Chapter 15: Researcher

Conveniently, Carlisle is alone in the house. He is currently reading an article about the use of leeches in modern medicine, enjoying both the advancements in understanding that the updated techniques represent and the successful application of a natural process to support healing. When I enter the room, he looks up with a smile.

I can't quite manage to smile back. "I have something I need your advice on—and I will do my best to listen this time."

Sounds serious, he teases. Then he thinks of Alice's forewarning (which is the reason his is the only mind within range of my telepathy) and encourages me to ask my questions. He already knows that Bella wants to consummate our marriage while she's still human. And he is wonderfully understanding.

"Yes," I breathe, torn between relief and embarrassment. I take a deep breath. "I wanted to ask what the first time is like."

Naturally, he immediately thinks back to his first time—in graphic detail. He realizes the next moment and hurriedly tries to block the explicit thoughts.

"It's nothing I haven't already seen," I point out, trying to ease his embarrassment.

I'm a bad father, he thinks to himself, partly joking, but partly serious.

"Of course you're not—it's my intrusion, not your concern."

He sighs. He still feels bad.

"Please believe me," I say. "I am completely fine with it. I hear far worse from Emmett—" Carlisle shushes me wordlessly and I break off. "You know what I mean," I tease.

"I wish I didn't," he teases back.

We share a grin, and then he tries to think about my question without letting his thoughts run away with him. Even so, he can't help thinking that I brought it on myself. I shouldn't have asked Bella to marry me while she's still human if I weren't prepared to give her all that a wife deserves.

"It's my fault," I agree. "I wanted to give her as many human experiences as possible."

He chuckles because I am certainly getting my wish. You can't have it both ways, Edward—either you help her remain human for a little longer, and you give her all of you, or you change her now. Did you really think she would marry you and then wait a year or more (even a week!) to consummate it?

"I realize that now, and you're right. I asked her to marry me. But I'm afraid I can't be as gentle as she needs me to be—" we both flinch, but then he considers Tanya and her sisters' ability and adds to that my incredible self-control and delicate touch… and he thinks I will be able to. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing.

"It was decades before they learned to moderate their touch—"

"You have already learned how to be careful around Bella."

I shake my head. "Not like that. And we're both virgins. How… intense will it be?"

Carlisle lets his thoughts return to his first time, carefully focusing on the question of how it felt (so I don't see as much of Esme this time). It was just as intense as I'd suspected: he was completely consumed by the physical act. For the first time since becoming a vampire, he was utterly focused on a single act, on that one moment. Nothing else mattered—nothing else even entered his head. Their lovemaking is not all that different now; even after 84 years, it is still as passionate, but now he can choose to be less consumed by it—though I see now that they take less care when they are truly alone, and they are more adventurous (Carlisle tries not to dwell on that truth in much detail). The first time, he concludes, it was all about the physical connection, but now they enjoy the physical and metaphysical aspects of their lovemaking.

He believes it will be just as powerful for Bella and me, but obviously different because Bella isn't a vampire, too… So she will have a different experience, both by nature and by necessity—she will be completely caught up in me, but I won't be able to get caught up in her. The most important thing is to prepare for that intensity. You will have to practice… Think about how it might feel, and—he thinks of me sliding a hand inside my trousers.

I grimace, squeezing my eyes shut even though that doesn't stop me seeing his thoughts. I have never felt more mortified in my existence; even Emmett's teasing thoughts are nothing to this moment. If I could blush, my entire body would be scarlet. The only consolation is that Carlisle feels exactly the same way. He has a lot of practice with awkward conversations, but having this conversation with his mind-reading son raises a whole new suite of complications.

"Have you ever—?"

I shake my head quickly.

Oh.

"I never felt the need," I say, but that surprises him (and confuses the doctor), so I do my best to explain further. "I have felt arousal, obviously, but I never wanted to act on it. After I met Bella, I… reconsidered, but I decided it was best not to… tempt myself."

He understands now, and he appreciates my situation. That's good, he thinks, focusing on the positive (which also helps him shed the embarrassment). Resisting the desire will have taught you self-control that you can apply when you are in that situation. I'd be worried if you'd never felt arousal—that would mean your reaction might be unpredictable.

I see a series of snippets of conversations he's had with Esme about my apparent indifference. Her concerns stun me—she thought my reaction could be anything from never feeling anything, living a purely asexual existence, to being utterly obsessed with sex when I finally experienced it. "I never realized she was that worried," I murmur.

Carlisle shrugs. She worried that you'd never get to experience the full gift of love.

I sigh. "Do you think—?"

"She isn't worried anymore," he interrupts, guessing the question from my tone. "When Alice said you were going to fall in love with Bella, she stopped worrying." She did want to talk to you beforehand, though—she asked Alice to keep an eye out. He chuckles at my dumbstruck expression, without interrupting his thoughts. She still wants to talk to you. Alice promised her she had till the wedding, otherwise she would've given you the talk already.

I'm torn between laughing with him and fleeing the house. "I do know how it all works," I mumble.

That's not what she wants to talk to you about.

"What, then?"

He shrugs. The emotional side of it.

I nod, accepting that, and acknowledging her sense of responsibility in her role as my mother, and her perspective as a woman. She can provide insight into Bella's physical and emotional needs, and, unlike Carlisle, she has experienced sex as both a vampire and a human. Except the thought of having this conversation with her makes my body tense up with renewed embarrassment.

"She will be able to answer your question where I've failed," he says ruefully, wondering what else he could share with me without exposing me to unhelpful thoughts.
"You haven't," I assure him. "I had wondered how single-minded the first time might be, and you explained that well." I give him a wry smile. "Please warn Esme—"
He laughs. "She will be fully aware of the impending embarrassment," he assures me. But she wants to be as helpful as possible—for you and for Bella.

I nod, though I know she will worry about the effect of her thoughts on me without considering the effect on her of stirring up potentially painful memories. I feel abruptly rude for asking about such a private moment in their lives. "I'm sorry to have asked such a personal—"

"Edward," he scolds gently. No question is too personal, you ought to know that.

"I've never asked anything so personal before—and I do endeavor to give you as much privacy as I can."

Please don't try to ignore my thoughts for my sake. You are welcome to any of them.

"Thank you," I murmur, freshly humbled by his willingness to bare his mind to me.

He thinks about Seth's idea to extend my range and encourages me again to use his thoughts any time to practice; he thinks now is a good time to start because it will require the sort of focus that will help with my other challenge. As long as you can forgive me for anything you would rather not hear, he adds.

"Of course," I assure him. "Not that there is anything to forgive. Your thoughts are better and purer than mine."

He smiles at that, because he thinks I'm too hard on myself while also acknowledging that I am better placed to evaluate the differences between our thoughts.

"I do have one other concern I wanted to discuss with you—as a doctor."

What, Edward?, he asks, pleased to put his expertise to use. He automatically thinks of female physiology and the bleeding that usually accompanies penetration the first time—but that's the least of my worries.

"Do you think vampire semen is venomous?" I ask, though I doubt the fluid my body produces in place of semen is remotely comparable to human semen.

He is surprised by the question—he hadn't given it a moment's thought—and praises me for thinking of it. Then he considers the possibility thoroughly—as thoroughly as Bella deserves. An errant thought slips through… that it mightn't be a bad way to change her.

I can barely listen to his speculation that sex could provide something of a distraction from the pain. The thought of creating an association between sex and her transformation is too awful—every time we made love, we would both remember her pain.

He sees my horror and hastily tries to suppress his sudden curiosity. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

"It's fine," I reply, though my voice is strained. "I understand your curiosity—but I couldn't do that." I clench my fists. "Even if it might work, I couldn't bear—"

"I understand," he assures me. "It was thoughtless of me—"

"No, I asked for your medical opinion. Your understanding of pain is what made you think of it as a potential distraction, and I appreciate the underlying idea—but perhaps you could come up with something else for that. Something morphine related, perhaps."

He smiles gratefully, glad I can already make a little joke about it, then sighs; he doesn't think morphine will be effective.

"Back to my question," I say gently.

"Of course," he agrees, apologizing. "Tanya and her sisters don't poison their lovers," he points out, using the best evidence he can think of.

"What if it's not the same?"

He ponders that for a moment; he doesn't see why it would be any different, but agrees that it is worth checking, for Bella's sake (and the sake of my sanity). He designs a test to compare the two fluids with venom, and as embarrassed as I am by the sources, I am eager for a more scientific form of evidence. "I'd appreciate that," I say. "I can't risk Bella's life even more than I already am."

You need to think about what you'd do if you did hurt her—

I flinch.

"Edward, you must consider it."

I jerk my head up and down; he's right, but trying to prepare for that makes the risk seem even greater. How can I possibly put her life in such danger?

"You can't let a mistake paralyze you." He pictures Esme's broken body, focusing most closely on her shattered skull and faint heartbeat. "Venom can work miracles."

I try to nod a second time, but the thought of breaking Bella because I can't control myself is too much. Carlisle pulls me into his arms.

"I have faith in you, Edward. I wouldn't counsel you to try if I didn't think you could cope." There must be other precautions you can take, he thinks absently, trying to come up with a fuller range of advice, beyond the mental preparations he has already suggested. He thinks about possible physical barriers, which turns into Bella chaining me to the bed—then hastily stops that thought. "I'll leave you to think about that," he mumbles self-consciously, releasing me.

"Thanks," I tease, before the curiosity descends. "Have you ever…?"

"No," he replies, actually glad to think about his and Esme's sex life in his attempt to forget that he ever pictured Bella and me in a remotely sexual scenario. "Don't ask Alice that question," he adds, skipping over a memory of Alice and Jasper discussing Kinbaku.

"Too late," I joke. "Not that I've asked—but I've already seen some of what they get up to."

Carlisle chuckles, then wonders if they might have better advice for me.

"Until Alice has forgiven me, I don't want to get into any awkward conversations." I know she'll show me things I've never seen before and will wish I could burn from my mind. The same goes for Jasper, whose ability to feel and convey emotions would be acutely embarrassing in such a highly charged conversation. (Similarly, Emmett's advice would be the opposite of helpful, and sex is not a subject I ever want to broach with Rosalie.)

She forgives you—she wouldn't have told me about your question if she hadn't.

"I'm sure that was for your benefit," I reply, though he thinks the forewarning saved me a lot more embarrassment than it did him. "I'd say she's about halfway through the forgiving process, but if I talk to her about sex right now, she'll inundate me with every last detail of their sex life, and I'd really rather avoid that."

Carlisle chuckles. "We've missed you two." He thinks about the additional dynamic we bring to the family with our closeness, and about how much I help Alice cope with her gift. Soon after I'd left, she departed on her own personal journey, focusing on the past in an attempt to deal with the chaos not only of the twisted future I'd created but also of her isolation. Without me to share her visions, she had struggled to articulate them. He thinks she felt more like the sort of freak that gets thrown in a mental institution.

"I hadn't realized," I admit, feeling like a complete cad. I really have been selfish. I'm surprised Jazz isn't angrier with me, before remembering that he blames himself for my decision to leave Bella in the first place.

She needs you, too—especially when Jasper is struggling with his own frustrations and disappointment.

I nod, sharing Carlisle's wish that we knew how to help Jasper. But even Alice thinks that time will be his best healer; it's easy to forget, but Jasper has still had many more bad years than good.

And then his and Alice's minds enter the range of my telepathy; Jasper is as hopeful as Carlisle that Alice and I will repair our relationship soon, while Alice doesn't waste a moment before telling me that they've come home for me—otherwise they would've been having sex right now. When she tells me that much and nothing more, I dare to hope that she is ready to forgive me, or that whatever she sees me saying now will be enough to earn the rest of her forgiveness.

"Alice is calling," I tell Carlisle, and he immediately smiles.

There's no avoiding a conversation Alice wants to have, he teases.

I give him a brief hug and then make my way outside to the spot Alice and Jasper have chosen. Jasper and I share a smile, while Alice eyes me critically, waiting.

I sink to my knees in front of her and hold up my hands, palms upraised. She places hers atop mine and I close my fingers around hers.

"I am truly sorry, Alice," I say. "You are my sister and I love you very much. I should have listened to you, but I convinced myself that leaving was the only way to keep her safe. I couldn't see past the losses she would suffer. And you know I hurt myself more than I hurt you."

"Go on."

"I thought we were taking her life away from her. I had to at least try to protect her soul—"

"Look how that worked out," she mutters, unable to stay silent on that point.

"I know," I agree. "And I don't know how I can ever make it up to her, but I will do my utmost, and I will do my best to make it up to you, too."

Wedding planner, she reminds me.

"I will never go against you again," I vow, a little nervous about the commitment, but I need a big offering to make amends—although I can't put myself in a situation where I could end up being at odds with Bella, so I add, "unless Bella disagrees with you."

She snorts, protesting the restriction.

"You know I have to put her first," I remind her.

"But I'm trying to tell you how to."

"I'd rather let Bella have the final say on that," I tease.

She doesn't appreciate the joke, so I decide it's a good time to apologize to Jasper. Alice sees me hold out a hand to him, but he hangs back, so I stand up before telling him how sorry I am.

He declines the apology, still blaming himself for this entire mess—which in his mind started when he attacked Bella.

I place my hand on his arm. "I already forgave you for that—there was nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault to begin with." He rejects the argument, so I have to be more insistent. "It was my fault. I was already struggling with the—" Alice suggests the word I should use, and I penitently obey—"inevitable future. Something was going to catalyze my decision to leave."

Jasper sighs. He appreciates my efforts, but still doesn't agree. He thinks Alice would've convinced me to stay if he'd been able to control himself. He's probably right about that, but I still forgive him.

Seeing that I've done all the convincing I can today, Alice shifts the focus back to me. She asks—teasingly—how it went with Carlisle. Then she shows me a vision she's had of me practicing a light touch by drawing with colored pencils.

I can write comfortably enough with a pencil, so I would have expected to be capable of using colored pencils, but Alice's copious visions of discarded paper quickly dispel that naïve confidence. She suggests that I buy ten pads of high-quality art paper and seven sets of pencils, amused by the repeated failure that will necessitate such a large purchase.

Then, mercifully, she gives me the boost I need to persevere—a vision of the finished drawing. After all those false starts, I manage to draw a decent portrait of Bella standing beside her truck. She is dressed in the clothes she wore the day we first visited the meadow, so it is a not-so-subtle homage to our first kiss.

When I show the drawing to Bella, Alice sees that she will marvel at my skill before remarking, "How does this fit with trying not to show off?"

In the vision, I say (with a decidedly smug grin), "This is the first time I've tried it."

Bella looks as peeved as she does impressed. I take full advantage of this opportunity to study her expression.

Jasper can't help but react to the happiness we both feel; he touches Alice and she aborts her memory of the future scene in favor of kissing him. But I don't mind—Jasper is so happy that she is happy again, and so am I.

When she kisses him deliberately passionately—to tease me—I'm intrigued that my usual irritation isn't there, nor the jealousy. Now that I've finally accepted that Bella will become one of us someday, I have the same passion to look forward to.

Alice isn't completely distracted, though. After a minute, she pulls away, thinking about Carlisle's suggestion that I masturbate. I shudder, even as she grins.

"You might find you like it," she teases.

When Jasper knows what she's referring to, I am tempted to flee the state. They both chuckle, amused by my embarrassment.

"You haven't decided yet," she says, and Jasper feels her irritation as strongly as I do. She actually wants to see me trying—which is even more mortifying, even though I understand, on one level, the curiosity driving her interest. But there is no way I can do it now, knowing she will be watching (even if I thought it would help).

"I don't think I'll need to," I say. "If I can manage to draw like that, surely I can be gentle enough with Bella."

Alice pouts, but she is careful not to think about the vision she has already had—so as not to spoil it for me. I am intensely relieved (because she would tell me if she saw me hurting Bella), but also surprised. I want to ask how long ago she had the vision, but I don't want to make it any harder for her not to think about, so I focus on another thought. I want to hug her, but I'm not sure I'm forgiven enough for that.

She sees me hugging her and holds out for a moment, then throws herself at me.

"I love you, Alice," I say.

"I love you, too—even though you're a monumental pain in my ass."

I chuckle. "Only to give you a more interesting life."

"Bella makes my life more interesting," she retorts, rejecting my claim to that accolade.

For a moment, I can't decide how to respond—with a joke or a serious answer or something in between—so Alice sees a dozen different replies.

After she decides which one she prefers, I dutifully recite, "I am the least-deserving brother in the world, and you're the very best sister—" Jasper chuckles, pleased that we're back to our usual process—"and I will never take your counsel so lightly ever again."

Alice smiles sweetly. "Let's never fight again."

I wish I could agree, but as she says it, she thinks about our wedding.

"How about you plan the next one?" I suggest, though I doubt Bella will be as eager for repeat weddings as Rosalie is.

"There won't be a next one!" she cries, shoving me away, too irritated to hug me any longer. It has to be this one! She tries again with the only argument that has any hope of working on me. "Bella will love it. It will be the happiest day of her life." But because she is being so careful not to show me anything—not even Bella's smiling face—I can't verify it for myself.

To keep her focus off the wedding she has planned, she pictures me groveling at her feet, thanking her for the "magnificent" wedding she gave us. I don't like the sound of that.

"Just how magnificent are you thinking?"

Spoilers, she retorts, adamant I will get nothing from her.

I sigh. "Bella's not a typical bride—"

"Of course she isn't. She's the first human to knowingly marry a vampire."

She glances at Jasper, who thinks of something he's never told me before: in the early 1900s, he actually married one of his victims. He'd ended up marrying the girl after he saved her town from a damaging flood and was offered her hand as his reward. Although he still feels guilty about the deceit, he'd enjoyed her happiness—it had been such a rare emotion for him to experience back then. He'd given her the happiest day of her life, telling her what she wanted to hear about their future, and then he'd taken her life. (I am grateful for Alice letting me know that she's already seen my wedding night, otherwise the comparison would've been too hard to bear.)

Despite his guilt, he doesn't regret marrying the girl—she was the only one he'd given something before taking everything—but it reminds him how little control he has gained over his thirst since forsaking those dark days all those decades ago. He had often had to fight his thirst then, too, but he'd forgotten how much the promise of imminent recompense had eased his interactions with humans.

Alice senses his flagging mood and kisses him again—longer this time.

"Love you both," I say as I turn back toward the house.

Love you, too, they reply, before their love for each other takes over. As they shred each other's clothes, I find myself paying closer attention than I ever have before. Now that I've rejected the idea of practicing on my own, learning by watching seems a reasonable alternative—and I know they don't care if I watch. Lack of interest (or active distaste) mingled with a desire to give others, even strangers, as much semblance of privacy as possible (because I would want them to do the same for me) has been what kept me from straying into voyeur territory in the past, but now that Alice has made it clear she will be perving on us as soon as her thoughts are beyond my reach, I have few qualms about watching them.

Ironically, now that I am deliberately watching, the embarrassment I have always felt at glimpsing the sex lives of my family is almost entirely absent. Part of me still feels the need to look away, but I am immersed in their love for each other whenever I'm near them, so this act is simply the physical expression of that emotion.

Instead of going inside, I head straight to the Volvo. But it's too early to leave yet, so I settle into the seat without turning on the car. I close my eyes and let myself feel their passion. For the briefest moment, just to tease Alice, I think about joining in—masturbating while I watch them, like a real peeping tom.

Alice catches a vision of me sliding a hand down my pants and, in the back of her mind (the only part distracted by the vision), she is torn between amusement and that same bizarre irritation, because she knows I'm not actually going to do anything. It's rare for her to get visions during sex, so it proves just how focused she is on my sex life.

To taunt me in return, she thinks my name as she and Jasper writhe together, infusing all the passion she currently feels into her mental voice. I can't help but laugh. I should know that I can't play these games with her—she is utterly shameless, so I will always lose.

Because my own sense of shame still has a healthy reflex, I decide it's time to leave. I should drive more slowly to make up for the early departure, but I can't bear to drive at the speed limit even if I could bring myself to dawdle now that I'm on the way to Bella's. So she and Charlie are both still eating when I pull up outside the house.

Charlie's thoughts darken in response to the sound of my car. When Bella jumps up to open the door for me, he calls her back. "Let him wait."

"Dad!"

"If he won't eat with us, then he can wait in the car until we're finished."

"That's—"

"Fair," he insists.

"You wouldn't let him eat with us."

"That's not the point."

She sighs. "He's being considerate—"

"So why is he early?"

"Because we already spent long enough apart," she retorts, sitting back down in her seat with a thud, "and he misses me, too."

Charlie snorts, but he goes back to eating without furthering the argument.

I wait in the car, figuring Bella's non-appearance at the door is enough of a signal that I'm not welcome yet.

Bella eats faster, but Charlie deliberately slows down. I'm glad when she waits a full minute before telling him off.

He sets down his fork. "You sure about getting married?"

"I'm one hundred percent sure about Edward," she tells him without missing a beat.

He mutters something unintelligible, then, "Go get him."

She doesn't need telling twice. I wait until she opens the door to get out of the car, and then hasten to her side at a brisk human jog.

"Sorry," she murmurs, opening her arms for me.

I wrap my arms around her and press my face into her hair, breathing in her glorious scent. "I didn't mind waiting—I could hear you."

"I couldn't hear you," she complains.

I chuckle. "I wasn't talking," I tease.

She scoffs at the silly joke, but then smiles. "I'm glad you're early," she says. "Although I'm still eating—"

"I know," I assure her. "I would've waited at home little longer, but Alice and—" I break off, realizing I don't want to tell her.

Of course, it's too late. Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush as her heart beats faster. Then she abruptly grins. "Alice saw us, didn't she?" she challenges.

I purse my lips. "Your dinner's getting cold; I'm surprised Charlie hasn't—"

She waves me silent and then tows me into the kitchen, still grinning. My non-answer is all the answer she needs. There is no point debating it further; I can't even draw her into a discussion about the causational effect of Alice's visions on the future because we've already talked about that more than once. Then again, Victoria's interference raises new questions… but none that would help me argue against Bella's life-threatening desires.

I smile at Charlie and apologize for interrupting their meal. He jerks his head and mutters something that could be, "Sure, kid, sit down," but sounds suspiciously like "Shut up, kid, sit down."

His muffled thoughts swirl around me; the usual frustration is clearest, but there's exasperation in there, too. I'm pretty sure he's thinking about Jacob. Added to my fears and my ongoing search for a way to dissuade Bella from consummating our marriage while she's still human, I suddenly realize that I can't keep arguing about it—although having sex with Jacob would be somewhat risky, it would be unlikely to endanger her life. If I keep talking myself down, or flatly refuse her, it will be another thing he can offer her that I can't. I can't let that happen. Carlisle believes in me. Alice has seen it. I clench my fists under the table. This time, I will back myself.

After dinner, Bella and I stay in the kitchen; knowing Charlie is listening from the other room, we keep the topics light. And then Bella gets all she can out of our goodbye kiss.

I speed home and then race back on foot. Bella is waiting for me at her bedroom window.

When I don't immediately pick up where we left off our debate, she raises an eyebrow. "What's your play?" she asks, part teasing, part wary.

I take a deep breath. "No play," I reply. "You're right. I want to be your husband—" I can't help but smile at that, and she smiles back—"and I also want to support you in staying human for as long as possible. I can't ask you to wait because I'm scared."

She grins, then strokes my cheek. "I'm not scared."

"You never are."

"Not of you," she says, reminding me of her fear of Victoria (the bit that Jacob saw, anyway). Then her eyes tighten, as they do when she's trying to hide something.

"What is it?"

She looks down at our linked hands, then murmurs, "The only thing that scares me now is losing you."

"I'm not going anywhere," I vow, raising her chin so that she lifts her eyes back up to mine. "And I will learn to trust myself again—to trust that I can keep you safe."

"You can," she insists. "And you did, even when you weren't here." I don't understand her point; she deliberately put herself in jeopardy while I was gone. "Since you got back," she explains, seeing my confusion, "I've realized that I never lost faith in you. That's why I saw you most clearly when I was in danger—because I knew you still cared about me. And I still believe in you."

"I believe in you, too," I murmur, trying not to dwell on my many failings.

"I believe in us as well," she points out. "When we're together, we can do anything."

I smile. "I will try to believe that," I murmur. "I will do all I can to be better."

She sighs exasperatedly. "You're missing the point," she grumbles.

"So what is the point?"

"You try too much."

"What should I do, then?"

"Kiss me," she answers straight back.

I chuckle and willingly obey.

Bella stands up on tiptoe and wraps her arms around me, pressing her whole body against mine. Her heart is hammering; mine would be, too, if it could beat. We kiss for almost half an hour before she starts to shiver.

When I suggest we turn in early, she pouts.

"We've got school tomorrow," I remind her, trying to joke (and failing).

"I know," she replies heavily, sounding as enthusiastic as I am.