Hi all! I'm only going to put a disclaimer here in the first chapter, so here it is: I don't own Twilight. I'm just playing with the characters.

As far as the story goes, I hope you all like it!

-Parting Gift-

"Mmmph," she muffled a whine and cringed while looking away from her injured arm. With an apologetic smile, Carlisle gently tugged the last suture through the edges of her skin before quickly and expertly knotting it.

"Sorry," he quietly soothed as he snipped the stitch close to the knot. His gaze darted to her face and back to the surface of his desk as he retrieved a roll of gauze to bandage his handiwork. "Almost done," he murmured and she smiled.

"It didn't really hurt, just felt weird — the gross tugging thing, you know?" Her smile turned wry. "I should really be used to it by now."

His lips tilted into a smirk as he arched a perfect, blond brow and teased, "One would think so, a veteran like you."

He watched as her smile fell into a frown. "You know, stuff like this wouldn't happen if he'd just change me."

He paused, regarding her closely, reluctant to have this conversation. "If you believed as Edward does, could you risk his soul?"

Her head tilted, the look in her eyes calculating. "Do you agree with him?"

He sighed, setting the bloody gauze alight, watching it burn in the faceted crystal dish while formulating an answer. "I do to some extent, though I'm undecided enough on the issue to have hope. That's why I choose to live as I do."

She shook her head as he tucked her arm beneath his holding it steady against his ribs as he wound the bandage around it. As his hands went through the motions, he found his mind preoccupied with trying to ignore how close she was and just how impossibly alluring her scent was. Not her blood, but her scent. It was almost maddening how badly he wanted to pull her close to his body and taste her soft lips…

"You can't possibly be damned, Carlisle. There's just no way."

A wry smile played over his lips as his warm, golden gaze darted to hers. 'Oh, If you only knew what I long to do to you, sweet girl…'

"You've always been very gracious toward us, Bella."

"It's the truth. I've never met anyone more worthy of Heaven than you."

He responded with a soft chuckle while setting the surgical tape aside to gently inspect her arm. "There, all done." He kept his voice quiet for some reason, though he knew they were alone in the house. Everyone else had gone for a hunt, were miles away and wouldn't be back for quite some time. The smell of Bella's blood (that still permeated the house) had been too much for all of them and it would take time for them to cope with what had almost happened. It had been a close thing, and not just with Jasper.

'She's so very tempting, so alluring, so soft,' he couldn't help but think as his fingertips skimmed her delicate, creamy skin. 'Softer than the finest silk.'

Her breath caught and heart rate sped as his fingers slowly circled the sensitive skin of her wrist. And as his thumb rubbed delicate circles over her pulse point, he looked enraptured, beautiful, and she whispered his name while leaning toward him. He was so close—so close, and he smelled so good.

Edward had never smelled that good and besides—

"He's going to leave me," she whispered, not as a question, but as fact. "He's always been going to leave me." She'd seen the look in his eyes in Arizona and again tonight as he'd left the house. It'd been like staring into the end of it all.

'So, what is there to lose, Bella?'

Carlisle froze, his gaze locking with hers as she slowly closed the distance between them. He stopped breathing only after realizing he'd been taking in her scent as deeply and eagerly as she had his.

Heaven above, was he losing his mind—his control—completely?

Apparently so, for he couldn't force himself to move away. "Bella?" he breathed, hardly believing what his senses were telling him. "What are you doing?"

Her hands were hot as they slid over the thin fabric of his crisp, blue dress shirt and the firm chest beneath, one finally coming to rest on his shoulder as the other toyed with the silky hair at his nape. "I—I want you to kiss me, Carlisle."

He nearly groaned as her tongue peeked out, wetting that plump, all too tempting bottom lip. Then his gaze darted back up to her heavy lidded brown eyes. Her pupils were blown wide with lust as she whispered one word which, when combined with the heady, musky scent of her arousal, would prove to be his undoing. "Please…"

He surrendered the power of conscious thought and took her in a passionate kiss even as he eagerly swept everything aside to ease her back on the desk.

'Mine, mine, mine,' the voice in his head, the baser part of him, insisted as he became ever more intoxicated on her scent, her taste, the feel of her as she tugged him closer while biting and sucking at his lips— 'Mine, need more, take, mark, claim…'

From there it was a simple thing to reach under her skirt, tear the scraps of lace she wore as panties, free himself and sink into her virgin depth with a long, low, growling groan.

She was slick and tight, and fit him perfectly, her body molding to his as if she'd been crafted by God just for him. He'd never, in all his considerable years, felt anyone like her and knew he probably never would again. She was perfect for him.

Desperately, she clung to him, her arms and legs wrapping his body to hold herself against the powerful thrusts of his hips. With cries of half pleasure, half pain, she arched wildly against him, her eyes rolling back as he sank his fangs into her neck, marking her even as he filled her with his scent and seed.

"Carlisle!" she cried as her very soul—everything she was or ever would be—shattered in that moment of rapture only to be remade—molecule by molecule—into his perfect match as she descended from her high, held there in his arms, against his firm chest.

She—until now, only a potential mate—had been claimed and there was no going back. She was now his and would be from that day forward.

Whether either of them knew it or not.

-P.G.-

She blinked and cursed, realizing she'd missed the turnoff into her neighborhood. Pulling over, she signaled and whipped a U-turn, shaking off the mental fog induced by thoughts of her time in Carlisle's office the night of her birthday.

It had been three days, and she'd yet to see Edward. He'd been conspicuously absent from school and hadn't made any of his usual nightly visits either. Nor had he even so much as called or texted. It was beyond bizarre behavior for him and she could only guess—with mounting dread—that he'd found out about what she'd done with his Sire.

As she neared Charlie's house (she still had a tough time calling it her own for some reason) she exhaled in relief at the sight of a familiar car parked at the curb and the vampire leaning against it.

After parking in the driveway, she climbed out and slung her bag over her shoulder as Edward approached. "Hi," she greeted, frowning at his closed-off expression.

"Bella," he returned, taking her bag to toss it back in the cab before closing the truck door. "Come," he said with a nod toward the woods, "take a walk with me."

She blinked, all her senses alert as she frowned at him. Still, she agreed despite the feeling of dread in her gut. "Yeah, okay."

Wordlessly, he led her into the woods, just beyond sight of the house where he stopped and faced her. "We're leaving. People are beginning to question Carlisle's age and we can't risk the suspicions getting out of hand."

Her frown deepened, but she nodded. "Okay, it's kinda sudden, but Charlie'll just have to accept it. I mean, I'm eighteen now, so there's nothing he can do to stop me…" she trailed off as he held up a hand.

"You won't be going with us."

All the breath seemed to leave her and she felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. "What? What do you mean? I thought — I thought…"

"I know what you thought, but it just cannot be. You'll stay here and live a normal life—the life you would've lived if you'd never met me."

The blood drained from her face. "But we did meet, Edward, and I — I thought you loved me. You promised." She looked into his eyes and blanched at the lack of warmth she saw there.

'Maybe he does know…'

"I said I'd stay as long as it was best for you. That no longer applies. Your life is at risk with us, Bella, and I'm not willing to risk it any longer."

A knot of anxious desperation welled inside her.

"And the others? What about them? What do they think?"

"They agree with me and have already left."

Pain lanced through her chest and she clutched at it with one hand as tears finally sprang to her eyes.

"Don't do this. Change me, Edward, please! Take me with you!"

His eyes took on an icy gleam. "You know where I stand on this issue, Bella. I will not damn your soul."

"It's my soul! It should be my decision!"

"Well, it isn't," he snapped before reaching out to touch her face, his tone softening. "You're human. You'll heal from this, Bella, I promise you." She scoffed but he ignored it. "Soon, it'll be as if we never existed, like a distant dream. You'll see. Until then, please do me a favor?"

She nodded woodenly, her whole body feeling numb, empty. "Yeah, anything."

"Take care of yourself. Don't do anything stupid—for Charlie's sake, if no one else's."

She swallowed thickly, still not really grasping what was happening. "Yeah, okay."

Leaning over, he kissed her brow, his icy lips lingering for just a moment. Then he vanished so quickly it was as though he'd never been there at all.

Blinking to clear hot tears from her eyes, she gazed around the clearing he'd left her in as one whispered word—a name—escaped her lips.

"Carlisle…"

-P.G.-

Wind and rain lashed the branches of the tree outside her window, though Bella remained unaware as she stared, legs folded beneath her in the chair she'd been sitting in since rising from her bed that morning.

It'd been a week since he'd left and she'd been this way ever since. She'd somehow managed the wherewithal to stumble back to the house that day and tell Charlie what had happened. But after that, she'd sought the solitude of her room and hadn't emerged since, except to use the bathroom. Thank God Charlie had brought her sustenance. Speaking of which—

"Bella?" Charlie poked his head in after knocking lightly. "I have a tray for you," he said, pushing the door open to set the said tray on her desk. It was laden with a covered plate of sandwiches, a bowl of vegetable soup, and bottles of water. "Come on kid, time to eat and drink, or I'm hauling you to the hospital, that's a promise."

That got her attention and she reached for a sandwich, eating it mechanically as he gathered the empty water bottles and trash in a bag before pausing to watch her. "Bella, I know it hurts, believe me, I know, but you can't keep on this way. It's not healthy, kid." He paused, hoping she'd say something, anything, but she didn't, choosing instead to stare and chew as if he wasn't in the room.

His hands and jaw clenched, his usual cool reserve slipping the longer he observed the wreck she'd become. Straightening his spine, he reached over and grasped her chin, turning her face to him. "Listen to me now. When you're done eating, you're gonna get up, gather clean clothes and take a shower, do you hear me? This isn't a request, am I clear?"

She nodded and his eyes narrowed. "Use your words, Bella."

Anger bubbled up and she jerked her chin from his grasp. "Yes, you're clear."

He smirked and grabbed the bag of trash, heading for the door. Yeah, he'd pissed her off, but at least it was something—something other than the hollow shell she'd been for the past seven days. He considered it a win. "I'll be checking on you later. You'd better be done, or I'll drag you in there myself."

She huffed and shot him a glare. "That won't be necessary."

He smirked. "Good," he said, leaving the room. Poking his head back in, he added, "And don't forget to brush your teeth."

The door closed and she growled while taking a vicious bite of sandwich. She knew he meant well, and she also knew he was right, but damn it, she just wanted to wallow for a good long while. Why couldn't he respect that?

Tears filled her eyes as she kept eating, not even tasting the food as she went through the motions. This hurt. It was the worst pain she'd ever felt and the worst part was, there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to fix it. No pain pills, stitches, shots or band-aids—nothing. Nothing but time, according to the unsolicited wisdom of her dad, Billy Black and oddly enough, Sue Clearwater. But the way she felt, she didn't think there was enough time in the world to cure this hurt.

At the moment? With hot, steady tears dripping from her chin, she seriously doubted it.

-P.G.-

"Bella," Charlie greeted as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped it open as he leaned against the counter to watch her.

"Hey," she said, her tone lackluster as she went through the motions of making dinner—macaroni and cheese and hotdogs, her go-to when she couldn't care enough to make real food. Charlie never complained, so she figured, why not?

"You got homework tonight?"

"Nope," she said while setting everything on the table before taking a seat. Charlie slid into his seat and started plating his food.

"Why not? I recall that being a pretty regular thing."

She shrugged. "It was, but I'm ahead in credits so I signed up to test out early. All I need to do now is study and I do that in the library during the day when everyone else is in class."

His brows shot up. "So when will you be done?"

She nudged some mac and cheese with her fork and glanced at him. "The end of this week."

He shot her a calculating glance between bites, then swallowed and asked, "Okay, and then what?"

"Then I'm done with High School with a few extra credits toward college," she said with a shrug. "I'll get my diploma by mail within a few days, or so they said."

He washed down a bite of his hotdog with a swig of beer, then asked, "College?"

'Good ol' Charlie, man of few words, always straight to the point…'

"I… don't think so," she admitted, while pointedly ignoring Charlie's strangled cough and reddening face. "At least, not right now, anyway," she threw in to head off the argument she could tell he was gearing up for. "I think I'll do a road trip first, just me and the old rust bucket—and a healthy portion of my savings."

He ran a hand over his face with a frustrated groan before sitting back to give her his best penetrating cop stare. "I don't suppose I can talk you outta this genius plan you've come up with?"

She held his stare. "I need this, Charlie. I'm doing this."

He heaved a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he picked up his fork and scooped up a bite from his plate before pausing to say the only thing he felt he could at the moment. There was no use in arguing, after all. She was too much like Renee in that way and would walk out the door no matter what he said against it. At least this way she wouldn't hate him when she left. "The tires are only a year old, but you better have Jake do a once over on everything else before you leave. You don't wanna get stuck on the side of the road somewhere."

She nodded, looking curiously relieved. "Already set it up with him. He said he'd be by late tonight to get it so I left the keys in it."

He raised a brow. "Why so late?"

"I didn't ask. He's doing me a favor so I didn't think an interrogation was appropriate."

"Huh," he said, pinning her with the suspicious dad look. "How you getting to school?"

She shrugged. "I'll walk. It's not that far."

"And if it rains?" He shook his head. "I'll take you."

She held his gaze for a moment, debating whether to argue or not. Then he raised a brow and she sighed. "All right fine, you win. You can drive me."

"Good," he grumbled, and that was the end of the conversation. Minutes later, he placed his plate in the sink and parked in front of the TV then fell asleep halfway through Monday night football.

After scraping her food into the trash, she cleaned the kitchen and headed upstairs for a shower. After locking the door to the bathroom, she pulled out the little plastic stick she'd hidden at the bottom of her toiletries bag. It was one of several she'd used in the last few days, and all had shown the same result no matter how she wanted to deny it. Holding this one (the very first one she'd used) she stared at the little plus sign in the window as reality crashed down on her yet again.

She still couldn't quite believe it, but there it was, in her hand—undeniable proof that she was pregnant with Carlisle Cullen's child.

Blowing out a trembling breath, she looked into the mirror to study her wan image as her thoughts raced.

After the initial shock had worn off and the reality of her situation had settled on her like a cold, heavy shroud, she decided she had to find him. Trouble was, her frantic internet search for any sign of the Cullens turned up absolutely nothing. After that, it hadn't taken her long to devise a plan; one born of sheer desperation.

She was going to find the Denali coven and get them to help her. The only other option she had vampire-wise was the Volturi, and risk-taker though she may be, she knew they weren't really an option. Not if any of the stuff Edward said about them was even remotely true.

Now, standing in Charlie's tiny bathroom with incontrovertible proof, that vampires can indeed father children, gripped between her thumb and index finger, she ruled out going anywhere near the Volturi. They were not an option at all. Unless she had a death wish, which she decidedly did not, thanks anyway.

So, the Denalis it would be.

From all that she'd gleaned from Edward, she had a basic idea where to begin looking for them. She snorted at that thought. 'Like their coven name alone wasn't clue enough for ya, Swan?' God, even her inner voice was a sarcastic asshole these days.

She looked down at the barely visible swell of her belly, hidden earlier by a baggy shirt and sweats. Running her hand over it, her lips curled into a tiny smile as she felt a light flutter from within. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back with raw determination. Tears were worthless, and gained her nothing, so why shed them? "It's you and me, little one, and I won't fail you, I promise."

With a final heave of breath, she set her jaw, wiped any trace of tears from her eyes, and climbed into the shower. She needed rest and a clear head to pass her tests and get the hell out of Forks without anyone catching on to her true motives. She just had to keep it together a while longer—long enough to make it to the Denali coven. Only then, when she'd secured the promise of their help, would she allow herself to relax.

And maybe then, she'd break down and indulge in a good cry just for the hell of it.

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