Carlisle trailed his finger along the thick, leather bound volumes surrounding him, occasionally retracing his sight lines to ensure he had not mistakenly overlooked the specific text he was seeking. His brilliant golden eyes finally came to rest upon a particularly scuffed tome, bound in a fading tanned leather cover. The frayed lettering curled in a gothic script Carlisle recognised well. With a fleeting smile, he pulled it delicately from the shelf, allowing the other books around it to cave in on themselves. He carefully displayed the first page and he felt deep within him a jolt of sadness. There, lovingly inscribed, was a dedication he had written to Esme, this being one of her many favourite books. Wuthering Heights, the violent love story of two souls entwined eternally. Carlisle leafed through the pages, every now and then sighing or chuckling with memories that, as he replayed them in his mind, were all he now possessed. Padding softly across the library, he gently placed the book within the open suitcase, patting it affectionately before returning to the shelves and continuing his perusal, occasionally finding within the mass of books single copies that, as he had done before, he placed with care in the suitcase. He would miss this library, with its antique smell and dusty hoards. Edward would not neglect it when he was gone, he was sure of it, and Bella would find countless hours of pleasure searching through the leather-bound adventures and reading them aloud to young Renesme.

It had been three months since his life-mate had been called to the side of the Volturri, her advanced skills and prowess in battle had become legendary and sought after by the mighty family. What had only been scheduled as a brief international relations visit had turned into a long and drawn out process of negotiation and debate, with very little contact except the occasional letter, sealed by Volturri scribes, describing all as well and Esme expressing her wish for her to stay, her love for him, and her wish for a swift resolution. The letter carried her scent, the subtle fragrance of roses glazed in the dew of a crisp autumnal morning. Carlisle had collected the few letters and placed them lovingly in his bureau, finding their presence too heartbreaking. For it's small blessings, at least he had not lost his mate and she was just, as she put it before departing 'on loan for a short while'. Carlisle moved to open the drawer wherein the letters lay but faltered, his pining heart aching at the thought of catching that scent once more.

Edward watched Carlisle, reading the man as clearly as the titles that engulfed him. The pain in Carlisle's face was clear and open; he was missing Esme more than he could ever say in words. Alice silently slid beside Edward and placed a hand calmly on his shoulder.

"He needs this time alone, Edward, he needs to think," she quietly said, not wishing to disturb Carlisle in his musing.

"I just can't bear to see him like this, he seems so…I mean, Bella is my mate, and I can just about bare the separation for a couple of weeks. I don't know how he has kept himself up in three months..."

"I know," Alice added, shaking her head forlornly, "That is why he needs his space, he has a lot to think about and this house has a lot of memories".

Edward nodded in agreement; of course, he knew there was so much Carlisle was thinking about. He had been this way for such a long time, it pained all the Cullen's to see him so…absent. There was no other way of describing Carlisle these days except to call it an absence from the life he had been so desperately tried to obtain and protect. With Esme gone…

Edward shook with the thought, he still was trying to get used to Esme not being there with them; the mother they all so desperately loved, the wife Carlisle idolised. Esme was gone.

Carlisle, finishing the business of packing the books he would require for the journey, turned towards Edward and Alice, his lips breaking into a smile which did not reach is eyes.

"You have been there quite a while I expect".

Both nodded, their concern riddled across their angelic faces.

"Please, don't worry, I'm not going insane. I just need a bit of time away, that is all, think things through on my own. You both, all of you, have been excellent. I am proud of you all, but…"

"You have to do this, we know, and we respect your decision, don't we Edward?"

Alice nudged Edward sharply, who simply nodded silently and then swiftly turned to leave.

"Edward? Are you…"

"It is your decision, and I understand your reasons for going. Nevertheless, the risks you put yourself into, you could be in danger. If the Volturi…"

"Edward, I have had many months to think about my decision, and I am going to London. I just need to get my head together properly, and you know as well as I that I cannot do that in Forks. This," Carlisle added quickly before Edward could respond, "is not a topic of discussion or debate. My mind is set and I leave in less than four hours. It may take some time but I promise you I will come back very soon."

Edward studied Carlisle's face, his voice was nearly pleading. He did need this, thus Edward must push his feelings aside, for the love of Carlisle, and let him go.

"If it is what you think is best..."

"It is".

The topic was closed, and any further argument of the subject would simply aggravate the sensitivity of the whole scene. Edward crossed the gulf between he in the doorway and Carlisle in the centre of the library and pulled Carlisle into a bone-crushing hug, the heavy sadness chilling the already icy body of both vampires. Pulling away, he and Alice left as silently as they had arrived, leaving Carlisle once again alone with his thoughts, a place that even Carlisle was not sure he wanted to be.

Once all was packed and in the blackened car, Carlisle gave his briefest goodbyes to his children. Emmett and Jasper cleared their throats several times, their worry plain to see beneath their amazing beauty. Rosalie and Alice were openly sobbing, without the cascades of tears that would have followed them as humans, as Carlisle finally entered the driver's seat, turning the key and pulling out of the gravelled drive. With a final glance in the rear view mirror, Carlisle sighed deeply, looking out towards the bleak horizon. London would be in the darkest hours when he arrived, giving him enough time to find the house and settle before sunrise. He had chosen a small house near Richmond, close to the park and, more specifically, the Red Deer. Hunting would be no problem, and the drizzly autumn weather that seemed to perpetuate the British Isles provided a perfect level of concealment. It had been such a long time since he had been 'home'. The city was ever changing and, in Richmond, he was only a half hour away from the throng of the city centre. The house was situated among the A-lists who lived secretively on the hill, perfectly quiet and unquestioning. There would be no distractions as he thrashed out his pain.

The plane journey across the Atlantic seemed to pass by quickly and no sooner had he taken off was he settling onto the Heathrow tarmac. In his hand, he held the ancient copy of Wuthering Heights, unopened since he had taken it from his suitcase at the airport. He placed it carefully in the holdall he kept on the plane with him and, slinging the holdall over his shoulder, he departed the plane and searched the now quite empty car park outside for the right car. In a far corner sat the vehicle, its black tinted windows making it seem almost invisible in the dark. Emmett always had the best taste in cars, choosing for this adventure a beautiful silver Mercedes Benz; obviously, this would not be very conspicuous in a rich neighbourhood. Carlisle rolled his eyes and chuckled as he approached it. It was then that he smelt the strangest aroma. The warmth of magic enveloped him and he looked around cautiously to find the source of the smell. Far off, across the empty car park, sitting god-like astride a large motorcycle, sat a dark haired man. The man's eyes dazzled emerald green behind designer spectacles, his body moulded into a leather jacket and trouser. Carlisle examined the man, his hawk-like eyes seeing this strange smelling human as though he were directly in front of him. The man seemed young, early to mid twenties, with messy black hair from the bike helmet loosely held under his arm. Around the man's neck hung a peculiar pendant, a long emerald and silver serpent wrapped around a gold lion with a small, piercing ruby eye. Carlisle blinked in confusion, had he pendant just…

He watched as the man placed the helmet back on his head, clearly oblivious to the attention he was receiving, and took off at high speed on the motorbike, which seemed to occasionally cough and splutter in a disgruntled way. The image of the man was burned into Carlisle's mind, from the strength in the man's appearance to the strange scar just visible though the crumpled fringe, the shape of a lightening bolt, the colour of dried blood. The face had many nicks, cuts and scars but this did not diminish his beauty. Carlisle had never seen a human male so intriguingly beautiful. The strangest of all, something Carlisle could not shake from his memory, the snake and lion, so vivid to the point of life-like. Carlisle could have sworn, but could not quite comprehend, that it had moved of its own accord, as if it was battling with itself. Carlisle shook his head, there were only so many things that one could believe. Vampires, werewolves, angels and demons were everyday occurrences in his life. But magic?