Dr. Carlisle Cullen

Carlisle, for as much as he spends the majority of his time buried in books, is leaning over his computer's keyboard and squinting at the monitor as though that would improve his comprehension somewhat.

Why are there so many pictures on here of what people eat for breakfast?

Miss Isabella Swan
care of Police Chief Charles Swan
Forks, Washington

Isabella,

I am writing to you about a number of subjects of utmost import, but all revolves around one gargantuan fact. Namely, that Edward has asked for your hand in marriage, and you have - in your silence and indecision - placed the entirety of my family at your mercy. You call us together to stand alongside you against the wishes of a member of our own family and yet you presume to dictate to us that marriage is somehow more burdensome than the life we live every second of our existence.

I do not deny you your freedom of choice. I do not hesitate to note your youth, or lack of experience in life when it comes to decisions which will irrevocably alter your charted course through it. But please, I beg you, understand this. I have defamed my once-sacrosanct belief about the necessity to protect all life - for you. Because I believed you were the only way to keep my family safe. And now you risk it. Again. This is an incredible insult to not only myself, but my family as a whole. It is the value that I place upon Edward's love for you only that I even deign to explain this to you as you have demonstrated the need to do.

Do not attempt to address me in person about this. At least, not yet. If you feel the need to respond, do so via Milliways. I will not entertain any intercession from Edward on the topic at this juncture.

I will still uphold my word as given previously. I no longer do so willingly.

Regards,

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, M.D.

He didn't have a choice, in coming here. There had been avoidance several times, seeing blue shimmering doorways and choosing instead to walk around the entirety of the house to get to the other side.

Milliways wasn't having it anymore; Carlisle was taken as soon as he sat down in the driver's seat of his car and found himself in the bar's garage.

Carlisle walks up the stairs from the garage onto the main level of Milliways. Might as well check in at the infirmary. Do something useful.

An old face. Calmer, older, and yet all the same unchanged.

At least he's not running for his life, now. And he knows where he is.

For Carlisle Cullen, this is always a good start.

Things have calmed considerably at home, but Carlisle is hesitating to leave Milliways so immediately after his shift.

Presently he is outside, debating going back in to retrieve a cigarette.

Edward and Carlisle in the hospital waiting room, Carlisle desperately trying to piece together how to have Edward focus on anything else besides his mental self-flagellation.

Carlisle doesn't succeed. He didn't expect to.

But the cell phone in his pocket buzzes and Carlisle reaches for it automatically, flipping it open.

"Esme."

Carlisle has been running for days. If he keeps it up much longer he'll end up in Portugal.

Judging by the patrons of the bar where Carlisle just entered?

He's run a lot farther than that.

Work is a refuge for Carlisle as much as it is a livelihood for his family, their veneer of normalcy.

Even if Carlisle has started to see things.

She appears the first few times just for a second. A girl with unmistakable bright blue eyes and golden-white braids in a grey hoodie in the walkway at the hospital watching him when he has a crisis to deal with and can't stop to think about it. Watching him solemnly, and when he looks up, he sees her just in time for someone to pass in front of her and she's gone with inhuman speed.

It's even gone so far as to walk outside the ambulance bay, swearing he saw a flash of blond and fleece he recognized.

Long day, he surmises. Time to hang up the lab coat in the office and clock out.