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Esme - Part Three

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Life, from there, only got better. Esme grew accustomed to having no private thoughts, while Edward got used to living with two people who were perfectly suited for one another. The sense of family grew, and the three of them became close. Though the official story was that Esme and Carlisle were married, and that Edward was Esme’s younger brother, they thought of him more as a son. However, Edward was mature beyond his years - both physical and mental -, but Esme supposed that was just an occupational hazard of being a vampire. When you’re not only around forever, but have a perfect memory of every second of that forever, you tended to remember things. Esme was mulling over that one day while dusting the front room. Carlisle was working, and Edward was pouring over a piece of paper on the sofa. At her musings, however, he commented.

“More handy than hazard if you ask me,” he said, then looked up. “Sorry. I know you weren’t actually asking me; it’s just such a habit.”

Esme smiling, moving from the coffee table in front of him to a bookshelf against the wall. “It’s no trouble,” she said. She knew she could just think her answers, but for some reason she preferred to say them aloud. “It’s not as if you can turn it off.”

Edward chuckled, running a hand through his hair in the exact same manner Carlisle did when he was exasperated. A corner of Esme’s mouth twitched; some habits you picked up from living with others, human or not.

“It would be nice if I could turn it off every now and then though,” Edward said, and sure enough he sounded a bit frustrated. “Like now; that way I could finish this piece.”

“Would you like me to leave for a bit?” Esme asked, now dusting the magnificent grand piano that stood to the back of the room, near several large windows. “I don’t mind. I was planning on waiting until it was dark, but I could hunt now, it’s been a while.”

“No, no,” Edward replied. “Just, if you can, hum a tune or something. I’m a little ashamed to say your good-hearted musings are intriguing enough to keep me distracted.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Esme laughed. “I’ll try not to be inquisitive. But here, I can do better than hum.” With that, she put down her dusting rag and took a seat on the piano bench. Flexing her fingers, she began to play.

It wasn’t a complex melody; just a simple piece Esme had written as a teenager. The only piece she had ever finished writing, been at all proud to play. She preferred to play prewritten symphonies, or even more so, listen to compositions by others. Still, the melody kept her focused, and she hoped she wasn’t being an even greater distraction to Edward. She was therefore surprised when he appeared on the bench beside her.

“That might be exactly what I’m looking for,” he said with wide eyes.

Esme stopped playing, looking at Edward with echoed astonishment. “I didn’t know you wrote, let alone played,” she said.

“I could say the same to you,” he replied. “And I didn’t know is not a phrase I get to use a lot. Would you play the middle part for me again? No, back a little… yes, that. Do you mind if I…?”

“Be my guest,” Esme said, scooting to the side of the long bench so Edward could play. His fingers flew swiftly, elegantly across the ivory keys in a composition so luxuriantly complex it was difficult to believe only two hands played. In the midst of the delicious notes, Esme heard a part of her own creation blend smoothly into Edward’s, harmoniously combining two halves of what was now a whole.

“Did you write that?” Esme asked when he had finished. It would have been a crime to speak while he played.

“Only most of it,” he grinned. “Did you like it?”

“It was incredible. Have you written any other pieces?”

Edward’s grin widened. “I’d be more than happy to play some.”

“I’d be ecstatic to listen to all.”
* * *
It was through encounters like this that the next year passed. Though there were days that someone was uptight - Esme noticed that these often were the days when a hunting trip was needed - the overall mood was calm and easygoing. It had been an unusually long day sometime in mid-April. Even stranger, it had been very warm, though the sun was nowhere to be found. The hazy feeling continued on into the evening, and Esme found herself stretched out on the couch with her eyes closed. She felt drowsy, though sleep was impossible. Still, one didn’t need to sleep to dream.

Esme lay there in her trancelike state for some time before she heard anyone come home. Judging by the footsteps and the sterile smell of a hospital that accompanied them, it was Carlisle. Esme thought about stirring, but decided to stay still. She heard Carlisle chuckle under his breath as he entered the room. His footsteps came closer, and he bent over her upturned face. Esme could feel his breath on her cheek, sweet and intoxicating. He walked his fingers up her arm and tapped her playfully on the nose, speaking when she opened her eyes.

“Well, are we awake?” he asked, grinning.

Esme smiled in return. “Not yet,” she said coyly. “I think I might be in
need of some assistance though…” She trailed off, reaching up with both hands to bring his face closer to hers. Carlisle was more than willing, kissing her with fervor. Esme’s smile widened at his touch, and she sat up, closing her fingers around his shirt collar. Carlisle wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, the other hand in her soft caramel hair. It was a few minutes before Esme could bring herself to pull away.

“I have something for you,” she said breathlessly.

“I was about to say the same.”

Esme disentangled herself from his grasp and made her way to the piano, on top of which was a white box with an elaborate blue bow. She sat back down on the couch and handed it to Carlisle. “Happy anniversary,” she said quietly.

Carlisle pulled off the bow and took the lid off the box. Inside was an intricate sketch of the landscape just outside the sitting room window, safely enclosed in a tasteful silver frame. “You mentioned how there was an empty space on the wall behind your desk at work,” Esme said. “I just hope it fits.”

“It’s perfect,” Carlisle said, leaning forward to kiss her again. “Thank you. But now it’s my turn.”

Esme looked around when he didn’t reach for anything. Smiling, somewhat anxiously she noticed, he took her hands instead. “Esme,” she said, voice low and serious. “I’d like to make a big speech here about exactly how much you mean to me; how much you’ve changed my life in the short time we’ve known each other. Trust me, I tried to come up with something. I obsessed. Then, I realized it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what I said, or how I said it. I realized that it could be said in the three words old as time; I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. So now I just have one question to ask…”

And to Esme’s complete and utter wide-eyed astonishment, Carlisle got down on one knee and pulled something out of his pocket. “Esme Anne Platt Evenson,” he said. “Will you marry me?”

Esme clapped one hand over her mouth, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment, she dropped to her knees in front of Carlisle, eyes shining with such a range of emotions she could barely get the words out. “Do you even have to ask?” she whispered. “Of course.”

Carlisle positively beamed, taking her left hand and sliding the ring onto the third finger. “Another perfect fit,” he murmured, still smiling enormously as Esme splayed her fingers, twisting her hand so he diamond twinkled in the soft light.

Still, to Esme, the beauty of the ring was nothing compared to the magnificence of the man in front of her. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him for long. “Best. Anniversary. Ever,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring her lips to his.

Carlisle instantaneously enveloped her in his arms again, pulling her close as he possibly could. Esme unwrapped her arms from around his neck, instead beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt, tracing the icy planes of his chest. Carlisle began to kiss Esme’s jaw line, moving slowly down her neck and along her collarbone. Esme moaned with satisfaction, entwining her fingers in his fair hair. Carlisle paused for a moment, removing Esme’s own blouse over head before picking her up and setting her on the couch. Esme pulled him closer, kissing him on the mouth again. It was then that a loud clap of thunder made them both start; neither had noticed it had begun to rain. The thunder was followed by a flash of lightning as Carlisle and Esme resumed their endeavors. Another, closer flash of lightning, and two pairs of trousers fell to the floor just as the lights went out.

Hours later, when the electricity had graced them with it’s presence once again, it found Carlisle and Esme still on the couch, interlaced in each other’s arms. Esme rested her head on Carlisle’s bare chest, his left hand tracing patterns on the skin of her back. They were both staring at the ring on Esme’s own left hand, expressions of mutual slight amazement and joy on their faces. Nobody had spoken in a long time; when they made love, they did it slow. Therefore when Esme did speak at last, the soft, curious words seemed to break a reverie.

“Edward still hasn’t come home,” she said, standing in a leisurely manner, stretching her arms above her head until her limbs quivered. “It’s still raining. Where did he go?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Carlisle answered, also standing unhurriedly. His eyes drank in Esme’s soft curves as he spoke, never tiring of the exquisite form her body took. “He said to take our time, he’s be back within forty-eight hours.”

“He’d better be,” Esme muttered, a shiver traveling up her spine as she remembered the events of the last time. And how much worse would it be now, she thought, now that they were so much closer.

Carlisle laughed gently at her words, moving nearer at her shiver, rubbing her arms as if to warm her with the friction. His skin, though icy cold to all warm-blooded creatures, was warm to her, because hers was the same; she had learned this was due to the lack of blood in their bodies. The shorter the time since they had fed, the warmer they would be. Esme wrapped her arms around Carlisle’s middle in an affectionate, almost childlike hug, and he gladly hugged her in return. Esme never grew tired of his loving touch, and she sighed in contentment before pulling away to gather up her discarded clothes.

“Hey now,” Carlisle said, taking the blouse from her hand and tossing it on the sofa. “So soon?”

“Unfortunately,” Esme replied, smiling slightly as she picked it back up and bent to scoop up her trousers. “We’ve both got to set out soon anyway; we should tidy up.” She cast a look at his rumpled hair.

“We’ve got time, Carlisle responded impishly, taking the garments out of her hand and throwing them on the couch again.

“I don’t think you understand the concept of tiding up,” Esme laughed, shaking her head.

Carlisle set his face so his expression was somewhere between profound and amused. “You just got engaged,” he said. “You’re - we’re - going to get married. Please, just a little longer, Mrs. Cullen?”

Esme sighed, still smiling in spite of herself. “Oh, all right then,” she said. She didn’t want to admit just how much she liked the phrase Mrs. Cullen.

Carlisle echoed her smile, pulling them both back onto the couch.

The following afternoon, Esme came home to the sweet sound of
Edward’s piano playing. She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it up before entering the sitting room. As soon as Edward saw her, a grin split across his face and he switched songs mid-note. Dum dum dum dum, dum dum dum dum…

“Stop it,” she said, good-naturedly swatting him in the back of the head. “We haven’t even begun making preparations.”

Edward stopped playing as she looked inquisitively at him, throwing his hands in the air innocently. “I don’t know the first thing about wedding plans!” he said with wide eyes. “Don’t ask me!”

Esme sighed, sitting down on the sofa and rubbing her temples. “I suppose we’ll have to hire someone,” she said.

Edward shrugged, standing and stretching. “Well, it’s not as if finances will be a problem,” he said matter-of-factly, and it was true. Two, sometimes three different salaries - one being a skilled doctor’s - without any real living expenses. Water for bathing and washing clothes, heat and electricity, but that was about it. “Besides, I’m if something does come up we can…” He broke off mid-sentence, his eyebrows knitting together and creases appearing in his forehead.

Esme looked up at the sudden silence. “Something wrong?” she asked, puzzled.

Edward didn’t answer, but strode out of the sitting room into the vestibule, opening the front door. Esme followed, peering under his arm into the darkness, but saw nothing. It wasn’t until a slight breeze picked up that Esme smelt what Edward must have plucked out of someone’s mind; fresh human blood. At once, Esme stopped breathing. She might be able to deal with it if she didn’t breathe, considering she just hunted. Might.

All the same, Esme moved from the doorway back into the sitting room. Though the draft didn’t drift through that room, the smell only began to grow stronger. Esme’s skin prickled, and she desperately fought the instinct that threatened to take over, fought the monster that each and every vampire housed; though only some allowed it to surface.

Esme sat in one of the many chairs again, drumming her fingers on its arm, trying to concentrate on something else while she waited for news from Edward. She didn’t dare take another breath to see if the odor had subsided, though it was unnerving to be without a sense of smell. A moment later, however, it was not Edward who walked into the room; it was Carlisle. Esme’s question about the smell was answered in that moment as well, for in his arms he held and exquisite human girl. What looked like defensive wounds on her arms, face and chest were the source of the blood. Esme also noticed she was covered in deep purple bruises.

Edward had followed Carlisle into the room, an indignant look on his face. “Really, Carlisle?” he said, voice touched with a hint of sarcasm. “Rosalie Hale?”

As he said the name, Esme recognized the girl. It was indeed Rosalie Hale, the exceptionally attractive daughter of a wealthy banker in town. Even in unconscious pain, she was as striking as anyone - human and vampire alike - Esme had ever seen. Everybody knew the Hales, even more so recently since Rosalie’s engagement announcement to Royce King II; the wealthiest man in Rochester.

Carlisle looked long and hard at Edward, not answering. After a moment, Esme broke the uncomfortable silence. “What happened to her?” she asked unthinkingly. Oops. There went the last of her air supply for talking. If she wanted to speak again, she would have to inhale.

Carlisle turned to Esme now. “Gang raped, left for dead it seems,” he said expressionlessly. “I’ll explain afterward. Or Rosalie can explain, if she likes.” With that, he ran upstairs.

Edward stood where he was, open-mouthed, one finger pointed upward to the top of the staircase. “…oh no,” he said after a moment. As he spoke, a scream came from the guest room.

“Oh yes,” Esme answered softly, feeling like it would be safe to breathe shallowly. It felt like swallowing hot coals. Still, she flitted up the stairs to the guest room, where Carlisle was staring at the floor, breathing raggedly. Rosalie was convulsing on the bed, whimpering. Both sights tore at Esme’s ceased-beating heart. She went to Carlisle first, squeezing his shoulders gently without speaking. He clutched one of her hands, looking up at her with a tortured look in his topaz eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Rosalie let out another shriek. “I know it can’t be easy.”

“I hate doing it,” he responded just as quietly, reaching out with his free hand to grasp Rosalie’s where it lay on the bed.

Esme squeezed his shoulders again, then turned her gaze to the poor girl. Slowly, she reached out and smoothed the golden-blonde hair back from Rosalie’s forehead. She hated to see her in pain just as much as Carlisle did. She was only now beginning to realize exactly how hard it must be to change someone into a vampire. First and foremost, there was the nearly impossible to resist taste of human blood. Very few would have the strength to pull away after that initial bite. Even now, Esme’s throat was afire at the mere scent of it. But the physical aspect was only one part; there was also having to watch someone go through the pain of the transformation. Esme could imagine that, in a way, the watching was even worse. Knowing you’re the one who made them go through it.

It was then Edward appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “What were you thinking, Carlisle?” he asked in a rather irritated tone. “Rosalie Hale?”

Carlisle looked up at him now, taking his eyes off the girl on the bed for a moment. He didn’t avoid the question this time. “I couldn’t just let her die,” he said quietly. “It was too much - too horrible, too much to waste.”

“I know,” Edward said, sounding somewhat dismissive. His gaze moved for an instant to Esme, and she knew he was thinking the same thing he was; remembering the night Esme had fled, the night so much had changed. Carlisle’s explanation had been the same.

“It was too much to waste. I couldn’t leave her,” he now repeated in a whisper.

“Of course you couldn’t,” Esme agreed, looking Edward sternly straight in the eye. Not now, she thought, knowing he would pick it up.

“People die all the time,” Edward reminded him, ignoring Esme’s request. She looked at him glaringly again, and he changed subject like lightning. “Don’t you think she’ll be a little recognizable, though? The King family will have to put up a huge search - not that anyone will suspect the fiend,” he growled.

Esme’s eyebrows pulled together. “It was her finance?” she asked Edward, disgusted.

“That’s what I’m picking up,” he answered. “Though her thoughts are jumbled from the pain. What are we going to do with her?” The question was for Carlisle, who sighed before answering.

“That’s up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way.”

Edward nodded curtly once, then left. Carlisle met Esme’s gaze for a moment, then turned to Rosalie and, taking a deep breath, began to explain what was happening to her, all the time holding her hand. Esme sat on the arm of his chair as he spoke, hands on his shoulders in silent condolence.

An entire day passed, then another. Carlisle never left Rosalie’s side, and Esme only did so for the bare necessities. Edward grudgingly came home every night, all but ignoring the three of them. Esme began to worry that Carlisle’s choice had renewed the distance in their relationship with him. She would have very much liked to talk to him about it, but she was reluctant to leave Carlisle at the present time. She also felt an unexplainable affection toward Rosalie. She had only met the Hales once or twice, and had drawn a happy but discontent air from Rosalie. Esme had wondered why at the time; the girl was well-off, and absolutely stunning. She really was going to be drop-dead gorgeous as a vampire.

And then came the time to find out. Esme was downstairs with Edward for a moment when she heard Carlisle call her name. She immediately rushed upstairs to his side.

“What is it?” she asked, apprehensive.

“Shh,” Carlisle said. “Listen.”

Esme fell silent, straining her ears. Through Rosalie’s cries of pain, she
heard the girl’s heart begin to accelerate. Esme moved to the side of the bed and took Rosalie’s hand, just as Carlisle did the same on the other side. Rosalie’s heart continued to beat faster and faster, until it was a single unbroken sound.

“Listen to that,” Carlisle said with awe. “Hers beats even stronger than yours did.”

Esme nodded in silent agreement, and then the room became abruptly quieter. Rosalie became a living statue on the bed. The minutes ticked by agonizingly as they waited for her to move. Esme shot a concerned look at Carlisle, who at once knew what she was thinking and nodded his approval.

“Rosalie?” Esme whispered softly. No response. “Rosalie?” Still nothing. Esme let go of her hand and reached out to sweep the blonde bangs off her face. “Rosalie? If you can hear me, please respond.”

Slowly, Rosalie’s face began to animate. Her eyes darted underneath closed lids, and her full lips pursed together. The muscles of her cheeks twitched, and a second later her scarlet eyes flicked open. They slid from Carlisle, to Esme, to the ceiling, and she very slowly sat up.

“What is going on?” were the first words out of her mouth. Her voice possessed the same fluid, harmonious quality as the rest of them.

Carlisle sighed in relief. “Rosalie,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly. “Do you remember hearing anything while you were in pain?”

Rosalie fixed her gaze on him. It was somehow icy, scrutinizing. “Carlisle,” she said. Each syllable rang unmistakably through the air. He nodded, encouraging her to continue. “Yes, I remember. You were talking about vampires.” She pronounced the last word with what could only be a skeptical tone.

“Yes,” Carlisle answered, nodding again. “Do you believe it?”

Rosalie cocked her head to the side. Though the movement was abrupt, reflexive, it carried the same air of unnatural grace as any of the movements of the others. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Would you like us to explain again?” Esme asked.

Rosalie turned to Esme with that same sudden elegance. Her lips parted slightly, and she blinked a few times before speaking again. “Esme,” she said in that same, clear tone. Esme nodded just as Carlisle had, the corners of her mouth turning upward a little.

“No, I think I understand,” Rosalie continued. “Just… how? And…” she looked at Carlisle again, a single line appearing on her immaculate forehead. “…why?”

Carlisle met Esme’s gaze for a second before answering. “Rosalie, do you remember what happened before I found you?” Rosalie nodded once, not bothering to conceal a look of disgust. “Well… you weren’t going to make it otherwise. You were bleeding everywhere, your entire body was bruised, and it looked like you had several broken bones. Nothing I could have done would have kept you alive and human.”

“So you decided that it was… too much to waste, and changed me,” Rosalie finished. Her crimson eyes burned fiercely; just an echo, Esme knew, of what lingered in her throat. “But what now?”

“Your first and foremost priority right now is to hunt,” Carlisle said, standing.

Esme stood as well, offering a hand to help Rosalie up, though she really didn’t need it. Still, after a moments hesitation, Rosalie took it and pulled herself to her feet. She looked herself up and down briefly before following Carlisle and Esme out of the room, adjusting to her new, graceful movements. At the foot of the stairs, however, she did a double take, staring into the full-length mirror placed there.

“I’ve changed,” she said. It was a flat-out statement, and something in her voice suggested she was pleased with it.

Esme had stopped too. “Yes, you have. We all did. One last significant change, and then that’s it. Forever.”

Rosalie ripped her gaze from the astounding creature in the mirror, looking at Esme with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Carlisle can explain it better than I can, but on the most basic level, vampires don’t age. Our physical state never changes after the transformation. Hair and fingernails no longer grow, you can never lose or gain weight, you’ll never be able to bear children…”

“Wait,” Rosalie interrupted, raising a hand. “You mean… we can’t have children?”

Esme took a deep breath. This was a touchy subject for her. “No, we can’t our bodies can’t change to accommodate a growing baby.”

Rosalie visibly stiffened. She seemed to withdraw inside herself, retract from the outside world a little. Her eyes flashed brief anger and sadness, then became blank. She brushed past Esme without a word, outside to where Carlisle was waiting for them. After a moment, Esme followed, slightly perplexed by Rosalie’s reaction.

Carlisle began to explain to Rosalie the basics of being a vampire’s heightened skills. At once curious, Rosalie took off running, then appeared in front of them in a matter of seconds. “A lap around the house,” she said. “Now, how do I hunt?”

“It’s very simple,” Carlisle replied. “Just follow your instinct. Esme and I will stand by and make sure nothing goes awry. Don’t go far.”

Rosalie nodded and took off toward the edge of the forest. She would have no problems, waste no time, Esme was sure. Best to leave her on her own for a bit. Troubled, Esme’s thoughts wandered back to Rosalie’s odd reaction to the news she wouldn’t be able to have children. She would never have guessed someone such as Rosalie would have put having a family at the top of her list at such a young age. The more Esme thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Still, she supposed, looks can be - and most certainly were - deceiving.

She was at that moment drawn out of her thoughts by the feeling of an arm around her shoulders. She looked up to see Carlisle’s exhausted face gazing back at her. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she answered too quickly, looking away, down at the ground beneath her feet.

“Do you want to hunt?”

“No, I’m not that thirsty.”

He knew at once she was lying. “Look at me, Esme,” he said, firm but gentle. Reluctantly, she met his eyes. “Your color is very dark,” he said, studying hers. “Why not hunt?”

Esme sighed. “I’m just not in the mood,” she answered.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Why the reluctance tonight?” he asked, stepping back a little. He puts his hands on her shoulders and lowered his face so her eyes were level with hers. “If it were really nothing, you wouldn’t be so fretful. Tell me what’s troubling you, mia amore.”

Esme bit her lip, searching his face for a second before answering. “Well,” she said, “it’s Rosalie. In all fairness, not Rosalie herself, but something she… did earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not something really did voluntarily, I think. When we were on our way outside, she caught her reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped and looked at herself for a minute, then said, ‘I’ve changed,’ but not as though it was a bad thing. On the contrary, I believe she was quite pleased with what she saw. I then commented, ‘Yes, you have. We all did. One last significant change, and then that’s it. Forever.’ She looked at me then and asked what I meant. I told her you could explain better than I could, but basically after the initial human-to-vampire transformation, a vampire doesn’t physically change ever again. I gave her a few examples of what I meant, but when I said we couldn’t bear children, she stopped me. She had this strange look on her face, I’m not sure what it was. When I told her our bodies can’t change to accommodate a growing baby, she sort of… withdrew within herself and walked away.”

Carlisle listened intently, nodding every now and then. When Esme finished, a thoughtful, kindhearted look crossed his face, and he drew her into a gentle hug. “I don’t have an explanation,” he confessed. “Maybe she’ll let us know in time, if she stays. I’m sorry you had to be the one to tell her.”

Esme pressed her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. His smell was like a drug to her; a sweet, compelling drug. Her words were muffled as she responded. “It’s alright,” she sighed. “It would have come up sooner or later.”

Carlisle didn’t answer, but kissed the top of her head, resting his chin on her crown. It was then Rosalie emerged from the trees, a glorious, ghostly pale figure in the dark. Esme pulled away from Carlisle slightly, for some unexplainable reason a bit self-conscious. Casting a glance at Rosalie, she noticed there was no fresh blood on her clothing.

“A clean kill?” she asked, attempt at casual. “What did you catch?”

“Nothing special. A few deer. It was quick work.”

Esme nodded. “Still, you must want out of those clothes. I’m sure we can find something of mine that fits you, if you like.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.” Rosalie allowed Esme to guide her back into the house, Carlisle following behind. Upon entering the sitting room, however, all three of them stopped in their tracks.

Edward was frozen in place as well, partway through pulling a book off one of the shelves. His jaw was set, eyes coldly glazed with mistrust. His expression, surprisingly, was mirrored on Rosalie’s face. Esme felt she could practically cut the tension in the air with a knife.

Edward was the first to speak. “Rosalie,” he said with a semi-polite nod. His tone matched the rest of his demeanor.

“Edward,” Rosalie answered, just as icy and stiff.

Esme bit her lip nervously, wrinkles forming on her forehead. This was not going well so far. Don’t you do anything rash, she thought at Edward. His eyes flicked to her for a split second, then snapped back to Rosalie. Esme could well imagine the response he was dying to but didn’t dare voice aloud. Tell that to her, he would say. Twelve feet apart and they were practically toe-to-toe.

Carlisle also picked up on the negative energy. “Rosalie,” he said, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, “let Esme take you upstairs and get you changed.”

Esme took her cue, gently grasping Rosalie by the arm and steering her toward the stairs. Not for a second until he was out of sight did she take her smoldering scarlet eyes off Edward, nor vice versa. Quickly, Esme found Rosalie a skirt and blouse that didn’t fit too badly.

“You’re just a bit taller than I am,” she said as she lead Rosalie to the guest room. “I’ll go into town as soon as I can and get you a few things that look nicer. Anyway, I suppose this is your space now,” she continued, gesturing to the room in which they stood. “Feel free to do with it as you wish; nobody will bother you if you want to be alone.”

“Thank you,” Rosalie said quietly. “I would like a few moments, as least.” her words were polite, but edgy.

Esme gave a small smile. “Take as long as you need, dear,” she said, closing the door as she exited. Carlisle was waiting for her in the hall, as she had know he would be. Taking his hand, she pulled him into the master “bedroom” they shared.

Carlisle sat down as his desk, elbows on its surface, face in his hands. “We’re never going to be able to leave them alone together,” he said, voice slightly muffled.

“I know,” Esme said grudgingly, folding one leg underneath her as she sat in a chair across from him.

“Rosalie’s a newborn; not only won’t she be able to control herself well, but she’s going to be stronger than Edward for a while, until her body fully absorbs what’s left of her human blood.”

“That will take what, a year?”

“Give or take. After that they’ll be more evenly matched, but still…” He ran his fingers through his hair in slight exasperation. He then looked up at Esme, pointing as he spoke as if to stress the words. “They’ll have to learn to get along. You and I can’t be here policing them twenty-four seven.”

Esme nodded in agreement, reaching out for the hand that pointed at nothing and lacing her fingers with his.

Carlisle almost seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging a bit as he leaned over the desk. “There will be no more after this,” he said, pressing the back of her hand to his cheek and closing his eyes. The shadows underneath them were as dark as Esme had ever seen.

Her eyebrows contracted slightly at his words. “No more of what?”

Carlisle opened his eyes now, looking down at the hand he still held and playing with the ring on her finger. “No more changing others,” he said quietly. “I thought I got lucky the first time, with Edward, and then you came along… I’m ever luckier now.” Esme smiled as he paused for a second. “I… I still struggle with the wondering if it was really the right thing to do with both of you. Condemning you to this life, whatever may come of it. And now a third, which I’m not sure about more than ever. It’s too hard… too hard.”

Esme was silent for a moment before answering. “Rosalie will come ‘round,” she said at last. “And Edward will be Edward. Besides…” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I don’t think what you did to any of us was wrong. You made a choice. You made the best choice regarding the specific situation, which each and every one of us. No one can blame you for that.”

Carlisle sighed. “I’m hoping there is still a point to this life, even for us,” he said slowly. “It’s a long shot, I’ll admit. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we’ll get some measure of credit for trying.”

“There’s always a point,” Esme said softly. “No matter how small. Your point was trying to save lives. And you always get credit for trying. Your efforts were repaid by mine and Edward’s - and with any luck, Rosalie’s - affection. Fulfillment.” Carlisle looked up now, and Esme saw his hope renewed, restored in the fact that it was shared by another. Esme smiled. “If compassion was a superpower,” she said, shaking her head.

Carlisle echoed her smile at last, bending forward to kiss the tip of her nose. “I love you, mia amore.”

“I think that was redundant, but I love you too.”
[Part One]
[Part Two]

*le squee!*
Engagment baby :boogie:
That was sooooooo fun to write. Sorry for the prelude-to-sex fail after it though. I've never tried writing anything like that before, and couldn't bring myself to do any more than that. I can't seem to think of these charries that way :P

I can't seem to write Rosalie's charrie as she is in the books either, so I apologize for the slightly OOC Rose. Maybe the more I play with her the better it'll be. I don't know. By the by, I actually hunted down the part in Eclipse where Rosalie tells Bella her story and used the dialouge she remembered the others saying. No copyright infringment intended, of course.

Oh, and mia amore means my love in Italian. I thought it fitting that Carlisle speaks Italian (hehe).

As always, I'm trusting you guys not to repost this. Anywhere. For anything. Ever. If you want someone to read it, send them a link. Thanks!

Twilight and all it's characters (c) Stephenie Meyer
This particular piece of literature (c) me
© 2009 - 2024 musical-miss
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RB-Official's avatar
I realise that it's been years since you wrote this, but is there any chance of a part four? I love this writing! and i love the characters.