A/N: So I adopted this bunny from Janet Quinsey, thanks so much for allowing me to continue your idea.

What can I say, at times this may be hard to read, but please trust me :)

I own nothing…only the continuation of a great idea.

Thanks as usual to my beta texasbella who has the patience of a saint, and my pre reader Matt.


Anyone there?

The words appear on my screen.

Yes, I'm here.

I type rapidly.

Do you need to talk to someone?

I wait.

I've just gotten home from my shift in the ER at the hospital and logged into the forum site where I, along with many others, take chat sessions with suicidal or depressed people of all ages. I would like to say that I save everyone I chat with…but not all days go so perfectly.

I'm scared

I can see that this one is not too chatty.

Of what?

I wait again.

Sometimes people are bursting to talk, and with some, like this one is turning out to be, getting information from them is like pulling teeth.

I'm scared I'm going to hurt myself.

Thank you for coming here first. Why do you want to hurt yourself?

Nobody loves me.

Everyone says that. It's rarely true, but I have to assess the situation so I pick a couple of phrases from the manual to keep the conversation going.

The most important part of this job is to keep them talking.

Why would you say that? Is someone hurting you?

I don't have anyone to hurt me anymore.

Yep, like pulling teeth. I try again.

Can you tell me more? Did someone leave you, break your heart? Girlfriend or boyfriend issues?

I killed my dad and my mom kicked me out.

Whoa! Hold on; what? Calm down, Cullen, and ask clarifying questions.

What do you mean you killed your dad?

I type cautiously as my hand reaches for my phone just in case.

I told him I was gay and he had a heart attack and died. Now I should die.

Whew. See, clarifying questions. Now keep him talking.

No, that isn't how this works.

I killed him. My mother told me I did. If I was normal he wouldn't have died.

You are normal.

No, I am gay!

Gay is normal for you. There is nothing wrong with being gay.

How would you know?

I'm gay.

Ya right. Says some anonymous person behind a keyboard.

Now make a connection, but don't get too personal.

My name is Carlisle. I am a 30 year old gay man and I had to come out to my parents once too.

I don't believe you.

Why should you?

Sorry what?

Why should you believe me? All I can say is that I remember feeling really alone and confused. I thought I would have a little support in my mother but I knew my dad would have issues with it. I put it off for as long as I could. Turns out I was right. My father beat the shit out of me and sent me out into the world with only the clothes on my back.

And your mom?

Well, she killed herself.

Are you still there? I'm sorry. I know that was a lot to say.

Hello? What is your name anyway?

You don't have to tell me. I would like to know what to call you. You can make one up if you like.


Just call me Lost, I'm sorry about your mom.

I was starting to worry I had lost him.

It's okay. It was something I had to learn to come to terms with, that it wasn't anymore my fault than your dad's death is yours.

Biting my lip, I shake away the guilt. How can I tell these people you can come to terms with things like this when I still suffer the nightmares?


So erm…Lost, do you have some place you can go tonight? Any friends you can stay with, or any other relatives?

No. We're new here and I don't know anyone that well yet.

What town are you in? I will try to find you a shelter.

Port Angeles,Washington.

I shuffle through my files trying to find him a shelter. I know it's going to be difficult in such a small town, maybe the nearest one will be Seattle.

I'm in luck as I type the address quickly

Serenity House Shelter on Vine Street, do you know where that is?


Oh please don't let me have lost him. I tap my fingers nervously along the keys thinking of a lifeline I can throw out to him.

My knee bounces as the minutes tick by...

Hello, erm… are you still there?

Yes, he's back! I am fisting my hand to reduce the cramps of twelve hour days as I type furiously.

I'm glad your back, I thought you had gone somewhere.

I have nowhere to go, I'm so scared.

Please don't be scared, talk to me, you can talk to me all night… I don't mind.

So what, you sit there all day waiting to talk to freaks like me?

You're not a freak, and no, I do this part time.


I'm a doctor.

I type, rubbing the back of my aching neck.


I chuckle as I knew he would think that.

No. I clarify.

I look at my watch and it's nearly 9pm, I stretch popping my joints, waiting.


What is it Lost? You can tell me anything, I won't judge you.

I cut myself

I sigh, rubbing my face with the heels of my hands.

How long?


How long have you been cutting yourself?

I'm scared

I know you are, please talk to me, talk to me about anything.

I'm afraid I'm pushing him, asking too many leading questions.

What's your favourite flavour of Ice cream?


Ice cream…what flavour?

Erm...Mint chocolate chip

I smile inwardly, mine too.

I have to go, its closing...

I sit bolt upright in my chair, closing? What's closing?



Lost, please, where are you, what's closing?

"Dammit!" I yell, slamming my fist onto my desk.

I stand and begin to pace. 'Closing,' he said, what would be closing?

I turn to face my bookcase, it reaches from one end of my study to the other, and then the proverbial light comes on.

"Library!" I laugh in despair of my stupidity.

Of course, how stupid of me, if his mom had kicked him out, he'd be on the streets, he had used the library computers to talk to me.

I stalk over to the liquor cabinet pouring myself three fingers of scotch; I throw it back in one enjoying the burn in my throat.

Dammit Carlisle, why didn't you get him to a shelter? my subconscious growled at me.

I lay my head back against the back of my leather chesterfield, my eyes becoming heavy…

"Mmm" I smile as Ben nuzzles his nose into that sensitive spot behind my ear.

"You like that don't you C?"

I nod, turning my head, my lips searching for his. When they find their mate, my body explodes with a myriad of emotions as I writhe underneath him, circling my hips, rubbing my clothed erection against his.

"Oh fuck, Carlisle," he whimpers as his hands find my zipper.

The cold stark air makes me shudder as it twines its icy fingers around my overheated and now exposed cock.

I mirror his actions, delving into his jeans and releasing him.

I tense for a moment, this is the farthest the two of us have ever gone, and I'm unsure.

He senses my feelings and begins to kiss me along my jawline.

"It's fine Carlisle, don't worry, Seth said he'll text me when he sees your parent's car."

I relax as he takes both our cocks into his hand and begins to stroke them slowly.

"Ungh" is the only coherent thing my brain can relay. I'm lost in this moment. So lost I don't hear the door, what I do hear is the scream.

"Carlisle Xavier Cullen, what is the meaning of this?"

The room slows down almost to a standstill as I see my father grabbing Ben's shirt and yanking him away from my bed.

Then his eyes widen, he obviously hadn't had a clear view from the doorway.

"You dirty little bastard!" he yells, throwing Ben onto the floor. I shift, but his eyes are on me, his eyes telling me to stay the fuck silent, to not move.

So I don't move, I sit there and watch my father drag Ben out of my room, the front door opens then slams shut.

My heart is matching his oncoming footsteps beat for beat, he stands in the doorway again, nostrils flared, fists balled at his sides.

His slams my door and clicks the lock.

He stalks towards me raising his fist...

My eyes fly open and I'm halfway off the sofa, my knees on the hard wooden floor, it takes me a moment to gather my equilibrium.

I pull myself up and wipe my face, sweat mixed with tears.

I rub my face. That is one of the worst nightmares I have had in a while.

Looking at my watch, I see its just past two a.m.

I stumble to my cabinet again, not bothering with the glass this time, I swig the bitter liquor.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I decide to log off of my computer.

The stark words of tonight's conversation glare at me:

I'm scared.

Nobody loves me.