IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE. PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!
So I came across a short little fic on Tumblr (I have just recently joined. My handle is carlesmeislife in case you actually cared). Anyway, came across a little fic called "Support Group" by a person called panlight and I loved this little story so much that wished it was longer and more in depth. So I decided I was going to take this little story and expand it into a oneshot that is a couple thousand words. I just wanted to take the time first to give full inspirational credit to panlight on Tumblr. Your story is amazing and if you happen to be reading this, I hope you like what I've done to it.
So here is the original prompt from Tumblr in italics.
Support Group
"Welcome one and all to another meeting of Parents and Family of Immortals and Vampires," Elizabeth Masen called in a clear, confident voice. "Let us begin with our affirmation that one is defined by their choices, not their species, and that no matter what else they are, the immortals we love will always be our children." It had started with just the three of them, Elizabeth, Edward Sr, and Mrs. Cullen. Pastor Cullen had scoffed at the idea and refused to participate and so his wife attended alone. Next to Pastor Cullen's perpetually empty seat sat the guilt-ridden Platts. They spoke often about not having done enough to help their daughter during her human lifetime. Mrs. Platt usually had an infant baby on her lap–her grandson–although he was a great favorite of Mrs. Cullen's (she considered him her grandson too–or step-grandson at least) and Elizabeth's as well. If Esme was looking after Junior on earth, Elizabeth felt it only right she look after Esme's son in the Afterlife.
The second row consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock, as well as Mrs. Brandon. The Whitlocks were older than many of the other members, but only joined their little group when their son met up with Mrs. Cullen's boy in the 1950s. Mr. Whitlock was the stoic type, and Elizabeth was always slightly amused by his old-fashioned facial hair that reminded her of her grandfather. Mrs. Whitlock was the one who usually spoke.
"I know he has done some terrible things, especially under the influence of that wicked Maria, but he is still my son, and he is trying so very hard to be good," she would say, wringing her hands. "Thank God Alice found him," she would add, smiling at Mrs. Brandon. Mr. Brandon was barred from attending, as was his second wife. "I can forgive him for betraying me," Mrs. Brandon had said at the time. "But I can never forgive them for what they did to Mary Alice." The Hales and McCartys sat in the back. The Hales had initially been stand-offish and aloof, thinking themselves (and their daughter) above the rough-and-tumble McCartys. But it was hard to resist Mr. McCarty's affable charm or Mrs. McCarty's warmth. Sometimes Emmett's brothers would come and stand in the back to listen, and they took the Hales' up-turned noses in good humor. "It took a long time for us to accept what happened," Mr. Hale said when he took his turn to speak. "But we're thankful now that the McCarty boy has made our Rosie happy–even if she could have done better." "Yeah, she could have married me instead!" Emmett's eldest brother laughed as the others joined in. "Boys!" Mrs. McCarty called over her shoulder. "Behave yourselves!"
Despite being a founding member of the group, Mrs. Cullen rarely spoke up at the meetings. She was a quiet, demure woman, but the fact she attended the meetings despite Pastor Cullen's profound disapproval betrayed some measure of courage. "I am so thankful for all of you, and for all of your children," she said, in her clear, quiet voice. "I never had the chance to know my son in life; I had to watch him grow up from afar. It was very difficult to see him alone for so very long. Although I know we all wish our loved ones could be here with us, let us all take comfort in the thought that they are together." Pastor Cullen stood outside the building, scowling mightily. A heavy set, middle age man with dark, laughing eyes approached him with a wry smile. "What's your beef with this little group?" "They are delusional. Trying to convince themselves those creatures on earth are still their children and not the blood-drinking demons that they are." "For someone who thinks this is all a bunch of crap you seem pretty determined to listen in to the meetings." "It was my God-given mission on earth to rid the world of vampires," he said brusquely. "It is professional curiosity, nothing more." The stranger laughed and threw an arm around the horrified Pastor Cullen. "You know, you'd fit in with my crowd better. We have the same opinions about vampires that you do." "And what group do you represent, pray tell?" "Name's Harry Clearwater. I'm from a tribe that regularly produces werewolves. We hate vampires too." Pastor Cullen was appalled. Werewolves?! They were letting anyone into Heaven these days.
AN: That was supper cute right? So I decided to add to the story. What if something happens and two Cullen's end up at this meeting, reunited with their loved ones.
SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE IS MY VERSION OF THIS PROMPT FROM CARLISLE AND ESME'S POV (MY SPECIALTY OBVIOUSLY)
Carlisle's POV
Everything had happened so suddenly. I was still unsure of how this possibly could have happened.
Esme had come to visit me on my lunch break, and as we exited my office, about to say our goodbyes at the end of the hour, I saw someone, a man, at the other end of the hallway. He seemed to be sulking as he walked.
"Can I help you sir?" I had asked him, taking a single step away from my wife. The man froze and looked at me, glaring. That's when my ears picked up the faint repetitive beep of something. A watch perhaps?
I was wrong.
So wrong…
"Sir?"
The 4 seconds that followed where both the fastest and shortest of my existence.
The beeping quickened and then an explosion. My body reflexively grabbed my wife and pushed back through the door of my office, slamming her into my desk accidently, smashing it to splinters.
"CARLISLE!"
Her fearful scream was an echo in my ears.
The blast wave hit me, then the heat, and at the moment the fire hit me, I felt a hand on my wrist. The fire consumed me before I could turn my head to see her. But I knew she stood no chance, holding onto me.
An act of terrorism on the hospital, and several other places in town that day. It happened too fast to react. Even for my supernatural reflexes.
There was fear, and there was pain.
Then darkness, and no pain.
And then I woke up here. I'm not sure where here was. But I had my bets on Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. Because I certainly didn't feel the same.
No sooner had I blacked out, I had woken up. And found myself outside, on the ground. It was dark. But I felt strange. And for the first time since I was turned, the burn in my throat was gone. Entirely.
I stood up, brushing the dirt off the clothes I was wearing. Somehow, I was wearing black slacks, my dress shoes, and a baby blue dress shirt.
I glanced around. I was on an empty street. The lights were out in every building, except the one in front of me. So I cautiously approached the building, and as I grasped the handle, I heard voices. Several familiar.
One sounded like Elizabeth Masen. It had been many decades since I had heard her voice.
I pulled the door open, and found a room of many familiar faces, as well as some I didn't know. Everyone turned and their eyes were on me. The door closed loudly behind me. Then there was silence for several long seconds.
"Carlisle?" Mrs. Masen said, with a worried frown. I could only nod slowly. She approached me, with several other beginning to surround me. Elizabeth embraced me in a hug, and I could only hug her back.
"What…what's going on?" I asked, very unsure of what to do. Elizabeth took my hand and held it firmly.
"Do you remember what happen?" she asked. I sighed, nodding.
"Terrorist attack on the hospital," I said quietly, tears forming in my eyes. Wait, tears? But how? That was when I glanced down at Elizabeth's hand that comfortingly held mine. Our skin was the same flushed color. I was no longer a soft white.
Everyone else in the room kept quiet. I recognized Mr. Masen, who looked much better than he had on his death bed.
"I'm dead, aren't I?" I asked her softly, and she nodded, a sad look returning to her eyes. a scoff from behind me caught my attention.
"You've been dead for longer than just a few minutes, boy," a gruff and familiar voice said with an English accent, from the corner. I turned my head, and standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall with a scowl, was my father.
"Father?!" I said, shocked to see him honestly. He gave out a humph and soften his scowl ever so slightly.
"My love, be nice to him, please," a woman beside him said softly. She couldn't have looked any older than I. She had a much softer expression than my father, and she was dawned a long dress I remembered the women of my time wearing. Her blue eyes were striking, and her long blond hair was over one shoulder. She gave me a soft smile, one of love and endearment. The realization dawned on me as she left my fathers side and approached me.
"Mother," I said in a whisper, an unsteadiness and shock in my voice. She smiled, gently touching my cheek with her hand, and pushing a strand of hair back into place. She nodded and I had her in a tight embrace.
"My sweet boy," she said joyously. I couldn't bring myself to let go of her. I closed my eyes as she sobbed softly, "I've missed you so much," she said looking up at me. I smiled, wiping tears from my own eyes, and then hers, "I'm so sorry this happened," she added, and I let go of her slowly. I felt a soft hand grasp my fore arm from behind me. I turned and saw the pleading faces of Mr. and Mrs. Platt. They didn't have the chance to say anything before a loud gasp left my lips.
"Esme!" I panicked, looking for her. But she was not among us. Elizabeth touched my shoulder.
"Please don't worry, Carlisle. I'm sure she'll be here," she told me calmly, and I tried to relax, but the panic filled me still, under the surface.
I turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Platt. She immediately put her arms around me,
"Thank you, for saving our little girl from her fate," she told me. I held her, rubbing her back with comfort. Mr. Platt rested a hand on my shoulder.
"I want to apologize for everything we didn't do for her. We should have listened to her pleas," he said, a sadness and embarrassment in his voice. I touched his hand with mine, giving him an "It's ok" look. When Mrs. Platt had let go of me, Elizabeth gestured to everyone around the room.
"We've been watching over you all," she told me, "Your mother, the longest," she added, "This is our little meeting we like to have occasionally. The Parents and Family of Immortals and Vampires," she mentioned proudly. I looked at my mother, who had a soft smile on her lips.
"At first it was just I. But when you saved Edward for Elizabeth, we began to watch over you together. And now look at how many of us are here. Watching over your beautiful family," she explained to me. She gestured to everyone as Elizabeth had.
Elizabeth approached me again and began introductions. Sitting in their seats as they had been when I walked in, an older Texan couple, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. And beside them, a young woman, no older looking than 25; Mrs. Lillian Brandon, as well as a young girl who I could only assume was Alice's little sister, Cynthia. I smiled at her. She had the same happy smile Alice had. It was explained to me that Lillian's former husband, John, and his second wife Anna-Marie, were both barred from these meetings.
At the side of the room, sat a strikingly beautiful couple dressed quite fashionable. Mr. and Mrs. Hale, and two younger boys sat beside them. Rosalie's brothers.
In the back sat a very happy couple with 3 boys who looked older than Emmett, and a young girl. Mr. and Mrs. McCarty had the same witty and cheerful personality as their youngest boy had. I smiled at the thought of Emmett.
"I think that just about covers it," Elizabeth said and folded her hands. It was Mrs. Platt who spoke up next.
"Well… not everyone," she said, and bent over a basket that was resting at the foot of the seat she had been sitting in when I entered. I watched curiously, as she lifted something from the basket, bits of a blanket falling over her arms. She turned and had the sweetest smile on her face. She approached me and my mouth fell slightly agape. In her arms was a child, not older than a few days. Esme's child. Mrs. Platt saw the look on my face and giggled softly, taking my wrist and guiding it under the child's head and then carefully passed the infant to my arms. I cradled the child in my arms. Esme had been right, he was so tiny in one's arms, almost lost in the blanket. Mrs. Platt touched his soft little tuft of hair that brushed his forehead. I felt tears well up in my eyes, and a pain in my chest. How could something so beautiful and perfect been ripped away from the world so young.
"William," I heard my mothers voice as she was at my side.
AN: Yeah yeah ik the "official" name given to Esme's baby by Stephanie Meyer was Joseph, but I've always used William for my stories and I'm not changing it now. I'm dead set on the fact that she named that baby William.
He stirred in my arms, flailing his arm slowly. And then he opened his eyes. He had the same brown eyes I remembered Esme having as a young girl. His eyes felt like they were locked to mine.
"Esme," I whispered, sorrow filling my voice. The child only reminded me more of her.
I heard a groan of disgust and glanced over my shoulder as my father exited the building.
"Just ignore him," my mother said softly as the door banged shut, "He still appalled you married another man's wife, despite the circumstances,". I turned my gaze to the women around me,
"Thank you for taking care of him," I said to the three of them. My mother and Elizabeth smiled. Mrs. Platt softly touched William's cheek.
"It's really been Elizabeth taking care of him," Mrs. Platt said, and I looked at Elizabeth who had a soft mothering smile.
"She's been taking care of my son in my absence. I felt it was only right I do the same for her," she explained.
"Thank you," I said to her, and looked down at the baby again.
Esme's POV
I knew the moment I reached for Carlisle, his fate would become mine. Our bodies setting ablaze faster than gasoline.
I remembered how the fire felt as it washed over me. Pain. But only for a moment.
Pain.
Darkness.
No pain.
And then I was here, as if it had been a dream I had woken from.
I found myself on the ground, a gruff, middle age man looking down at me, his arms crossed. He rolled his eyes and scowled,
"Oh great, another one," he mumbled and walked away. I watched him as he leaned against the outside of the building I had woken up in front of. He watched me, the light outside the door casting a shadow over half of his face. I felt like I knew him. I stood up from the ground, brush off the clothes I was in. The same clothes I had worn to the hospital.
"Excuse me?" I asked the man as I approached the building. He looked up, his scowl falling to a monotoned expression, "Where am I?" I asked him. If this was the afterlife, it had to be Hell, or maybe Purgatory. Certainly, Heaven wasn't this gloomy and dark. The man looked away from me,
"Just go inside," he said simply, and I paused for a moment, before reaching for the door, and slowly pulling it open, the light from inside blinding me.
As my eyes adjusted from the dark to the light, I found myself standing before a large group of unfamiliar faces. Several eyes turned to me.
"Esme!" someone cried joyously, and I saw my mother running towards me, my father on her heels. I stood there, shell shocked as she hugged me tightly, and my father embraced us body. My mother kissed my cheeks and forehead with tears in her eyes. "Oh honey, we're so sorry," she cried, looking me in the eyes, "We're so sorry we didn't help you," she kept telling me.
"I'm dead, aren't I?" I asked her and she bit her bottom lip, holding back tears.
"Yeah sweetheart," she whispered and then held me in a hug again. I looked over her shoulder at the people who had their back to me, standing in a circle. One woman caught my gaze and smiled, tapping the arm of the person who had their back to me. A blonde woman glanced over her shoulder and smiled at me. I pulled away from my mom's embrace and took a few steps forward.
The blue dress shirt, and the blonde head of hair. It had to be him.
"Carlisle?" I called to him in barely a whisper. He was still for a moment and then turned his body to face me. It was him. My blonde god. My love. My husband. My mate.
"Hello my love," he said to me with a very soft look, and my eyes fell down to the blanket in his arms, and the little hand that appeared from beneath it.
My hands covered my mouth and I gasped, tears pouring down my cheeks uncontrollably. I quickly approached my husband, and there in his arms, with his eyes wide open, staring at me with a look of incredulity, was my son.
"Baby," was the only words that escaped my lips as Carlisle placed him in my arms. I held him close to me and pressed my trembling lips to his forehead. Then I started sobbing tears. I felt arms pull me close and lips press to my forehead.
"He's just a beautiful as you described," Carlisle said softly to me. I choked out a giggled cry.
"He's perfect," I whispered, staring down at his little brown eyes as they closed, and he fell asleep. I was finally able to look away from him and I looked at my husband, who's face threw me off. There was color to him, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. And where I had stared into golden eyes for my entire existence, I was now looking into a mesmerizing sea of blue. I gasped, reaching one hand up to touch his cheek, my thumb resting near the corn of his eye. "Carlisle, your blue eyes. They're incredible," I said softly, smiling up at him. He smiled, letting go of me, and went to stand behind the young blonde woman who had first looked at me when I entered, and rested his hands on her shoulders. She was slightly shorter than him, and had the same beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair as he.
"Well, it's all from my mother," he said and smiled. My eyes widened in surprise. I never would have guessed she was his mother. But now that he said it, I could see every single similar feature the two had. The woman smiled and approached me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with the lightest touch. It was only now that I noticed my hair was a golden caramel colour again.
She looked down at the sleeping child in my arms and smiled.
"I'm glad you're here. Such a sweet child. But even with all of us to look after him, he still had a look in his eyes like he was searching for you," she whispered softly and gave me a hug.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cullen," I said with a half smile. It felt strange to call someone else that. She touched my cheek softly.
"Please, my dear, it's Catherine," she said sweetly. I smiled back at her, and she continued, "Thank you, for making my son happy," she told me, "I had to watch my son grow up from afar. It was very difficult to see him alone for so very long. And when he met you, I'd never seen him happier," she finished, and gave me a hug. I felt hands on my shoulder and looked back to see my own mother.
"Esme, your father and I-" she began but I cut her off,
"Please, don't apologize. It's in the past. I've put it behind me," I told her, and she nervously bit her lip before wrapping her arms around me, and started to cry softly. Just sniffles. When she pulled away, she gently brushed her fingers against Williams forehead and cheek. She sighed.
"He's so small, but so bright," she said, holding back another sob. My father rested his hands on my mother's arms to comfort her, "I wish I could count how many times I've sat next to you with him in my arms, and he's reached out for you," she said with teary eyes. I looked down at my baby boy, peaceful in my arms. I glanced up and looked around the room, taking in the many silent eyes that watched from a distance, and deduced in my mind, that they were the family members of my adoptive children.
My eyes fell to my husband, who smiled at me, but I only felt sadness wash over me as he approached me.
"What is wrong, my love?" he asked, worry in his tone. I looked up at him, the realization washing over me now. Carlisle and I were dead. True dead. Our kids were not.
"Oh Carlisle," I felt tears welling up again, "The kids," I choked. Carlisle touched me softly, and I started crying softly for the poor kids who would find out, no doubt, what had happened, "Oh god, the kids," I gasped out. Carlisle rubbed my back softly, and attempted to soothe me.
That was when Elizabeth stepped forward and touched our shoulders.
"If you wish to see them, you can, but they might not sense your presence with their grief," she said gently. I looked up and then looked at her,
"Please, I need to try and tell them we're ok," I begged her. She nodded, and guided us toward the door I had come in. But when she pushed it open, I wasn't looking at the dark street where I had come from. I was instead looking at the outside of our home. And it was daylight. I took Carlisle's hand, and held my baby tightly cradled in the other, and we stepped through the door and were standing before our house. I glanced behind me, seeing the encouraging faces of the people who had welcomes us into Heaven like family. I stopped, and took Elizabeth's hand, pulling her with me, and motioning for the rest of them to all follow us. I took a deep breath and walked up the front steps, passing through the glass windows as if they were non-existent.
The sobs of my children filled the air as I climbed the stairs with Carlisle behind me. William a had begun to stir from his sleep in my arms.
They were all gathered in the sitting room, holding one another. Renesmee crying the hardest. Edwards head was in his hands, Bella was gripping her hair by the fistful. Alice clung to Jasper on the sofa, sobbing about how she saw it coming only moments before. Rosalie was crying into Emmett's shoulder, and even my big strong Emmett had the most pained look on his face. I stood before my crying children, my heart breaking for them. Carlisle touched Edwards shoulder, but he didn't even feel him. I reached for Alice, but my hand didn't even make her flinch. None of them knew we were here. Like Elizabeth had said. They were too wrapped up in their own grief. I gave Carlisle pleading eyes. They had to know we were here for them. I looked around me, trying to give them a sign. And in the corner sat my sign.
My design table, where I would draw blueprints or sketch rooms. I walked over and looked at the table. My blueprint sat exactly where I had left it this morning before going to see Carlisle. I looked over at my children as Jasper stared straight ahead, eyes dark, face hollow, and in sharply pained voice, he spoke.
"It's like they're still here," he said, making everyone lift their heads to him, "I can almost feel mom's pain,". I looked back at my table and reached out with one hand, and focused as I placed my hand against the cup that held my pencils and pens.
I knocked it over. And the cup dumped its contents off the edge of the desk and onto the floor, scattering around my feet. I looked at my children, who were staring right through me.
Third Person POV
The Cullen children were so wallowed in their own grief that when Jaspers voice broke the sound of crying, they felt compelled to look at him as he spoke. The was silence after his words, and when the loud chitters of pencils hitting the floor rang through their ears, they all slowly turned their heads towards their mother's design desk that sat to the side. Pencils were scattered on the floor. The cup that once held them, still rolling back and forth on its side, in its little semi circle. They all watched, unmoving. Until, from the other side of the room, a single book fell off the middle of the book shelf stocked with their father's collection. No one moved for many seconds.
It was Edward, who moved from his spot, and sauntered over to the fallen book. As he bent over to pick it up, he read the cover. The 1977 book, Bridge to Terabithia. Edward smiled.
"Bridge to Terabithia," he said with a very slight smile, "Dad used to say he thought this book was a metaphor for Heaven. I never understood that…. until now," he said, and as he scooped the book up with one hand, and he straighten himself, he suddenly froze.
Carlisle stood a mere few feet from him, smiling.
He looked over and saw Esme standing among his siblings, a small bundle in her arms that she was focused on rocking.
His siblings were each staring as well. The sobbing had seized, as they stared at the two people they had been calling mom and dad for decades. Carlisle turned and joined Esme.
"Mom? Dad?" Alice's shaking voice asked, not sure if she had gone mad with grief. But the look on the rest of her siblings faces assured her that they were seeing this too. Esme gave her daughter a soft smile.
"We're here, sweetie," she said, still rocking the bundle in her arms. The children sat, watching their mother and father, "We're always here," she added. No one could believe their eyes, but no one wanted to blink and doubt them either. Esme and Carlisle looked around at their children, "We have always loved you, kids. And we never wanted to leave you this way," Esme told them, tears welling up in her eyes. She wished her children could have the relief of tears. She wondered in the back of her mind, if the kids still saw pale, golden eyed vampires, or the now beautiful traits of their once human lives.
The answer was the later. They indeed saw their human-like vampire parents. Carlisle's flush face and baby blue eyes; Esme's soft brown orbs, and her caramel billows.
"Alice, honey, none of this was your fault. Seeing the future does not equal saviour of all," Carlisle assured his daughter.
"And if there is one thing I want to tell you all, is that both of your parents, human and vampire, are so proud of you kids. And we miss you all so much," Esme told the wide-eyed children before her.
She unwrapped the bundle in her arms, the blanket draping over her forearms, exposing the small child she held.
"There comes a time when we are separated from the ones we love, but they're always with us," Esme said softly as she looked down at her baby boy, touching his cheek softly with her index finger, and when she looked up, all her fellow angels surrounded the room. The Cullen children looked around, with their human families gathered around them.
Elizabeth and Edward each hand a hand on their son's shoulder.
Lillian sat to Alice's right in the empty seat beside her. Cynthia knelt at her feet, smiling up at her big sister.
Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock stood to Jasper's left, smiling proudly down at their solider son, with the woman who changed his life.
Mr. and Mrs. Hale had their arms around their princess. And her brothers held her hands.
Mrs. McCarty was hugging her son from over the back of the couch, her husband rested a hand on his shoulder. And Emmett's siblings stood to the side, smiling happily.
Catherine stood to Carlisle's right, and Esme's parents to her left, their hands folded in front of them.
The room was silent, and the matriarch of the family that sat before her, was the only one who spoke.
"One day I hope for you all to meet him. To hold him, and love him," she said softly, looking down at the frail child she coddled, then back up at her vampire family, "But until the day comes, we'll be watching over you. Waiting, and loving," she added.
"We're always with you," she said again in that motherly tone, "Forever,"
AN: Isn't that sad yet so beautiful. Also might mention that I pulled a little inspiration for the end from the last episode of The Haunting of Hill House season 1 on Netflix. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please go watch that amazing show and leave a comment if you know which scene the ending is inspired from. Thanks for reading.