My chapters are getting progressively longer, apparently.

Carlisle wasn't in bed with me when I woke up, and I immediately felt the loss. It was still quite early, but something felt 'off' despite his habit of getting up before seven. I traced him to the longue, watching him pace up and down the kitchen on the phone. The call seemed to last forever, but the colour faded quickly from his cheeks. By the end of the it, he was choking back tears focused on the wall behind me rather than my face.

Accidently dropping his phone to the floor, he leant back against the bench, crossing his arms tightly and pressing one hand over his mouth. The tension in the room swelled until I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Carlisle, what's happening?" I asked, slowly crossing over to him and closing my fingers around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. "Hey…say something?" Worrying he was going to pass out, I wrapped my arm around his waist, trying to gauge who could possibly upset him so much so quickly. "Is Alistair okay?"

He nodded slowly, dazed and pale. "…I-I…" His legs faltered under him slightly, and he reached behind him to hold onto the edge of the counter, forcing a deep breath before trying to speak again. His attempt to get a grip had failed; he still looked overwhelmed. "…Have to go back to London…"

"What? No, Carlisle, no way." I shook my head. My throat was instantly tight and I couldn't breathe. "No, you just moved here, a-and…" My head was swimming as I tried to process a long-distance relationship; of course I would do it, if I had to, but I could barely stand being away from him while he was at work, let alone if he was in another continent.

He shook his head, hugging me and resting his head against my shoulder. "…Not for good, Gar…I wouldn't do that to us…"

Breathing a sigh of relief, I squeezed him tightly, kissing his neck. "Tell me what's going on?"

He tried to do as he was asked, but was still a little out of it. He was scarily calm, and it was starting to freak me out. "…My father is in hospital, a-and they want to put him in an age care facility because he doesn't have anyone at home anymore, but legally they can't send him to a rest home without an immediate relative sighing the forms, so I have to go over there for a few days to do it…"

"Where are your brothers? They cant do it? Or can't someone email it to you?"

"T-they abandoned him…for all the love he gave them, they still left…" Suddenly, his resolve broke, and he glanced up to meet my eyes. "I-I never should have moved- this is my fault- this is all my fault…"

Suppressing a wave of anger directed toward that horrible fucking man, I ran my hand down his back to pull him closer against me. "No, Carlisle, of course it isn't," I soothed, amazed he wasn't crying. I suspected it was coming, though. "Nothing that happened with him will ever be your fault."

"I-I have to book plane tickets," he mumbled, his voice shaking. Already, I could see he was stressed, hyperventilating a little. I was sceptical that he was going to be dizzy, but he only stumbled a little on the way to getting his laptop.

"Can we talk about this first?" I pleaded. There was nothing I hated more than the thought of him near that man again. "This could be dangerous..."

"I have to go, Garrett. I can't just leave him." Biting his lip, he brought up the airline page, running a search for a return ticket to London. This was moving far too fast. "If he's that sick, what damage can he possibly to?"

"He didn't do anything but hurt you." Reminding him about that wasn't the best thing to do, logically, but I would have done anything to deter him, even if it meant picking up the pieces later. With a jolt, I realised he was still fighting for his father's affection, and it made my head hurt. "You don't have to do anything for him."

"But he's my dad…" Anxious now, he was squeezing my hand tightly, visibly conflicted. "I can't let them just throw him out…he'll die because of me if they send him home again…"

"He's a monster." My throat was tight, and I was battling against a need to cry, knowing that he had already made his decision, and he was going to go. "I can come with you; you can't go by yourself. It isn't safe." I sunk my teeth into my lip to stop myself outright begging him, or yelling at him for being stupid enough to go. "Carlisle…"

"I'll be okay…it'll only be a few days…" he told me, trying to convince both of us. "Just a few days and then I'll be back." Kissing me gently, he cuddled into my side, pushing his laptop onto the table so he could get closer.

Giving in and knowing that this was happening and there was nothing I could do about it, I just hugged him tightly, kissing his forehead. "I'll drive you to the airport. I love you."

.

.

Things seemed even tighter the next morning. The flight wasn't until one, and he didn't have to check in until twelve, but we were both up at five anyway. We didn't need to leave until nine.

Carlisle was doing really well at keeping it together. I was more jittery than he was, unable to keep my hands off him. I stood in front of him while he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his shoulders and his neck as he leaned his head against my stomach. He was focused on taking deep, slow breaths, lightly toying the fabric of my pants as I played with his hair, both of us trying to satisfy a deep need for intimacy before we were separated.

He mumbled something about showering, numbly finding a clean change of clothes. I caught his wrist as he passed me again, not ready to be apart yet. "Can I come with you?" I asked him softly, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles.

Nodding, he kept hold of my hand as he pulled me into the bathroom. "…I'm nervous…" he admitted as we stood under the water. That much was obvious; he was a little too pale, and his eyes were dark with anxiety.

"I know. You look tired," I sighed, holding my hand against the side of his face. Automatically, he leaned his cheek against my fingers.

"…Couldn't sleep last night…"

"It'll be over soon." I was trying to assure myself as much as I was him; I couldn't stomach him being gone. Having him in my arms was comforting, but it wasn't going to last long today. "Do you want to try and nap for a little while before we have to leave? We still have an hour, and I could stay with you?" I wanted to cuddle him, mostly, while I still had the opportunity.

"Yeah, okay…" He nodded slowly, his arms around my neck as he hugged me.

After we were finished and dry, we sat on the bed together again. Despite being exhausted, Carlisle couldn't sleep, lying with his head in my lap while I leaned back against the headboard. The time passed far too quickly, and all too soon we were in the car and on the way to the airport.

.

.

Carlisle had planned on it taking a week, hoping it would be an overestimation and he'd be back sooner. Letting him get out of the car at the airport was pure agony, and I'd had to force myself not to engage the child-locks in my car and not letting him go. He didn't cry, thank fuck, because if he had, I would have lost it. We'd driven in silence to the airport, but he'd hugged me tightly before disappearing through customs.

My eyes were burning as I settled in to watch TV when night fell, knowing that he was miles away from me and on another continent. I missed him horribly and he'd only been gone a few hours; I had no idea how I was going to manage a week without him.

Suddenly, I was very thankful for him keeping stuff here; despite being washed, his sweatshirt still smelt like him, and I took it to bed with me. It was the closest I could get to him while he was gone, but I missed his goodnight kisses and his cuddles and 'I love you's'. I missed having my arms around him, and I missed him wrapping his body around mine whenever I tried to shift. I just missed him.

It hurt even worse that I knew he wasn't happy; whatever was happening with his father wasn't easy for him, and I wanted nothing more than to hold him until he felt safe again.

I'd emailed him as soon as I had gotten home, making him promise to do that same; the cost of international calling was pretty shitty. His plane wouldn't have landed yet, though, and I knew I wouldn't hear from him until it did. I hoped he would eat on the plane; he'd not had anything since the phone call. He'd barely spoke to me.

I went to work like normal the next morning, but my phone was a dead weight in my pocket, silent. I knew I was horrible to be around at the moment; my co-workers must have hated me. I spent the entire day sulking, slowly working through the pile of papers in front of me. I couldn't concentrate, though. Not until I knew he'd landed safety.

I let out a sigh of relief when his email finally popped up in my inbox. He's sent me an overly cheery message, still trying to pretend that everything was okay, and it made me uneasy; he couldn't keep this up.

Alistair and I were texting back and forth the whole week, trying to figure out how well Carlisle was handling it without being able to see him. We'd come to the conclusion that we were just going to have to wait it out and see what happened; there wasn't anything either of us could do about it considering the body of water that was separating us from London.

I was willing Friday to come; I wanted my boy back in my bed. I was literally counting the hours before he came back. I'd survived three days so far. Barely.

.

.

"Carlisle." I smiled upon answering the phone, a weight lifting off my chest at the sound of his voice. His plane landed tomorrow night, so the call was confusing considering the price, but welcome all the same. "I can't wait to have you back."

"That's…that's why I'm calling you," he started slowly. His voice was a little hollow, but I put it down to a poor quality phone line.

"Ten tomorrow night, right? I think Alistair wants to come too-"

"Garrett," he cut me off sharply. "I'm not coming home tomorrow."

It was blunt and sudden, and I almost choked. "What?"

"I'm not flying back tomorrow," he repeated, softly now, and I could hear the stress in his voice.

"Then…how much longer?" I was scared to hear the answer; it felt like a bloody eternity since the last time I'd seen him, and I'd implode within the next week if I couldn't get him home safe.

"I-I…maybe a month?"

"What? Carlisle?" I whined pleadingly. "Why? What happened to a week? A fucking month?"

"…my dad died last night, Gar…I-I have to organised the funeral and clear the property and get his insurance sorted out and…"

My heart sank, and I was suddenly nauseous. "Are you okay?"

He hesitated, and the breath he let out shook. "…I want to come home…" he mumbled. "…I miss you…"

"I miss you too, Carlisle. So much. I love you."

"…I don't know what to do, Garrett- His insurance is fucked up and they won't pay out, which means I cant get the funeral to go ahead and he hasn't paid his fucking mortgage in months and his bank is down my throat, and I can't- I can't-" He cut himself off, in tears and panicking. "I-I can't do this- I can't- Gar, I want to go home…" His voice was slightly muffled, presumably by his hand as he tried to wipe tears away. "I can't do this by myself."

Pacing up and down the kitchen, I stopped to lean my forehead against the wall. "Shh, Carlisle, where are you now? Are you safe?" I asked him quietly.

"…yeah…I'm supposed to be going to get dinner…" He sounded absolutely miserable, and I would have done anything to take all of this away.

"But?" Hearing his hesitation, I added: "Tell me, Carlisle."

"…I feel really sick…I'm just going to go to bed…" he mumbled.

"You need to eat, though; you can't starve yourself," I reminded him, on the brink of begging him.

"…I can't right now, Gar…"

.

.

"I want to come with you."

He'd emailed me yesterday upon my prompt for the date of the funeral, and it was in two days' time. He was trying to sound calm when he spoke to me, and his messages could have been penned by someone who was coping, but I knew Carlisle, and I knew he was falling apart.

"I don't want you to go alone."

That was enough to reduce him to tears, and he was simultaneous pleading that he wanted me there and telling me not to come. "I-I miss you…"

"I know, I miss you too. I've got four days off, and I want fly out to be with you. Do you…do you want me to do that?" I asked carefully, biting my lip.

"Yeah- I want you- please, Garrett- I love you-"

"I'll book the tickets tonight, alright? I can't stay long, but I'll come for as long as I can," I promised.

.

.

Shoving stuff in a bag, I tried to figure out what I was supposed to take. I'd never travelled overseas before, and I also wasn't sure about the funeral. I threw in the most formal clothing I had short of a suit, and zipped the bag up. Even if it was just for the weekend, seeing Carlisle again was going to be a relief. And I couldn't help being a little excited about going to a foreign place, being the tourist I was.

Carlisle met me at the airport gates, and I dropped my bag, wrapping him in a crushing hug. He immediately leant up to kiss me, squeezing my hand tightly as we walked toward the taxi stand.

"Are you okay? How was your flight?" he asked anxiously, concerned about my wellbeing. Adorable idiot.

"It was fine, Carlisle." I slept through it. As we sat next to each other in the taxi, I shuffled closer to him along the seat to wrap my arms around him, kissing the top of his head. "Are you okay? Me and Alistair have been worried."

Tangling his fingers in my sweatshirt, he leant his head against my shoulder. "I missed you so much…"

Rubbing his hand, I kissed him again. "I'm here now…How is everything going?"

He looked away, instantly on edge. "I have to find a real-estate agent so I can sell the property, and I'm starting to get behind at work, and I'm scared my boss might be upset with me and he's only just promoted me and I don't want him to fire me…" Trying to smother the panic attack didn't quite work, and his hold on me tightened.

"Hold on, you're still trying to work while your over here?" I asked sceptically, frowning.

He nodded slowly. "I'm doing it by correspondence…"

"Carlisle," I scolded, shaking my head. "You'll make yourself sick."

"What choice do I have?" he countered. "The world just doesn't stop because something happened to my father…"

Sighing, I tried not to smash my head into the window out of frustration. It was misdirected worry, but I couldn't take it out on my boyfriend. "I know. Just tell me how I can help, and I'll do it."