Because I only got two split votes for what I should do, I just decided to start this story from randomly getting one of my friends to pick it, but if you wanted me to do something else you can still say so. For those of you who haven't read my one brief preview, this story is just gonna be a bunch of Carlisle father/son oneshots since all of you seem to love those, starting with Emmett, then Jasper, and lastly Edward. This chapter doesn't really fall under the category, but that's okay, I wrote it anyway, plus it doesn't go into much detail.
I looked at the young man, soothingly brushing the blood crusted, brown curls from his handsome, pale face. His screams had ended by now, the venom nearly paralyzing him, yet the look of torture remained, cutting at my heart. Nobody deserved to have to go through this.
"Carlisle, how much longer?" I didn't take my gaze from him as I answered Rosalie, used to the question she had been asking every few minutes now.
"Soon, Rosalie. Very soon."
"It's been four days." Although I continued looking down I could tell from her aggravated voice that her anger was becoming more pronounced.
That wasn't a good thing.
I didn't know how to respond, but she continued before I had the chance to. "Four days. It's only supposed to last three. What went wrong?"
I put on the most calming voice I could, trying to settle her nerves. The last thing we needed right then was for the man—no, he was hardly a man, boy was more appropriate—to wake up to see her acting like a bomb had just been dropped. "It's fine, Rosalie. These things aren't written in stone. It may take longer for some people than for others."
As I looked up to give her a firm, sure look, Esme came up behind where she was sitting on the boys' other side, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a motherly way. "Carlisle's right, dear. He's going to be fine."
"I wouldn't say that Esme," Edward cut in from his bedroom upstairs. "He's going to be meeting Rosalie, after all."
I tried to hide my annoyance as her scowl deepened. "Edward…" It was the only warning he needed, and I heard a page flip as he resumed his book, unapologetic.
Rosalie ignored him. "If he's all right, then why is it already the fourth day? This should be over by now."
"Rose," Esme tried again, combing a hand through her golden hair, "Carlisle's changed three people before him, apart from having been a doctor for the past two centuries. He knows what he's doing. You can trust his opinion on this one."
She glared at the floor. "Then why isn't he a vampire already? Carlisle, are you sure…" I looked up at her, trying to sound resolute.
"Yes Rosalie. He's going to be all right."
She looked hopefully at me. "Maybe you should check again…to be safe…"
She continued staring at me before I finally gave in.
Sighing, I pushed my chair back from its' place at his head to his torso, unbuttoning the shirt Esme had thrown together for him (a sad attempt to get rid of some of the blood) from his quickly cooling skin. I resisted the urge to send her out of the room—she clearly had more than just a want to be here. Still, it was ridiculous, feeling the need to have me examine him every five minutes. The transformation healed everything; she knew that. A bear attack was no exception, no matter how extensive the injuries to his body had been. And still she continued asking me; asking me to check him again and again just to make sure nothing had happened in each 300 second interval.
Choking down common sense in an effort to calm her, I ran my hand over his chest, listening carefully to his dwindling panting to make sure, once again, that the lung that had been punctured had healed fully. Hearing nothing irregular, again, I moved further down to his abdomen, as gently as possible pressing down, checking for anything that seemed out of place.
Rosalie jumped slightly when his breath caught in his throat as my fingers pushed against his ribs, the ones that had been completely shattered only a couple days ago.
I looked back up at her, trying to be as patient as I could as I re-buttoned his shirt. "He's perfectly fine, Rosalie," I said quietly.
She sprung up from her spot, causing Esme to trip back slightly, and started madly pacing. "Then why is it taking so long?!"
Esme glanced at the boy before looking, unsure, up at me, and then to Rosalie. "Well, he is a bit more…filled out…than most, dear."
Rosalie took it the wrong way. "What's that supposed to mean?" She turned to glare at Esme, who helplessly shrugged slightly, sending me the 'I tried' look.
I quickly came to her defense. "She is right; it's a definite possibility for why this is taking so long." I continued before she could yell at me, raising my hands in surrender. "Look at him, Rosalie. He's muscular, which means he has more mass, which means it probably will take longer than usual for the venom to spread."
She looked like she wanted to argue further just for the sake of it, but my calm demeanor threw her off slightly, and she went back to brooding in her chair. I did a take back as she mumbled "He's perfect" under her breath, but when I looked back to Esme in surprise, she was merely smiling knowingly.
"Rosalie, honey, maybe you should change." Esme said, eying her outfit from behind. You couldn't tell what its' natural color was anymore. The only thing you could see was the blood that stained the fabric, slight shreds in it from where the bear tried to claw her. "I doubt it's going to help anyone to have all that blood left on you."
She didn't respond. She just continued staring at him, her fingers lightly stroking the back of his hand.
I intervened. "Go Rose. We need to keep him as calm as possible, which means no human blood around him when he's only seconds old." I sighed when her only response was a furrowing brow. "He'll be fine."
Esme came up behind her and took her shoulders, pulling her out of the chair and leading her out of the room. "Carlisle can handle it. Let's get you into some new clothes." Rosalie looked back over her shoulder as much as possible as they walked away, but finally gave up and just went with Esme.
The minute they walked through the door, I pulled the chair back up to the boys' head, putting a hand on his forehead, hoping the cold would help, even if it was only slightly. A soft whimper escaped his lips at the temperature, but he didn't try to pull away.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, hating the tortured look on his face, knowing I was the one who caused it. "You're doing great. It'll all be over soon. Just hang in there for me, alright?" I doubted he could hear, if not understand, my quiet words, but I continued anyway, hoping that maybe just the sound of my voice would help to pacify him. "Just a little longer, and it'll be done. The pain will go away, I promise."
I ran my finger over his cheek, clearing away the loose strands of hair, and he gasped, obviously having difficulty sucking in any air. His head rolled back against the table, his throat constricting even more. "Shh. Deep breaths. That's it. Just try to relax, it's almost over."
I heard the wood of the dining room table breaking under the force of his grip, but didn't look down to see the damage of it, finding myself caught up in his face once more. I thought back to when Rosalie had first brought him in. I had smelt the blood first, but didn't have time to form any coherent thoughts before she screamed my name. I had worked faster then than I had in a long time, trying to stop the bleeding. Through the blood, I could see his tanned body was packed with muscles, his hands calloused and worn, both obvious signs of a lifetime—however short it may have been—of manual labor.
Through Esme's frantic hands trying to help me somehow, help to ease his pain, and Rosalie and Edward's arguing, he had opened his eyes once, and at the time I could've sworn that that brief flash of brown he permitted me was one of the greatest gifts I could have ever asked to receive. Deep, kind, caring, compassionate, intelligent, warm, selfless. The only things written in them. The only thing almost equal to the guilt of causing this boy pain was the guilt of taking those soft pools away from the world.
He gave another whimper, and I immediately turned my attention back to him. His heart gave an unsteady thump and I moved my hand from his face to his chest, slightly unbuttoning his shirt once more, this time of my own accord, and resting my palm just below his collar bone, remembering all the venom would soak to his heart before the transformation was complete. I leaned closer to him slightly, gently rubbing circles against his breast with my thumb. "You're doing great," I repeated. "Just relax. Just hang in there."
He bit down hard on his lip as his muscles contracted even more.
My guilt swelled.
"Being remorseful doesn't help anyone, especially not him."
My head snapped up to see Edward standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"My apologies Edward. I didn't realize you were listening."
He shrugged, brushing my words off. "They're your thoughts, you can have them if you want. I'm just saying, it's not going to change anything." His gaze left my eyes to stare at where my hand was. "Don't stop talking. Noises distract him from the pain. Not a lot; still, anything helps."
I nodded, appreciating the new information. I looked towards him questioningly. "Is my contact…"
"The cold feels good to him." He kept his eyes trained on my hand as he continued speaking. "Again, not a lot, but every little thing…" His voice meandered off as I nodded, lost in my thoughts for a few seconds.
I wonder if morphine—
"Probably not. The venom would've worn it away within minutes, if not seconds, anyway. Besides, it didn't really matter. He was losing too much blood, apart from having a nearly collapsed lung. There wasn't time for medicine."
I wondered if he was saying that because he believed that, or because he wanted to make me feel better.
He sighed. "I really do think that Carlisle. Any extra time we had we spent trying to stop the blood. There was hardly even a second more he could've lasted without getting the venom in his system." I looked up in time to catch the end of his shrug. His gaze moved up to the boys' face, and he stared intently, looking like he was trying to decipher something.
He coughed up a few drops of blood, something he had been doing for a while now, and I wiped it off of his lips as quickly as I could, not liking the shiver than ran through his body.
"Shh." I breathed, leaning further over him. "You're all right. It's going to be okay."
When I looked back up, Edward's gaze remained hard on his face, and I cleared my throat, trying to get his attention. His eyes only briefly flashed to meet mine before going back to their previous position. "Are you looking for something?" What he would be, I couldn't imagine, but it was the only question I could think of suitable enough to ask.
He smiled slightly before quickly letting it drop, resuming his concentrating expression. "I just…don't understand."
Ah. Comprehension hit me. You don't know why she picked him.
He hesitantly nodded. "I suppose, that too. It's just, more of a question of…" His voiced dropped off, unsure of how to continue.
My brow furrowed. What is it Edward?
He shook his head, but then looked up at me. "You should have heard his thoughts, still hear his thoughts." His gaze once again drifted off to the boy. "He realized quickly enough, when the burning was still at its' minimum, that him being in pain was hurting Rosalie." He shrugged once more. "He tried to stop it."
Stop the pain?
He gave a quick laugh. "If that were it, I wouldn't be so confused." He hesitated a second time, and an almost admiring tone entered his voice. "He was trying not to show pain. At all. He was trying to stop screaming, trying to smooth his expression. I just don't—" He paused for a moment as I tried to take in the new information. "Don't you get it Carlisle? Complete strangers, that very well may have caused his pain, which we did, and he was trying to put more suffering on himself so they could be happier." The words hit me like a ton of bricks. "He has one of the most…selfless…minds I've ever heard, even in torture like this. I just don't understand how Rosalie would be so…attracted…to him."
My eyes narrowed in confusion. "Edward, if he's as—"
"I get that Carlisle." His voice was aggravated. "I know that part. It's just…well…Rosalie, she isn't exactly the same…personality."
Oh. I was beginning to understand what he was getting at. You want to know why she chose such an opposite.
He gave a tight nod. "I suppose. I'm just curious. Out of all the people she could have chosen to ask you to change she chooses…" He once again struggled for words. "One of the purest, kindest minds I've heard since I could." He shrugged for a third time. "I'm just trying to see how it's possible, that's all."
We were each silent for a moment before he pushed himself up off the wood. "I'll be in my room if you need me. I figure the less people here for him to have to deal with, the better."
I nodded in agreement as he left, my thoughts lingering on his words.
One of the kindest minds he had ever heard. My guilt triggered to an all time high. For Gods' sake, this whole time he had been inflicting more pain on himself to try and make us feel better. I would've felt a lot better if he had been putting as much fault as possible onto us. That would have made my life much more easier.
I was pulled from my reverie as his breathing became shallower and his heart started to slow. I took my hand off his chest, scooted my chair back a little, and sat carefully still, not wanting to aggravate him. After seeing four transformations, including my own, I knew one certain fact: newborns were unpredictable. The last thing we needed was one that felt threatened on our hands. Rosalie came rushing into the room, her hair wet from the bath Esme probably made her take, but stopped only a foot into the door, suddenly unsure. "Should I…"
"You're fine," I assured her, only glancing up for less than a second.
The heartbeats slowed in a protracted, deliberate fashion, until they finally stopped, and both of us unconsciously held our breaths, and I could hear Esme and Edward do the same.
He was the epitome of stillness, the same degree of a statue, before he quickly inhaled, and his eyes burst open. They were no longer the beautiful brown orbs, that for some reason, in the back of my mind, I seemed to be expecting to see, but a dark, barn red. He sat up slowly, not seeming to notice the presence of anyone else in the room. His perfect face held only shock for a moment, and quickly settled on confusion. His breaths were deep as his gaze flashed around quickly, until finally, it settled on me.
As always, review to let me know if I should continue! And again as always, I'm always open to ideas for chapter plots. Thanks for reading!