Title: A Life of Service

Penname(s): KathySueMe

Rating: M

Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all ours. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without ours express written authorization.

Summary: Edward has given his life to serve and protect others. No one could have known or protected him from his fate.

Submitted for the 'To Kill a Cullen' Contest

Please check out the other entries here :

http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/To_Kill_a_Cullen_Contest_Community/76759/

They say there are five stages to grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The denial and anger came and went fairly quickly. Depression and acceptance were joined at the hip. I couldn't accept my fate and not be a little depressed, after all, and part of acceptance, at least in my mind, was acceptance of the depression. It never really left.

But it was the bargaining that took the longest. I'd read about bargaining and thought it to be something along the lines of, "Please let this be a big mistake and I'll never cheat on my taxes again." Or, "I'll never lie again if I can just wake up and have all this be a bad dream."

I won't lie. I did my share of bargaining. My bargaining, though, was never about me. It was always about them.

Emmett and Jasper.

Don't let Emmett be bitter he's going to lose a parent.

Don't let him dwell in either sadness or anger. For they are both destroyers of the soul.

Please let him be happy. Let him grow and fall in love and have children.

And Jasper.

Oh, God. Jasper.

Please let Jasper be okay.

Please don't let Jasper be sick. Don't let the expression of our love be the catalyst of his death.

Take me if you have to, but don't take Jasper.

**

I knew when people heard I was HIV positive and had AIDs, the best I could hope for would be for them to think I'd had a brazen one night stand years and years ago. One that involved wild, unprotected sex. The worst, I knew, would be if they thought I had cheated on Jasper.

Jasper, of course, thought neither.

"I don't understand," he said when I made it home from the doctor's office and gave him the horrible news. "How?"

It was one of the questions I'd spent hours asking myself.

How?

How could I possibly have been exposed?

When?

Years ago? Recently?

Had I unknowingly infected Jasper?

Or even Emmett. Had Emmett ever touched my blood?

Did the virus live in tears? How about saliva?

The questions, though, always came back to "How?".

The answer, when it finally came to me, haunted me.

I entered the police force with idealistic dreams of protecting and serving the community. When the domestic disturbance call came in, I was eager to go.

So young.

So naïve.

I thought I knew what to do, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

She lay unconscious on the floor of her apartment. Somehow she'd fallen on a glass table and broken shards of glass were scattered around her body.

I felt fairly certain she was still breathing. I thought I felt a heartbeat when I took her wrist in my hand. I remembered calling for an ambulance, sweeping the blood soaked hair out of her eyes, and murmuring soothing words over and over. Just in case she could hear.

In the next second, a blinding pain seared through the upper part of my left arm. I jumped to my feet and swung at him; knocked him to the ground and called for my partner.

The preliminary tests for both the woman and her estranged husband were negative. It wasn't until years later we learned the disturbing facts. When she arrived at the hospital, numerous units of blood were pumped into her body in a futile effort to save her life. In a cruel twist of fate, it was the donor blood the tests were run on. She wasn't HIV negative, the blood donors were.

She died the next day of the multiple wounds inflicted by her husband. He died in prison some years later. The autopsy results showed him to be HIV positive and in the early stages of AIDs.

**

When the end came, the best moments were when I was conscious. I felt safe and loved by the press of people at my side. They changed of course, day by day, often hour by hour, and, on particularly rough days, minute by minute.

Of all the people at my bedside, four were constant: my parents, Emmett, and Jasper. My parents, while not staying with us overnight, were almost always in the house. I felt bad for them. It was so unfair for them to have to watch their child die. No parent should have to face that. The fact that they would have each other comforted me. Their love for each other was unchanging and I knew they would make it through my death okay. Battered and scarred, yes, but make it they would.

As much as no parent should have to watch their child die, I felt just as strongly that no child should have to watch their parent die. For that reason, I hurt for Emmett. At times, I saw glimpses of the man he would one day become, but supporting your father through the end stages of AIDs was asking a lot for a seventeen year old. I saw so much of myself in Emmett, though I flattered myself that he only inherited my good parts. Emmett would be fine, eventually. He had Jasper.

Leaving Jasper was what pained me the most.

He would hurt and there was nothing I could do to stop or lessen that hurt. I tried hard not to be bitter; not to dwell on the fact that in an effort to protect and serve my community, I ended up robbed of the ability to protect and serve my family.

Truly though, slipping into unconsciousness wasn't all that bad. Often, snippets of the past would come to me in dreams, and at times it was as if I relived the highlights of my life.

Curious blue eyes met mine over the top of our calculus exam, freshman year. The college class we'd met in.

"I made a forty-five," I said, balling my paper up. I nodded toward his hand. "How about you?"

From our first day, I thought him a cocky bastard. Calculus came so easy for him. He was the teacher's pet, always volunteering to work problems out on the board. Always the first one with his hand in the air to answer a question. Damn, he annoyed the hell out of me. When he looked at me that day, though, I found something new in his expression.

"I made a ninety-seven," he said, and then added quietly, "I could tutor you."

As it turned out, I'm not sure how much "tutoring" was accomplished, but I squeezed by with a high C. And more importantly, I found Jasper.

A gruff voice stopped my daydream. The Chief of Police had entered the room.

"Edward," he said, leaning by my head, "I just wanted you to know, HR took care of the paperwork. Everything's in order."

I licked my dry lips. "Thank you."

He patted my shoulder. Such a small thing; so many people were afraid to touch me. I missed touch.

"Your family will be well cared for," he said.

One more thing checked off my morbid Things to do Before I Die list.

I lifted my hand and Jasper took it. Jasper never shied from touching me, even when I tried to keep my distance. Even when I chastised him, told him he needed to keep his distance, to be careful. He never listened. He stroked my skin, as if memorizing the feel of it.

Don't, I wanted to say. Don't remember me like this.

Remember the first time we went to dinner and held hands under the table.

Remember our first kiss. Tentative and nervous.

Remember the way we laid with our arms around each other the first time we made love. How we knew, even then, that what we had was meant for a lifetime.

A lifetime that should have lasted a hell of a lot longer than it would.

Remember the first time you slept over at my apartment and how we stayed in bed and spoke of our future in hushed, hesitant whispers.

Remember my love. Remember my life. Don't dwell on my death.

A tear escaped my eye.

"Edward?" Jasper brushed the tear away. "Are you okay? Do you hurt?"

At once, Emmett was at my other side. "Dad?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Just remembering."

The good times, yes. But also the bad.

Jasper's grief the day he found out he was infertile.

We wanted to have a family and spent hours planning the details. I would continue on with the police force and Jasper would quit his nursing job to stay at home. Because he was so excited about the possibilities, we decided he would be the biological father. When the tests came back, he acted strong, saying it didn't matter that he couldn't father a child. I don't think it was until he held Emmett for the first time, though, that he actually believed it himself.

Emmett was my biological child. Conceived with the help of a Petri dish and a surrogate. Welcomed into the world by his two fathers.

"It's a boy!" the doctor said, looking up from the surrogate we had contracted to carry our child.

Jasper's grip tightened on my shoulder. "We have a son," he said, his voice filled with wonder and amazement.

I tore my gaze from the tiny, screaming body of our newborn son and watched Jasper. I drank in the sight of him: his joy, his love, his happiness. Our family was complete and, in that moment, I had everything I'd ever wanted.

"Congratulations, Dad," I said, and we kissed, right there in the delivery room, and didn't care who saw.

As the days slipped away, I spent more and more time in the past. Part of me fought it, because if time with my loved ones was finite, I wanted to be with them as much as possible. The bigger side of me knew it was my body's way of dealing with the pain, and not to fight my slide into happier times.

Finally, though, I was down to one item on my list.

"Jasper," I said, frightened by the raspy sound of my voice.

In a second he was there, hands skimming my body. "Are you okay? Do you need more morphine?" His voice was worried. Scared. "It's not time for more, but maybe. . ."

I slowly took his hand and he held it gently with both of his. The warmth of his wedding band heated my cold skin. I'd been so cold. I rubbed my fingers around the silver band.

I felt the affection in his touch as he slipped the wedding band on my finger. My eyes followed the ring and then looked up and met his gaze. So much love and wanting in his expression. Such naked desire and need. What had I ever done to deserve such a man?

My husband.

But I needed to finish my list. I had one more thing left to do.

"I need," I said and stopped, because it took too much energy to think, talk, and move at the same time. My lips were too dry. I licked them, but that didn't help any.

Jasper helped me sit up slightly and held a straw to my lips. His strong arms supported my shoulders and I leaned against him as I swallowed a sip of water. The cool liquid didn't completely hydrate my mouth, but it helped.

He gently settled me back down. "Wait a minute," he said before I could speak. He turned to the table beside my bed and tenderly ran soothing lip balm on my dry lips. I pressed a small kiss against his fingers. He smiled at me.

I would miss his smile.

"Now, HB," he said, using his nickname for me. He took my hands again. "What do you need?"

I slipped off my wedding band and pressed it into his hands.

"What?" he asked. "Why –"

"Don't," I said and stopped. Why did it take so much energy to talk? "Take it. Don't bury the symbol of our love with me." My hands trembled when I closed his hands over the ring. "Please."

He nodded once, tears filling his eyes, and he moved to rest on me, his head on my chest. Gently though, so as not to crush me. Our hands were clasped together between us and I felt the reassuring beat of his heart steady against my fingers.

I mentally checked the last thing off my list.

"I love you, Jasper," I whispered.

In the background, my mother started to cry.

~o~

The funeral was held on a crisp fall morning. Orange and flaming red leaves danced on the trees as the wind blew, and I thought back to our first dance at the small wedding ceremony we had. I'd never imagined we would have the chance to get officially married; never imagined having to bury my husband.

As the casket lowered and the flag was folded, I looked around at our friends, family, and the other attendees. Not everyone accepted having a gay co-worker on the force, but most people loved Edward. You couldn't help but love him. He was charming and charismatic; his smile could make a room of women (and men) weak in the knees.

The chief handed me the triangular folded flag, and I sat, looking up at him, unsure of what to do next. I knew that Esme and Carlisle would get their own ceremonial flag; otherwise, I would have given mine up to them. They sat on my right, Esme holding my hand occasionally.

The processional of cars, the flood of people, the outpouring of love and support for Emmett and me after Edward died was astounding. Nothing helped ease the gaping hole of ache, though. I put on my brave face in public, doing what I knew I needed to do to get what was left of our family through our loss.

Emmett and I went to grief counseling, but there's only so long you can talk about how much you miss someone before it starts to feel trite and foolish. No amount of tears or pain could bring him back. I tried to tell myself over and over to just get over it. He was gone. I'd need to move on, if not for myself, then for Emmett.

Nothing worked.

Weeks, months, years went by. Em and I saw Carlisle and Esme regularly, but even just looking at my son was a fresh reminder of his lost father. It made me overjoyed and overwhelmingly heartbroken.

When Emmett brought Rosalie home to meet me, I spent the night awake, pacing. Cursing Edward for leaving me to deal with hormones, a son in his late teens, and everything else laid at my feet.

He'd be so much better at all of this. Why did it have to be him?

After college, when Emmett told me he wanted to be a police officer like his father, I spent weeks of nights consoling myself with Jack and Kleenex. Why? Wasn't losing one love in my life enough?

It was Carlisle who pulled me from that dark depression. He came over one afternoon while I was supposed to be at work, knowing I had called in sick since we worked at the same hospital. After Emmett graduated high school and moved out, I'd gone back to work. Lonely days and nights had created a web of misery in my heart and head that needed to be cleared by daily interaction with others.

"We miss him too, Jasper. I know you loved him deeply. He loved you just as much. You can't go on like this. Emmett needs you. Esme needs you. We all need you. You're our son, too, and watching you slip away, just like Edward..." he paused, wiping his eyes.

He'd been right. In my haze of mourning, I had disappeared much the same as Edward. Much as I tried to hide behind my happy face, those who knew and loved me could see and feel the pain.

I went back to counseling and learned to halfway function. Learned to not self-medicate away my pain, and began to journal and write about my life with Edward, honoring his memory the best way I could think of – by making sure it lived on.

Emmett came to me a few months later, and let me know he was going to ask for Rose's hand in marriage. They'd been good together. She was sweet and loving to him, and I appreciated her for that. She also invited me over for family dinners on Sunday, although she was under no obligation to do so, and it was nice to spend time with my family again.

"Just a minute, son. I'll be right back."

As I walked, I steeled my nerves. I hadn't looked at it since that day, but now I needed to. He needed me to.

I opened the box and took the band from it, fingering it briefly. Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered, but I swiped them away and composed myself. There'd be time to grieve later that night, in private. This was a moment of celebration.

"I know she'll say yes. When she does, would you consider using this?"

Holding the band in my palm, I waited as Emmett looked at it.

"Dad, I-"

"I know, you think you can't. You don't have to, you're not obligated, I just thought..."

Perhaps I'd guessed wrong, and this reminder of his other father was too much. As I began to doubt my choice, Emmett's hands went around mine, one above, one below.

"It would be my honor."

~o~

I struggled more that day than most of the others before. Somehow, I thought watching Em and Rose swap vows would fill me with happiness, and it did, for the most part.

As I watched Emmett, my only son, standing before me as he prepared to marry Rosalie, I desperately wished Edward was with me. He would have known exactly what to say, exactly how to behave, and exactly how to calm my worries.

He'd have been overwhelmingly proud of Emmett. My hands smoothed the lapels of the ceremonial police uniform Em was wearing as I sucked in one last deep breath.

Emmett deserved to have a sane and happy parent at his wedding. He'd already been robbed of one of his fathers from his high school graduation; this was the least I could do. His grandparents and various aunts and uncles would be there as well, but I knew he was feeling the same gaping hole of loss I was at Edward's absence.

"He'd be so proud of you," I said.

The hitch in my throat betrayed my calm, cool, and collected exterior.

"Thank you," Emmett said.

Readjusting his jacket one last time, we made our way down the aisle. I sat in the front row and watched my son marry the love of his life, the chair beside me left empty to honor the loss of mine.

A/N: tarasueme -The dates and timelines in this one shot were left vague deliberately. I've worked in HIV/AIDs research for the last twelve years and we've come a long way in those twelve years, but we still have a long way to go. We know more about transmission, protection, and early treatment, but we still don't have a cure. We still don't have a vaccine. Educate yourself. HIV/AIDs is not a problem or a sickness pertaining to one demographic, it's everyone's problem.

Thank you, TwilightMundi for betaing this piece for us. You are fantabulous.

Thank you, mskathy for allowing me to write this with you. I stretched my writing muscles again for this one and, like always, it was painful, but it was worth it. Thank you for allowing me the honor of writing with you. Let's do it again soon (hee hee, twss).

mskathy – Thank you, TwilightMundi, for beta'ing this for us. I'm sorry we made you cry. I appreciate you endlessly.

Thank you TSM for writing this with me. I am amazed and humbled, and I love you to pieces.