Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This story is rated M for "Momma Foxy says, 'Crazy underage babies, you must not read!'" Seriously, if you're under 18 and read this story, I'll have to gouge my eyes out.

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Chapter 2: Choosing A Path

2:14 am

Edward glanced reflexively at the large, black-rimmed clock on the wall of the lab where he was working then released a resigned sigh as he realized that he had done it again. Every night for nearly a hundred years, he had noted that time, compulsively marking the hour and minute he had woken from one nightmare only find himself in another. Determined not to revisit his memories of that time, he pressed his lips firmly together and returned his attention to the Thermocycler he was calibrating.

Going through the repetitive steps helped Edward relax and shake off the annoyance of his unwanted, nightly ritual. As he calmed down, he reminded himself that he was happy now, as happy as he believed a soulless creature could be. He had a home, where he felt loved and accepted. He had his work, which challenged him and occupied the many long hours of his sleepless days. He had so much more than he had ever dreamed possible, and he owed all of it to his mentor and adopted father, Carlisle. Carlisle had found him so many years ago and shown him he didn't have to be a monster to survive. Carlisle had shown him that he could be more.

So Edward shoved the unwelcome, unruly memories of his darker days away into one of the many corners in his mind, and he concentrated on making sure the machinery in the lab would be ready for the tests Carlisle had asked Angela, one of the other lab assistants, to run later that day. Once he was satisfied that all four PCR machines were perfectly synced, he tidied up the lab and locked up.

He would have been happier to remain in the lab all night, basking in the blissful silence of that near empty building. It was one of the few places he could go and be alone, not forced to hear the thoughts of every person around him. He had few memories of his human life, but from the moment he had woken as a vampire, he had been assailed by the thoughts of others. Constantly shouting their petty desires, their trivial dramas, or the inane minutia of their days, the thoughts of the people around him hammered their way into his brain incessantly. It was only at night or in isolation that there was some relief.

Unfortunately, seclusion was not good for Edward. He brooded. He sulked. He eventually thought of her, the goddess whom he had adored ages ago: the elusive, exquisite Isabella Swan. But thoughts of Bella and the life he had hoped to share with her invariably led to thoughts of her betrayal and the anger those memories invoked. Thoughts of Bella were a perpetual temptation to embrace his evil side.

So he avoided self-imposed segregation as much as possible. Even still, Esme thought that he spent too much time alone. Fretted would be a more accurate description, Edward mused. Esme had treated him like her son from the moment Carlisle brought Edward home, much to Edward's initial surprise and eventual pleasure, and she had always been deeply attuned to his moods. He might be able to read her thoughts, but Esme read his emotions uncannily well.

Looking forward to seeing her at home, Edward walked quickly to the university parking garage where his silver Volvo waited for him. As he drove north along Sheridan Road, heading toward the Chateauesque style mansion Esme had restored for them, he allowed his thoughts to linger over his parents, how they had saved him and how he would be forever in their debts.

When Edward had awoke to this new existence he had been assailed by so many sensations: the disjointed feeling of emerging from the blazing hell he had occupied for what had felt like an eternity, the disorienting waves of thoughts pulsating from the few humans outside of the warehouse basement he had apparently been left in, but nothing had been more disarming than the powerful thirst that scorched his throat. He could smell someone just outside the grey stone walls and their mouthwatering scent drew him forth, away from the scene of his beloved's heartbreaking betrayal and out into the horror of his new life.

When he emerged from the basement, flying up the few steps that led up and out into the still dark morning, he had paused, momentarily startled by the difference in the night. Everything about him was marvelously clear: the stars in the inky, black sky; the early spring leaves, just budding on the thin, newly verdant trees; the ruddy stubble on the cheek of the man walking slowly around the building a few yards away from him.

Suddenly Edward's eyes locked onto the pulsating vein just below the man's bristly cheek. The throbbing rush of blood in his neck called out to Edward, more insistently than any siren's song. Before the man even had a chance to realize he wasn't alone in the vacant area behind the warehouse, Edward had bent him back and drank every drop of blood in the man's body.

Only when he stood there, his throat soothed by the warmth of his victims' blood, did Edward realize he was holding a dead man in his arms. Horrified by what he had unwittingly done, he dropped the corpse to the ground and fled.

This was how Edward's new life had begun, with violence and death. He abhorred the fiend he had become but had no clue how to escape from the nightmare that now defined him. He hid away during the days, quickly discovering that any appearance in sunlight exposed him as the freak he was.

Initially, he had hid in the sewers of his old neighborhood on the south side of Chicago, but he was plagued by the tempting scents of the humans above. When, in a moment of weakness, he emerged, it had nearly ended in disaster as he caught himself stalking a former childhood friend.

It was then that he exiled himself to the grittier areas of the city. It made him feel less horrific to kill the human monsters that haunted his city. He hunted rapists and murders, pedophiles and pimps, all of the heinous criminals that shared the darkness with him. He justified their deaths in the name of the countless potential victims who had been spared. But as he continued to despair at what he had become, part of him wondered if he was somehow tainting himself with the blood of such evil men.

Edward had never thought of moving away from the one place he knew, so the tally of his victims began to climb and was noticed, although not by humans. Chicago in the early 1920s was a violent place, and the uptick in murders didn't alarm the local police much. It did, however, trigger concern in those that enforced the laws of the vampire world, the Volturi.

In what he later learned was a periodic mission to clean up errant newborns, a small group of the Volturi swept into Chicago, destroying any newborns unlucky enough not to have the protection of a coven or a talent worth saving. Edward had been hunting on the north side of the city that evening when, for the first time in eight years, he had encountered others of his kind. They were swift and organized.

Edward had been stalking a lecherous parish priest, on his way to the home of a boy he hoped soon to collect. One moment he had been disgusted by the vile desires awash in the priest's brain and the next he had been flat on his back in searing agony. A tiny, angelic girl had approached him wearing a bored expression.

"Who made you?" she demanded simply. Edward would have immediately responded, he would have told this girl anything to make her stop, but he couldn't speak, his pain was too great. The girl examined her nails briefly then smiled sweetly, and Edward's torture ratcheted up a notch. Edward could hear only one word in her thoughts, chanted with vindictive glee: "Burn."

There was a hulking, dark figure next to the girl. He frowned disapprovingly and thought how annoying his diminutive partner could be, then he spoke gruffly. "Jane, I don't think he can talk because you're still teasing him." This was teasing? Edward wondered mutely.

She smiled sweetly at her companion. She briefly considered intensifying Edward's torture, but discarded the thought before responding to her companion in a chiding voice. "Felix, you never want to have any fun. What's the purpose of going on these missions if we're not going to use our talents?" Her face was pale and beautiful as she turned her burgundy eyes back to Edward. "Besides, Aro likes my interrogation techniques."

The giant she called Felix cracked his neck in a show of boredom, his thoughts immediately echoed by his words. "Come on, Jane," he sighed impatiently, "this isn't the only vampire Aro sent us to check up on."

The pain receded as quickly as it had swept over him, and Edward could see himself through their eyes, sprawled upon the cobblestone street, his body slowly unfurling from its previous contorted pose. Felix was systematically planning how he would dispose of Edward, while Jane thoughts roamed over Edward's body more admiringly. Both of their thoughts made him shudder in fear and revulsion.

"Well," Jane began, "do you know who made you?" She looked at him inquiringly, but it was clear from her thoughts that she didn't expect him to remember his sire. Though he certainly didn't owe Bella any loyalty, Edward decided to play dumb.

"I'm sorry," he started, holding up his hands apologetically. "She…It happened so fast…" he let his word trail off as he realized this was a familiar refrain for the vampires in front of him.

"Can you do anything special?" Jane continued down her list of prescribed questions. He could tell from her thoughts that those with talents would be spared but only until they were brought back to Italy and judged by her leader, Aro. Her thoughts told him that she didn't expect him to be anything special. His mild offense turned to appalled horror as her mind turned to the various things she wanted to do to Edward before she let Felix dispatch him.

He was just about to tell her about his ability to read her thoughts and point out how revolting her depraved mind was, when another vampire appeared.

"Jane, I haven't seen you in America before. What brings you to Chicago?" the fair-haired, gentle-voiced man asked. Edward heard the ire color Jane's thoughts as she recognized the vampire she mentally called Carlisle. Apparently he was a former favorite of her leader, and she had been specifically tasked with bringing him a message from Aro.

"Carlisle, how fortunate to see you," she murmured through a tight smile. "Aro wanted me to find you while we were here and see how you found your new life in America. It seems you've saved us the trouble by finding us."

The blond vampire smiled politely. "Please give Aro my warmest wishes, and thank him for thinking of me. I'm quite happy here." Edward looked more closely at Carlisle and noticed his strange, ochre hued eyes. His curiosity at their color was quickly assuaged by Felix's disapproving thoughts. Apparently the difference in color was due to the vampire's diet; Carlisle lived on the blood of animals, not humans.

He's so unnatural, Felix mused uneasily. How does he stand it? With distaste, he equated Carlisle's diet to the perverse practice of bestiality. Jane's thoughts vacillated between wondering if Carlisle's diet made him weaker and whether she would incur more of Aro's displeasure than she was willing to risk if she tortured Carlisle just a little. Edward looked at the vicious, little female with dread.

Carlisle's eyes flickered to Edward with a mixture of pity and pleading. Lord, please let this young one play along, for his own sake, he thought. Edward stared back confused, still warily crouched on the ground, and watched as Carlisle smoothly lied to the other two vampires.

"I see you've met the youngest member of my coven," he stated serenely. Jane's eyes shot to Carlisle's face with quick irritation.

"What are you talking about," she snapped. "He just told us he was made by a woman." Through her anger, Jane started to rationalize that if Carlisle interfered in her mission she would be able to justify hurting him.

"Yes, my mate changed him," Carlisle calmly replied. "He is her brother; she didn't want to lose him." He shrugged as if that explained everything. Edward's eyes darted to the pair before him, wondering if they would accept such an explanation. It was clear from their thoughts that while Felix did, Jane did not.

"Why is he out hunting by himself, then," she pressed. "And why doesn't he know who made him or any of the laws of our kind? If this is the shoddy work you do when you and your mate sire someone, Aro will need to be informed of it," she concluded menacingly.

Carlisle nodded sadly. "I apologize for this. We certainly didn't mean to cause any trouble or alarm. When Esme changed him, she was overcome by bloodlust. I had to take her away lest she kill him. Once she was back in control, I kept her away to spare her the agony of seeing her brother during the change. When we came back to retrieve him, he had fled. It took us a while to find him."

Edward could hear Jane's uncertainty as to whether or not this fully explained the situation, but he also could tell she was rapidly tiring of the situation. Her thoughts flickered longingly to Aro. She quickly decided if the bizarre, golden-eyed vampire was willing to take responsibility for Edward she would be that much closer to returning home.

"Fine," she said curtly. "But now that you've found him, you will be held responsible for him." Carlisle didn't need to read minds to understand Jane's subtext; he heard the warning in her inflection. Jane turned to Felix and with a shared glance they whirled around and ran off into the night.

Carlisle looked down at Edward. Please, Lord, don't let this have been a mistake, he thought before he extended his hand to Edward. I don't want to have to destroy this young one.

"You won't have to, destroy me that is," Edward replied flippantly to Carlisle's thoughts, grinning for the first time in years at his savior's obvious surprise. He tapped his head with his forefinger as he explained. "I can hear your thoughts."

He looked impressed then rueful. "I guess you didn't need my help after all. As soon as they realized you had a gift, they would have taken you back to Volterra."

"I have no desire to go anywhere with those two," Edward contradicted him. "And certainly not some place that sends that little sadist out as its emissary."

Carlisle chuckled uncomfortably as his mind flashed over his previous experiences with Jane. His thoughts quickly turned back to Edward, whom he was viewing much more hopefully.

"I can't let you go on as you have been, though," he added hesitantly. "I've been keeping track of you too over the past few years. You can't continue to hunt as you have in the past, with such reckless abandon." You can see where that's gotten you, he added silently.

Edward shook his head. "No, but I've been adrift for far too long." He looked at Carlisle questioningly. "They said your eyes are gold because you don't feed on humans. How do you do that?" Carlisle looked confused for a minute then smiled when he realized how Edward had heard that information.

"If you're truly interested, come with me to my home. You can meet my mate and I'll explain." Edward accepted his offer with a smile, and he had been with Carlisle ever since. It hadn't been easy, but Carlisle's complete and obvious commitment to a humane lifestyle had shored Edward up whenever his resolve weakened. Over the years, as Edward came to love and respect Carlisle and Esme, his desire to make them proud of him strengthened his determination to live as Carlisle had shown him was possible.

Now, he was able to mix with humans without fear of slipping. They had moved back to Chicago eight years ago, and Carlisle's pride in the fact that the move was based on maintaining their human façade and not due to the loss of some poor soul's life was evident. While Edward hadn't been thrilled to enter high school yet again, the two years passed quickly enough. After another four of college, he had applied to and was accepted at the medical school on the north shore of Chicago where Carlisle taught.

In his spare time, he helped Carlisle with his genetic research. Carlisle's quest to give back to humanity never ceased to humble Edward. His father was a good man, and he felt immensely lucky that Carlisle had found him.

As he made his way up the winding, tree shrouded driveway that led to his home, he could hear his parents' peaceful thoughts. Carlisle was in his study, reviewing patient charts for his rounds in the morning. He was on staff at the university hospital in addition to being a teacher there. Esme was curled up on the settee across the room from him, sketching out her ideas for the as of yet unrenovated attics. She had decided the spacious, light-filled, former nursery would work well as a studio, apparently, and was enjoying the symmetry of having the place that had once housed babies become the place she would bring her own creations to life as well.

Edward loved hearing the gentle, loving thoughts of his parents. Then the bitter thoughts of his sister broke through.

I'm surprised you don't move a cot into that lab, Rosalie sneered from the window of her room. Edward sighed as he got out of his car and her curtain fell closed. He and Rosalie weren't particularly close, despite the wishes of his parents. He did his best not to antagonize her, but very little brought joy to Rosalie's life.

Trying to leave her alone with her sad and lonely thoughts, he made his way into the house. After briefly stopping to chat with his parents, he went back to his room to listen to some music before heading off to his morning rounds as a second-year med student. Relaxing on his couch, he put in his earbuds and flipped through his iPod looking for something he hadn't listened to in a while, eventually settling on David Bowie's Space Oddity.

A few hours later, as he changed into his clothes for the day, Edward glanced out his windows and saw the sun rising blood red behind the cloudy sky over the lake. An old axiom of his mother's popped unbidden to his head, "Red in the morning, sailor's warning." Edward chuckled at the fanciful thought, ran his fingers through his unruly, bronze hair, and headed down the hallway, out of his house, to greet yet another day.