Maybe it was a father's instinct that made me call Alice into my office. That wasn't like me at all; usually the parental instincts were Esme's field. But today, I simply hadn't been able to get my mind off of Bella.

No, Bella wasn't exactly my daughter—Edward had made sure of that—but I had always thought of her as such. I had always known that, one day, Edward would give in and she would become part of my family. Bella was much too in love and much too stubborn for it to be otherwise.

Now I wasn't so sure, but it didn't stop me from worrying about her.

I felt very strongly that something was different. That something had happened, something had changed. It wasn't a sense of foreboding exactly, but not something that I could ignore, either.

And so I called Alice into my office.

When she came in, my daughter looked tired and worn. The bruises under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, and the darkness of her irises announced just how long it had been since she had hunted last. She seemed a little surprised that I had called her down, and I understood why.

Since Edward had left Bella, my family had split into three separate families: Esme and I, Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie. These three families kept to themselves, as a common and unspoken rule. A rule that I was breaking now.

"Hello, Carlisle," Alice said, sighing. The sigh held the slight note of impatience that could always be found in her voice now, though it was not directed toward me. Alice, unlike the rest of us, had refused to even imagine that Edward had left Bella for good. She was still waiting, with that quiet assurance of hers, for him to weaken.

I smiled absently at Alice in greeting, and gestured to a chair. She sat obediently, graceful as always, and folded her hands in her lap expectantly.

"Alice," I began, a little awkwardly. "I was wondering whether you had seen anything…anything concerning Bella."

She looked up at me with a surprised, unreliably innocent expression. "Bella? Oh, Edward gave me very strict orders regarding that topic, Carlisle. I thought you knew that."

I couldn't help but chuckle at her evasion. "That doesn't answer my question," I reminded her gently. "The question was, whether you had seen anything concerning her."

Alice bit her lip slightly. "In the beginning," she admitted. "I never tried to keep track of her, honestly. But often I would get little snapshots—Bella in her room, Bella cooking for Charlie, Bella driving home from school." She shuddered, a rare reaction from a vampire.

I gave her a confused look. "Did something happen, then?"

"No, no," said Alice, looking away. "It's not that. Bella was just…lifeless. Dead. She's been in so much pain, Carlisle, it was terrible to see. It was like all of the life in her had been drained out, and she had stopped fighting."

I believed her; I had seen how much Bella cared for Edward. Maybe it wasn't the reaction I would have guessed for her…but I also knew that everyone had their own ways to deal with their grief. This was Bella's.

"But why do you ask?" she asked. "For the past few months, you've avoided the subject like everyone else. What changed?"

"I'm not sure," I said calmly, as the worry flooded my system once again. "I just have a feeling that something has happened. If you would look, Alice—just this once, with my permission—I would be grateful."

Alice smiled at me. "I will," she said. She took in my still-concerned expression, and blurted without prelude: "Who are you more worried about, Edward or Bella?"

"Bella, at present," I replied mildly. Edward could take care of himself: Bella was a different story. "Now, if you would…"

She nodded, and became very still. After decades of living with Alice, all of the symptoms were familiar: her body going rigid, her eyes hazed and unfocused, her fists tightening. I waited patiently in the silence, relaxing a little.

And then she gasped.

I started and gazed at her in alarm. This didn't come across to me as a good sign; even during her visions, Alice usually never responded this way.

She pulled out of the vision as suddenly as she always did, but now her dark eyes were wide with horror. "Oh, no," she said, collapsing against the chair, her voice a frightened whisper. "Oh, no!"

Having endured several centuries of remaining calm, I was able to keep my expression composed. "Alice," I said quietly. "What did you see?"

I braced myself—not enough.

"Nothing," my daughter murmured. "Absolutely nothing." She was rocking herself, her little hands were clenched tightly into fists, and she looked on the verge of tears—which was impossible, really.

For a moment, I couldn't comprehend the full implication of her words. What did she mean, nothing? She always saw something. When the realization did come, though, it hit me like a battering ram.

Nothing.

My lips parted; I exhaled sharply. My voice was unsteady as I asked her warily, "You've never had a vision like that, have you?"

"Not of anyone that I was going to see again," replied Alice, in a voice of bitterness. She put her head in her hands. "Oh, why didn't I keep track of her?" she deplored. "Why did I listen to him?" I watched her motionlessly, stunned, as she got up in panic.

Alice turned for the door, no doubt going to find Jasper, to tell him what had happened and let him try to comfort her. I knew exactly how she felt—I wanted nothing more than to go and cry into Esme's shoulder—but I stopped her with a quick motion of my hand. Despite the agony of loss that had flooded my mind, I was thinking quickly.

Alice paused, the wheels in her head turning, as well. She murmured in a dull voice, "We can't tell Edward."

"Yes," I agreed. Edward had left Bella for her own safety…what would he do when he realized that his efforts hadn't been enough?

And what was I going to do about this? Bella, the young woman who would have been my daughter, was gone forever. Gone—but I knew that I had to protect what was left of my family. I wondered how we could ever keep our thoughts from Edward when he next visited. A new thought suddenly occurred to me, a painful one.

"We can't tell anyone, Alice," I said wearily. "Not even Jasper or Esme. You and I have little chance of keeping the truth from him as it is."

A small sound of pain escaped my daughter's lips, but she nodded in acceptance. I continued, and inserted enough authority in my voice for her to know that this was a command:

"Alright, then. You and I are not telling anyone—or thinking—of what you saw today. For the sake of the family, we will behave as always, and pretend that nothing has changed."

"But for how long, Carlisle?" she asked. "He'll find it out eventually…" I looked into Alice's eyes, and my own sadness was reflected there. "For as long as we can," I told her.

She ran a hand through her short hair. "I thought she was going to be my sister," she whispered. The words came out like a confession. "As did I," I replied, just as quietly. Then, as if we hadn't spoken: "You may leave, now, Alice."

She departed quickly, her mouth still twisted in pain and self-mockery. Faintly, I wondered what she would tell Jasper when he felt her emotions.

I wasn't allowing the full realization that Bella was gone to hit me. Not yet. For a couple of minutes, I just did as I had instructed Alice: acted as if nothing had changed. I stayed behind my desk and graded my college students' papers, organizing them in alphabetical order when I was finished.

After some time of working like this, I heard a tentative, recognizable tap at the door. Oh, no, I thought. Esme.

This was going to be the hardest part, hiding the truth from Esme. When it came to me, she seemed to have telepathic powers as strong as Edward's.

"Come in," I invited calmly, resigned.

She entered, smiling expectantly, and I smiled serenely in response. "Carlisle," she greeted in contentment, kissing me softly. Her eyes, in contrast to Alice's, were like melted honey. I knew, from her cheery expression, that she must have been hunting with Emmett.

"You seem like you enjoyed yourself," I commented, striving to keep my voice warm and casual.

Esme shrugged elegantly. "They were fighting today," she offered in explanation.

Dimly, I was surprised. Esme was rarely happy now, due to Edward's absence. It was ironic, under these circumstances—but I couldn't think of the circumstances. I had to act as if nothing had changed. Casual. Calm. Composed.

"Are you alright, Carlisle?" Esme asked with concern, watching me as I thought.

"Oh—yes, darling. Of course I am." I forced the corners of my mouth upward. She didn't seem convinced; she reached out with cool, comforting fingers to touch my cheek. "It will be alright," she assured me.

Oh, if only she knew.

"You've been in your office too long," Esme informed me with a tender smile. "Take a break, love." She took my hand.

There was a sick feeling in my stomach as I followed her out of the room.

Author's Note: I wrote this for my wonderful editor, Lomesir, who told me that she was missing the Cullens. It takes place a couple of days after Bella was changed in Beauty and the Beast. Chapter six will be up soon, thanks for reading and please review.

--Poola