This one is very short, but I thought it was a cute idea…(This is set during Carlisle and Esme's honeymoon ).

Disclaimer: Twilight is owned by Stephenie Meyer. Not me. So…dang.

1922: Scars

Esme's POV

Esme curled up on top of him, resting her head against his chest. They'd been married for just a few hours, and already she counted these among the best hours of her life. She sighed deeply, and then she heard an odd rumbling coming from her throat. She knew it was a sound of satisfaction, but it was hard to describe. It was almost like…

"Are you purring?" Carlisle asked, his voice both amazed and delighted.

Esme turned to look at him and grinned. "I was trying to think of another word for it, but I suppose I am."

She could feel him laughing silently beneath her. "Please continue, then. I'm not going to complain."

He brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek, and as she smiled down at him, her gaze lingered on his neck. Esme's eyes narrowed. She had yet to examine this particular part of her husband closely, there being so many other interesting parts of him, but now she sat up and slid her hands along his jaw, then lower. At first, he smiled expectantly, but then he tensed when he realized what she was looking at.

Her hands had found his throat, and though her fingers were moving gently, it was clear that Carlisle was uneasy at the prospect of any vampire, even her, getting so close to his neck. Now that Esme thought about it, she realized that Carlisle was always careful to keep his neck covered. There was no scar to mark where he'd been changed, and though she'd known from hearing Carlisle's history that the wound must have been a terrible one, it was amazing to her that there wasn't any visible mark left at all. One side of his throat had been all but torn out by the vampire who'd inadvertently changed him all those years ago, but she could see no evidence of it now. His skin was as smooth and perfect as hers, yet though no visible scar had been left behind, the way that Carlisle had tensed, almost reflexively, when she touched his throat told her that he did indeed have a scar there, invisible though it was.

When she saw his expression, she didn't remove her hands, but she leaned down and began to kiss him very slowly, her mouth lingering on his until she felt his tongue began to move. Gently, she drew away and kissed the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then she moved down to his throat. Again, she felt Carlisle shift uneasily beneath her, but somehow she felt the urge to linger on the spot. She wanted to show Carlisle that he didn't have to worry, that after all these years, he'd found someone who he could trust no matter what, who would never hurt him. Without the wound that had ended his life, they never would have met. He never would have known her, wouldn't have changed her, wouldn't love her as he did now.

"I love you," she whispered, raising her head from his neck to look into his eyes again. Esme saw now that though they weren't visible, both of them had scars that would never really go away. Esme sometimes thought that Carlisle had healed hers completely, only to find herself still startled by loud noises or having to struggle to hide her unease when Edward and Carlisle argued, even if it was only a friendly debate. But without her pain, without his, they might never have found each other again.

Carlisle smiled at her, his expression more relaxed now. "And I love you." Then, for a long while, they helped each other to forget all their scars.