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Bittersweet Hurt	By : Minervaone Category: Twilight Series > Slash > Carlisle/Edward Views: 7954 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note: I’d like to say a big Thank You to all of the reviews for this story so far - they have been wonderful to read. I’m glad others are enjoying reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it - it has latched onto my attention, and I can’t get it out of my head!
As always, I own none of these characters and make no profit from this story.
Reviews are fuel.

Part Three - The Turning
Shadow to shadow, building to building, Carlisle darted - not daring to stop. ‘I won’t have time to make it to my place . . . shit, Carlisle thought in a panic, ‘Where can I take him? He’s going to die before I can get this done!’
Carlisle spotted a dark alley and sprinted up to hide in a recessed doorway. He crouched into the shadow and glanced down, seeing Edward’s eyes were partly open and revealing white under the lids. His mouth moved, trying to speak. Carlisle leaned in, ‘Home,’ Edward said in a wheeze. He stared at Edward, ‘Was he . . . answering my thought?’
Carlisle’s head snapped up at a distant sound - it wasn’t safe to linger here any further, ‘Well, it was a good suggestion, regardless,’ he thought. All of Edward’s family was dead; there wouldn’t be anyone at his house. It wasn’t his first choice - not knowing the neighborhood or the neighbors - but he was out of options. He had to get somewhere quiet and safe right away, or he was going to lose Edward. He leapt up and raced toward the all too familiar street.
Luckily for the both of them, it appeared the plague had ravaged Edward’s street hard; there were few humans left from what Carlisle could smell at first. Carlisle busted into Edward’s front door and paused to get his bearings in the pitch black house. There was a chaise lounge in the sitting room; Carlisle laid Edward down on his side before darting back outside to explore the surroundings in greater detail. His scout of the street revealed no occupants in either of the houses adjoining Edward’s and no living humans until three houses down. He quickly turned and raced back to scavenge the house for supplies.
Carlisle remembered in excruciating detail just how painful his transformation was, and he knew he must be prepared for the amount of noise Edward was going to make. There would be police and city officials patrolling the homes searching out the dead, and he couldn’t take the risk of being discovered while Edward was in the middle of transforming.
‘If he makes it through the transformation,’ an unbidden thought raced across his mind.
A prickle of panic appeared on the edge of his consciousness. His own transformation had been an accident - and never having witnessed another - he could only make an educated guess about how to actually go about doing it. ‘’Just do it like I was turned - one bite, then feed only for a second - that is all it should take. Enough to get the venom into his system and do the work. Right?’
‘Am I strong enough to keep from killing him?’ Carlisle shook his head; he needed to concentrate.
Carlisle continued to race through the house gathering his supplies - a large basin of water, some fresh rags, and his medical kit. Throwing assorted cushions on the floor along with his equipment, he snapped on a side lamp, throwing a dim yellow light on the walls. It illuminated a painted portrait hanging above the chaise where Edward was sleeping. And there in the center of the painting, surrounded by his family was Edward, several years younger. He was a child, no more than 10, yet unmistakable with the copper hair and lopsided grin.
Closing his eyes and pinching his fingers against the bridge of his nose, he looked up and saw Edward still lying on his side, cheek pressed into the chaise lounge - and still looking like same child in the picture. A wave of regret ran through Carlisle.
The preparations were ready. Was he?
Would he be able to stand it, letting this boy die? Carlisle already knew his answer.
Walking over to Edward and taking a deep breath, he gathered him up, and headed over to the pile of pillows. Cradling him in his arms, Carlisle sat down cross-legged on the floor and arranged Edward in his lap. He reached out to smooth his hair back from his face again. Carlisle gave a small smile, ‘He must have an awful time keeping this hair out of his eyes,’ he thought.
It was time.
Slowly and carefully, he undid the buttons on Edward’s night shirt, exposing the pale, sweat slicked skin. Raising him and sliding his arms out of the fabric, Edward was left bare chested and shivering against the chill of Carlisle’s skin.
He looked down to bring his hand to Edward’s face, running the pad of his thumb up across his eyebrows down around the ridge of his cheek. “Edward, this is going to be very painful for you, and I apologize, it’s the only way,” he said in a whisper.
He moved Edward up until his back lay against Carlisle’s chest. Gently grasping the top of Edward’s hair, he tilted his head to the side and exposed the nape of his neck. Carlisle closed his eyes and leaned in, placing his nose against the pulse.
He hesitated, listening to Edward’s erratic heartbeat and wheezing lungs. ‘I wish it could be different somehow,’ he thought.
‘Forgive me.’
Carlisle bit into Edward’s jugular and began to feed.
The warmth of Edward’s blood spilt into his mouth and down his throat; the tang tickling his tongue. The smell instantly drove all other thoughts from his mind except getting more - it was the first time Carlisle had ever tasted human blood, and he briefly wondered if he would be able to stop.
Hot blood began to rush through Carlisle’s veins and pound in his head - pounding in time with Edward’s heartbeat. The blood surged hotter and farther into his body with each stoke of Edward’s heart. They were one at that moment, sharing blood and heartbeats for what seemed like an eternity.
Carlisle’s attention zeroed in on the point where his lips and teeth were still latched onto Edward’s neck; he began running his tongue against the skin, lapping up the blood that flowed around his lips. He could taste his own venom mingling with Edward’s sweet blood, bitter among the sweet.
Carlisle couldn’t stop feeding. He was losing control to the monster - the bloodthirsty monster within - he was going to kill Edward, and wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.
Then Edward began to shriek into Carlisle’s ear, shattering the silence of the house.
The noise ripped through Carlisle’s awareness - breaking his focus on Edward’s heartbeat - and snapping the control of the monster. ‘Stop! Stop! Stop!You’re killing him!’ his mind finally shouted above the roar of blood rushing through his veins. Releasing his bite, he shoved the boy down to the pillows and raced to the furthest corner of the house, desperately trying to get away from the scent of his sweet blood.
He stood there, in the darkened library, with his hands against the wall trying to stop the shaking in his body. The blood was still coursing hot in his veins and beating faintly in his ears, echoing Edward’s heartbeat. He pursed his lips and tasted the remnants of blood. He gave his bottom lip a hard suck trying to get the last bit before it was gone, a final taste of the bittersweet. Carlisle let out a deep shuddering breath. That was too close. He very nearly lost control. He didn’t think the taste of human blood would have such an effect on him.
Shaking his head to clear the remnants of hazy bloodlust from his mind, he made his way back to the sitting room. Edward was screaming and withering in agony on the floor; tears streaming down his cheeks and both hands pressed into his neck trying to vainly to stop the pain.
Carlisle held his breath and made his way to the boy. He reached down and clamped a shaking hand over Edward’s mouth to muffle the screams while quickly pulling him back to his chest. Grabbing a long strip of cloth, removed his hand from Edward’s mouth and quickly replaced it with the cloth. He tied it into a knot at the back of Edward’s head, and then readjusted him back into his lap, easily restraining his arms and legs.
And now the waiting began.
He held the boy pressed against his chest as he slightly rocked back and forth. “Shhh . . . I’m so sorry, Edward. . . shhh . . . I know it hurts, just stay with me. . . it will all be over soon . . . I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating over the smothered sound of Edward’s screams, his lips brushing against Edward’s ear as he buried his nose into the soft copper hair. He could hear Edward’s heart racing in his chest, trying to push the venom out of his system. But there was too much venom, and Edward was too weak.
And so they remained till the next day, until Edward’s voice had finally given out and he was reduced to hoarse whispers of agony. Carlisle reached up and removed the gag from Edward’s mouth. Finding a clean cloth, he dipped it in the cool water basin and wiped the boy’s face of tears and blood, trying not to look at the agony etched on the once perfect face.
How close he had been to killing him. He almost let the monster within have control; he could not be so weak again. But the blood . . . it was so satisfying, and Carlisle had never felt so complete and satiated in his entire long life. He understood now, how other vampires believed him to be insane. How could anyone in their right mind willingly give that up? Edward’s blood had rejuvenated his body and spirit. They were a part of each other now, and always would be.
On the third day of the transformation, Edward began to convulse harder than before. Carlisle held on tighter, trying to keep Edward from hurting himself. He shifted Edward around in his lap, bringing his face into his chest, and began to panic. ‘It only took me three days, and I was fine! Why is Edward not better yet? Why is he still in agony? Did I do it wrong?’ he thought. He could only sit and wait.
On the fourth day of the transformation, Carlisle had decided he was going to have to put Edward out of his misery because he couldn’t stand to see or hear him scream anymore. Obviously he had done something wrong in the process and it was just making this poor boy suffer more than he ever should have.
He just didn’t know if he could do it.
‘Just snap his neck, put him out of his pain. No one should have to suffer through this pain just so you won’t be lonely anymore. He needs to be with his family, and I need to do the right thing,’ he thought.
He picked up the wet cloth again and wiped Edward’s face as he debated on the best way to end his misery. He laid the boy down on the pillows and re-wet his cloth, going back to wipe up the dried blood on his neck. Carlisle let the rag trail slowly from Edward’s neck and down his chest, removing the sweat that had accumulated during the transformation. His eyes followed the rag, noticing the strong muscles underneath the skin and tiny wisps of reddish hair on his stomach.
The boy had stilled during his ministrations and Carlisle looked up, surprised to see Edward’s eyes open - and staring at him. “Edward! Are you all right? Are you still hurting?” Carlisle demanded as he dropped the rag and leaned in closer to Edward’s face.
Edward gave the slightest grin as he reached up and ran a finger through Carlisle’s blonde hair. “It’s okay,” he said in a hoarse whisper before closing his eyes and going limp into unconsciousness, leaving Carlisle hovering above him.
The sound of Edward’s heartbeat slowly faded away and stopped - leaving a thunderous silence in the room.
Edward Masen was dead.
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Bittersweet Hurt