A/N: I'm not ready either...

Edward was out of breath. His face was hot, his cheeks flushed. He stood, shirtless and disheveled, staring down at the bed. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his finger.

"You...you three...are brats."

Hands on his hips, he stared down at his eight-month-old children and let out a huff. "I used to be good at this, you know that? I could get a squirmy baby dressed no problem. You three. You make me look bad. Daddy would say karma is coming back to bite me in the butt. I'm afraid I'm an even bigger brat than all of you combined, so I guess he has a point."

Ethan rolled his tongue, grinning up at Edward. Beside him, Izzi tried to roll over again. Beside her, Lucas did what Lucas did best—he looked pensive and curious.

Edward caught Izzi before she could roll over onto her brother. He laid her back down between the boys.

Ethan Jackson and Isabella Daria were twin terrors. They were his little mischief makers. Lucas Liam was quieter than the other two, and he often got teary when Edward or Carlisle seemed angry or irritated.

Edward leaned down and blew a raspberry against Lucas's tummy, gratified when his little boy giggled. The other two grunted, jealous and wanting in on the action. With a sigh, Edward got back to the wrestling match—trying to get his children dressed. Properly dressed. Slick pants and shirts for the boys; the cutest, fluffy dress for Izzi.

Just as he'd finally gotten all three children into their best dress, Ethan managed to get the nipple off the bottle Edward had attempted to distract him with, and he got formula all over himself and the bed.

Edward put a hand over his eyes, tamping down his frustration as Ethan began to whimper. It was his own fault for not checking that the bottle was securely closed. Edward blew out of breath, grabbed his son by the ankle, and pulled him forward. "Okay, bub. It's okay. I know. You're all cold and wet and sticky."

It took another fifteen minutes to get all three babies in their best—socks and shoes included. Then, he boxed Izzi in while he took her brothers downstairs. Setting them in the playpen, he hurried back upstairs for Izzi. He collapsed with her on the sofa and sighed. "I'm pooped." He lifted her a bit, so he could kiss her nose. "How does Daddy do this every day, huh?"

As they both had busy careers, the kids had a nanny—a friend of Bella's named Jacob Black. But back when they had Riley and Bree, Carlisle had taken a more predictable job that allowed him to be home most nights. Edward's schedule was more unpredictable, so it was usually Carlisle who had the kids cleaned and fed, and dinner on the table when Edward got home from his later shift. Nights that Edward wasn't working, they got the kids ready for bed together.

Tonight, though, Carlisle had a department meeting that meant Edward was on his own. He'd been determined to show some appreciation. He wanted to have the kids nicely dressed and dinner on the table when his husband got home.

No such luck. The kids were dressed in their cutest—wrinkled and already stained, what the heck? But dinner wasn't even defrosted, let alone anywhere near the table.

"Honey, I'm home."

Edward craned his head over the back of the couch. "You're late."

Carlisle leaned down and kissed his pouting lips, lingering until their daughter—who'd been bouncing up and down on Edward's lap, straining for Carlisle since he came in the door—grabbed a handful of his blond hair.

"Ouch." Carlisle extricated his hair from his daughter's fist carefully.

"Iz," Edward admonished. "Don't grab."

Carlisle lifted the baby girl up into his arms. "Look at you, Izzie girl. So pretty." He peppered kisses all over her face while she giggled.

"Don't worry." Carlisle stepped over to the playpen. Ethan was on his hands and knees, crying out. Lucas was sitting, waving his hands wildly and chanting in an increasingly loud series of 'uh's'. "Daddy has hugs for his boys, too." Carlisle transferred Izzi to Edward's waiting arms and leaned in to scoop up his baby boys.

Edward smiled. He would never get tired of watching Carlisle with their children. The joy on his husband's face and the happy, noisy chorus of three babies ecstatic at seeing their father again, were some of the best things in Edward's world.

He moved to Carlisle's side and wrapped an arm around his waist, completing their family unit. Carlisle turned his head over his shoulder, catching Edward's lips again for one more kiss.

"Sorry," Edward said. "I wanted to have the kids ready and I was trying to get around to dinner, but that didn't happen. The monsters ganged up on me."

Carlisle flashed a grin at him. "Well, I planned for that contingency."

"Oh, really?"

Carlisle angled his body and pointed a chin in the direction of the foyer. Sure enough, there were two bags of their favorite take out there. Edward laughed. "Ah. You planned for my inevitable failure. That's so sweet."

"Hey." Carlisle dipped and kissed him softly. "We've had pizza or cereal several nights on my watch."

Edward smiled, the small twist of self-recrimination easing almost as soon as it had begun. They made a good team, neither of them letting the other get down. Raising babies was tough. Raising three of them at once was insane.

A few minutes later, their monsters were in their high chairs. Edward laughed, watching the wide-eyed fascination on Ethan's face as he discovered mashed potatoes. He squished his hands in it and giggled.

Meanwhile, Iz studiously ignored the new mashed potatoes, preferring the small pile of mixed berries. One of Edward's favorite things was watching the kids master dexterity, picking up the small, rolling berries and moving them to their mouths.

Lucas was by no means neat, but he was tidier than his siblings. He took a pinch of the mashed potatoes, looked at his fingers dubiously, and—ever brave—darted his tongue out to taste. He made a wet, "mmm," noise and took a bigger, though still careful, bite.

Beside Edward, Carlisle slung an arm over his closest shoulder. He raised his hand, gazing at Edward adoringly as he brushed his fingers over his cheek. "What a beautiful family I have."

Warmth flooded through Edward's chest. He turned his head to kiss Carlisle's fingertips. "They're wonderful." He leaned in and sucked Carlisle's earlobe into his mouth, smiling when his husband jumped and moaned. "We should get rid of them for a few hours sometime soon though."

Carlisle put his hand on Edward's leg and rubbed his thigh. Sex was doable. Finding time to slip into scene, though, could be complicated. "Soon," he promised.

~0~

Esme hosted a get together in late spring. It occurred to Carlisle, as he looked around her sprawling lawn, that a lot of friendships had arisen in the wake of his and Edward's personal crisis.

In the early days, when they were barely functioning, Esme and Bella had formed a close friendship—one of the reasons Bella had been able to step into the role of disciplinarian after Carlisle had gone into his tailspin. But more than that, Esme had also become good friends with Emmett and Rosalie, and Garrett and Kate.

The triplets were in heaven. Carlisle was sure they thought this whole party had been thrown specifically for them. They were always a natural draw no matter where they went, so they were used to attention. Here, they were surrounded not only by friendly strangers but by plenty of people they were familiar with. Carlisle would swear they were milking it.

"Shoot."

Esme's disgruntled voice drew Carlisle's attention away from his children to his best friend. She looked somewhat flustered, which was unusual. Esme was the epitome of a perfect hostess—all grace and ease.

"What's going on?"

She smiled at him, game face back in place. "I must be losing my touch in my old age. There aren't enough napkins by a long shot. I really could use another veggie tray for safety, and I'm out of my favorite wine completely." She grimaced and patted her side in an absent, distracted way. "I could ask my husband to bring those things, but he won't be back for another two hours."

Carlisle chuckled. "I can make a run for you."

Esme brightened. "Would you?"

"Of course. It's no problem. Let me just make sure Edward is okay with the kids."

A curious look came over Esme's face. "Why don't you take Edward with you?"

Carlisle's eyebrows shot up. "I can't do that," he said, a little mistified that she would even suggest such a thing.

Getting out of the house with three babies was always a production. There was no way Carlisle and Edward would even think about running a simple errand together.

Esme laughed. "I'd understand if you didn't feel comfortable, but look around. The kids are being well taken care of at the moment. I don't think any of them has been in your arms once since you walked in the door."

That much was true. They'd been passed from arm to arm. When they weren't on someone's lap, they were tumbling around on the grass with Esme's friendly, patient beagle puppy while the adults around them cooed.

Bella, who'd been listening in, came and wrapped a friendly arm around Esme's shoulders. "I'll take official responsibility for them if that makes you feel better."

It did make Carlisle feel considerably better. A doting and attentive mother, Esme had never had a problem playing hostess and managing her own children. Bella was close to the triplets. As she'd promised when she was pregnant with them, she loved them. Carlisle knew he could trust not only both these women but the rest of his friends to care for his children.

"It's only a few minutes," Esme said. "When was the last time you and Edward had even a few minutes alone?"

Carlisle's answering smile was sardonic. Minutes alone were few and far between.

"Go on," Bella said.

Deciding not to look a gifthorse in the mouth, Carlisle cast one more glance at the children—Lucas was fast asleep in Rosalie's arms, Ethan and Izzi were entertaining Kate and Garrett—before grabbing his husband by the hand.

"This feels almost like a date," Edward said when they were at the store. They were being a little love-sick—more handsy and almost giddy than usual.

"I know we didn't get much of a dating experience, but I'd like to think I could do better than this, trips to San Francisco aside."

Edward took his hand and swung it playfully. "I don't know. I think it's got romantic potential."

Carlisle arched an eyebrow. "Oh, this I have to hear. A supermarket shopping date?"

"You have to be creative, see? You bring a guy to the supermarket and tell him that you're going to cook him a fantastic dinner. Anything his heart desires. Shop the outside aisles, right? You start out in produce and decide on a side. It'd be nice—the two of you bantering about the merits of the different kinds of lettuce. Finding out about your abhorrent love of Brussels sprouts."

Carlisle laughed because he remembered that day, so many years ago, when he made dinner for Edward and found out about his absolute and irrational hatred of Brussels sprouts. "Imagine the horror when your date figured out the horrible things you do to broccoli and cauliflower."

Edward loved cooking with both vegetables. The way he prepared them, however, negated them as healthy choices. Carlisle had often reminded him he was a doctor, and he should know better.

"Anyway. You start at the produce section is the point," Edward said. "Then you move on to protein. Find a nice hunk of meat." Edward waggled his eyebrows, leaning in to speak directly into Carlisle's ear. "Flirt a little about how much you like sausage."

Carlisle rolled his eyes, but his lips tugged up at the corners despite his best effort. He pecked Edward's mouth in a quick kiss. "Brat."

Edward just grinned. "You pick up a good bread—something nice and crusty—and you end up here." He gestured around them."Wine. A good, romantic dinner always includes wine. Playful wine. Sweet wine. Maybe something with chocolate undertones." He leaned closer again. "Something that will taste delicious when I lick it off your tongue."

Carlisle pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stifle a groan. Before he could figure out how to suggest a quickie in the car—was it even possible with three carseats—a tiny voice drew his attention.

"Hi."

Carlisle looked down, and he nearly fainted. He heard Edward's startled cry and knew he wasn't imagining what he was seeing.

It was Bree. Their daughter. Their little baby Bree.

She was changed, of course. She'd lost most of her chubby, rounded, babyness. Her features were closer to a child's now. Her dark hair was long, her face cut leaner, and her eyes more expressive, but this was Bree.

She tilted her head, looking at them curiously. "Do you want to play?" she asked brightly. "You look nice. Not like a bad mens."

Edward was squeezing Carlisle's hand so hard, he'd be surprised if his bones didn't crack, but that hardly mattered. His head spun, and his eyes stung and he stared at the little girl. He'd forgotten how to speak. He'd forgotten how to breathe.

"H-h-hey, sweetie," Edward said. His voice was a strangled wisp of sound. Carlisle heard him swallow. "Yeah. We're nice. I think."

"Bree!"

A frantic shout had the little girl looking over her shoulder. It sounded like the person was several aisles away. It was a woman's voice, but then another joined her. "Bree!"

A little boy's voice.

Carlisle was certain he was going to faint.

"Uh oh," Bree said. "That's my mommy." She gasped rather theatrically and covered her mouth with her hands. "I wasn't supposed to walk away. Oh no."

Finally, Carlisle found his voice. "You'd better get back to her," he said, his tone numb.

Bree nodded. "Yeah, okay." She took a few steps away then paused, turned back and flung her arms around Edward's waist. She did the same with Carlisle. He had enough time to press his hand against her small head, feeling her soft hair, before she let him go. "Bye, Mr. Mens," she said and darted in the opposite direction.

Edward whimpered and took an involuntary step forward. Carlisle, still hearing the somewhat frantic voice of Bree's Mommy and Riley—it had to be Riley—around the corner, grabbed Edward by the arm and hauled him backward, out of sight. Just in time. Bree reappeared in the arms of a woman with wild, red hair. At their side was not the little boy Carlisle expected, but a big boy of about eight years old.

Like his sister, Riley had gotten taller and skinnier. He was in need of a haircut. From where they were standing, Carlisle could see his achingly familiar, patented Riley scowl as he glared at…

His mother. His biological mother, Victoria.

Carlisle and Edward shared a flabbergasted look before they returned their eyes to the children.

"You have to watch her, Mom. You have to be careful," Riley was admonishing his mother. "She's little, and she likes people. You have to watch her."

"Riley." Victoria, still holding Bree close to her, sighed. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Bud, I'm trying. I'm really trying. You see that, right?"

He remained silent, still scowling stubbornly at her. She sighed again and put a hand to his shoulder. "Things are better. We're getting better, aren't we? I know I'm not the best mom in the world, but I'm not the worst, right?"

Riley looked down, and he shrugged. Even from their vantage point, Carlisle could see the pain that flitted across Victoria's face. He tensed, wondering if she would lash out.

She didn't. "I know I have a lot to make up for, Rye. But maybe you can cut me like the slightest bit of slack?"

"Riley, Mommy loves us," Bree said, her arms around her mother's neck as she looked down on her brother.

He grunted. "You can put her down. I'll hold her hand. I'll help take care of her."

"Okay." Victoria set Bree on her feet, and Riley took her hand. After a heartbeat, he gave his mother's waist a quick squeeze too. Victoria smiled and ruffled his hair. "Okay."

"We need to go," Carlisle whispered.

Edward nodded wordlessly. Together, they turned, shopping cart forgotten, and left the store.

For the second time in his life, Carlisle drove away from his children in a daze. It was different this time for so many reasons. Terrible, and yet…

They got back to Esme's house and went inside. They must have looked as ashen as Carlisle felt, because both Esme and Bella were all over them the instant they reappeared in the backyard. Carlisle had no idea what he said. Somehow, they managed to get across that they were fine; they just needed their children, and they needed to be alone.

Carlisle checked each of the babies' car seats three times before he would allow himself to believe they were safe. He was paranoid, he realized. It felt as though someone or something was going to snatch these children away from him, too. Edward must have felt the same way, because he kept looking over his shoulder and then patting the babies, examining them as though he expected there had to be something wrong.

It took forever, but finally, they were home. They took their babies upstairs and got into bed—Carlisle and Edward forming a protective wall around their three miraculous children. The babies were quiet—subdued by the atmosphere and tired from the party. There was little noise in the room except for the occasional whimper of a worried baby and the responding, "shh, shh, shh," as Carlisle or Edward patted their tummies and stroked their hair to get them to settle.

It was a long time before Carlisle found the words. "We would have lost them anyway."

When Riley and Bree were in their care, there had always been the chance that Victoria would get her act together and get them back. The children hadn't yet been up for adoption—just very close to adoption, and because they had no other family willing to take them in, Carlisle and Edward would have been the first people the agency looked to. But there had been that slim chance that Victoria would make a turn for the better. That she would stop missing appointments, and she would find a way to comply with every part of the reunification plan.

She'd done it. The children would have been placed back in their custody.

"I don't know how to feel," Edward said.

Carlisle fell silent, considering that as he wound his finger through Ethan's curls.

It would have been better to lose them to Victoria. It was the violence of the act, the way they had gone to the agency trusting everything could work out only to leave with empty arms. It was Riley's screams and Bree's sobs haunting them for months that turned into years. It was having to wonder if he was a monster, a man who had no business being around defenseless children. Yes, losing them would have broken his heart, but those wounds would have healed clean.

Carlisle's eyes landed on each of his children in turn.

No. That wasn't the hand he was dealt. Yes, he and Edward had been through hell and back. Yes, he had scars. He was the owner of a psyche that had been disfigured in youth only to be mangled again in adulthood. Yes, Edward had, effectively, lost his parents. Yes, they'd had to rebuild their relationship around the ruins of the people they'd been.

But how could Carlisle complain he'd been dealt a crappy hand when he had so much? He had so many wonderful friends who'd rallied around them, done so much for him. Bella's body bore permanent physical evidence of what she'd done for them, and she'd done it gladly. She'd given them three healthy children born of a difficult pregnancy. Carlisle was a father—legally and otherwise.

And he had Edward.

Carlisle reached out and cupped his husband's cheek, marveling. If this whole disaster had taught Carlisle anything, it was that he never had to go through a crisis alone. Edward had shown him with every fiber of himself, his amazing depth of love and devotion, that he would stand by Carlisle's side, fighting his battles with him. They were still finding each other, testing and pushing the limits of the physical relationship they shared. These days, his precious, bratty baby boy was as sated and happy as his beloved husband and partner. They weren't exactly who they'd been before, but they were happy where they were in every aspect of their relationship.

"I think we're lucky," Carlisle said.

Edward raised a brow. "Lucky?" He sounded dubious, but he didn't argue.

"It was the one question we had left, right?" Carlisle asked. He carefully scooped Ethan up, cradling the sleeping baby against his chest as he scooted closer.

"What happened to our kids?" Edward said by rote. Catching on to what Carlisle was doing, he draped Izzi over his chest and scooted.

"We know. Better or worse, we know," Carlisle said. He and Edward worked together until their sides were pressed up against one another, baby Lucas straddling both of them.

"She's not good enough. Riley was still angry. He—" Edward began, but Carlisle hushed him.

"It's better than not knowing." He rested his arm over his children's backs. "She loves them, and she's trying. It's more than we could have hoped to know."

Edward sighed. He rested his arm over the babies's bottoms, below Carlisle's. He moved his head the last inch to kiss him. "You're right. There's peace in that."

"There is."

That was exactly what Carlisle felt—at peace. His babies were warm, safe, and happy in his arms. His husband was still there by his side, smiling at him now, letting this unexpected bit of closure ease some of the grief they would carry forever.

They had troubles, but everyone did. They were minor compared to the good in his life. Carlisle had more than anyone should ask for, and he was happy.

~The End~

A/N: I… don't know why I'm so attached to these boys. I've never been one to believe in sequels and series. I tell a story, and then I move on. But these boys… I don't even know. *dramatic sigh*

Many thanks to JessyPT, Barburella, Songster, MoH, Packy, and Mina. I love you guys muchly. And many thanks to all of you for taking yet another journey with me.

I do have intentions for a gratuitous, "fictional" (doubly fictional?) threesome, but we all know how my intentions turn out 7/10 times. But then again, I'm attached to these kids.

Mwah. Catch you next time, duckies. Thank you so much.