A/N: First, let me give myself a swift kick in the ass for taking so long to update... It all started when this weird looking phone booth landed in front of me while walking to work one day, and when it opened up, these two dudes said, "EXCELLENT!" and pulled me inside...and well, let's just say that after a stint hanging out writing bitchin' song lyrics for Wyld Stallyns, I asked them to drop me off back in February...only someone punched in the numbers wrong and dropped me off in April instead.
So that's my excuse, AND I'M STICKING TO IT. ;)
Second – thank you so much once again for the wonderful reviews on the story. We are nearing the end, sadly, and there will be one last installment after this chapter. It is next on my to-do list, and I have already told Bill and Ted that this is way more important than any more of their song lyrics, so I can say that you will not have to wait as long for the final chapter. :D
Thirdly, as always, I do not own these characters or make any profit or otherwise from this story.
Enjoy! XD
Chapter Eleven - The Atonement
* * * * * * *
Here we are,
In the darkest place.
To keep from forgetting,
I picture your face.
And I wonder,
While we count the cost,
Which is sweeter -
Love or its loss.
-Tom McRae, 'My Vampire Heart'
* * *
Carlisle raced through the sparse countryside under the darkness of night, in the chilled night air as mist tracked across his skin in tiny rivulets - echoing the memory of long-forgotten tears. With only the moonlight as his company, he ran from his duty, ran from his pain, ran from the hurt he managed to leave everywhere he went.
Life was nothing but the same fight with each rising of the sun; every day a struggle to do what was right, to make the honorable choice - only to have his every good deed served back with twice the pain...and now...now he didn't even want to try and be good anymore.
Perhaps eternal loneliness was his penance.
Perhaps it was all he ever deserved.
* * *
It was cold for April. Frost fogged from his breath and the town scurried inside to seek warmer shelters, safe from the biting wind.
The world was silent in this moment as it waited for something just out of reach, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right time and place...time itself held its breath and waited...
Carlisle paced the streets of Rochester. It was too soon to return to work and escape in the mass of blood and the incessant burning in his throat...too tired to return home and face two sets of honeyed eyes expecting him to ease their pain.
And so he paced, and he walked, and he nursed his torn heart, and looked at his watch once again.
Still too soon.
A quiet bench overlooked a small pond and it beckoned him to sit and look up to the stars - steadfast throughout his long centuries. Carlisle found each of his favorite constellations one by one. Orion. Cassiopeia. Leo. Some magical pieces of the universe that managed to stay the same regardless of time...to stand outside of the ebb and flow of life untouched and unspoiled.
A small flutter of a breeze rustled through bare spring branches, and brought with it the smell of blood.
A lot of blood.
Panic flicked its icy fingers down his spine. Did Edward do this?
His feet raced through dark alleys, houses and trees and fences blurred in the side of his vision, the smell growing stronger...until he was there...and all that lay before him was a tiny pile of broken bones and flesh and blood.
This was not Edward's doing.
And he breathed a sigh of relief. And shame. But there was no time to think on that now.
Several foul scents mingled on her body; some group of evil had wrought a horrible crime against this petite and shattered young girl. Striking blond hair flowed and shined in the soft light of the moon, her face was beautifully peaceful except for the blood pooling beneath and around while she let out soft whimpers of pain.
Carlisle closed his eyes and sighed at the depravity of it all. It made little sense for humans to fear otherworldly creatures such as vampires and devils when none wreaked such havoc in the world as their own kind. He knelt down and swept soft hair away from the face of this fallen angel, her eyes unseeing and her heartbeat slowing.
A young girl's face from centuries ago sprang unbidden in his mind, one that haunted his memories like a ghost...
This girl didn't deserve such a fate as this...
Perhaps...
She was very pretty.
Perhaps...
Edward had always liked blond hair.
Perhaps...
Carlisle's fingers slid beneath broken bones and through pools of sweet blood - the burning clawing at his throat and the muscles in his neck straining to reach down and sink his teeth into her pale skin as the bliss took over and their heartbeats merged and he could catch a brief glimpse of the peace...
He shook his head against those thoughts...it isn't right...and gathering her tight against his chest, raced into the darkness with his chance at atonement bleeding out against his skin.
* * *
When the sun finally began to peek above the distant horizon, Carlisle stood on the edge of the craggy shore along the cold Atlantic Ocean. Waves pounded against boulders, drowning out all of the thoughts...and it was just him, alone, as it was always meant to be.
He was a fool.
His life was nothing more than an entire existence built upon the shaky notions of what was right, of what was expected, of things he needed to do in order to be good and decent in the eyes of a vengeful God.
His entire life was a lie.
* * *
Esme's delicate hand slid down the front of his chest and Carlisle closed his eyes, wondering if he stood still long enough she would decide against wanting this, not tonight, not with...him...in the house.
Soft lips wandered against the bare skin of his back, her long hair sliding across his arm.
There was nothing - no spark, no desire. Love, yes. Concern, yes.
Desire, no.
And he sighed.
Their wedding night had fractured all of his well-meant intentions; leaving only the sinking realization that love and desire were two very different things and a marriage built on this unsteady half-love could never right the wrongs of the past. He had been a fool to think a set of meaningless vows would change anything.
Perfunctory at best, their first encounter was full of awkward pants and embarrassed silences lingering in the aftermath. Only the memory of Edward's naked form had allowed him to finish the job with a modicum of dignity.
But now was too late for regrets now. Carlisle had made his choice with Esme, and it was his to live with until the end of time.
He was such an utter fool.
Carlisle bit his bottom lip in frustration as Esme tugged on the string to his sleeping pants; her warm breath ghosting across his back, a slight smile on her lips. The cool breeze fluttered against his naked skin and there was still nothing at her touch. Her silk nightgown rustled in the darkness before dropping to the floor leaving nothing between them, and there was no way to do this without thinking of him...and no way to hide those thoughts...and no way to make it seem the least bit right.
If only Edward had not been reborn with his abilities...then all of this pain might have been avoided somehow, someway. They could have lived in relative happiness - Carlisle with his space, Edward with his boyish fantasies, and Esme in her death. It would have been for the best, really.
Yet it could never be so easy, not for someone like Carlisle. God was only toying with him now.
Esme's fingers brushed across his length and she set to work, yet his mind was a thousand miles away, unable and unwilling to go back to those old memories of bronzed hair, to have his secrets and shame bared open, to have his mistakes shouting into Edward's mind, to have him see the wretched mess he had become.
Carlisle knew he wasn't going to be able to do this - not with Edward here now.
Carefully he pulled out of her embrace and turned in her arms, giving an apologetic smile and a small kiss to her forehead as he whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, love. I...I can't...right now. I need some fresh air, I think."
She stood naked and silent, the silver light of the moon shimmering against her skin; hurt and embarrassment radiated from her while he quickly gathered his clothes and started to head out of the bedroom door. She called out to him. "Wait," she whispered. "Wait, Carlisle, please."
Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, unable force himself to face her, he couldn't bear to look into those eyes right now, couldn't bear to see the hurt etched so deep - the hurt he had put there.
"Whatever is bothering you, you can talk about it with me. We can work it out together," she said. "But please, stay."
He was such a fool and so very good at hurting those he loved. It seemed that was also part of the territory in being a vampire.
And he was tired of it all.
"I'm sorry," he said, quietly closing the door behind him.
* * *
Cold breezes from the sea rifled though his hair, sending wayward strands flying across his vision, and he absently brushed them away. His life had come down to this - each lie built on top of the other, each new wrong an attempt to make up for events out of his control.
Years had been wasted doing what he thought was right, years had been wasted in dark rooms absorbing endless books and words and pages, years had been wasted following the rules of those who came before him - his father's Bible, medical texts, law guides, whatever might hold the key to making sense of his life.
When a problem arose, there would always be an answer awaiting him there, some inkling as to what would be the right thing to do...some notion of how to proceed, how to act, how to live, how to love.
Yet, there was no book on how to deal with Edward or Esme - and now, Rosalie. There was no book to tell him how to balance duty and love, regret and choice, of the great divide between the public facade and the private reality for a being such as himself.
He was hopelessly lost.
And he was hopelessly tired of it all.
Step after bumbling step had clouded his vision; each misstep haphazardly repaired with a new mistake. He hated himself for not being able to stumble through this existence without a book to tell him how.
* * *
"Rosalie Hale? Are you insane?"
Edward's eyes were furious as tension and anger set in his muscles while his fists clenched at his sides. "What were you thinking?"
Carlisle couldn't meet those eyes, so he turned his gaze back to the thrashing form prone on the bed. Yet Edward pressed on. "Stop shutting me out, and tell me what you were thinking!"
He stood silent for a long while and then whispered softly, "I don't know."
"Great. This is just great. You don't know. Wonderful. We're going to have to move again now," Edward muttered under his breath as he paced the floor, his hands running from his hair down to the silver brooch around his neck, his fingers nervously tracing the outline.
Esme offered a small empathetic smile and patted his shoulder gently before setting down next to Rosalie and wringing out a cool washcloth to place over her forehead. "Shh, it will be all right...it will stop soon, I promise," she said softly.
Carlisle could only stand there and watch, silently cursing himself once again. Turning away from Rosalie's agony, he looked over at Edward met his gaze, betrayal showing bright in his eyes. He stopped pacing for a moment and held his breath, and suddenly, he quickly brushed past Carlisle on his way out of the room.
His feet acted of the own accord and followed down the hallway after Edward. "Wait," he called out. "Edward...wait, please."
Edward stopped but refused to turn around. His head drooped forward, his words strained and whispered under the muffled screams coming from the bedroom. "I can't believe you did this to me," he said. Carlisle closed his eyes, his fingers itching to reach out and touch him, to try and wipe it all away. Edward spoke on. "After all we have gone through, after everything that has happened...after you begged me to come back as a member of your so-called family..." he whispered. "I cannot believe that you tried to distract me with someone like her. You've made a mockery of me, of us," Edward paused. "I hope you are happy now."
Carlisle flinched at the hurt in his voice. "I...I didn't mean it that way."
"You never mean anything."
And with that, Edward walked away. Carlisle sunk to his knees, surrounded by Edward's absence and Rosalie's screams.
* * *
Wave upon wave crashed against the giant boulders below the cliff side, in rhythms that mirrored the ebb and flow of disaster that marked his life - never ending, never ceasing - only falling into a momentary lull, the quiet before the storm of grief that would inevitably find him.
A lone white seagull swooped down in front of him; white feathers bright in the morning sun. Carlisle watched with rapt attention as it swooped in lazy circles, riding against the wind in an easy grace...
He envied that seagull. How simple and wonderful it would be, he thought, to be able open his arms and fly away from this life of lies, to soar higher and higher away from those he would hurt... to be free of it all.
Carlisle sighed, closing his eyes and wiping away the wet spray of mist from his face. Decades had been spent yearning for the quiet peace of death; freedom from the expectations, knowing he wasn't on the wrong side of morality anymore, not having to justify the life he had thought was so wrong - so terrible that only a greater sin would wipe it all away.
The seagull cried out and flew away, up towards the sun.
Such a blissful relief was not to be had for those of his kind who were eternally cursed to carry the weight of the memories on burdened shoulders.
The sun was glittering against the water, melting into golden ripples of a dark and cold sea that held so many secrets...so much depth and so much silence. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, one more time and God might see fit to allow him this one request - to let him cleanse his sin and to stop the endless tragedy that followed him.
His foot inched toward the edge, small pebbles tumbled down the steep side as the wind continued to toss through his hair.
Maybe this time...
Closer.
Maybe this time...
Closer.
Please, let it be this time...
And with one tiny step, one small movement - there was nothing but open space beneath his feet. The wind cradled its arms around him, here in the soft space where only the smell of the sea and a chilled breeze existed, where time stopped and there was no more darkness and he was free...
It felt like he floated for an eternity, weightless and free..something rushed through him that had only once been a dream...hope. Hope that this would be the time his prayers were answered.
And so he fell, arms out and eyes closed...and a smile on his face.
The memory of a lop-sided grin flashed through his mind.
Edward.
I'm so sorry for everything, Edward.
It was for the best, really, if God finally saw fit to grant him this once chance at reparation. Edward deserved so much better than someone like him - he deserved a chance at happiness without the years of rotting baggage weighing them down.
I always loved you, Edward.
Carlisle smiled against the caress of the breeze, saying a silent prayer for Edward and Esme to find peace without him in the way.
Please, let it be this time....
The ground rushed up to meet him.
The impact was nothing more than a loud shatter of boulders against bones and freezing spray of the sea, cold and dark and deep...and as he lay there, a glint of sunlight caught droplets hanging in the air, becoming golden like Edward's eyes...warm and honeyed and gentle.
And he was still alive.
His fists curled into balls, beating against the rocks at his side and turning them into dust.
Why? Why not now? Why can't I rid the world of my presence?
Carlisle lay frustrated in the cold mess of water and rubble, the sea continuing to throw sprays over him with each new wave. His own futile hopes lay smashed against the shore as he wished his body to be. but instead there was only another day of lies, another week, another year just like the rest.
With a resigned sigh Carlisle slowly picked himself up and brushed off the bits of rubble. With one bounding jump he leapt back up the cliff side - only to find himself face to face with Edward.
They stood in silence for a moment; seagulls crying in the distance. "You know this never works. Why do you still try?" Edward asked softly.
Carlisle shrugged his shoulders. "Because one time I might actually succeed," he said, looking down at his waterlogged shoes, toes curling inside.
"Do you hate your life so much?"
"I...I hate the mess I have created."
Edward paused, and then murmured, "Including me?"
A breath caught tight in his throat, stomach twisting painfully in regret. "I could never hate you."
Edward was silent, his eyes unfocused while those long fingers ran absently over the brooch once again. When he spoke it was little more than a whisper under the crashing waves. "When I ran away and fed on human blood, it wasn't the taste that kept me coming back to them."
"It was the memory of you...of your hair and your smile and the feel of your skin...all of it would come back in the quiet after I fed," he choked out. "I missed you so much that I would do anything - anything - to feel it all over again, even if was just a glimpse of a memory," he said quietly. Carlisle looked up, and met his gaze.
He blinked, and sucked in a breath to say something, anything...but he really didn't know what to say. "Edward..."
With a graceful saunter, Edward approached, his skin shimmering gold in the warm light of the new day. Closer and closer until they were mere inches apart, and Carlisle could focus on nothing but his sweet scent.
Lithe fingers brushed wayward and drenched strands of blond hair out of his face, slowly tracing their way down his cheekbones and along his eyebrows, across his face...like he himself had done so many years ago on Edward's first night into this life...so innocent and unexplored and so very beautiful.
"No matter what facades we create for the world to see, it doesn't change what I know in my heart - that even though it may not beat anymore, it still knows how to love," he said, pressing Carlisle's hand against his chest. Edward leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. "What I feel for you will never change in here...and I don't care if you want to call me your son, nephew, brother, whatever - nothing changes the fact that my heart knows the truth - I will love you forever, regardless of what may come."
Carlisle squeezed his eyes and pulled him into a tight embrace. Soft and sweet breath ruffled against his ear as Edward whispered, "I always went back to those moments when we were happy...they guided me through the darkest of days and back into your life," he said, his lips brushing against the shell of Carlisle's ear, "where I have had to learn to be content with the remnants...but your heart knows it as well as mine," he said, pulling back slightly. "So do what you must for the world to see - and then come back and find the truth here," he said as he pressed Carlisle's hand harder against his chest.
And Carlisle couldn't say anything. The truth...it seemed such a simple concept - to be able to hold onto one moment of clarity in the midst of the world full of lies and false smiles and to always be able to return home once again...
Home.
Edward.
He pressed his lips against Carlisle's forehead. "Yes, let's go home."
* * *
Carlisle sunk lower into the warm depths of the bath, dried sea salt and dirt flaking away from his skin. Water dripped quietly from his hair, and the sound of rippling echoes sounded against the tiled walls.
A soft tap sounded against the door. Esme. He owed her an apology.
"Come in."
She entered silently, closing the door behind her and leaning against the frame, her eyes downcast. "I am glad you are home," she whispered. "I was worried about you."
"I...apologize for my earlier behavior; it was inexcusable," he said. "Could you ever forgive me?"
She offered him a small smile, her eyes finally coming up to meet his gaze. "As long as you are all right now."
He paused. "I...I am all right now."
Carlisle sat upright in the tub and leaned against the side, beckoning her over. She obliged and kneeled down on the floor beside him. Running his damp fingers through her soft auburn hair, he pulled her forward and placed a small kiss on her forehead.
Esme relaxed in his embrace, letting her fingers ghost down his arms. His lips trailed down her cheeks to her lips, capturing them in his own.
The truth.
Home.
* * *
Skin pressed against skin, lips pressed against lips...Carlisle and Esme wrapped themselves in the timeless embrace of lovers, yet it was not her in his mind.
His mind was consumed with visions of bronze hair and golden eyes and strong hands and the memories of Edward's passionate kisses. Carlisle let the hazy veil hiding his thoughts drop away like the last remnant of clothing between lovers, leaving him stripped naked to the one who knew what lay in his heart, and still loved him anyway.
And Edward lay silent in his sparse room...his own mind filled with blond hair and golden eyes and strong hands and memories of their love...as his own hands slowly slid down his chest, pretending they were his; sheets drug against his skin, pretending it was his gentle touch; his own tongue ran against his lips, pretending it was his...
Edward's pleasure came as Carlisle found his...
The two of them finally knew the truth behind the lies and deception, each willing to take a glimpse of the other, no matter the cost...or what they must sacrifice in return.
