A/N: Hello and welcome to my very first Twilight fic! How nervewracking this is and so completely different from what I normally write. I expect that this should be a rather short story, possibly 3 or 4 chapters. We all know what happens in the end...Although, I'm trying to honor the storyline from Twilight, there may be similarities to the movie as well.

Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight or any of its original characters.

"Death is peaceful, easy. Life is hard." Isabella Swan

Chapter 1- One Tiny Life

October 28, 1920- New Orleans, Louisiana

"Tell me how this happened."

Carlisle saw the fine, dark lines of her eyebrows meet as he bent her hand forward with the utmost care. Pain. As soon as he caught the expression, she quickly smoothed the skin of her forehead, smiling sheepishly as Carlisle continued to test the range of motion in her wrist. It was not broken…thankfully.

"I fell," she replied, trying to keep her tone upbeat.

Again, he thought.

"I was reaching for my coat behind the door and tripped over the ottoman. I'm so clumsy," Esme explained with a laugh. She could tell by the pained expression on the good doctor's face that he was not fooled. Again, she forced another smile. The pain was not so very bad this time. Broken bones could heal, but the baby…

The rain pounded softly outside the large window, and the light was dim as he examined her. For the moment Carlisle kept his observations to himself. Her customarily flawless skin now revealed a purplish bruise forming on her left cheek. The telltale bags under her eyes indicated a severe lack of sleep, and other large blotches of bruising stared back at him from just above her knee and along her calf. Esme would not allow him to examine any further beneath her clothing, but Carlisle could imagine that the visible bruising had not been the extent of her injuries.

It was all he could do not to scream out in anger. Instead, Carlisle instructed her to take deep breaths and with gentle fingers pressed against her ribcage.

"Well?" she asked, her face clouded with worry as he quietly resumed his exam.

"Esme…" he began, choosing his words carefully. He wished for the hundredth time that he could take her away from this place, from the savage of a husband she was married to. Each visit to the Brooks' lush estate had become more painful. True, he was employed by her husband, who with his influence and wealth practically owned the thriving city of New Orleans, and while Clifford Brooks was a highly respected politician, Carlisle had learned the very ugly nature of the man. Brooks was worst than the devil himself, and for the abuse he had inflicted on this woman, Carlisle had to push away the monstrous instincts that fought for control in his mind. For countless years, he had sought to cure the ailments of man and ease the degree of human pain and suffering, but this man did not deserve to live, nor did he deserve the peace of dying…

"The baby is fine, Esme," he assured her in a soothing voice. "The heartbeat is still strong as ever…"

"Thank God," she breathed, relief filling her face. Esme had already endured one miscarriage, and in this baby, in this tiny life growing inside her, she had found the hope, the desire to live.

"You need rest and proper nourishment," Carlisle told her. You need to leave your husband, he thought to say. Get as far away from him as possible. If you stay with him neither you nor your baby have much chance of surviving… He mulled the words over in his head. Wouldn't it have been the responsible thing to say? In this day and age, it was unheard of for a pregnant woman to make it alone, but Esme didn't have to be…

Carlisle often wondered if he had not been so taken by her beauty if he could have regarded her as any other patient. He wondered if those ruby lips when they smiled, hadn't been so bewitching, if he would be able to make it through the endless hours without thinking of her. He wondered if the warmth in her deep brown eyes had not melted the barrier between being a human and being a vampire, if he still would have fallen in love with her.

In his centuries of life, he had never been so entranced by another woman- vampire or human. He had come to believe that he was meant to be alone…except for the companionship of Edward.

Edward was just a boy, a mere seventeen years old, and if he had been meant to survive, he would be twenty now. Carlisle had created Edward- had made the teenager a vampire as he lay sick and dying of the Spanish influenza. Carlisle's father-like devotion to him was very natural, and it was the only bond that gave the numberless years of his life any meaning…but over the past few months, after the repeated visits with Esme Brooks, Carlisle suffered from the cruelest kind of irony.

She was human. She was married…and now with no other reason or excuse to know this angel of a woman, Carlisle tended to her injuries, time after time- each time delighted to see her, each time horrified by the abuse her husband had taken on her body.

Life…it was cruel.

Esme looked at the doctor curiously as the thick raindrops pattering on the window dulled to a gentle drizzle. Dr. Cullen always looked like he had more words, but he kept them tucked safely inside his mouth, never daring to say something that may offend her. He was the kindest man she had ever known.

Since he had moved to New Orleans, many had been put off by his pale skin and youthful appearance. Youth had been commonly mistaken for lack of experience, and despite his credentials and expertise, he had been turned away by the local hospital. It was by a stroke of luck that her husband had acquired his services at all, and had, in fact, after a period of time wielded some influence in that regard. During the day, Dr. Cullen was permitted to work in the morgue, but was restricted from living patients.

The doctor's skin, cold to the touch, had never bothered Esme. He had explained it as poor circulation, warning her in advance, and so taken was she by his good and gentle nature, she had never questioned it. The pale pigment he relayed as a hereditary skin condition, and though there had been much talk of his unnatural color, Esme regarded him with the same kindness as anyone else.

Despite the closed-minded prejudices of the city's people, Esme believed Dr. Cullen to be quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen. His features may have well been chiseled from stone. The straight line of his nose lent an air of regality to him. Full lips taunted her with the tease of a smile, and the deep set of his golden eyes with their ethereal quality seemed to reach into the depths of her soul, lingering there and waiting…hoping…

To Esme's knowledge, Carlisle Cullen was neither married nor involved. Many times as she watched him depart the estate in the gentle hours of twilight, she wondered how it would feel to have him smile at her, to be the woman on the other end of his adoring gaze. She wondered what it would be like to love and feel loved by a man. It was easy for her to imagine how her skin would warm to the cool touch of his fingers brushing against her cheek, or how the smoldering embers of his eyes would melt away the ice in her heart, unlocking a gentle yearning within her that had long since been buried…buried by the coldest, frightful human being she had ever known- her own husband.

Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Esme had been the eldest daughter of the mayor – and, unaware of her father's corrupt and crooked dealings, soon found herself married at seventeen to Clifford Brooks- a powerful, influential man ten years her senior, whom she had not known at the time had blackmailed her father for her hand in marriage. Now, ten years later, she had inured herself to her husband's coarse nature, refusing to leave him and bring shame upon her family. The passing of Esme's father had left her mother and seven siblings dependent on Clifford's wealth, and sadly, he never failed to remind her of that fact.

Most times it was bearable, though, and more often than not, he ignored her, but it was those times when he would seek her out in the middle of the night, taking her violently in her bed that made her look wistfully upon the long disturbing scars across her wrists. The uneven lines of white marring her skin served as a burning reminder of her misery. She had been desperate then…

He refused to let her leave him, having her watched at all times, and anytime he found it appropriate to take his temper out on Esme, Clifford would quickly call on his trusted physician to tend to her injuries.

Years had passed and Esme learned in time that screaming only incited his anger, that fighting had been useless- his two hundred fifty pound bulky frame easily overpowered her delicate body. Crying had only brought a sick smile to his smug, red face. And threats to leave him were only threats…

After her suicide attempt, he began to apologize for his violent outbursts and finally promised to give her the one thing that she wanted – a child. Esme was always taught to look for the good in people, and despite the countless times he had hurt her, she always gave him the opportunity to atone for it. A year prior, Esme learned that she was with child, and for the first time in the duration of their marriage, she was truly happy. She didn't really believe that he purposely tripped her at the top of the stairs during the end of her first trimester, although the former physician had believed so. Somewhere deep inside, she liked to think that a baby would have made Clifford happy, too. Abused by his own drunken father, Clifford made a point to become a better man, to be more successful, to be respected. Now, she held onto the hope, foolish that it may be, that the difference of one tiny life could transform him, and could break the vicious cycle that her late father-in-law had begun.

Carlisle entered his home, dropping his medical bag on a table, and crossed the sparsely furnished dining area. Resuming his speedier ghostly stride up the steps, he was angry, as he always tended to be after seeing her. Esme Brooks was only one of several clients he made house calls to, and she was also the only patient of his that ever brought out this insane, irrational, and vulnerable side of his nature. A gust of air shot past Edward's doorway as Carlisle headed toward the master suite without bothering to greet the young vampire, who was sprawled out on a chaise lounge, reading one of Carlisle's medical journals.

Edward shook his head. He had already heard Carlisle's thoughts before his adopted father had even opened the front door. It had been three years since Edward had become a part of Carlisle's life. The man was a father, a teacher, a friend, and Edward had never known anything other than kindness in the paternal vampire's nature. Since the pair had relocated to New Orleans, Edward was surprised to find this rather unsettling change in the man. Despite Carlisle's frustrations, Edward had observed him to be well mannered in both actions and in words, even when his thoughts raged like a roaring fire.

He closed his book and was at Carlisle's closed door in a flash. Music rang out loudly from the other side- it was a classical piece- sad and mournful, and as of late, Carlisle seemed to prefer this piece to others in his collection.

Edward knocked gently, but loud enough to drown out the music. "Carlisle?"

Silence. So, it was to be a one sided conversation, Edward mused. Fortunately for the young man, his ability to read minds often told him what his adopted father would not have said aloud.

"Perhaps you shouldn't return to the Brooks' estate," Edward told him. He listened for a moment and then spoke again, "Clifford Brooks could easily acquire another doctor." God only knew how many doctors had grown tired of him and the vile treatment of his wife.

Edward heard the disturbing sound of glass shattering. He blinked at the commotion, and his eyebrow rose in surprise at the action. Carlisle's thoughts were becoming more unstable and Edward could hear the internal battle taking place. "I know you feel that she needs you, Carlisle, but perhaps this is too much for you to handle. Esme is human," he told him, stressing the last word for effect.

Another pause. "I know you know that," Edward continued, still speaking over the music. "But you can't protect her, and you don't want to change her…"

Fully aware of all of Carlisle's reasons, Edward's stone body fell into a defensive stance, his palms upward in a supplicant gesture. "If you will only allow me, I will handle Mr. Brooks."

Indeed, Edward was a vampire and everything that that title entailed. He was immortal, strong, invincible…and Clifford Brooks was exactly the type of scum that Edward wouldn't have minded disposing of. Sadly, he already knew Carlisle's answer before he heard him think it. "Fine," he sighed after Carlisle confirmed it. "Then we can leave New Orleans…" It was quiet again, and then Edward nodded his head in agreement. "I know. I don't want to leave yet either. Perhaps, I could speak to Esme…"

He listened again for a response, but Carlisle had turned his thoughts away from the dark-haired beauty, instead focusing on the comforting words of a prayer. It was a defense mechanism, Edward knew. It was Carlisle's way of telling him to leave him alone with his pain.

And, with no other choice, Edward heaved another sigh and returned to his room.

A/N: I appreciate any and all feedback. This is actually the first time I've posted a story without already having another one or two chapters written to follow. Should I continue?