was warm. Not overheated, but that content kind of warm with the sun filtering in through the window and the blankets bunched around his waist.

The familiar pattern of Edward's sleep-noises was a comfort to him. He rolled over, his eyes still closed, and let his arm drape around Edward's waist. He snuggled closer, and began to trail soft kisses-mere brushes of his lips-across Edward's back. Edward sighed in his sleep, and Carlisle let his fingers trace designs against his husband's stomach.

By that time, consciousness had a firmer grasp on him. It didn't take much thought to be intimate with his husband, but he was beginning to wonder what was going on. What had brought this rare peaceful morning? Did one of them have an appointment to get to sooner than later? A shift? And why wasn't Riley up by now?

Carlisle's eyes flew open, and he rolled onto his back that same instant. He braced himself, but it was no use. Loss hit him with the same devastating violence it did every time he had to remember his children were gone.

It happened surprisingly often given that the pain of grief, his anger, his helpless frustration were all constant companions. Still, there were those moments of muscle memory, the thoughts and actions that had become ingrained in the eight months they'd had with Riley and Bree. He caught himself scanning the room automatically when he had no shoes on, looking for renegade Legos or other feet-destroying toys. Other days when he woke to his alarm, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rose to get Bree ready, remembering only after he'd taken a few steps that his daughter was in someone else's house.

Had their new foster parents figured out Bree's favorite game? How she loved it when Edward or Carlisle named parts of their face-nose, cheek, ears-and she would kiss them there? Could it only have been a week before that they'd last played that game?

Carlisle ran a hand over his eyes, remembering Riley getting in on the action. He wiggled his way between Edward and Bree and collected kisses from his sister. "Nose….Chin….Butt!" And he had waved his butt in her face. Bree, giggling at her brother's antics, still obediently kissed his butt.

With a sigh, Carlisle got out of bed. He trudged to the bathroom. He tried not to think about what his kids were doing, if they were smiling, if they were happy.

As he showered, he tried to concentrate on other things. Mundane things. He poured shampoo into his hand, methodically massaging every inch of his scalp. He flipped through songs in his head, trying to find a good one to sing in the shower-if he were ever to sing in the shower, which he never had.

Edward sang in the shower. Carlisle remembered the first time he heard woke one morning-very shortly after his sub had become his boyfriend-to hear Edward's clear tenor belting out, "I love you, baby, and if it's quite all right, I need you baby, to warm the lonely nights."

The corner of Carlisle's mouth twitched with that memory, and he sighed again, leaning his head against the cool tile. It was confusing to have something as deep and beautiful as his love for his husband strong in his heart at the same time as his agony over losing his children. He wanted to smile, but smiling felt wrong. His love for Edward always made him feel as though he could fly, but the weight on his shoulders threatened to squash him flat.

Carlisle turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and leaned up against the counter, staring at his reflection.

After a little over a week of mourning, he and Edward had agreed to try a half day of work. Somehow, the world had kept on moving even while their world shattered, and it was time to rejoin the human race.

Carlisle scratched his fingers through his many-days growth of beard. He looked… not well. The thick beard did nothing to hide his sallow skin, and it only made his eyes appear more sunken. It wasn't a sight that would assure any patients.

It didn't take much thought to identify the sick feeling that churned in his gut as he shaved. This step, the first real step toward healing and being whole again, felt like a betrayal. He'd failed Riley and Bree, and even Edward. It felt wrong that he should get to put his life back together.

It also felt impossible. How could there be such a thing as being whole again when Riley and Bree had taken a huge chunk of his heart and soul with them?

Carlisle had almost spaced out-he was standing still with his beard three-fourths gone and the electric razor buzzing a fraction of an inch from his face-when Edward's arms locking around his waist brought him back to Earth. He watched in the mirror as Edward kissed his back and leaned his head against his shoulder, holding him. His presence and his love gave Carlisle the strength he needed. He relished Edward's weight against him, his hot breath on his skin. Neither of them spoke. They didn't have to.

When he was done, Carlisle turned around. He gathered Edward close to him, tilting their foreheads together. Throughout all this mess, this was the closest Carlisle got to happy-when he held his husband close, breathed the same air, and occupied the same space.

Edward raised his hands to Carlisle's cheeks. He brushed his thumbs over the freshly-shaved skin, feeling the contours of Carlisle's face. "There you are," he said.

Carlisle lifted his head to study Edward. The other man's beard was rather impressive for only a week's growth. In other times, when they had a few days vacation or Edward had just gotten lazy, Carlisle had enjoyed the roughness of his whiskers as they kissed and...well, whatnot. Now, though, they were a physical manifestation of crippling grief. Nothing good. Nothing welcome.

"Come here," he said. Taking Edward's hand he led him to sit on the edge of the tub. Smoothing his hair back affectionately, Carlisle left him only briefly to get what he needed from under the sink.

Edward chuckled-the sound wry and humorless-as Carlisle began to trim down his beard. He cut in haphazard chunks, just wanting to thin it out to make shaving easier. "Are you trying to say you don't like the sasquatch look?" Edward asked.

"Keep still, baby," Carlisle said, but he scratched his fingers at Edward's nape.

Edward sighed-a contented noise rather than a huff-and closed his eyes.

The next few minutes were peaceful and soothing. The silence didn't seem so awful just then. Rather, it felt nice, intimate. There wasn't much Carlisle loved more than taking care of his boy.

When Carlisle put the scissors down, Edward opened his eyes. He cocked an eyebrow when he saw Carlisle purse his lips. "What?"

Carlisle laughed. It was an odd, strangled sound, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "You look terrible," he said.

Edward glanced around him at the mirror, and he balked. His lips quirked up, down, up, down, as though he wasn't sure if he should smile. It was a funny sight. His beard was patchy and uneven-not a good look at all. "Oh, hell. You have to fix it," he said, choking around a small laugh of his own.

Carlisle kissed the top of his hair, lingering there a moment. "Of course," he said.

He shook the shaving cream and squirted a dollop into his palm. Carefully, he smoothed it over Edward's cheeks, under his nose, across the underside of his chin. He spread it on thick, caressing as he went.

Edward watched him, silent but intent. The air around them sparked with familiar warmth and want. Carlisle took a deep breath. It was ridiculous to feel so nervous. This man was his husband, his love. It should hardly be so surprising to feel the stirring of passion for him, to want to kiss him, shaving cream be damned. To want… more.

There was some comfort in the fact he thought Edward was on the same page. His eyes were dark, tinged over with lust, but also uncertain.

Foregoing the electric razor, Carlisle picked up a fresh disposable razor. He stepped in close, slotting one leg between Edward's, and tilted his husband's head up. As he worked, Edward's eyes stayed riveted to him, so much so that Carlisle found it difficult to concentrate. He wasn't quite sure how, but the slide of the razor against Edward's cheek, the way he stripped away cream and hair to expose fresh skin, was erotic.

Minutes passed in heavy, heated silence. Carlisle put the razor down and took his husband's clean-shaven face in his hands.

There you are, Edward had said. Apt words. This was his husband. They'd needed time to retreat, to hide from the world and themselves. But now, here they were again. Vulnerable without even that little bit of armor. Open to each other.

Edward touched him, the movements tentative, feeling his smooth cheeks and chin again. Carlisle did the same. After a few moments of this, he ducked his head and kissed his husband with a gentle pressure.

This time, the kiss lingered, turned more serious. Carlisle hooked his hands underneath Edward's elbows and guided him to his feet. Edward's arms wound around him, spread across his back. When Carlisle pressed with his tongue, Edward opened his mouth to him.

A thrill went down Carlisle's spine, a jolt of energy that cut through his lethargy. With his hands at Edward's waist, he turned them. He walked Edward backward a few paces, and pressed him up against the wall next to the shower. Edward muffled a moan against his lips, and his hands fell to cup Carlisle's ass.

With a hungry growl, Carlisle thrust his hips forward, pinning Edward, grinding. It was as though he simply hadn't realized until then he was ravenous, and Edward was the only thing he wanted. Needed. The way Edward was clutching at him, eagerly matching his kiss, bucking up against him, Carlisle figured he wasn't alone in his need.

As quickly as it had all begun, though, Carlisle broke their kiss with a gasp. He took several steps backward, running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

"Carlisle?" Edward asked, his voice breathless and confused.

Carlisle squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He wanted to turn back to him, but he was momentarily too flustered and frustrated. He couldn't have explained himself even if he wanted to, and he very much didn't.

Edward put a hand to his shoulder, and Carlisle cringed away. Suddenly, he needed to be out of there. Their bathroom wasn't small by any stretch of the imagination, but it was stifling to him right then. "We need… I... " Carlisle swallowed. He opened his eyes, but he didn't look at Edward. "We need to get ready for work."

"I… okay," Edward said.

"I'll make us something to eat. You should shower."

"Okay," Edward said again, his voice soft.

Carlisle paused. He could feel Edward's eyes on him, but he didn't know what to do about it. He was just so out of sorts.

He turned and left the room without another word.

~0~

Carlisle's strange behavior in the bathroom was far from baffling. Rather, Edward supposed it wasn't unexpected, but only because nothing was unexpected. This situation they were faced with, this thing that had happened to them, was far too much to grapple with, and Edward's own moods spanned a strange and terrible spectrum.

It wasn't as though it would even make sense for Edward to ask Carlisle what was wrong. He knew the answer to that question. Their children had been ripped from their arms, and that was only the start of their trauma. It set off a slew of side issues, like rivulets flowing off the main rapids except they flowed in raging torrents instead of babbling creeks.

Edward was worried and maddened about his children-were their new foster parents treating them well? How were they coping? How was Riley handling any of this? Their angry, stubborn little boy needed a firm but also loving and patient hand. Did their new parents understand that?

And Bree. It wasn't simply about keeping her fed, clothed, changed, and safe. Were they teaching her? She was a sponge, learning something new and incredible every day. Were her new parents feeding her curious mind?

Would she remember Edward and Carlisle? She probably wouldn't, and while that was a mercy, it was also one of the most agonizing thoughts Edward had ever known.

All of that was only the beginning. Edward was also a man who loved his parents, like any grown boy did. The thought he would never see them again was unfathomable and yet…

He hated them. Christ, he hated them so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Hate and love. Worry. Grief. Frustration. To say his head was chaotic was a gross understatement. So, no. He couldn't say he was shocked by whatever had happened to Carlisle in the bathroom.

He also couldn't say why it stuck out, why that, more than anything, had worried him. But it was just one more thing, one more unanswerable question, and that day, Edward had other things to worry about.

Work.

Putting aside the fact Edward's concentration wasn't at its peak, he had a lot more pressing fears. The last eight months had taught him people had very firm opinions about what constituted a parent. A foster child wasn't the same as an adoptive child, wasn't the same as a biological child, depending on who was asked.

When everything had first happened, Edward's direct supervisor had been almost completely unsympathetic. The children weren't dead, so no kind of bereavement applied. They were also not Edward's children-never had been-so he didn't understand what Edward was struggling with.

Incoherent with grief at the time, Edward had been lucky. Esme had grabbed the phone from him and started yelling. Rendered mute and numb by his supervisor's callous words, Edward had no idea what the woman said. All he knew was she had eventually been put in touch with the person over Edward's direct supervisor and that woman had understood the depth of his loss.

Riley and Bree were his kids. It didn't matter that there was no paperwork explicitly stating it, his son and daughter were lost to him forever.

"Take all the time you need," she'd said.

Part of Edward thought he needed way more time than this. Another part thought that there would never be enough time, and he was going to go insane if he had to spend another day in that house, devoid as it was of children's toys and laughter. Still, he was worried. In the eight months they had the kids, Edward had heard any number of insensitive comments. At the time, they'd irritated him. Now he was afraid he'd either punch someone-the bloodlust he felt at times was unbelievable-or burst into tears.

It was Garrett who found him first. "Hey, kid. I'm glad you're here. Listen, I could use your insight on a consult."

Edward was relieved. It was an excuse to shy away from the nurses who were already looking over at him with curiosity written clearly on their features. A consult was also simple enough. Nothing too demanding, and because it was Garrett's patient and not his, Edward wasn't worried about giving his opinion.

"Excellent," Garrett said, scribbling something down in the margin of the chart. "I'll get the interns on that. Makes a lot of sense."

They walked together back toward the nurses station, Garrett intent on studying the chart for the umpteenth time. "Thank you for that," Edward said quietly.

"Mmhmm," Garrett hummed. He snapped the chart shut and looked to Edward with a sympathetic smile. "How are you?"

Edward huffed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know."

"I get that," Garrett said with a nod. He didn't press. "How about the big guy?"

Edward bit the inside of his cheek. "I don't know that either," he said quietly, replaying the scene in the bathroom for the thousandth time.

"Yeah." He looked around and took Edward by the arm, leading him into a less trafficked hallway. "So, listen. I'm going to give you this without comment, okay?" He handed Edward a card.

Edward glanced at it. He wasn't entirely surprised to see it was a psychologist. Dr. Alistair St. Clair. He looked up at Garrett and quirked an eyebrow. "You? Really?" he said without judgment.

Garrett's mouth quirked. "No. Not me. He and I… dated for a time." He looked Edward in the eyes. "You understand?"

Edward nodded. He understood. He'd met Garrett in the scene. More likely than not, Dr. St. Clair was one of Garrett's previous subs. Which meant if Carlisle and Edward decided they needed help, the doctor would be more qualified than most. Edward wasn't sure therapy was what he needed or wanted, but it was never a bad idea to keep it in mind.

He took Garrett's hand and shook it, squeezing tightly. There had been a time he really, really disliked this man. He was glad they'd gotten past that. "Thank you," he said. "Really."

A/N: As always, thank you to Packy, Mina, JessyPT, songster, and Barburella for being almost as invested in this story as I am. Hearts.

And you, my lovelies. How are you doing? Any better? There's still a bumpy ride ahead of us, but we'll get through it.

Probably….