Jasper sprang from nowhere. There was a sharp, echoing crack as the two stone beings collided. Esme fell back into a crouch, snarling, her teeth bared. She was like a wild animal. Jasper was unnerved. He had never seen her like this. Her eyes were black as coal. And the whole time Carlisle stood there, refusing to defend himself. Rosalie emerged from the trees and stood beside Jasper.
"Esme?" she asked tentatively.
Esme slowly straightened up, still glowering. "I didn't know you were into eavesdropping too," she hissed, but her shaking voice betrayed her emotion. She didn't want this! Didn't want this... this chasm, this canyon that was ripping her treasured family apart.
Rose shook her head, her lips slightly parted in earnestness as she gazed at Esme, holding her eyes. "We weren't listening, is swear – Alice told us to come find you before..."
She looked uncertainly at Jasper, her usual frankness compromised with uncertainty.
"Before you killed each other," he said frankly.
Esme shuddered, but her mouth framed the words, "don't be ridiculous."
Rosalie nodded hesitantly. "You would have done," she whispered. "Alice saw it, I swear. Jasper had to stop you, Esme – he had no choice! Carlisle wasn't going to fight you, and you were so blinded with... well."
"Did I hurt you?" Jasper's voice was cautious as he addressed his mother. She turned away and rubbed at her eyes, clearly trying to quietly erase the burning in them – but everyone could hear her choking breaths.
"You shouldn't have stopped her." Carlisle's voice was quiet, but full of overriding authority. The little gathering froze, digesting his words as they realised that sincerity saturated every word.
"What?" Rosalie's expression was absolutely aghast as her eyes flew between her parents. "We should have let her... what are you... you meant... how could you even... talk about being... I just don't..."
Carlisle's face was softly sympathetic as he watched Rose struggle internally – and the reasoning behind her assumption was only to be expected. Emmett, the centre of her universe, would never lay a finger on her with the intention of harming her, and she would rather die a thousand deaths than watch him go through any sort of pain again – after all these years, she still carried the memory of his scrunched up, tortured, burning face with her like the heaviest of burdens. That he'd forgiven her the moment he opened his eyes was never an issue – he'd suffered because of her, and that pain was near damn unbearable, even now. So for Carlisle to want Esme to kill him with the knowledge that it would kill her was incomprehensible for her. Jasper crossed silently to his sister and took her hand, squeezing it silently, keeping her under control, physically and emotionally.
"It's what she wanted, Rose." Carlisle spoke gently, talking to Rosalie even though his eyes were still fixed on Esme's turned back. "If she hated me enough to kill me, then so be it. I could never live with the knowledge that she didn't want me that... passionately – that keenly."
Slowly, as he spoke, Esme straightened up and turned back to face her – however much she wished it was otherwise – husband. Her eyes were, terrifyingly, dead, and as she spoke, her voice was just as empty.
"Rosalie? Jasper?"
"Yes?" Rose spoke for both of them.
"Go back to the house."
"Esme-"
"Trust me, sweetheart. Please."
Jasper tugged on Rosalie's hand, pulling her unmoving form backwards until they reached the trees and dissolved into the darkness.
"Carlisle?" In contrast to her previous flatness, Esme's tone could now have made boulders weep with anguish, and as she fell to her knees, her caramel hair thankfully hiding her face or Carlisle might have begged for death there and then just out of pure, unadulterated guilt.
"Yes?" His body seemed to have locked itself into immobility – he neither had the strength or the knowledge of how to move it; had no idea how to cross the small space between them and take her into his arms, to press his lips to her head and hold her as she cried. He didn't know how to comfort her.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Anything." His voice was no louder than a breath of wind, but it didn't matter.
"Promise me you don't love her." As she spoke, her head snapped up to look at her, such fierce desperation burning in her eyes as she willed him to speak the truth, that Carlisle's breath was taken clean away. Her voice was low, choked and acute with pain; and for the long moment that they stared at each other for, it was all he could hear, echoing again and again in his ears, deafening him.
"Promise me." A whisper, this time, but, if possible, even more desperate. "Carlisle, promise me, promise me, please. Please. Carlisle..."
As he let each moment die, he could see the light that was causing her eyes to burn with such intensity flicker and fade. The seconds ticked away, and still the hilltop was silent.
"Please." Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Carlisle knew that this was his last, his only chance to make things right again – not just between them, but to repair his shattering family.
"Esme... listen to me... please. If you'll let me... I'll explain. I'll explain everything to you, everything, just let me finish. And then you can do what you like to me."
He waited, and she nodded; her eyes weren't dead yet – there was a single spark left, but he knew it would only take one word, one slip, one awkwardly phrased sentence for her to be lost to him forever.
"Esme... you know Samantha was Aro's minion?" He waited and she said nothing. "Of course you do," he mumbled, looking down at his hands, twisting the simple gold band on the third finger of his left hand round and round, still continuing the simple, poignant action as he looked back up again. "She told you we met hunting – that's not true. Aro sent her to the hospital – she's thousands of years old, and has been with the Volturi form the start. That's how she can control herself so well. But still... that doesn't excuse what I did; I want you to understand though, sweetheart, so you can make an informed judgement." He took a deep, steadying, unnecessary breath – a leftover human habit. "Samantha – she... seduced me, and as much as I hate, detest, that word, there's no other for it." He paused. "I won't go into detail – the memory's... I abhor them, and they'll do no good to put into words. But sweetheart... my darling, precious Esme... sweetheart, I never loved her, never. It was only ever you – from the moment I first laid eyes on you, there's been no one else except you and I will swear it on whatever you want, in front of who you like, that I'm speaking the truth."
"You don't love her?" Esme's voice was like a ray of sunlight to Carlisle – her voice almost visibly left golden sparkles in the air as she spoke; her words were golden wind chimes.
"Never, darling. Never."
Esme stood still, silent, like the finest of porcelain figurines – delicate, fragile and beautiful beyond belief. A wind picked up and blew her unkempt hair into shining tendrils that whipped into shapes abover her head. Carlisle held out his arms in a gesture of surrender.
"If you still want to kill me, I don't blame you... and I won't stop you."
"No." Imperceptibly, she shook her head. "No, I... Carlisle... I don't know." Her shoulders flew up and down and her fingers dug into the sides of her face. "What you did, what you've done... Carlisle, from the first time I saw you, I knew I'd forgive you anything – anything. And that still stands, but... but the trust, Carlisle, is the trust still there? Because I don't know anymore – I just don't, I don't..."
"Esme."
Esme stopped her pacing and turned tortured eyes towards him, her hands still entwined in her hair from where she'd been tugging on it, in mental torment and waited.
"Do you still love me –no, wait, can you still love me?"
"I don't know." Her voice was just as quiet as his, but while his was because of tension, hers was out of true uncertainty. She truly did not know… at least, until Carlisle left his frozen stance, and took a hesitant step towards her, holding his arms open towards her; inviting, but not commanding.
"Esme?"
With a stifled cry, she collapsed into his arms – he caught her tightly and held her to him, whispering her name over and over as she began to sob on his shoulder, her arms like a vice around his neck as he clung to her, pressing his lips to her head again and again, breathing in her mysterious, complex, intoxicating scent like it was oxygen to a dying man.
"I love you," she wept, her shoulders shuddering as she lifted her head to look at him. "I do, I do, honestly I do – I never stopped, I know now, I just… oh God…"
"It doesn't matter now," he told her fiercely. "We'll work it out and I'll never, ever let you down again, I swear to you, I promise…"
"I couldn't live for the rest of eternity without you," she told him, shaking her head. "Knowing that I loved you, but to proud, too ashamed, too scared to go back to you… it would have killed me."
"Don't say that," he said roughly. "Don't ever say that – I've lost you once before. Not again, not ever."
"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him, her laugh sounding suspiciously like a sob. "And I'm sorry… I shouldn't have presumed-"
"But you were right," he interrupted, his face suddenly tight. "You presumed right."
"But I forgive you," she murmured, pushing back his hair and cupping his face with her delicate fingers, her wedding ring sparkling with renewed vitality. "So it's not an issue."
He closed his eyes and shook his head, wonder radiating from every inch of him. "I don't deserve you."
Esme couldn't be bothered to argue.
Her lips were busy doing better things.
