"The repose of sleep refreshes only the body.
It rarely sets the soul at rest.
The repose of the night does not belong to us.
It is not the possession of our being.
Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms.
In the morning we must sweep out the shadows."
- Gaston Bachelard -
Epilogue: Repose
I didn't know what awakened me. For a moment, I just lay still, slowly blinking the sleep from my eyes. And then, I listened. If it was a sound that had woken me, I had a feeling it couldn't have been very loud. That was one of those things that came with motherhood, I'd suppose; you tended to wake up to the smallest of disturbances, to the slightest of noises. It was both a blessing and a curse.
I reached out a hand, not surprised to find the bed empty beside me. The sheets were cool, making me wonder how long Carlisle had been up.
I gave a quiet sigh. It wasn't the first time I'd woken to an empty bed, and it wouldn't be the last. I turned my head, my eyes adjusting quickly to the dim lighting of the room. There was a faint nightlight close to the bed, and what I saw in its soft, blue glow made me smile sadly. For a moment, I just watched Carlisle's familiar figure, my gaze following the line of his broad shoulders. They were slightly hunched, as he leaned over the crib that stood close to the bed. He was restless, again, anxious. I saw it from his posture, from the way his head hung.
I sat up slowly, and he heard my movement, straightening and turning to look my way.
"Is the baby hungry?" I asked sleepily, keeping my voice quiet. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, turning on the bedside light. "Is he being fussy again?"
It was a moment before Carlisle answered. "No. No, he's sleeping."
"Why aren't you in bed, then? What is it?"
He let out a quiet sigh. "Nothing," he whispered. "I just...I just wanted to make sure...he's breathing."
Hearing his quiet words, the hidden fear in his voice...it made my heart ache.
"Carlisle...of course he's breathing," I said gently. "Why wouldn't he be? And besides, we have that breathing monitor – the one you insisted on getting. It'll alert us if something's wrong. You know that."
Again, he was silent for a moment before he spoke. "I just...I just wanted to make sure, that's all."
I got up slowly, rounding the bed and quietly padding my way to him. When I reached him, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and drew me against him, pressing his face into my hair and drawing in a deep breath.
The small baby boy sleeping in the crib had no idea he was keeping his parents awake – and he wasn't even crying. Most parents would be more than happy if their child was as quiet and calm as ours, but...well, silence was something Carlisle couldn't stand. It was his greatest demon, his worst nightmare, his most unyielding fear. Unnatural quiet. Cries and weeps that were forever silent.
Sometimes, silence could torture a person more than chaos and tumult ever could. Sometimes, the peace after the storm was worse than the storm itself. Because, sometimes...sometimes, peace and calm meant something was over. That something had come to an end. That something had left and would never return.
But luckily...luckily, the world wasn't split into storms and the moments of calm after them. Sometimes, there could be a soft, warm breeze, a faint breath of wind. And sometimes, they changed your life, those breezes, turned it upside down, just as surely as any chaos or storm might.
I stared at the peacefully slumbering baby in the crib. Our own soft, warm breeze. Our little Noah Edward Charlie Cullen.
Noah. The name meant rest, repose. Comfort. He was all those things to us, to Carlisle, even in moments like this, when all he felt like doing was to pace restlessly and stay awake hour after hour, guarding the sleep of the dreaming baby. This wasn't the first night I'd found him leaning over the crib, counting the quiet breaths of his newborn son, making sure he was still here. That he was still with us.
I felt him press a soft kiss on the top of my head.
"I thought...this would be easier than this. That it wouldn't be so..." he trailed off with a quiet sigh and fell silent, his arm tightening around me.
"Maybe it's not supposed to be easy," I murmured. "Maybe there'll always be that nagging fear, that whisper of uncertainty. Maybe that's part of every parent's life, and one just has to accept it."
"Maybe," he agreed quietly. He breathed in slowly, drawing in the scent of my hair, and then, he sighed again. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I didn't mean to. I'm sure you're tired enough already. I just...I couldn't sleep. I had to get up and...see him."
"I know," I assured quietly, pulling back to look at him. "How long have you been awake?"
He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I kind of lost track of time, watching him." Then, he smiled softly, his eyes returning to the sleeping baby.
"Can't really blame you for that." I smiled as well, reaching down and carefully touching one tiny, chubby cheek. He had his father's cheekbones, I thought, and his father's chin. He had my dark hair, and his eyes were a startling shade of blue, but it was impossible to tell if they'd stay that way, since babies' eyes changed color after a few months. We just had to wait and see.
I stifled a yawn, and Carlisle chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on my temple. He began to lead me back to the bed, and I didn't resist. As we crawled under the covers, I saw Carlisle reach out to touch the small, framed picture on his bedside table. A little girl with cornflower blue eyes and dark, unruly hair stared back at him, smiling brightly. After a while, he lay down with a quiet sigh. It wasn't a sad sigh, but wistful, perhaps.
I turned off the lamp on the bedside table. The faint nightlight on the other side of the room kept glowing softly, tenderly, like the moon and the stars outside.
I turned onto my side, and Carlisle's arms came around me, pulling me close.
"I'm sorry, Bella," he whispered softly, after a moment of silence. "I know it worries you that I can't seem to let go of my fears. This is supposed to be a time filled with happiness and joy...and I'm afraid I'm ruining these first few unique months for you with my neurotic behaviour. I don't mean to. I don't want you to start worrying and fearing like I do. I'd never want it to be you, getting up in the middle of the night to make sure he's breathing, or to make sure he still has a pulse. I don't want you to be anxious about everything like I am. I don't want you to be alarmed by every tiny sound he makes and then fear that something's wrong." He let out a long, slow breath.
"I understand why you do those things," I murmured softly. "Of course, I wish you didn't feel the need to get up in the middle of the night to check his temperature, for instance. But I understand why you do it. The question is...does it make you feel better? Calmer?"
He was silent for a long while. "Yes...and no," he eventually answered. "It makes me feel...I suppose it makes me feel like I'm at least doing something. That...at least I've tried to do everything I can, in case something happens. In case he gets sick or something."
"Carlisle, he's going to get sick at some point," I reminded him gently. "And when he begins to crawl, and eventually walk, he's going to bump into things, and he's going to fall down – at least thirty times a day, since he kind of has my genes – and when that happens, when he starts getting small cuts and bumps and bruises..."
I felt him nod. "I know. I'm going to have to deal with that without losing my mind." He was silent for a beat. "I suppose...I don't know. Sometimes, I don't worry so much about those small, harmless injuries he might get. I suppose I keep fearing those things I have less control over. Things I have no way of stopping. No way of preventing."
"Is that why...you wanted to get that breathing monitor?"
He didn't answer, but he didn't have to.
"Carlisle, crib deaths are rare. You know that. And as a former doctor, you're also fully aware that, since the cause is unknown, preventing it from happening is sometimes impossible. You also know we're doing everything we can – that we're doing everything right. We lay him down on his back, we don't use bedding that's too soft, he sleeps in the same room with us, close to our bed..."
I felt him nod again. "I know. And I know those are pretty much the only things we can do. And I know the monitor is probably going overboard – it's there just for my mental health."
"And we can keep it there, of course, if it helps you. And you can keep getting up in the middle of the night to check on him, if that's what you need to do. But I don't want you to collapse from exhaustion. I'm sure this first year is going to be challenging enough as it is."
He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right." He placed a soft kiss on my cheek, tightening his hold around me. "I'm glad you're able to keep your head cool. That you're here to talk sense to me, whenever I'm close to losing it. You shouldn't have to do that – you've done so much for me already. You've given me so much, Bella. If someone had told me ten years ago – or one year ago – that I'd be here...that I'd have a woman like you by my side, and I'd be married...that I'd be raising a son..." He trailed off, swallowing. "You...you changed everything. The thought of never meeting you...it horrifies me."
I leaned closer to kiss him softly. "But we did meet. I'm here, and you're here, and little Noah's here. What else do we need?"
"Nothing," he whispered, nuzzling my nose with his. "Everything's here. Right here."
He tightened hold around me. I let my eyes slip closed, because he was right. Everything was here, everything we needed.
"Try to get some sleep now, okay?" I suggested.
"Yes, Ma'am."
I smiled, touching my forehead to his. Closing my eyes, I sighed, feeling deliciously sleepy. I shifted into a better position, snuggling closer to Carlisle's warm body.
And as soon as I did...Noah let out a shrill, hungry cry and began to fuss.
Carlisle gave a soft laugh, rolling onto his back and turning on the bedside light on his side, before getting up. As I sat up myself, rubbing a hand over my eyes, he shook his head and smiled.
"Don't get up," he murmured. He turned around and reached into the crib, gently taking the restless baby into his arms and carrying him to me.
I lay down on my side, undoing the buttons of my pajama top, resting my head against the pillows, as Carlisle placed the baby next to me. The quiet cries ceased, as Noah's skin came in contact with mine, and within a few seconds, he seemed perfectly content again, as he began to suckle greedily.
"Doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?" I cooed at the nursing baby.
Carlisle chuckled, placing one more pillow under my head to support my neck. Then, he lay down on his side, facing me and gently stroking our baby's back.
I could have stayed there and watched them both forever; the look in Carlisle's eyes, as he gazed at our son...it was indescribable. So many emotions could flash through his eyes during a few short seconds. He could look absolutely horrified one moment, as if it had just occurred to him that it was his job to keep this little, vulnerable bundle safe and unharmed, and the next moment, he might seem utterly calm, like some new peace had settled over him. Like he suddenly realized that, yes, maybe he could do this. Maybe he could keep him safe, after all, despite those quiet whispers of fear that too often tormented him and kept him awake at night.
It still brought tears to my eyes, seeing him like this. His occasional anxiety and restlessness always made my heart ache, but as that peace, that evident joy and certainty, stepped into their place a moment later...I felt like my heart was overflowing with emotions. With happiness. With relief.
Edward had been right; Carlisle was always meant to be a father. He'd never stopped being one.
He placed a finger against the baby's tiny toes, smiling as they curled down. Then, he stroked his hand along Noah's back, his touch so gentle and light, it was barely there; it was like he was afraid the baby might break into pieces, like Noah was as fragile as glass.
I thought to myself that, sometimes, it described Carlisle more. That it was him who was fragile, easily breakable, so frail that a breath of wind might blow him away. But at the same time...at the same time, he was the exact opposite. Strength personified.
And sometimes...sometimes, the things that made him so fragile, the things that had once broken him into small pieces...sometimes, those same things would build him anew and make him whole again.
His eyes were soft, as he watched me and the baby. His deep blue eyes, blue like cornflowers. Blue like the sky after an all-night thunderstorm.
He drew in a deep breath. "He's so much calmer than Alice was at this age," he suddenly murmured, his voice quiet. "She almost never slept at night, and sometimes, nothing would soothe her. She didn't even have colic or anything. She was just...restless."
I held my breath; it wasn't often he talked about Alice, but I knew ever since Noah had been born, he'd been thinking about her a lot. Reliving her short life.
My eyes found the photo of her on his bedside table; he'd finally put one of them in a frame and placed it somewhere he would see it every day.
"You'll tell him about her, won't you?" I heard myself whisper, turning to look at the baby again, feeling a catch in my heart, as one tiny finger wrapped around my own. "When he gets older?"
A sad, familiar smile curved Carlisle's lips. He hesitated. "I already do," he confessed quietly. "Sometimes, when he sleeps."
I smiled, surprised. "You do?"
He nodded.
"What kinds of things do you tell him?" I asked softly, shifting slightly and resting my head back.
He was silent for a moment, gently cupping our baby's head. "I tell him...about some of the funny things she used say. And I tell him about her favorite things. Things she enjoyed, things she loved." He gave a soft, quiet chuckle. "And I also tell him...about the things she found irritating. She absolutely loathed Esme and me, whenever we made her wear shoes. She didn't like shoes. Clothes were fine, but shoes...absolutely not. She always wanted to be barefoot. Always, even if it was pouring rain outside." He shook his head, smiling. "She said...shoes slow her down too much. That they made her steps too heavy."
His words made me smile sadly. I caressed the back of Noah's head, gently stroking the dark, fine wisps of hair covering his head.
"I wonder if he'll have her hair," I murmured.
Carlisle smiled. "Maybe. Or maybe he'll get yours." He reached out to tuck one brown lock behind my ear. Suddenly, he sobered, a shadow crossing his eyes, as he looked at the baby. "One day...one day, he's going to ask where she is. Why she isn't here. Why he won't get to meet her." He exhaled slowly, swallowing. "How can I tell him...when he does?"
I gently pulled my finger free from Noah's grasp, noticing his suckling had begun to slow; he looked like he was half asleep. I took Carlisle's hand, holding it tightly.
"Are you afraid telling him will make him sad?" I asked softly. "Or that it'll make you sad?"
He shook his head, giving a bleak, soft laugh. "Maybe both." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Back when Seth and Elizabeth started asking questions about Alice, wondering why they'd never meet their cousin, Edward and Irina used to tell them she'd become an angel before they were born. It's a comforting, beautiful way to put it, but...I don't know. Sometimes, an answer like that might confuse a child. Depending on the situation, maybe it's...better...to talk about things as they are. Without hiding. Without pretense. Without fear. You taught me that." He paused. "Maybe it's better, yes, but...it's also harder."
I didn't say anything, just held his hand tightly. Carlisle gave me a small smile, pulling in a slow breath. "Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself again," he murmured, his eyes on the baby now. "He can't even speak yet, after all. Maybe I should just try to learn to take every moment as it comes, instead of worrying about tomorrow."
"I think that's a good idea," I answered, smiling. "That's how the two of us started, after all. By taking it one moment at a time. And when it comes to worrying about tomorrow...I think we've worried about things enough for one lifetime. At least you have."
He smiled softly. "You're right. Worrying and fearing...they can so easily become a permanent state of mind. And before you even know it, they're suddenly dictating your every step. Your whole life, your whole existence. I should know that."
"Not anymore, though," I murmured softly. "Things are different now. There might be those whispers of uncertainty and fear every now and then, but that's to be expected. Those are an inevitable part of parenthood. Inevitable part of life. And that's what they should always be. Just one part of life. Then, there all those other parts, other things, other pieces and other feelings that make up a life...and they'll be enough to keep the fear at bay, or at least tolerable."
Carlisle nodded. He withdrew his hand from mine and reached out to touch my cheek. "I'll always remember the time when I didn't have those other parts. Those other pieces. Feelings. When there was only darkness." He shook his head slowly, frowning. "Now, looking back on it, I have no idea how I got through every day. Even though I had Esme and Edward, I was merely surviving, merely existing. Every breath I took was a forced action that just served as a cruel way to prolong my torment." His hand stroked my cheek again. I covered it with my own.
"And now?" I asked softly.
He smiled. "Now...now, I feel like every breath I draw is a precious gift. Suddenly, the air in my lungs is there to sustain me, to keep me alive, instead of burning me to ashes. I'm no longer merely existing, merely surviving." He paused, stroking his knuckles along my cheek. "I don't even know when that changed. When that endless haze of black and white and grey became an outburst of colors. When the sunsets began to mark beginnings instead of endings. When those endless nights stopped being so endless." He paused, taking my hand again.
"Maybe it was around the time when I realized...that I missed you whenever we were apart. Or maybe it was when you spent that first night here, in this bed, and I lay awake, listening to the sound of your breathing. Or maybe it was when I once heard you say goodnight to your old truck, and I realized the reason you love it so much is because your father gave it to you, and I found that very endearing.
"Or maybe it was when I saw you that one afternoon all those months ago; you'd just come from Rosalie's salon, and I saw you'd been crying. I realized...it troubled me, pained me, seeing you like that." He gave me a close look. "You never told me why you were upset. I've wondered about it more than once."
I gave him a small smile. "That was the day I fully acknowledged I was in love with you. And back then, I still believed I'd have to walk away from you someday, or you'd walk away from me. I just knew it'd happen sooner or later, and...I tried to force mysef to accept that. That you didn't feel the same about me as I did for you. It made me...sad."
His hand around mine tightened. "You'll never have to fear that again, Bella. We'll never walk away from each other. Instead, we'll walk side by side. How does that sound?"
I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "That sounds more than perfect."
There was a quiet, content sigh; we both glanced down at the little baby boy nestled between us. Noah was fast asleep, his tiny lips still pressing against my skin, his small fingers now wrapped around a button on my pajama top. I shifted, holding my breath, as I gently disengaged his fingers from the button. Carlisle gathered Noah into his arms, holding the sleeping baby to his chest, as he got up carefully and made his way to the crib with soft, soundless steps. He didn't ease the baby into his crib right away. He spent a moment just holding him to his chest, pressing a cheek against the sleeping child's small head. And then, he just stood there for a while, closing his eyes.
I watched him, watched them both. My two own precious pieces of joy that made up my whole life, two persons who had turned my world upside down, when I'd least expected it. My very own tide, and my very own warm breeze.
As Carlisle leaned down to settle the baby into his crib, Noah didn't let out a sound. It was as if he was fully aware of his own name. Noah...it truly seemed to mean rest, repose, comfort. I saw those things in Carlisle, as I watched him gazing down at our sleeping baby. And I somehow knew that, for once, he wasn't feeling restless or afraid. In that moment, he wasn't counting his child's quiet breaths and fearing he'd someday be faced with cold, empty silence.
As he returned to the bed, once again, he gently touched the framed photo on his nightstand, before turning out the beside light, and a moment later, he was pulling the covers over us and wrapping his arms around me, bringing me closer to his chest.
"Everything's here," he whispered quietly, repeating his words from moments ago.
He was right. Everything was here. And at last, there seemed to be repose, comfort, even for him. At last, there was no whisper of sadness in his smile. Instead, there were whispers of other things, wonderful things. Whispers of trust and peace...and hope.
Hope. In the storms of life, hope was sometimes the first thing to go. But sometimes...sometimes, it could also be the first thing to return. It made me dare to dream that a stubborn, golden-haired baby girl with deep blue eyes named Marie would also join our little family someday.
In the soft glow of the nightlight, Carlisle's eyes found mine. His deep, blue eyes. Blue like fields full of cornflowers. Blue like the sea at its most quiet time.
At last, they weren't older than the rest of him, his eyes. At last, that ancient sadness I'd once seen in them seemed to be gone forever.
A/N: I want to thank every reader and reviewer I've had. Words can't describe how much it means to a writer to know that someone out there is looking forward to the next update. Once again, I'd also like to thank Dollybigmomma for the numerous improvements she has made to the story. Her patience rivals that of a saint!
About the little golden-haired girl Bella kept dreaming about...the reader is free to make their own interpretations about her. Maybe she was just a figment of Bella's imagination, but I'd like to think they have another child in the future. I think Noah would love to have a little sister, and having another daughter would mean so much to Carlisle.
I went back and forth about what to do with Carlisle's medical career. Maybe some of you imagined/hoped he would go back to being a doctor, and that would be part of their Happily Ever After. This thought was very appealing to me, but when I considered it, I came to the conclusion that Carlisle would rather stay as a professor, mostly because his schedule would be more steady. He missed a lot of things with Alice because of his crazy working hours at the hospital, and I'd like to believe he wouldn't want to repeat that with Noah.
Every now and then, someone leaves a review and says they hope I keep writing Bella/Carlisle fanfiction. Thank you, I'm very flattered. This is my favorite pairing of all time, and it has been a pleasure to write stories about them. These two make my heart race and my blood dance like there's no tomorrow. I do have (at least) one more B/C story to tell, and I've been working on it since November. It's a very slow progress, though, and the plot still has some holes that need figuring out. That is why I won't start posting before I get it finished, and I have no way to tell when that happens. It could be six months from now, or it could be two years from now. I sincerely hope I find the time and inspiration to finish it someday, and sooner rather than later.
Once again, thank you for reading. Until next time!
Aylen