NO ANSWERS
By Edwardless
Disclaimer: Twilight is not mine – I am just a fan borrowing for no profit.
A/N – This is a little angst ridden one shot that could turn into more – but I believe stands okay on its own to. Any reviews are good reviews in my book.
"Your sad?"
Not exactly startled, I knew he was here, but taken off guard by the direct question, I lift my eyes from the empty sketch pad laying across my lap to my son. Jasper stood stiffly at the threshold of my bedroom door, obviously uncomfortable but apparently feeling duty bound to be here.
"Jasper, shouldn't you be hunting with the others?" I immediately cast the pad aside, rising to my feet to join him, putting on, what Emmett referred to as my "mother hen" hat.
Without acknowledging my question, Jasper's head tilts abruptly to the left, his eyes following my approach warily. The weight of Jasper's stare, intimidating when your the sole focus of an interrogation, causes me to squirm uncharacteristically. I wonder idly if there is any way to redirect his attention to a lighter subject.
"Did you want to watch that Civil War special, I was sure to save it on Tivo."
Only to Jasper would the Civil War be a lighter subject.
"Your never sad." Jasper responds matter-of-fact like.
I silently groan, much like any other predator he couldn't be distracted easily. It would be hopeless as well as a little insulting for me to continue, so instead I walk back to my bed somewhat defeated.
"Its nothing for you to concern yourself about. Really, you should join Alice and the others."
I watch Jasper straighten his head, his light blond locks immediately righting themselves (he fared much better than Edward in the hair department) and cautiously proceeded forward into the room. The dear boy with all his deeply ingrained southern hospitality and rules was embarrassed about us talking alone in my bedroom no doubt. Under normal circumstances I would take pity on him and offer to move any conversation downstairs, but frankly, I was hoping to avoid this talk and prayed the location may keep any digging to a minimum.
My issue was silly and frankly I was embarrassed it had even registered on his emotional radar.
"Esme, your not just sad, your. . .human sad." Jasper worded his assessment like a death sentence, and I bit my lip from chuckling despite everything.
"Jasper hunt, by the time you get back everything will be reigned back in and I will be back to my normal self." I half smiled, nodding my head as if to reassure him before turning back to my empty sketch pad.
Empty – how fitting.
Jasper didn't bite (ha ha), continuing to eye me critically, like a specimen in a microscope, "I can take it away."
"No."
Surprising both myself and Jasper, my words came out in a harsh biting retort rather than my usual soft spoken demeanor, and I mentally chastised myself. I was a wife and for all intensive purpose a mother, not a prepubescent child.
I felt my hands slide in my hair, gripping the roots and yanking, hard, almost as a penance. Whatever that was happening was happening to me, not my family.
"I mean, really its not that big of deal. A whim, maybe old age is finally getting to me." I picked at a microscopic piece to lint on the flowered skirt I was wearing, feeling increasingly less in control than before and horrified Jasper had front row center of my slipping grip of emotional well-being.
"But if your hurting and you won't let me help, shall I fetch Edward or Carlisle?"
Edward would be a bother and Carlisle. . . no I most definitely didn't want him to fetch Carlisle.
"Jasper, you are just as important to me than Edward or Carlisle, if I had a problem I would talk to you just as much as I would talk to them, either of them. But I have no problem. I am a little blue, but I was once human and am allowed certain days to slip into the old skin, aren't I."
I reached a hand to Jasper in a silent invitation and I watched him cross the room to grasp it in his larger one. Although we never appeared as close as Edward and I to the family, we often shared what I viewed as intimate mother son moments away from everyone, where he could let his guard down, even slightly to me, and I could be more conscious to his sensitive nature.
"I promise Jasper, its nothing, but if it gets worse you will be the first person I contact."
Jasper's hand squeezed my hand firmly, "Esme, you always help everyone else, don't be afraid to let us, anyone of us, return the favor."
Without another word, he loosened his grip and turned his back to me. His shoulders were tense and it didn't take a empath, psychic or mind reader to see he didn't feel comfortable leaving me.
Such a loyal boy – I hoped his mother knew what a fine boy she raised.
"Jasper, maybe I will join you guys in an hour or so, I just have this sketch I want to finish."
I watched my lie lift his shoulders somewhat, accomplishing my goal. As usual my children trusted me completely. I only felt slightly guilty about the harmless lie.
JASPER
I walked along the side of the river, feeling not the least bit hungry, which for me was odd. My recent conversation with Esme still taking precedent in my mind. Even Alice was taking second place tonight, which was highly unusual as she easily occupied at least sixty percent of my thoughts a majority of the time, which neither she nor I would have any other way.
Something in the world of Cullen, specifically Esme was off, something felt. . .wrong.
"Jasper, you made it.
I pulled my eyes away from the deer tracks I was only mildly following, habit, to Carlisle, who had easily cleared the river bank to join me, his large leap to accomplish the task impressive even for a vampire.
Tonight I did not feel my usual awe in his physical prowess, a little more refined than my own, just confusion at why he was here.
"Are you going to hunt that poor deer your tracking or are you just playing with your food."
He chided me with his cool calm doctor voice while slapping my back in jest. Nothing was seemingly off with Carlisle outwardly or emotionally in the least.
I found Carlisle's normal demeanor set my warning alarms off even more.
As the patriarch figure of the family, Carlisle made it a point to know everything about us all, taking the role of creator to most, father to all, very seriously. How could he be unaware his mate sat no father than 150 yards from us, an emotional wreck, when just last week he took Alice and I out for a drive to discuss our plans for an extended getaway sans family. Carlisle wanted to be assured we were leaving for the right reasons, rather than the wrong, wanting to right unjust we may feel so that we left on a good note and came back as soon as possible. We, of course, had no problems whatsoever, just desiring a little space.
Esme, on the other hand, she was the one that had a problem. . .
Yes, I suppose one could argue I had an inside track to everything emotional, but Carlisle just knew everything? Didn't he?
"I guess I am just playing – I don't think I am thirsty tonight."
This honest reflection stopped Carlisle dead in his tracks. I stopped as well.
"What do you mean your not hungry son?"
He tilts his head towards me much the same way I looked as Esme just a short time ago, like I sprouted a second head or something equally as ghastly. I guess, for me not to be hungry was just as peculiar as Esme and the black emotional cloud that held steadily above her head.
It just didn't make sense to me, I mean perhaps he came hunting right from work and Esme's mood was recent?
But I didn't think Esme's mood was recent, I was almost positive I sensed it for a while, like a foreboding storm just off the horizon, slow rolling in and growing in intensity. I likely would have been more aware of its existence, except the counter acting emotions, the bliss that Edward, Bella and Nessie radiated constantly tended to throw me off my game. Their honeymoon faze was in full effect now, without threats baring down on them, which was partially my reason for escaping with Alice.
But if Esme mood was a progressing event, how could her husband be unaware? I mean if Esme was Alice and I were Carlisle, I sure the hell wouldn't be down here hunting while she stewed.
"I was upstairs, talking to Esme..."
I let my voice trail off as I absently kicked at a rock near my feet. This was not my territory, out of all of us I was the least likely to be making this conversation with him. It was just. . .Esme was so so sad.
Damn Edward for being distracted, he just handled this shit more delicately than me.
"Yes."
His hand shot out to my shoulder and I felt his grip tighten, "And. . ."
The concern evident in his voice suddenly made me feel somewhat better.
"Have you talked to her?"
I turned the question back to him, not wanting to reiterate anything he might already know.
I waited, what seemed like forever, for the answer, but, shockingly, he didn't respond back. I felt a sudden turmoil bubble just under Carlisle polished surface pop abruptly and I flinched inwardly at the ramification of what this might mean.
"I don't want to intrude, I really don't want to intrude." I turned my head now to his hand, whose grip was now becoming mildly irritating on my shoulder. "It's just my warnings went off today, Edward and Bella finally went back to their house and I was surrounded with just Esme and she was. . .isn't. . . her normal self."
The pressure on the shoulder increased, but I wouldn't, under any circumstance, move. Where a moment ago he only projected calm, Carlisle suddenly was raining down on me a plethora of fear, worry and helplessness.
Come on Carlisle, say something. . . anything.
"Son, did she say anything?"
The cool exterior of Carlisle perfect stone face cracked. How in the world had he been hiding his turmoil from me?
"I could take it away, lessen her sadness, but when I offered she practically took my head off."
Carlisle nodded somewhat, the untold story behind his eyes telling me he was thinking a hundred things at once and although he was next to me, he really wasn't next to me.
"Carlisle?"
"I thought it was just me," finally releasing his death grip on my shoulder, I watched his hand slide through his hair, in a very Edward-like move, sending the normally coiffed do in disarray.
The vacation from perfection on the doctor, however slight, just looked wrong, almost creepy.
"Do you want to talk. . . I. . .or Edward."
Again I heard myself differ to Edward, it just felt like he was the one everyone confided in. He was the child who you didn't need to waste time telling a story, he just already knew. I was the black sheep who everyone feared was messing with their emotions behind their backs.
"Edward, no." Carlisle shook his head, "I fear this. . .depression Esme has fallen into would be best discussed with a member of my family more in tune with emotions. Especially since she appears so hell bent on keeping them locked down."
"Really, me?"
I couldn't help but feel a little honored, Carlisle never usually came to me unless it was a need to discuss combat strategies or assistance in reigning Alice in on one of her tangents she frequently got off on.
"If you don't mind, maybe we could go for a drive, a private conversation without unneeded interruptions." Carlisle lips pressed together in obvious stress, the pose grim to say the least, "Of course, unless you have changed your mind on hunting."
"No, I'm fine, just let me give Alice a quick heads up and I will meet you in the garage.
CARLISLE
I cut through the lush greenery of the forest without so much as a glance back towards my family. I knew they were all occupied in their dinner pursuits and would barely notice my absence. We had all fallen into a comfortable existence since the Volturi threat had ended and consequently a little lazy when it came to keeping an eye on each other. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, having a little breathing room again after being practically on top of each other for months on end, but it wasn't exactly a good thing either. . .case in point, my wife.
My beloved Esme. . .
Sparing a glance upward I spotted our second floor bedroom window, empty. The lack of my wife's silhouette, keeping her eye on her family's whereabouts, was a sad reminder of how bad things had gotten, and yet, it took until tonight, for Jasper's provoking questions, before I finally grasped the severity of the situation. It took Jasper's awkward probing before I finally realized Esme's depression wasn't a problem that was going to rectify itself on its own.
Some doctor I was.
Moving forward again I decided to give into impulse and run to Esme before Jasper finished with Alice. I would tell her where I was going and maybe she would give me that smile I lived for, thrived for. Maybe she would give me that little head bob, her caramel colored hair brushing the top of her sweater with the small subtle movement, and tell me to hurry home because she would be waiting. Maybe both Jasper and I were wrong and the glue that held the family together, our Esme, was fine. . .
I increased my pace, hoping upon hope I was possibly right.
Making to the front door in probably record time, I grabbed at the brass door handle. I pulled at the knob and tugged, the door came completely off its hinges with a snap and into my hand.
Guess Esme wasn't the only one a little off.
Frustrated I threw the door to the side. Emmett would take care of it I was sure.
The overwhelming need to see Esme practically drowned me, pushing at me to continue forward. The way Jasper had conveyed his worry not only made the point something was terribly wrong, the look he gave me radiated a severe disappointment that I wasn't more on top of the situation. Which, of course he was right. I was always on top of everyone, except Esme. Esme was my partner in this insanely wonderful family, but in holding her as my partner, I forgot she was also a person who deserved care, concern and attention. She was not only mother, homemaker and provider of nurture, she was a being who required attention, love and nurturing of her own. The most important person in my life and been sorely overlooked, not just since the Volturi, but before the Volturi, before the move to and away from California, hell even before the induction of Bella Swan into our lives. Where I could count numerous times she came to my mental and physical aid without so much as a bat of an eye, I could not, for the life of me, even remember when I last initiated a kiss with her (that wasn't directly relation to believing we were about to parish).
I contemplated the stairs for barely a fraction of a second, before opting to just leap to the second floor.
I had wasted far to much time neglecting my wife.
Coming to our bedroom door, I stopped just at the door frame.
My wife sat at the foot of our bed. She looked like perfection, a work of art fit for any museum, except for the lack of life that normally glittered in her amber colored eyes.
In fact, judging by the blackness of her eyes, I couldn't imagine how long it had been since she ate at all.
Sensing me, she turned from where she stared at a blank wall to me, slowly, glumly, the action seeming to almost cause her a physical pain. Watching was like a gut wrenching blow to the stomach and I felt my back hit the door frame before sliding to the floor.
Some husband I was.
"Carlisle, is hunting done so soon?"
Her voice was mechanical sounding, to the human observer everything would appear normal, but to me I could tell she was struggling, likely keeping her emotions in some sort of check. Likely thinking of the family before herself.
I ached to go to her, but unable to find the strength to stand, I instead drew myself to my knees and opted to cross the floor to her in this position. Seemed fitting, I deserved to beg for forgiveness. My blindness was humiliating.
"Darling. . .what is it?"
My wife, my world, looked down at me, joyless, "I wish I knew. I just want to feel like me again."
I crawled to her feet and laid my head on her lap. As impossible as it would seem to my children, I was a doctor with no answers.
"We will figure this out, I will fix this."