Today is Rosette-Cullen's birthday! Head on over to her profile to wish her a happy sweet sixteen!

In celebration of this very special day, I've written a special CarlislexEdward one shot in her honor. Her favorite scene from the Twilight movie was the flashback from Edward's change, so I decided to write it from Carlisle's perspective, adding in a little erotic excitement here or there.


Carlisle POV

To this day, even after over four hundred years of life, I am still unable to forget the eyes of a human woman named Elizabeth Masen. I had met her during my early medical training as a resident in Chicago. It was during the epidemic of 1918, and I had discovered her and her family dying in the hospital of Spanish Influenza. With her final dying breath, Elizabeth had asked me to save her only son, her beloved Edward; to preserve his life by any means necessary. It was then that I realized she was the first and only person to ever discover my secret.

"You don't know what you're asking me," I told her, but she remained firm in her resolve. I remember having been touched by her determined perseverance, especially in such a weakened state.

"I don't care what you have to do," she told me seriously. "I just want Edward to survive."

Survive. Yes, that was the key. He would not survive his current illness, that much was certain. It was also true, however, that an attempt on my part to grant him immortality could be equally as disastrous. I had never created another vampire, and, in truth, I wasn't sure if I had the strength or the self control that was necessary for the task. I had never tasted the blood of a human before, either; I had no concept whatsoever of the effect it would have upon my more predatory instincts. It could very easily send me into a violent frenzy, ruining all my years of carefully mastered control. I had tried to think of every possible reason not to go through with it, but I just couldn't seem to get the image of Elizabeth Masen's piercing green eyes out of my mind.

These were my thoughts as I sat quietly by the boy's bedside, watching as all the remaining color drained from his pale, sickly face. His shallow breaths were coming slower now, more labored. I could see that he had barely moments left. Yet despite his gauntly appearance, he was still beautiful in my eyes. It was easy to see why his mother would sacrifice so much to save him; there was something special about this boy, such youthful vigor and innocence that it seemed an unforgivable waste to allow his life to slip away. His eyes were closed as I watched him, and he seemed if he were resting in a deep, peaceful sleep. He seemed barely aware of his surroundings, and I hoped very much that he was not suffering. Despite the fact that I hardly knew the boy, I had already started to care for him immensely.

Very carefully, I leaned over him until my lips were mere centimeters away from his neck. I inhaled cautiously, and was immediately assaulted by a potent, mouthwatering fragrance that set my throat aflame. I took a deep, calming breath, and convulsively swallowed back a mouthful of venom. Still cautious, I inched my lips forward until they were barely brushing the skin of his throat. I let them linger there for a moment, allowing myself to become acclimated to the way his pulse throbbed faintly beneath the membrane's thin surface. I closed my eyes in concentration and slowly, carefully, sunk my teeth into his neck. There was a soft tearing sound as they cut through his flesh, and a warm trickle of blood flowed into my mouth.

I felt him stiffen as he regained consciousness, suddenly aware of my sharp teeth piercing through his skin. He began to struggle against me, thrashing wildly, but I held him firmly in place - His weak human muscles were no match for my immortal strength. His screams of terror were muffled beneath my hand. He clawed desperately at it, but I only held him tighter with my stone grip. It pained me to have to restrain him like that, but it would only hurt him more if he struggled.

Out of nowhere, his body became very still. He stopped trying to fight me off, and instead started to pull me closer. His shaking fingers twisted themselves in my hair as he pulled my face closer to his neck, sinking my teeth deeper into his flesh. He gasped and cried out in pain, but still he urged me forward. I was frightened, bewildered, as this was the last reaction I had expected, but his motivations suddenly became very clear to me. He thought that I was killing him, putting him out of his misery, and he wanted to expedite the process. He wanted me to let him die.

No, I could not do that; not after I had promised to save him. I bit harder into his neck, trying to force as much venom as possible into the open wound. He would begin to feel the burning soon. The razor sharp pain he felt from the bite mark would be nothing in comparison to the searing pain of transformation. He would quite literally beg me for death, and by that point it would already be too late for me to grant his request, even if I wanted to.

The taste of him was exquisite, better than I ever could have imagined. I could feel the life draining out of him, and I knew that I would need to stop soon, or risk killing him, but I realized with panic that I couldn't seem to pull myself away. The way his fragile body writhed underneath me as his breaths became heavier and more labored was intoxicating. It was a primal, erotic thrill. The taste of his blood and the feel of his body were more satisfying than any stag or colt had ever been. My jaw began to clench and unclench in rhythm with the way his body moved. It was an intensely pleasurable and empowering sensation, unlike anything I had ever experienced. An involuntary growl ripped from my chest.

As if in response, a small gurgling noise bubbled up from the boy's throat, followed by a short rasp of air. His hands tightened themselves in my hair again. "Please," he whispered.

My resolve wavered considerably as I entertained the idea of granting his wish to end his prolonged, painful suffering. But his mother's face flashed unexpectedly into my mind again, and it was in that moment that I was finally decided upon my course of action.

I took every once of strength that I possessed to tear myself away from his throat. I stumbled away from him, gasping and trembling with bloodlust. The wound in his neck was deep, seeping blood all over his pillow. He looked at me with panicked, wide-eyed confusion, and I watched as the searing burn of my venom finally began to register in his senses. His expression altered, and his body stiffened suddenly into wild, violent convulsions. An eruption of bloodcurdling screams ripped from the boy's throat. He clawed helplessly at my arm, his fingernails merely scratching the surface of my impenetrable skin. "Let me die! Let me die! LET ME DIE!" he screamed. He was clinging to my arm and sobbing, then; crying the last human tears he would ever shed.

As a vampire, I was indestructible to nearly every physical force or substance - untouchable. But it was Edward's bloodcurdling screams of agony that cut through me like razors that day. Yes, I had fulfilled my promise to his mother in keeping him alive, but what had that promise cost him? His life, now inextricably connected with mine, would be a never-ending stretch of midnight. I had taken away his life from him, his future, and surely he would hate me for it. I would spend every single day of eternity trying to earn his forgiveness.

A/N: Rosette, if you're reading this, I freaking love you, woman. I'm so glad that we're friends; I can't imagine my life without you in it.