Archive of Our Own ^beta

Carlisle listens to the radio as he drives home, his mind drifting from thought to thought. It had been a busy day for the Forks clinic, but nothing compared to the ER in Seattle. His shifts there were full of the smell of blood and panic, constant calls and frightened family members.

But today, that one patient had been so frightened, and so young… it had made Carlisle’s unbeating heart feel bruised. He’s glad to be on his way home to his own children, safe with their mother. He hopes that patient is also safe at home, considering the offer he’d made to meet other regressors.

Carlisle’s home is a chaotic place, but full of joy, and he knows that few are so lucky.

He pulls up the driveway, waiting for the garage door to open before pulling into his spot and getting out. He had already changed out of his work clothes, now in plain slacks and his favourite grey sweater. Alice loves the texture of this one, and he knows it makes her happy to see him wearing it in the future, so he always makes sure to plan this outfit ahead of time.

He can hear his family’s voices inside, could pick them out if he focused enough. Alice is already waiting near the door, probably intending to tackle him once he gets inside. He can hear her quiet giggles as she waits. Carlisle won’t be surprised if Emmett is helping her with her ambush, but managing to stay quiet.

Carlisle braces himself and swings open the door.

“I’m home!” he calls out, just as Alice leaps at him. “Hi, honey!” he says, turning to catch her in his arms. Such a light little thing, his youngest daughter. “How are you?”

“Good, daddy!” Alice rests her cheek against his sweater, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You were gone so long!”

“Ah, boring work,” Carlisle sighs, already feeling the stress of the day melting away into the familiar smell of home and family. Human scents are so busy and overwhelming, emotions and history drifting from their skin. Here in their own space, Carlisle can pick out the clean smells of his family, each one slightly different but bearing the same mark: his venom, binding them together. “Much better to be home with my children.”

“Dad!!!” Sure enough, Emmett attacks from behind with a proper tackle, and only his verbal warning allows Carlisle to duck out of the way, chuckling. Emmett stumbles past and saves himself from crashing into the wall, just barely. He spins and runs at Carlisle again, this time jumping into his arms like Alice did.

He’s a larger boy, and Carlisle laughs as he catches him, thankful for the strength that allows him to lift his adult-sized children on each hip.

“Hello, Emmett. Trying to get daddy in a headlock again?”

“It was Alice’s idea,” Emmett says, resting his head on Carlisle’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Carlisle murmurs, unconvinced. Alice and Emmett are the troublemakers of the household, occasionally pulling Rosalie into their schemes. It’s difficult to guess which of them planned the ambush.

Esme comes around the corner, carrying Jasper in her arms. Jasper is resting, eyes closed, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. Esme looks absolutely beautiful, but she always does when Carlisle is seeing her for the first time in hours.

“Darling,” Esme says warmly. “I see you’ve already found the children.”

“It was a surprise attack,” Carlisle explains, bouncing the two siblings once before releasing them to the floor and watching them scramble back to their playroom. “Very fierce warriors, our children.”

“Fearsome,” Esme smiles, and approaches to give Carlisle a kiss. He will never get tired of kissing his wife. Each one is a blessing, and an affirmation of her love.

Today Esme is dressed in a plum-coloured dress that brushes against the ground, designed to be unhooked so she can nurse the children that are young enough. There’s no nutritional point to the gesture, of course, but just like the diapers and pull-ups that their youngest wear, it’s an emotional comfort. A reminder of both childhood and humanity. For Esme, being a mother has always been her greatest fulfilment, and nursing her children the most loving gesture.

“Would you take the baby?” she says, smiling fondly down at Jasper. “He’s been fussy all day, and the playroom needs my attention.”

“My pleasure.” Carlisle carefully accepts Jasper into his arms, sneaking another kiss onto Esme’s cheek in the process. Jasper stirs at the movement, making a small sound of confusion. “Hush, sweetheart. Just daddy,” Carlisle murmurs, making sure the baby is in a comfortable position. “Nothing to worry about.”

Jasper blinks his eyes open and looks up at Carlisle, then burbles a little string of nothing words.

“Oh, really?” Carlisle replies. “Emmett didn’t tell me that.”

Encouraged by the response, Jasper continues to babble. Carlisle smiles and nods as he carries his son towards the living room. “An interesting theory!” He settles into the couch and listens to the sounds of the house. Esme is lecturing Alice and Emmett in the other room: apparently, one of them pulled down the hammock again. It’s a nearly daily occurrence, the hooking system far too delicate for a family of vampires, but Esme thinks that the children need to learn how to be careful.

“Oh, your siblings are in trouble,” Carlisle sighs. “We’re lucky to have one little angel.”

“Two little angels,” Rosalie corrects him, jumping into one of the nearby chairs.

“Ah, of course.” Carlisle smiles at her. She’s done her hair in pigtails, and decorated her bangs with colourful clips. Rosalie is their eldest daughter, regressing to around eight or nine, but she’s still quite young. “Two angels. Where’s your older brother?”

“Upstairs,” Rosalie shrugs. “Listening to music.”

Sure enough, Carlisle can hear the tinny sound of Debussy’s Reverie coming from Edward’s headphones upstairs. “He’s missing family time.” Carlisle is worried about Edward, although he knows it’s pointless. Edward had been his first son, after all, and although he loves his entire family, he finds that Edward has withdrawn more and more in the recent decades. “Would you go and fetch him, Rosalie?”

“I can try,” Rosalie says dubiously.

“Come on, angel,” Carlisle cajoles. He holds out a hand, and Rosalie comes over to accept it. He kisses the back of her hand, smiling up at her. “You’re the only one scary enough to make him come down.” Rosalie laughs, clearly pleased by that.

“Can I play science after I get him? Mommy said I wasn’t allowed.”

“If I can play with you, we can absolutely do some science after.” Rosalie has a talent for creating explosions in the ‘kitchen,’ which is mostly used as a laboratory space for the children who are interested in such things. They all need adult supervision, but Rosalie often tries to argue that she’s old enough to play alone.

“Fine,” Rosalie sighs. “I’ll get him.”

And she runs up the stairs, upstairs within a second. Carlisle can hear the whir of Edward’s tape player as Rosalie’s footsteps start towards his room. Edward has been alive for many forms of music, but for some reason he always uses a tape player when he’s regressing. It makes it easy for Carlisle to tell when he’s regressed, at least: he’s so quiet as a teen, the eldest of the five siblings. Almost old enough that his regression matches the part all the Cullens children play in the human world, pretending to be teenagers.

There are only a few years between Edward’s regression and his everyday mask, but a world of difference. Edward can only regress at home, surrounded by the familiar thoughts of his family. Outside of the house, the constant noise makes it impossible for him to do anything except constantly sort through the data pouring in from all sides.

Carlisle closes his eyes, shutting out the sound of Edward’s music and Esme struggling with the hammock while Alice plays around her. Instead, he focuses on Jasper’s even breaths as he lies against his father’s chest.

Carlisle matches his youngest child’s breathing, enjoying the motion. He’s gotten out of the habit through the years: it’s easier to get through the days of hospital work if you pretend to be breathing, but neglect the act itself and all the intensity of tastes and smells that come with it. Here at home, Carlisle will sometimes engage in meditation, turning his attention to the act of breathing: there’s something calming about the flow of air in your body, even if you don’t need the oxygen for your blood flow.

Jasper smiles in his feigned sleep, pressing a little closer to Carlisle’s chest. He clearly knows that he’s being copied.

“Precious boy,” Carlisle says fondly, brushing a hand across Jasper’s cheek. “So loved by his parents.”

Jasper fully smiles at that, closing his eyes tighter and pulling at Carlisle’s sweater in an approximation of a hug.

“I love you too,” Carlisle murmurs, knowing what the gesture means.

“Daddy!” Rosalie says, standing in front of the couch again.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Carlisle says, blinking up at her.

“You need to get Edward.” Rosalie crosses her arms. Esme enters the room, and Carlisle can tell from her expression that she heard a conversation that he missed. She looks worried, her eyes flickering to the ceiling where Edward’s room is.

“You’d better go,” she agrees. “Give the baby to mommy, he needs a change.”

Jasper is transferred between them again, happy to get back to his mommy’s arms. Carlisle will never be the favourite parent there, but that’s alright. He loves all his children equally. But now his worry for Edward is sharper, wondering what he missed in his preoccupation with Jasper’s breathing.

“Is he alright?” Carlisle asks, already halfway up the stairs.

“He’s fine,” Rosalie says. “Just little,” she adds as Carlisle reaches the door to Edward’s room, the words echoing up the stairs behind him.

Carlisle knocks on the door, realizing that the music had stopped when Rosalie came up. Another thing he hadn’t noticed.

There’s no answer from the other side of the door, aside from a small intake of breath.

“Edward?” Carlisle calls. “May I come in?”

Again, no response.

Carlisle pushes the door open cautiously, and sees Edward curled up on the floor under a heavy blanket. His tapes are spread around him, his headphones discarded on the floor and his tape player in one hand. He’s staring blankly at the wall, and doesn’t respond to Carlisle’s entrance.

“Edward?” Carlisle approaches slowly. “Are you alright?”

Slowly, Edward pulls the blanket over his face, hiding from Carlisle entirely.

“Do you not want to have a family evening? You don’t have to regress if you don’t feel like it. You can come read to your siblings, or you can stay here.” Carlisle knows that his worry must be clear to Edward, his words all but useless when Edward can read the flow of his thoughts. Even though the two of them are adept at voiceless conversation, especially in front of humans or even members of the family, Carlisle has always preferred to speak aloud when he’s alone with Edward. Still, he knows his mind is whirling with the questions he keeps unsaid. What happened? What’s wrong? How can I help?

The pile of blanket on the floor doesn’t move, giving Carlisle nothing to read.

“Do you want me to leave?” Carlisle asks, quietly enough that the family members downstairs wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Finally, a movement: a pale hand reaches towards Carlisle from under the blanket, splayed fingers in a wordless command. Don’t go.

“Alright.” Carlisle keeps his words voiceless, quiet enough that a human wouldn’t be able to hear. “I’ll stay.” He folds himself up and kneels next to Edward, and begins breathing to pass the time. The children downstairs are laughing about something, probably at Emmett’s expense if his angry reply is any indication. Esme is singing to Jasper, her voice drifting through the other noises. Esme’s voice was incredible when she was a human woman, and she has only improved since her death.

Carlisle quiets his mind, letting his awareness drift to the sensation of breath. Edward has often said that he enjoys being near Carlisle when he meditates, finding the relative calm of his thoughts a welcome break. Carlisle lets his worry drift freely in his mind, neither rejecting nor focusing on it. He can hear Edward beginning to match his breath, and he slows the rhythm further.

“I’m sorry,” Edward whispers.

Carlisle casts his eyes towards his hidden son, keeping his mind clear and restful. “Will you tell me what troubles you, Edward?”

“I can’t.” Edward pulls the blanket down and turns his face towards Carlisle.

Vampires are unable to cry, just as they are unable to eat or sleep. But they still remember what it was to cry, and Edward’s breath becomes shaky as their eyes meet, his face crumpling with the anticipation of tears that will never come again.

“Edward,” Carlisle breathes, his chest aching with the memory of what sympathy felt like when he was alive. “Please, may I hold you?”

Edward nods, stretching out his hand again, and Carlisle is beside him in less than a millisecond, lifting his son into his arms and cradling him close.

“What do you need, Edward?” he whispers against his son’s forehead. “I can deny you nothing.”

“Father,” Edward manages, and buries his face in Carlisle’s chest.

“My son,” Carlisle says, smoothing Edward’s hair back. “Hush, I’m here. My precious boy.” Edward’s body shakes with imagined sobs, and Carlisle continues his soft reassurances. “You’re alright. I’m here, Edward. You have me.” He focuses on the physical sensations: the weight of Edward against him, the silk of his hair under his fingers. The amount of fondness he feels for this boy, his son, his first family member, overwhelms him. He presses his forehead to Edward’s, cupping the boy’s cheeks.

“I love you,” he tells him.

“I know,” Edward says, bringing his hands up to mirror Carlisle’s. “Thank you.” His voice sounds broken.

Carlisle doesn’t know how long they sit there, fingers intertwined and foreheads pressed together. Edward’s breathing evens out, and the sounds from downstairs continue. Carlisle fills his mind with love and lets Edward drink in his unwavering affection, surrounding the two of them with contentment.

Finally, Edward takes a final deep breath and sits back on his heels, blinking his eyes.

Vampires are denied the emotional release of tears, and the emotional rest of sleep. They have no escape from awareness, and for those who feel their inhumanity as deeply as the Cullens, a deep fatigue sets in through the years. That’s why family night is so important, as well as the smaller distractions of sparring matches and baseball games. The fatigue eases for a while, when you are caring and being cared for. When things are simple, and easy.

“Can I be younger tonight?” Edward asks, finally seeming centered enough to ask the question that must have been weighing on him all day, if not longer.

“Of course,” Carlisle answers without hesitation. “How young?” You don’t need to know, he adds without words. We can always figure it out as we go.

“Like Jasper,” Edward says, and puts the ridge of his thumb into his mouth. “Is that okay?”

“Absolutely.” Carlisle offers a hand, and Edward clasps it tight. “Do you want to stay upstairs, or see your siblings?”

“Will they laugh?” Edward says quietly. It’s a fair question: the other Cullen siblings enjoy mocking Edward when they’re all adults, and Rosalie likes to make fun of the only older sibling when they’re small.

“They won’t laugh,” Carlisle answers in the same undertone. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then I’d like to be with them,” Edward nods.

“I’m sure your mother would love to see you,” Carlisle says, squeezing Edward’s hand. “Now, should we get you changed?”

Edward nods wordlessly, casting his eyes to the ground.

“Brave boy,” Carlisle praises, and gets to his feet, scooping Edward into his arms.

Edward flinches and wraps all of his limbs around Carlisle, making Carlisle laugh slightly. Such an extreme response when he’s seen Edward dive off cliffs with no hesitation. His boy must be very regressed already. No wonder Edward struggled so much to ask his question.

Carlisle sings one of his favourite lullabies as he carries Edward down the hallway to the boys’ room. Edward doesn’t wear very different clothes when he regresses, so he doesn’t have a regression closet. They’ll have to steal from the younger brothers for now, and find some new outfits for Edward later if this will be a repeated experience.  

Carlisle beelines for the dresser and scoops a pacifier from the back of one of the drawers. Jasper doesn’t use them, and the pacifier has lain unused since it was tried and rejected. Edward has been chewing on his thumb ever since Carlisle picked him up, and Carlisle has a feeling the abandoned pacifier might finally have a use. He presses the pacifier to Edward’s lips, gentle enough for it to be refused, and Edward accepts it.

“Good,” Carlisle says, pressing a kiss to Edward’s temple. “Now let’s get you changed.”

He sits Edward on the changing table, and the boy curls into himself slightly. Carlisle breezes past Edward’s uncertainty, moving through the familiar motions of disrobing him and fastening a diaper around his hips, patting the tape into place.

“Safe and sound,” Carlisle murmurs. “Would you like a shirt or pyjamas, sweetheart?”

Edward blinks up at him, and sucks on the pacifier.

“Pyjamas it is,” Carlisle says, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. He finds one of the darker onesies hanging in the closet and guides Edward’s limbs into it, patting the baby’s belly before doing up the buttons. Edward squirms a little, but more in amusement than in protest.

Carlisle chuckles at his reaction and scoops the boy back into his arms.

“Let’s go see your big brother and sisters, hmm?” he says to Edward. “I think they have some guppies on.” Edward usually hates sitting around when his siblings are watching cartoons, pretending to read a book somewhere apart or convince his siblings to gather around and listen to him read. But today he perks up at the mention of cartoons, eyes widening with interest.

“Do you want to sit with your mother?” Carlisle suggests, careful to hold Edward steady on his hip as they make their way down the stairs. “I’m sure she’d love to spend time with her baby boy.” Edward clings to Carlisle’s shoulders. “Ah, fair enough.” Carlisle can’t help smiling at the boy’s attachment, even though he’s sure that he’ll change his tune once he sees Esme.

“Hi daddy,” Alice calls distractedly when they enter. Emmett and Rosalie both glance up briefly from the screen and then return to their cartoons without comment. Edward is hiding his face in Carlisle’s neck, and Carlisle can feel the slight rocking of the pacifier as Edward gets the hang of sucking on it.

“Hello angels,” Carlisle replies, and makes his way to the couch behind the children, where Esme is sitting with Jasper cross-legged on the ground between her legs, his head leaning against Esme’s knee so that she can pet his hair while he watches the cartoons.

“Good to see you two,” Esme says quietly, under the noise of the cartoon. “I was worried.”

“This little one needed changing,” Carlisle says, sitting down and trying to rearrange Edward in his arms, who is still determinedly hiding against him. “Edward, come out and say hello to your mother,” he teases, flicking one finger against Edward’s neck.

Edward wiggles, displeased with the attempt to tickle him, and finally turns his face sideways.

Esme gasps softly. “Oh, darling boy.” She reaches out to cup Edward’s face, and the boy lets her. “Look at my baby.” Carlisle smiles at the two of them, as Edward shifts towards Esme on the couch and she helps him into her lap, careful not to dislodge Jasper’s place on the floor at her feet. “There, let me hold you,” Esme coos, pressing him against herself.

She would be crying, Carlisle reflects, if she were still able. There is something about Edward trusting them with this, after so long and so many siblings. They have spent so many decades together, physically unchanging, and yet they are still growing and learning about each other. It is an unimaginable gift from the universe, one that Carlisle will never take for granted.

As Edward smiles around the pacifier and Emmett yells something at the screen, Carlisle leans back on the couch and lets his gaze travel around his family, a serenity deeper than meditation settling in his chest. This is his family first, and his Clan second, and he would do absolutely anything to keep them safe.