For My Own

Epilogue

I stepped off the train in Ashland and raised my hand to hail a cab, but then I thought the better of it. I was desperate to act civilized, to seem a true gentleman, not the masked creature I knew myself to be. Running home seemed too…supernatural. While at times I delighted in the speed, especially when Edward and I ran together and we pushed ourselves to the limits of our capabilities, this evening I wanted nothing more than to feel human.

But a human would have to drive that cab, and the last human to pull his vehicle into our lane hadn't fared well. Though I knew myself to be a failure, I still had to try to protect those under my care—and that meant protecting Esme and whatever human she might be tempted to harm while she endured the long process of gaining control.

But perhaps it was not Esme the humans should fear.

Don't be ridiculous, I snapped at myself. You are no more dangerous than you were before. One mistake hardly constitutes a spree.

But that was only partly true. In another man such as myself, another vampire, a mistake—costly as it was—would be regrettable, but understandable. I knew that I was always capable of killing as easily as I had done in Columbus. I was today equally as dangerous as I was yesterday, not more so.

Edward, can you hear me?

I shook my head in exasperation. How would I know if Edward could hear me, if I could not hear him? I hoped he couldn't hear me, because I did not want him to know what I had done.

The crime itself bothered me. I had vowed to do no harm, and had made it the work of a very long life to make better the things I touched, not worse. With my loss of temper, I had betrayed those vows. But worse than that, worse than having killed a man who richly deserved killing, was the terrible knowledge that I had found the place, deep in my soul, that I had pretended for so long didn't exist. The place where I would turn my back on my ideals in order to get what I wanted.

I discovered in Columbus that my selfishness was greater than my compassion.

I picked up my overnight bag and walked out of the station. I was not ready to go home, to face Esme and Edward, knowing they would be glad to see me. Knowing that Edward, at least, would know immediately what I had done. I could not bear their disappointment.

In any case, I had papers to file, and a short conversation with the judge convinced him to decree the divorce final immediately. I slid the new set of papers into my jacket where the old ones had been, thinking that they were no longer relevant, but determined to see the charade through to the end.

I walked through town and past the hospital, where they were expecting me to report for work again tomorrow. I glanced down at my hands again. How could I treat patients with these hands? I clenched my right hand into a fist and recalled perfectly the feel of Charles Evenson's skull shattering beneath the knuckles.

Perhaps I should not go to work tomorrow.

I walked on, keeping the hospital at my back. I could hear people speaking…doctors and nurses sharing information, loved ones whispering words of encouragement, chaplains murmuring prayers, newborn babies crying, overworked interns snoring in darkened rooms.

It wasn't for me any longer. I was no longer a life-saver, but a life-taker. I wondered what I would do with my time.

"Dr. Cullen's not supposed to be back until tomorrow…"

My head reflexively jerked up at the sound of my name.

"Well, we need him, now! They just rang from the docks—"

I caught the scent on the air, and wondered how I could have missed it. Smoke, mixed with the normal pollution that hung over the lake. Fire heating the air, even at this distance. The wood of the warehouses along the docks, sending sparks and shooting flames into the sky. The clanging sirens of the ambulances, the popping of the fire, mixed with the sounds of waves and seagulls.

"I think he went out of town; I don't know if I can track him down…"

"There's no time to lose! The injured will be here shortly; we need all hands!"

I looked down at my hands. We need all hands. I knew too well these hands could hurt, but surely that mistake—that sin—didn't negate the help my hands could bring, did it? Surely I had something to offer in this emergency…

We need all hands…

I turned and ran back to the hospital, moving at my natural speed, so fast no human could see me. I navigated the crowded halls to the physicians' locker room, threw my overnight bag into a locker and pulled on a white lab coat.

Edward, can you hear me? I shouted mentally. God, I hope so. There's been an emergency at the docks. I'm staying at the hospital to help. They need all hands…

Even out in the country, Edward and Esme would hear the commotion coming from town; they would understand where I was even if Edward hadn't heard me just now. I dashed out of the locker room up the stairs to the operating wing.

"Dr. Cullen, you're here!" the head nurse exclaimed. "I was just telling Dr. Eilert—"

"Thank you, Rosemary," I interrupted. "Please ready ORs one and two, and get two nursing crews ready to assist. I want them waiting when I get back. Have my scrubs and Dr. Eilert's ready to go. We don't know what we've got, but we know it will be serious."

"Yes, doctor," Rosemary said efficiently, and ran in the direction of the operating rooms, shouting instructions as she went.

"Then call down to the burn unit and have as many sterilized and enclosed units readied as possible," I called after her. "We'll be filled to capacity. Hurry!"

"Yes, doctor!" she flung over her shoulder.

I raced down the stairwell again and arrived at the emergency room entrance just as the first ambulance was pulling up. Dr. Eilert was waiting at the doors, his face anxious and serious.

"Jack," I said, coming up behind him. "What have we got?"

"Carlisle!" he exclaimed in relief. "I thought you were out of town!"

"Just got in," I said. "I stopped by on the way from the station and found this—" I waved a hand around at the controlled chaos, "—waiting for me."

"Fire in some warehouse at the docks," Jack said briskly, turning back the way I'd just come from. "I'll go ready the ORs."

"Already done," I said.

Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned back and grinned, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Damn, I'm glad you're back, Carlisle."

I returned his smile. "As am I."

Together my colleague and I turned to receive our patients.

Dr. Eilert worked a solid twenty-four hours before I forced him to go home. He protested, but acquiesced when I caught him nodding off over a broken leg.

"You'll be all right?" he asked, looking at me doubtfully as I took over the incision on the shattered leg. Most of the patients Jack and I saw were not burn victims, but stevedores who'd tried to jump from the upper floors rather than get trapped by the flames. This one would make it, but the healing process would be slow and painful.

"Yes," I assured him. "I'll catch a nap after this, then stay on until you get back. I might have another twelve in me."

"It must be pleasant to be so young," he muttered, sounding disgruntled.

I laughed behind my surgical mask. "I just got off holiday," I reminded him. "I've been saving up rest for just such an occasion."

Jack smiled wearily. "All right then," he agreed. "Back in twelve."

I finished the surgeries, then made rounds. It was only when the new shift of nurses started to eye me with suspicious concern that I let it be known that I was going to rest in the physicians' lounge for a few hours.

Of course, I didn't do that. I simply went to the burn unit to offer my assistance there. Most of the patients, if they were conscious, were in terrible pain, and it pained me to see it. They were being eaten up with infection, even in their sterile, tent-like beds. As I looked in on them, I could feel their raised temperatures, their accelerated heartbeats and labored breathing, and I knew with an instinct born of three centuries of practice who would live and who would die.

I reported back to surgery four hours later. It was a relief to be here; we fought infections, too, but at least there was something we could do for our patients, something we could fix. I stayed on duty until Dr. Eilert returned, exactly twelve hours after he had left.

"Take a break, Carlisle," Jack said. "You must be dead on your feet. You've been on for thirty-six hours solid."

Whether I was dead on my feet was a matter of debate, of course, but I was not tired. Still, I nodded. "I'll be back in twelve."

"Make it twenty-four," Jack said. "Things are slowing down here."

I hesitated, but nodded. No sane doctor would turn down a full day's rest, especially if his supervisor were offering it. And Jack was right; the only thing left to do now was to monitor the patients and try to stave off infections.

I stopped by the locker room to remove my bloody white coat. After a moment of hesitation, I decided to leave my bag; I didn't want to bother with it. The jacket I had worn a day and a half ago still hung there, the inner pocket bulging with the documents I had collected at the courthouse. I changed back into my traveling clothes and walked out the back door.

It was early morning, not quite dawn, and I could see already that the day would be sunny. I was lucky that Jack had released me when he did. The cool night air felt pleasant on my cold skin.

I walked away from the hospital at human speed. Again, as I had done thirty-six hours ago, I looked down at my hands. We need all hands… They had needed mine. Though I knew I was capable of doing much more than simply healing with these hands, they had needed the skill and experience these hands represented.

Did a life-saver have to be sinless? Did a healer have to be perfect, to bring only healing and nothing else to everyone he encountered?

I had thought so. Just three days ago, I would have said that he should try to be exactly that.

How could a man live like that?

I knew the answer to that only too well. A man would live alone, and in two hundred eighty years, never let anyone close enough to tease out his temper, his temptation, his mistakes. Allowing oneself to love necessarily meant allowing one's flaws to rise to the surface.

I thought of Esme, and how she thought I had brought her a blessing by changing her nature. And I knew that I had brought blessing to dozens of patients in the last day and a half, and thousands more before that. And yes, I had been a curse to Charles Evenson, albeit a curse he brought on his own head.

I had killed a man with these hands, and still used them to save dozens of others.

Perhaps, I thought, flexing my right hand, I can only do my best in every situation. Perhaps I need not carry the burden of all my kind. Perhaps my sins are between myself and my God, and nobody else.

I thought of Edward. If he had committed the act I had committed, would I hold it against him, make him suffer forever for his crime? That was easy; Edward had slipped a time or two while we were still in Chicago, and I had simply tried to guide him toward stronger self-control.

I started to jog, slowly, but my eagerness to get home welled up in me. As I jogged in the twilight, breathing in the damp air from the lake, I heard a voice in my mind I wasn't expecting at all.

Are you so much better than everyone else, my son, that you have no need of forgiveness?

My father always did know how to bring me back to reality, especially when my own religious fervor made feel that my sins—how slight they were in those days!--were so much worse than anyone else's.

Or are you so grand that your evil is greater even than God's mercy? That is wretched, indeed. Satan should fear that you will dethrone him...

I ran faster. My desire to see my son and my mate began to burn in me, a fierce joy that would brook no caution.

You are simply a man, Carlisle...a good one, but not a perfect one. Repent of your sin, seek forgiveness, do better next time, and trust in God, as we all must do.

I searched my heart as I ran, the lake to my back, the trees whipping around me. Was I sorry Charles Evenson was dead?

No.

Was I sorry that he had died by my hand? Was I truly repentant for what I had done?

Yes. Mostly. I could not deny the satisfaction that I had taken in the act, but it had been wrong. It was wrong to take another's life, and as deeply as I believed that, that was what I had done. So, yes, I was truly repentant.

My joy, my gratitude, my compassion for the suffering, my love for my family...my family! I thought exultantly...were these things greater than the guilt, horror, despair and disgust that I felt for myself?

I thought about this one long and hard, and felt the smile spread slowly across my face.

Yes. Yes! No force, no feeling, no regret was stronger than the love I felt for my family. No guilt could touch the compassion and satisfaction I felt during one shift among the suffering in the hospital.

It had not been my place to decide whether Charles Evenson should live or die, but I would be damned—and I felt it was literally true—if I would let him take one more thing from Esme or her family.

I could smell our home. Paint, freshly sawn lumber, flowers, and the distinctive scents of my mate and my son. I inhaled deeply. It was the scent of a home, my home, and I felt I could find it effortlessly from anywhere in the world.

The screen door opened and slammed shut. I was only a few miles away.

"Welcome home, Carlisle," Edward murmured.

The trees were thinning, the woods growing brighter.

"We've missed you," Esme said.

I ran faster and broke through the treeline. Edward and Esme stood on the porch, his arm around her shoulder. The sight brought me a deep joy.

My sins were between me and my God, and I would not think of them again.

But my joy, my gratitude and my love were between me and my family. I would think of those always.

"Esme!" I shouted. I bounded onto the newly built porch and wrapped my arms around her waist, spinning her in a circle. She laughed breathlessly and returned my embrace, clinging to me until I set her back on her feet.

I released her and turned to Edward, then slipped into a crouch and tackled him. He only had a fraction of a second to prepare himself, and we rolled, laughing down the porch steps and across the grass.

I pinned him. "I win!"

He chuckled. "I let you win."

I jumped up and ran back to Esme. Edward got to his feet and lingered behind me, unsure if he should give us privacy. I shifted so that he was included in the conversation.

This was the part where I had to be careful. I thought of my trip to Columbus, my conversation with Evenson, his resentment at signing the papers. And that was all.

"I don't know this will mean to you what it means to me," I said to Esme. "Edward thinks I've lost my mind."

Edward snickered and stepped closer, and I laughed in response. Truly, I had never felt joy like this. It was making me giddy.

"What is it, Carlisle?" Esme asked, her eyes bright with the contagious joy I was exuding.

All thoughts, even the guarded ones, fled as she said my name. I attempted to calm myself, concentrating on my breathing as I slowly withdrew the papers from my coat.

I smoothed them out and handed them to her. She looked down at them, her eyebrows drawn in puzzlement.

I was suddenly nervous and ran a hand through my hair. Edward rolled his eyes.

"Esme," I said, sounding too formal and stiff and, in my own ears, slightly ridiculous. But I had come this far... "Esme, you are now a free woman in every possible way. There is nothing in the eyes of God or man that can keep you from doing what you want to do, or going where you want to go."

"Oh, Carlisle," she breathed. "Is this where you went? You didn't have to... I don't know what to say..." She took a deep breath and looked up at me, her eyes blazing crimson, but tender for all that. "I didn't need this, Carlisle, though I do thank you. You see, once my son died the last tie between me and this man was broken. He had no hold on me."

I knew that, of course, but it was so good, better than I could have imagined, to hear her say so.

Edward came to stand by us. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked at Esme. "You didn't need it, but he did."

Esme looked back up at me and gave me that gentle, knowing smile. "Of course you did," she said. She folded the papers and slid them into the pocket of her trousers. She took my hands in hers. "Thank you. I feel free."

"And I would never curtail that freedom, Esme," I said. Her name whispered itself delightfully through my mind...EsmeEsmeEsmeEsmeEsme.... "But now I am going to ask you to curtail it yourself, of your own free will."

"What do you mean?" Esme asked.

"I think I should go inside," Edward murmured, backing away from us.

I looked up. "Please don't," I said, looking him in the eye.

He sighed and nodded. I turned back to Esme.

"Will you marry me, Esme?" I asked solemnly. "Will you bind yourself to me and let me love you forever? Will you be my mate and my partner and a mother to our family? I have loved you since I first saw you, and I want you for my own."

"Oh, Carlisle!" She threw her arms around my neck and began to rain kisses on my face. I laughed and wrapped my arms around her again. "I want you for my own, too!"

"I think I'll just be going in the house..." Edward said, backing away slowly. He looked happy, but embarrassed, and I laughed again.

Esme untangled herself from me. "Oh, no you don't!" she said, slipping an arm around Edward's waist. "You're part of this. We're a family..."

She said the word with such reverence that Edward's discomfort dissipated, and he bent down to kiss her forehead. Esme reached out her hand for me and drew me closer and for a moment, the three of us stood joined, connected by the woman at our center. The woman who would be my wife and a mother to Edward and any other children God sent our way.

I bent down and kissed Esme, and she strained up against me, even as she refused to let go of Edward.

"Edward?" I murmured against Esme's lips.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Why don't you go inside and leave your mother and me alone?"

This time he snickered. "Sure, Dad. Whatever you say."

He slipped out of Esme's arm and retreated back through the screen door. Esme wrapped both arms around me and I pulled her close, opening my mouth and kissing her as I had dreamed of doing for so long.

My dream was reality. The path wasn't entirely smooth, but it led here, to my home and my family. And I had Esme for my own.

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