Esme's POV

It all happened too fast; so fast that I had finished long before I was aware of what had happened. When I did realize, I sat back on my heels and stared at the sight before me, feeling as sick to my stomach as a vampire possibly could. What had I done?

I looked down at my hands – they were splotched red from when I had turned his head to gain better access to his neck. My dress was also tinged red from when he had collapsed in my arms and I had been too greedy and selfish to stop talking his life.

I turned my attention back to the man before me, though I had no desire to look at him. I did not want to see the vacant look of his eyes, the missing flesh in his neck that was still dripping sweet-smelling blood. Look at what you've caused, I thought to myself. See what you have become.

When I finally managed to turn my eyes to the man I choked out a dry sob, feeling disgusted with myself and wishing more than ever that I could cry. The man lay motionless, as I knew he would, and his face was twisted into a grimace of pain. Perhaps the worst was that his mouth was open, no doubt to yell for help from the attacker he couldn't see. I had come across him when his back was turned to me; he hadn't even heard me coming.

I didn't have to guess at what he had been doing so deep within the forest. He was wearing the perfect gear to hunt in and a carrying a large rifle. He was here for the same reason as I was; I just hadn't planned to hunt a human.

I jumped to my feet, unable to sit before him any longer, wiping my bloody hands on my dress as I did so. I was too unworthy to look upon him any longer. I was a murderer, a monster…. I was all those things we had strived not to be.

I couldn't get a grip on my emotions, though instinct made me reach into his jacket pocket and remove his wallet. I clutched it in my hand and ran, though I was not sure why I felt so compelled to carry his wallet with me. As I ran, I flipped it open, pulling out a sheet of slightly yellowed paper. I nearly ran into a tree as I read what it said.

Dear God, he has a daughter.

My stride faltered and eventually I fell to the ground, closing my eyes as though that would somehow make this all better. Finding that letter had made it more real; he was not just some unknown man out alone to hunt; he was Daddy to a girl named Louisa who had been five when she wrote him the letter I clutched in my hand.

I don't know how much time passed before I stood up and continued towards home. To my family. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Here I was, going home to my family who loved me, and there he was, lying dead in the grass and unable to return to those who loved him. It was always worse for the survivors; I should know.

As our small, wooden cabin came into view, I halted, not wanting to go any farther. I knew they would both understand and somehow that seemed to make it all worse.

I gently folded his letter and placed it back within his wallet. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself forward, opening the door and stepping into the large, open room. Edward was there, already standing, watching me hesitantly.

I stood still and silent; he knew what had happened already, there was no need to tell him. As I stood there, internally damning myself, he crossed over to me and wrapped his arms around me. "Don't condemn yourself, Mother," he whispered lightly and quickly beside my ear.

"I can't–" I began, choking the words out. "I don't know how…." I let my words drift as I pulled myself back, purposely not meeting Edward's eyes. I couldn't stand looking into his bright, golden irises and knowing mine was a horrible shade of crimson. They proved my guilt better than any jury ever could. "I don't know how to live with myself after this."

I turned hastily from the young man who was my son in all ways but one, and made my way quickly through to the closed door nearest me. I paused, my hand on the knob, and took a slow and steadying breath – not that I needed the air for any purpose other than to attempt to soothe my nerves.

I turned the handle and noticed at once that my glorious husband was sitting before the desk beside our bed, casually reading a rather large novel which I recognized as part of the research he needed to complete for his latest medical degree. He looked up as I entered, and I quickly bowed my head. I couldn't bear to see his eyes for the same reason I couldn't bear to see Edward's. The evidence was far too damning.

"Esme," he said softly. I heard his chair scrape back across the floor. His light footsteps stopped directly in front of me and I felt him take my hand. "What happened?"

I clenched his hand tightly in my right. My left was still desperately clinging to the wallet as I raised it and held it out for him to see. He took it from me, and I was sure he now noted the blood spattered on the front of my dress.

He held the wallet in his hand, and though he didn't say anything, I knew he acknowledged it for what it was, and for what it meant. "Esme, look at me." His voice was gentle and soft, but I couldn't make myself do it. I couldn't make myself look into his eyes and see the honest, blatant forgiveness in them.

"I am a monster," I said, my voice both quiet and firm.

"You could never be a monster," Carlisle countered immediately. "We all have our weak moments."

I did look up at him, then. Let him see my crimson eyes to understand fully what I was about to say. "No we don't. No matter how strong a pull it is for you, you have never given in. You never became what I just became."

He was silent for a few seconds, absorbing my words and building up a perfect argument in his mind. I could nearly see the wheels turning, could almost hear his thoughts without having Edward's special gift.

"Esme, you cannot hold this over yourself. You are not a monster for what happened." I tried to interrupt, but he continued too quickly. "When Edward returned to us last year and told us what he did, did you condemn him?"

"No," I grudgingly agreed.

Carlisle smiled softly at me, lightly squeezing my hand. "You welcomed him back with open arms and helped him to forgive himself. Which is what you need to do now, Esme. You need to be able to forgive yourself."

My eyes drifted to the wallet he still held in his hand. How could I forgive myself so quickly? It was impossible. I wasn't sure if I could forgive myself ever, let alone a few hours after the incident. "I can't do that, Carlisle."

Without glancing away from me, he gently set the wallet on top of our dresser. I could almost feel a change in his tactics before he spoke again. "Esme, I'm so sorry this happened to you…. I should have been there with you."

I knew he completely meant what he said, which made me feel worse than I already had. "Don't you dare," I said. "You cannot blame yourself for not coming with me. You shouldn't have to watch me like I am a child. I know better, or at least, I thought I did."

"Esme–"

"Please don't," I said quietly, agonizing pain welling up within me. "I was stupid and careless, and I can't stand here and see you looking at me with compassion. How can you stand it? Why haven't you said how horrible I am for this?"

He remained silent and I pulled my hand from his grasp. "I can't do this…. I can't be here. I need to go." I paused, the weight of my words hitting me fully.

The hurt and pain now visible in his eyes was almost overwhelming. If I could have one wish it was to take back this entire day, scratch it from existence to keep from hurting everyone that I had.

Carlisle was silent for a very long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "I know." His voice was barely a whisper. I couldn't handle it.

I stepped closer to him, leaned up and kissed him, trying to let him know how much I loved him in the kiss. I felt his arms come around me hastily, holding me tightly to him.

I stepped away rather quickly; it was all I would allow myself. "I love you," I told him quickly.

He smiled sadly at me and nodded, "For longer than forever."

I turned and nearly ran to the front door, nearly ripping it off its hinges as I left. I was gone.

Carlisle's POV

A week had passed. A week of no news, no knowledge, no idea of where she was. Was she nearby? Was she healing? Were her eyes the color of a golden sunrise once more? What if something happened to her? A silly worry, I know, but not even this life can alter some of human emotions.

The day she had left I had confined myself to our room – an easy thing to do when there were only two people in the cabin and one of them was able to hear through my thoughts that I wished to be left in solitude.

The second day, a Monday, was passed in a more productive manner. Edward informed me that he had searched for nearly half of the previous day and had found the man. We went into town together to inform the police that we had found a man in the woods who had been attacked by a wolf who was likely part of the pack that was sometimes sighted near the area. We included the fact that he was most definitely deceased.

The next days passed very slowly for me and seemed to be distorted in time. Edward mostly left me alone, and for that I was eternally grateful. I spent my days sitting at my desk with my head in my hands, and my nights laying on our bed and holding her pillow. I was pathetic and pitiful without her.

On the fifth day, Edward insisted I hunt with him. I had seen the day before that my eyes were as black as coal and so I reluctantly agreed. It occurred to me several times during our hunt that Esme had asked me to hunt with her the day of the accident, and I had told her I was too busy at the time. A heavy mistake on my part, and one that kept me from releasing my guilt over the incident. Never again would I turn down a hunting trip with anyone for anything.

I was pleased to note that Edward seemed to be all right. He had personally been in Esme's situation for a lengthy stretch of time and intimately knew the range of emotions that accompanied such an experience.

"The strongest emotion is hate for yourself," Edward said quietly as we returned to our cabin after hunting. It surprised me, because during this week he had not answered any of my thoughts and had appeared to be ignoring them. "It takes quite some time to get used to the idea that you can even think about getting past this."

I recovered quickly from the surprise and glanced at him as we made our way through the trees. "How long did it take you to forgive yourself after the first?"

He tried to hide his grimace as he replied, "Nearly a year."

I felt my spirits drop marginally, even as I tried to reason out his response to it all. He came quickly to my rescue.

"Carlisle, remember that I was choosing to do it. I forced myself to ignore the inhumanity and injustice of it all. Though I saved innocent people in a roundabout way, I still had to accept the fact that I was willingly taking human lives. It is not easy to face yourself after such a decision."

I nodded, feeling somewhat mollified. It was a strange situation for me to be in – usually I was the one everyone turned to for intimate knowledge of nearly every subject possible. I was used to having all the answers… I drew strength in that. The unknown often frightened me.

"With Esme," Edward continued after a brief period of silence between us, "it will be different. It was an accident, and that realization will help her forgive herself."

"Thank you, son," I said to Edward as we reached the cabin and passed through the doorway. I could feel myself calming down once more, and beginning what I could only assume was my own healing.

Edward smiled back at me briefly as he disappeared into his bedroom. I entered the room I shared with Esme and sat on the edge of our bed. I could forgive myself for not being there, for not being able to help her through this. I could and I would. I would do it for her, because when she returned to me, I did not want to retain the guilt I still carried.

The realization left me feeling much happier and for the next two days I longed for her return with every bit of my still heart. I wanted to hold her, breathe in her lilac and jasmine scent, touch her soft, caramel-colored hair, and feel her overwhelming love in her kiss.

The morning of the seventh day, I was outside the cabin, trying with next to no hope to keep Esme's garden alive. It surprised me to no end that, even though I was an extremely skilled doctor, I could not manage to revive the delphiniums, which – according to Esme – were Sierra larkspur. I was as inept at identifying them as I was at keeping them alive.

I eventually conceded the battle and frowned at the plants as I stood up. I had wanted to keep Esme's garden beautiful while she was gone, but I was apparently hopeless at that simple task. I resigned myself to asking Edward for help later, and turned to go inside the house.

My entire body froze as I realized Esme was standing there, her hands clasped in front of her, a slight smile on her features. I couldn't move, I couldn't make myself speak…. All that I could think about was how I'd been fantasizing about our reunion and now I was as still as a statue.

Her smile faltered slightly at my inert form, but that didn't stop her from walking over to stand in front of me. I still could not manage to speak, though I tried desperately. I had so many things I wanted to tell her – that I had missed her, that I was proud of her, that I loved her more than anything and nothing could ever change that.

"I'm back," she said lightly, our eyes meeting.

I smiled and finally managed to wrap my arms around her tightly, hugging her to me in what I can only describe as a death grip. She twined her arms around my neck and tugged lightly at my hair until I looked at her.

I kissed her quickly and then against her lips whispered, "Welcome home."

I couldn't help myself then – the passion I felt for my wife overwhelmed me and I kissed her as though she were the only thing keep me alive. Or dead. Or whatever we are.

Words can sometimes be superfluous, and I am a firm believer in the fact that actions can often say what words cannot. I threw every bit of my being into the kiss… every bit of every emotion I felt for her, all wrapped into one. She returned them just as eagerly, and I knew without a doubt she loved me just as much. Our separation had been hard for both of us.

When we parted – after what felt like a very blissful eternity – she lost her smile. "I'm sorry I left, Carlisle."

I shook my head in protest, "You needed to."

Her smile was faint as she said, "I wanted to come back to you immediately, but I just couldn't bring myself to face you…. Not when I felt the way I did about what happened."

I paused, knowing that I would need to tread carefully here. "How do you feel about it now?"

Her arms slid slowly from around my neck and she rested her hands near my elbows as she let out a sigh. "I still feel horrible about it, but it helped to know that I did not intend to kill him. I was hunting deer, not humans. I just…." She let her words fall and I tightened my grip on her, wishing I could take away the guilt she still felt.

"What is it?" I asked softly when I realized she didn't mean to continue.

"I just wish there was something I could do for his family… for his daughter." She smiled slightly at me, though there was no humor in it. "I think I might feel more… closure… from it if I were to do something for her."

I smiled down at her, looking into her gloriously golden-brown eyes, "I think we could arrange something.

As I stood on the verandah of the small home, holding the man's wallet, I felt unaccountably nervous. Since I had promised to do this for Esme, however, I strengthened my resolve and waited patiently.

After what felt like an eon, the door was pulled back to reveal a tall, burly man who was frowning fiercely through ebony eyes. Although he looked well-dressed and proper, I suspected he was not the kind you would enjoy meeting in a dark alley.

"Can I help you?" He asked after a moment's silence.

I stopped thinking, trying to keep myself from shaking my head and said, "I hope so. My name is Dr. Carlisle Cullen, and I am actually here in search of a Ms. Louisa Armstrong. Is she here?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "My wife's last name is Burke."

I bowed my head slightly, "My most sincere apologies." I was finding my mood decreasing exponentially while talking to this man. I could only hope Louisa did not share her husband's nature. I met the man's eyes again as I straightened. "Is she home? I have an urgent matter to discuss with her."

Instead of responding politely, the man leaned his head in the door and called for his wife. I was quickly forming the conclusion that I had never met a more unpleasant soul in my life.

Louisa appeared then, saving me from her husband's curt behavior. She was a very soft and feminine woman with long, red curls and a young child tucked into her side. The little boy met my eyes and grinned a toothless smile before leaning around his mother and reaching for his father.

To my utmost surprise, when the man who had been rather short with me turned his attention to his son, his expression softened and he nearly cooed as he said, "Come here, my son." It seems I was too quick to judge him, and sent a silent apology.

Louisa smiled after her husband and son as they disappeared from the doorway before turning her attention to me. "What can I do for you, Mr….?"

"Cullen," I informed her promptly. I couldn't bring myself to smile, knowing the news I was about to give her. "Dr. Carlisle Cullen, actually."

Her eyes widened at my amended title. "Is everything all right?"

I swallowed thickly and shifted my weight from one foot to the other, turning my head slightly as though I had only just noticed the bench off to my right. "Perhaps we should sit for this."

She nodded and closed the door behind her, sitting quickly on the bench. I sat once she had and turned to sit on an angle so that I was facing her. "About a week ago," I began, tensing again. My eyes drifted to the nearby trees where I could just see Esme. She had wanted to be nearby to see how things went, but did not yet trust herself enough to venture closer.

My voice stuck suddenly in my throat and all I was able to do was hold the wallet out to her, my expression grim. I watched as Louisa looked at the wallet, her face contorting to one of sadness and pain. She reached over and slowly took the wallet from my hand, turning it over a few times before clutching it in her right hand.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice very quiet.

I found the truth so close to the tip of my tongue that for a moment I had to bite it to keep from exposing us. I'm sure that would go well: Well, Mrs. Burke, I am a vampire and my lovely vampire wife accidentally killed your father while she was supposed to be hunting animals. Sorry for your loss.

I composed myself and said the well-practiced lie. "Your father was out hunting last week and he was attacked by a wolf. I was part of the medical team that examined him after the fact. They were not sure of what to do with his possessions, but when I found the wallet amongst them, I had to return it to you."

Louisa stared down at the wallet and was silent for a long time. As a tear slowly slid down her cheek, she looked back at me and asked, "How did you find me?"

"If you open the wallet, you will see the answer to that."

Her eyes flashed immediately back down to the last tie she held to her father and with a few shaky breaths, she opened the wallet. She noticed the letter almost instantaneously, and upon opening it, she ceased to breathe at all. My concern was growing until she finally let out a slight moan and whispered to herself, "After all these years."

She began to cry at an alarming rate and I found myself thoroughly at a loss. Esme didn't cry. Not that she wouldn't, but there was no physical way for her to cry. What did one do to comfort a person who looked for all the world as though they were drowning and there was no life preserver to save them?

I looked towards the trees at Esme, who instantly mouthed hug her to me. Although I was not certain this was a particularly well-thought out idea, I slid closer to her on the bench and put my arm around her.

It seemed to be the right thing after all, because she turned towards me and cried into my shoulder until all that remained were dry, heaving sobs. When she finally managed to compose herself enough to sit back, she dried her eyes with her hand and looked at me sheepishly.

"You must think me a fool," she said with a slight laugh.

"Not in the slightest," I promised.

She took a few steadying breaths and looked at the letter in her hand. "It's just…." She paused, put her hand to her chest, and continued to stare at the letter as she said, "We had a falling out when I was younger. About me marrying Robert, actually. I haven't spoken to him in almost nine years."

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, though with my accelerated hearing, I had no issues. She raised her eyes from the parchment and looked straight ahead into the forest. "I always wanted to make it right with him," she continued after a moment. "Somehow, I never got up the courage to. I was always so scared that he hated me for the awful things I'd said to him.

"I always wanted to, though. I knew I would. I just never thought there wouldn't be another chance to…." Her voice drifted off and a few more tears escaped from her eyes as she looked back down to the letter. "I know now he loved me, though. Always. I wrote him this letter when I was five and he was away visiting his sick mother. The fact that he carried it all these years…."

I nodded when she didn't continue. "I think he loved you very much. He would know you had loved him, too."

Her gaze met mine and she smiled, complete with tears. "Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

"It was the very least I could do," I assured her. Instinct was telling me I should not leave until she was absolutely ready to. I quickly thanked the lord that Esme could not cry. It was a terribly tense and awful feeling to not know what to do or say.

She rose from the bench and I stood as well. "I'd best go inside now. If there is ever anything I can do for you, let me know."

I nodded politely to her, "The same for you."

Louisa smiled softly at me before turning to enter her home. I quickly descended the steps and made my way towards my own love, feeling a heady rush at knowing for certain that she loved me. I could not imagine a world without her love.

Esme's POV

A year later....

The snow crunched under our feet as we made our way through the small cemetery. I clutched Carlisle's hand tighter, and he squeezed mine in response. My other hand held a small bouquet of sweet-smelling roses.

"Do you see it yet?" I asked, feeling strangely nervous.

"Not yet."

We continued to search in almost total silence, until from across the cemetery, Edward's voice called softly, "He is over here."

I was grateful to Edward – who had only come with us purely to escape the latest addition to our family – as we hurried over to join him in front of the grave.

I stood before it and stared down upon the simple marker, half-buried in snow. His name was not visible, and after a moment's hesitation I decided not to brush the snow away to look. Perhaps it was a sign that I was not meant to know.

My gaze drifted lower, to another group of flowers sitting against the marker. Attached to the flowers was an envelope with Daddy on the front. The words were written in a lovely script that no five-year-old could have managed, which meant Louisa had written her father another letter – one that he would never actually read.

"I'm sorry," I said aloud to the headstone. The wind seemed to pick up slightly and I took it as a sign of forgiveness. We all remained absolutely still and silent for a few moments, and in that time I felt a calm wash over me and breathed out a sigh of relief as the final pangs of guilt drifted away.

"Do you want to set the flowers down?" Carlisle asked as he rubbed his hands together, purely for show.

I looked down at the flowers I held in my hand and shook my head slowly. "I don't feel right setting them next to hers. I'll plant him a rose garden in the spring, instead."

Carlisle smiled at me, took my hand in his again, and we followed Edward back through the cemetery gate and down the forest path that would lead to our home. Soft flakes of snow began to fall, painting the trees a fresh coat of white. "I'm very proud of you, Esme." Carlisle said.

I smiled back at him, knowing that I could never survive without Carlisle, my husband and the love of my life, by my side. With his help, I could face anything.