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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author’s Note: Again, a big Thanks is in order for all of your supa-fantastic reviews. I am pleased everyone is enjoying this story.
Things are heating up here, so hang onto your hats! And as a friendly reminder, let’s remember this story will have scenes of a sexual nature between Carlisle and Edward. If this is not the type of story you were expecting or looking for, please hit the Back button now. But for the rest of us, well, read on my friends. Read on.
As always, I own none of these characters and make no profit from this story.
Reviews are fuel.

Part Four - The Awakening
Somewhere in an unending sea of blackness and white-hot pain, Edward became aware of a slow, repeated coolness running down the length of his nose.
It was soothing sensation, a cold electric current followed wherever the finger went, helping to extinguish the fire searing through his veins - pain that felt like it had lasted an eternity. He vaguely tried to remember anything before the pain yet he only found blackness. His mind could only focus on the consuming agony - and one beautiful, rescuing angel whose cool touch drove the pain away. Edward knew he would succumb to the madness without the single, gentle caress of his savior.
He wondered what transgressions he had committed that deserved such fierce punishment, yet also awarded him a saving grace. Perhaps he was in purgatory, he wondered in a haze. But he didn’t want to think of answers now; he only wanted to concentrate on the sweet touch of his savior trailing across his body.
He felt his body respond to the ice by growing dense and hard, his flesh weighing down into marble at the angel’s command. Through the veil of pain, he knew he owed his existence one of the most beautiful creatures that heaven offered. Or hell. Edward still wasn’t sure where he was at yet.
As his cool caresses continued, the fires receded further. Fading at each stroke of the strong and sure fingers through his hair, down his chest, and across his stomach - stopping there to trace a lazy circle around his navel. Blackness was beginning to fade into a soft light, and Edward wondered if his angel would be there in the light of day. Would he wake up to find this had all been a dream? Or would this blonde miracle stay with him? Edward decided he never wanted to open his eyes again if it meant losing this electric touch. He would stay here forever content in his own dreams.
Yet the voice would not let him remain content in dreams.
It was becoming pronounced and distinct, full of worry and strife. Someone kept calling his name. Could his savior be worried? A twinge of guilt began to seep into Edward’s comfort; the voice was full of concern and panic. Somewhere in the blackness he knew he should be able to understand what was being said, yet it sounded like another language. Edward tried to concentrate harder in order to decipher the words, but the fog made it so hard to think. He just wanted to seep back into the deep murkiness and feel the cool touches across his body.
The voice was worried - the angel was worried about him.
He didn’t want his angel to worry over him, so Edward decided to focus on the voice and leave the darkness behind him. Just please be there when I wake up.
Opening his eyes to slits he looked over and saw his angel, laying on his side facing him and stroking a cold finger along his nose - stroking away the burning fires. Edward couldn’t help but give a smile at the sight. “I’m glad you’re still here,” he said.
His angel’s eyes went wide in surprise. Edward began to hear the voice again but couldn’t quite concentrate enough to determine where it came from. ‘He’s all right . . . he’s even more beautiful now . . . his eyes, so red . . . dear Edward . . .’
The finger slowly drew away, much to Edward’s utter disappointment. That is when the voices started - a sea of voices came crashing into his mind - harsh, insistent, urgent and screeching - as if a knife was being stabbed down into the center of his brain. This wasn’t the sound of heaven or of his angel. He knew he shouldn’t have woken up; now he couldn’t make the screeching thoughts stop. Where was his angel? Would he not rescue him from this fresh pain?
He brought his hands to his head trying to block out the voices, instinctively curling his legs into his chest and crying out in pain, “Make it stop, please! Make it stop!” he shouted to his savior, hoping he would do something - anything - to make it stop. Edward wondered if he needed to rethink his theory that he was in purgatory - perhaps hell was more fitting. After all, wouldn’t the punishment be greater if you received a taste of heaven - so you would always know what you were missing?
He was in hell. He was sure of it.
“Edward! Tell me what is wrong!” a voice shouted at him while icy hands grabbed his shoulders, “I can’t help you if I don’t know what is wrong!”
The instant the hands made contact with his shoulders the voices muted into a dull roar. It was like someone had turned down the volume on the insanity raging in his mind. It was a dampening effect, the electric current became the focus and allowed him to finally open his eyes once again.
Relief flooded into his system at seeing the blonde vision hovering over him in concern. “Voices . . . so many were shouting in my head . . .” Edward said, thankful for the frigid touches on his arms.
“You’re . . . hearing voices?” his angel asked, moving his hands away from Edward’s shoulders in order to sit back on his heels. Edward groaned in pain at the loss of contact as he closed his eyes and grabbed his head, “No, please!”
“I . . . I don’t know how, Edward!”
He reached out instinctively to latch onto his savior’s hand and bring it to his forehead - running the icy fingers along his brow. Relaxing his shoulders, he closed his eyes to focus on the touch. He would never let this hand go, if he could help it. Edward wondered vaguely if he could get back to the comfort of his dreams, where all he could feel was the perfect caress washing away his pain and soothing his soul.
‘He’ s calming down . . . something is wrong with him . . . he shouldn’t be in any pain by now . . . I can’t believe I put him through this . . . I’m not worth this boy’s agony . . . I shouldn’t have done it . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with him . . . did I do it wrong? . . . he seems like he is in so much pain . . . I wonder if he’s thirsty yet . . . I need to get him to the forest tonight . . . he needs to feed . . . ’
“Who are you talking to? Are you talking about me?” Edward asked.
The fingers stopped their gentle stroking of his hair. “I didn’t say anything, Edward,” the voice said next to his ear, the cool breath sweeping across the shell of his ear; he could smell the acidic sweetness of the angel hovering next to him.
Edward cracked a ruby red eye open at him, “Yes you did. You were talking about being thirsty and taking me to the forest tonight for feeding,” he said. “You’re very worried that you did something wrong,” Edward added.
‘How did he know what I was thinking?’ came into Edward’s mind. He was looking directly at his face when he heard the words in his mind, yet no sounds came out of the savior’s mouth.
“I heard you, in my mind. I heard your thoughts . . . ” Edward answered
‘A mind reader!’ the thought shouted across his senses.
“No!” Edward shouted, gripping the hand ever tighter - fearful it would be taken away forever and the screeching voices and sickening images would return. “I don’t know how to stop it! Don’t be angry with me! I . . . I’ll find a way to make it stop, please don’t leave,” he begged in panic, terrified at the look of horror spreading across the angel’s face as the hand began to slowly draw away from his face.
Golden eyes stared down at him, compassion creeping into his face. ‘It’s all right, Edward . . . this is just an unexpected side effect of your turning,’ the angel spoke calmly and surely in his mind, ‘Please don’t panic,’ he said, returning his to Edward’s face, gently stroking his cheekbone.
“It’s all right, Edward. I’m not leaving you,” he said, ‘I have to tell him . . . does he already know?’ the angel’s voice flitted into his mind.
Edward opened his eyes again, “Tell me what?” he said.
The cool fingers began to tremble against his cheek. ‘I have turned you into a monster, and I am so very sorry. I couldn’t stop myself; I couldn’t stand to see you die like that. Not you - not like that.I’m going to show you what happened,’ as the angel closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Edwards. He began to see images of the angel becoming a . . . monster . . . fighting the urge to feed on human blood. A flash to winter - a house that looked so familiar . . . was it this house? Edward seemed to remember something vaguely familiar about it. That boy at the piano, the beautiful music he created . . . that was him! This angel . . . Carlisle was his name . . . had fallen in love withhim? Edward was sure he must be dreaming now - for this angel to fall in love with a very human boy. Then - a horrible image of the dead and dying. The influenza. Of course. Edward was beginning to remember. His . . . parents? A kind female face lay dying. A mass of graves. Rows of hospital beds. Edward could finally remember what had happened to his family - he had buried them all and then succumbed to the disease himself.
He knew he had died.
He knew what Carlisle had done to save him.
Every memory rushed into his mind now and Edward knew what he had become. He knew his purpose was to ease the pain of this beautiful, perfect creature in front of him - one who had fought so valiantly against his fate. And Edward realized he was not upset by that prospect.
“Edward, are you all right? Did I frighten you?” the smooth voice asked in the quiet of the room as the thought echoed doubly in his mind.
He rubbed his thumb against the back of Carlisle’s hand, feeling the stone coldness and giving him a lopsided smile. “I’m . . . all right,” he said. “I’ll be all right,” he paused for a moment. “I . . . I think you can take your hands away now, I’ll see if it’s better, now that I expect it,” he said.
Hesitantly, Carlisle moved his hands away from the boy and winced as Edward’s brow furrowed as he was left to try and tune out the thousands of thoughts floating around in his head. ‘He’s in pain,’ Carlisle thought.
“It’s all right, I just have to get used to it,” Edward answered him out loud. He looked with a sudden glance up, eyes full of apologies. “I’m sorry, I thought you had spoken that aloud,” he said sheepish voice.
Carlisle knew immediately he would be unable to keep anything from Edward. There would be no space for dark and hidden thoughts that were best left in shadow. Every thought that flitted across Carlisle’s consciousness would be open fodder, and his mind would be an open book. It was making him uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Edward said, turning his head to the side. “It’s just . . . so loud. It’s like you’re shouting at me. I’ll try not to listen,” he said with a whisper.
Carlisle spoke aloud, “I know, Edward. I’m not angry with you. Perhaps you should rest up now. I’ll teach you how to hunt after the sun sets, and there is not much else we can do until then,” he said. ‘And we both could use a bath,’ he added with a silent chuckle.
Later that afternoon Carlisle sat in the library, pondering the turn of events since Edward had awoken. He knew he needed to get Edward out hunting before he went wild with thirst and started hunting humans. He also needed to get them out of the city and procure the items from his home (he couldn’t forget his medical kit . . . ). Where would they go? Up north into the Wisconsin forests?
The population would be more sparse there and it may be a good place to keep Edward for a couple of years until he was in control enough to go on his own. Or perhaps they could make a hasty retreat to the dense forests in the southern part of Illinois. There would be plenty of game there as well, and put them close to the Mississippi River. Perhaps he may be able to find work in a small town there.
Would Edward want to stay with him after he was sure he could handle himself? Would things ever go back to business as usual? Carlisle chewed on his bottom lip in worry and felt an intense guilt at leaving Chicago and his practice at a time like this. Yet there was nothing more he could do for these patients. They would die whether he was there to watch it or not. Perhaps if he and Edward did go up north he could return to a normal practice sooner, perhaps the plague was less severe up there.
“Carlisle,” Edward’s voice called out quietly from the second floor, “Would you come here, please?”
Heading upstairs, he found that Edward had taken his advice about a bath. He could hear the sloshing and dripping of water behind the door.
“Please, come in,” Edward said from behind the door.
Carlisle hesitated a moment, hand poised to reach out and grab the doorknob. He shook his head to clear it, and opened the door to find Edward sitting in the bathtub looking incredibly tired and drained. His face was drawn into a scowl, and his brow was furrowed together. He had his arms laying on the edges of the claw foot tub. One hand was rubbing his forehead while his hair dripped quietly into a puddle onto the tile floor.
‘He still looks in pain,’ Carlisle thoughts flew across his mind.
“Your worrying is roaring in my head, and it’s giving me a migraine,” Edward said aloud, looking up at him. “Would you mind . . . putting your hand on my head? It does help dull the noise,” he asked in a quiet whisper.
Carlisle gave a small chuckle. “I’m so sorry. It’s a habit I’ve kept for many years. I will try to worry more quietly from now on,” he laughed, pulling up a low stool next to the tub. He reached out his hand and gently rested it on Edward’s forehead. The skin there was slightly warmed from the hot water of the bath Edward relaxed instantly, his head dropping back to rest on the edge of the tub, shoulders drooping slightly.
‘Feel better?’ Carlisle asked silently.
“Yes, much,” Edward said in response to the unspoken query.
“Good,” Carlisle said - trying very hard not to think about how good Edward’s skin felt beneath his fingers. He began to smooth back some of the unruly bronze hair.
“Are you mad at me?” Carlisle asked in the quiet of the bathroom.
Edward looked up into Carlisle’s golden eyes. “About being turned into a vampire? No, I guess not. I mean, if it wasn’t for you, then I would be a rotting corpse in the cemetery by now, ” he said. “You needed me - even though it was incredibly painful, ” he said with a chuckle.
“I know, I was there,” Carlisle laughed, relaxing a bit, knowing Edward wasn’t mad at him for turning him into a monster. Continuing to stroke Edward’s forehead, he tried to control his mental worries by concentrating on the contact between his fingers and Edward’s forehead. His mind began to go blank and Carlisle simply followed where they led him.
“Sit up,” Carlisle whispered harshly. Edward said nothing as he leaned forward to expose his damp back to Carlisle, who was reaching over to pick up a rag and a bar of soap. Carlisle could feel the warmth of the water seeping into his skin as he worked to lather up the cloth, appreciating the clean scent of the soap. Reaching over to Edward’s back, he began to scrub - and tried not to think of how the muscles felt under his fingertips. And when Carlisle felt he had scrubbed enough on the expanse of Edward’s back, he worked his way down the side and back of each arm, scrubbing deeply as he went.
Edward was silent as Carlisle worked on him, the warmth and kneading of his newly created muscle felt wonderful, and he was content. “Lean back,” Carlisle said, and Edward obeyed.
The soapy rag began to travel across his chest, concentrating around his neck, the place where Carlisle had taken his blood. Carlisle worked his way down the front, smiling at the sight of soap bubbles mingling in the wispy copper hairs on Edward’s stomach.
Soon - too soon - Carlisle had finished washing Edward’s back and chest, and he quickly rinsed off the soap and put the rag down. Edward’s red eyes looked up and met Carlisle’s golden ones. On instinct - without thinking or caring of the consequences for the first time in his very long life - Carlisle reached out ran his hand through Edwards hair, pushing it out of his eyes. His hands moved back and ran through a second time. Then a third.
His fingers swept across Edward’s forehead and trailed down his cheek.
A finger trailing became a palm pressed against the cheek. A thumb ran along the ridge under his eyes. A fingertip traced the shell of his ear, and down his neck. Across his collarbone and over the swell of his shoulder.
Edward looked down and saw Carlisle’s left hand gripping the edge of the bath tub. Staring hard at it, he admired the long thin delicate fingers with smooth cold skin. He looked up to meet golden eyes and decided to return the favor he was getting. Shyly reaching one fingertip out, he ran it along Carlisle’s hand from the knuckle down to the fingertip. Smooth but strong, the hand clutched tight in reflex, and Edward pulled his finger back.
‘That feels good,’ he heard in his head as Carlisle continued gently stroking his hair and face. Edward reached out again to continue his timid exploration; his finger traveled up to the wrist, meeting the edge of the shirt cuff he was wearing. Looking up, he found Carlisle had moved his face down to bury his nose in Edward’s damp hair.
The only thing on Carlisle’s mind was Edward’s face, as he pulled back to look into ruby red eyes. Edward reached out to gingerly run a long finger down his angel's nose - just as Carlisle had done to him when he had woken up. His eyes closed and he sighed at the touch. ‘Wonderful,’Carlisle thought, ‘it’s been so long since anyone touched me. I had almost forgotten what it felt like,’
“How long has it been?” Edward whispered, brushing his fingers along Carlisle’s cheek. ‘Nearly 300 years . . .’ he replied as Edward’s fingers moved up to sweep blonde hair from his face. “You’ve been so lonely,” Edward stated. “Yes,” he murmured in return.
‘How are you feeling?’ Carlisle asked silently.
“Better, but my head is still killing me. It feels like it’s trying to split in two.”
‘It will help, then, to focus on one thing at a time. For now. I promise it will get easier. Perhaps we need to get you away from so much civilization.’
“You worry too much, you know,” Edward said as he flashed Carlisle a lopsided smile.
“You are probably right,” Carlisle laughed. He glanced over to the window and noticed that the sun was starting to set, throwing violet rays through the window. Turning back to Edward, he gave a big mischievous grin before asking, “Are you thirsty? Would you like to learn how to hunt?”
Edward’s eyes lit up at the barrage of hunting images flooding his mind. “I think I would like that very much,” he said with anticipation in his eyes. “When can we start?”
- 3
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- 5
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Bittersweet Hurt