Six Feet Under the Stars
"In the cold you look so fierce, but I'm warm enough. Because the tension's like a fire."
Fall… The forest spontaneously erupted into flames as the leaves of the deciduous trees began to wilt. The underbrush smothered by a layer of decomposing leaves. Hardier ferns remained vibrant and resilient, even as midnight frost began to nip on the fronds. Listless animals ceaselessly migrated through the trees, readying themselves for winter's harsh grasp. Even the Cullen's pristine front lawn was not exempt from nature's protocol. The grass was tinged with brown and thin lines of trampled earth criss-crossed like a spider's web. Beneath the opaque, sapphire blue sky, Sophie tossed a frayed, slobber saturated ball to Panik, who obediently returned it to her cold fingers. The shape of a large iPod bulged in the back pocket of her jeans.
The sun hovered over a pinnacle of trees. Clouds acuminated between the swaying needles in the distance—like wool caught in shears. The Volvo rolled to a stop before the yawning garage. Edward and Alice emerged from the front half and unloaded several bags from the back. After exchanging a few words, Alice skipped jauntily inside despite laden with several shopping bags. With a single, nondescript bag in hand, Edward made a beeline for the porch where Jasper sat sentry.
"Thank you for watching Sophie," Edward stated, expressing his gratitude. Jasper shook his head.
"I should be the one thanking you," he mused with a touch of mirth. "As much as I love Alice, there is only so much shopping I can tolerate. I appreciate this much needed reprieve, even if it is just watching a newborn."
Edward shrugged. "I needed to pick up a few things anyways."
His gaze migrated towards Sophie with a pang of annoyance. Not directed toward the newborn but toward his family. Whether it was deliberate or not, each one always referred to Sophie as "her", "the newborn", or "the fledgling". The simple, demoralizing gesture irked Edward—and he did not know why. It was astounding. A reasonable reaction had it been an outsider insulting a family member, but Sophie was nothing more than a tenant in their household for all intents and purposes.
"So…how did it go?" He asked, voice low. Jasper, who seemed infinitesimally intrigued with Sophie, looked up to his brother.
"She has been like this all afternoon. Either playing fetch with the dog or sitting beneath a tree, staring out into the forest," Jasper replied.
"Is that good?"
Edward often implored Jasper in regards to Sophie. His knowledge about newborns was limited and basic; though he had been present when Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett were turned, he paid them little heed in the early years. Jasper shook his head, blonde locks flopping into his face. He pushed them aside before answering.
"Good would not be the term I would use." Edward's bemused expression prompted Jasper to elaborate. "You know as well as everyone else that I have spent a century around newly turned vampires, training and disciplining them, destroying them when they've become useless. I am aware of every facet of their behavior and I know what to except, but this--" he gestured to Sophie "—is abnormal."
"How is this abnormal?" Edward countered, annoyance brewing in his tone.
"Newborns are volatile creatures, they search relentlessly for blood, kill whoever and whatever crosses their path or threatens them—perpetually restless and aggressive, and easily swayed by impulse. Sophie is unlike any newborn I have ever witnessed out of the scores I've raised and slaughtered. It's unnerving, not to be able to anticipate her behavior…"
Edward stared out at Sophie, how she interacted with the dog so casually—as if she were still human. An unsettled feeling seeped into his mind. The tenor of Jasper's thoughts reflected in his own. Jasper was correct. Sophie was well behaved for a newborn vampire. So well, in fact, it worried Carlisle as well. Every single vampire he had created had killed numerous humans in their early years; always strained against the restrictions in place. Roughly two months into her existence, and Sophie had yet to rebel. This revelation left Edward perturbed.
"She is like a trained tiger, obedient under the command of a trainer in hopes of a reward. But she is still a wild creature, untamed, despite being brought up by humans, thought to be a trusted pet. Those are the most dangerous of creatures because they are the ones that could snap and attack at any moment. Their attacks, often times, are fatal…"
"We introduced our lifestyle from the moment she was turned," Edward countered, unconvinced of Jasper's claim. "That is why she is subdued. Carlisle gave her a set of behaviors to abide by, and Sophie chose to obey. She isn't trained, she chose this lifestyle on her own accord."
Edward neglected to mention how vicious and unrestrained Sophie was while hunting and feeding, how he had to track her for several miles just to coax her back home. But that was normal behavior, was it not?
"Emmett, Esme, Rosalie, and yourself were born into this lifestyle too, had Carlisle's self righteous ideals imbedded from the moment you woke as a vampire. Yet all of you, except for Rosalie, snapped under the pressure and killed numerous humans." Edward's jaw clenched at the reminder. Jasper picked up on his bitterness and put up an appeasing front. "All I am saying is that she should get it out of her system during her year as a newborn. Maybe we should allow her to kill all the animals she desires and act as a newborn should. That would be a welcome change…"
Both boys turned to watch the fledging romp around the yard with the dog, ruffling his hackles in affection rather than choking his windpipe and sinking her razor sharp teeth in the dense hair around his throat.
I have my suspicions on something else... Jasper's voice floated through his head. I believe her instincts are caged by her emotions. From what you have said about her while human and shortly after the change, and after witnessing it firsthand, I'm inclined to believe so. Denial is a powerful thing…
Edward mulled this over and found it to be a plausible. It was only when hunting did she harness the true nature of a fledgling vampire. Immediately afterwards, she regressed and withdrew further than thought possible—such as the behavior she was exhibiting at this very moment. Yet her brooding thoughts were never alarming, as Jasper had assumed. She reminisced heavily on the days spent while human. Denial and grief were potent, crippling emotions.
A few minutes of silence passed before Jasper pushed against the chair arms, rising to his feet.
"Well, I'm going to see what damage Alice has done this time," he said, nonchalant.
Jasper's light footsteps made no sound as they glanced off wooden floorboards. The door open and closed in a whisper of air. Edward continued to watch Sophie, her huff of exasperation while she trekked across the yard to retrieve the ball Panik failed to bring back lured a small smile to the surface. That was Sophie: impatient, brash, flippant. It was refreshing to see a trace of personality rise forth, even for a fleeting moment. Despite having to pick up the ball, she ruffed up Panik's fur, admonishing him in a loving tone—though he had abandoned catch to pursue a squirrel.
Edward deposited the shopping bag by the door, the smooth, hollow plastic tubes gliding down his palm, and descended the three porch steps to the lawn. He stopped a few feet from where she stood.
"How was your day, Sophie?" Came his casual inquiry. He delved into her mind to find anything distressing during his absence.
"I talked to Carlisle," she replied. Her thoughts remained guarded. Whereas it had taken years for the others to deflect his intrusive gift, blocking Edward seemed to come naturally for Sophie. Of course she tended to act and speak before thinking.
"Oh? And what did you two talk about today?"
Did Carlisle approach her and try to solve the puzzle that she was? Or perhaps she needed more guidance and sough after the eldest Cullen in his absence. Whatever the scenario might have been, Edward was not prepared for what Sophie said next.
"I asked if I could leave."
The expression on Edward's face drained away, replaced by astonishment.
"What? Why?" He questioned, struggling to maintain composure. Sophie heard his inquiry, the distress in his voice, and chose not to answer. Instead, she continued with her train of though.
"I wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Carlisle said it was a bad idea. So we made a compromise. He said that if I stayed and finished the year as a fledgling with the family under his guidance, I can leave once that year is up. He even promised to set me up with everything I need to be on my own, and said I am more than welcome to visit." As she reiterated the entire conversation, her tone was distance. All the while, she played with Panik.
Edward stood there for a moment and allowed the revelation to sink in. Regret, guilt, and a sense of obligation wove their way into the tapestry of emotions. Resolve and determination, too. He would not allow Sophie to leave so easily or Carlisle to undermine his authority. Sophie was his responsibility, just as he had been Carlisle's. There was a bond there, however tenuous it was.
"It's time to go inside," he informed. Sophie threw him a reluctant look but dropped the ball without protest. Panik lunged forward and scoped the ball up, gnashing it between his large canines. After chewing on it, he dropped it back at Sophie's feet, tail wagging. Sophie kneeled before him, running her hands through his fur and placing a kiss on his warm, wet nose.
"Take care of my dog," she stated, and stalked inside the house.
Edward followed behind, plucking the bag from where it sat by the door. As the door swung shut in his wake, Edward made a note to tether the dog for the night so he could not run off. He knew Sophie would be devastated if Panik ran off, and that would only bolster her anticipation to leave. And she would blame him. Even though he had not confirmed the theory in spoken or unspoken words, Edward knew Sophie blamed him for her currently predicament—along with everything that resulted from it.
"Fall in the grave I've been digging myself."
Sophie retreated to her room for the night, curled contently on the couch with a stack of DVDs. While Esme was preoccupied with a phone call, Sophie had managed to smuggle Panik upstairs to her bedroom. The shepherd lay on her bed, muddy paws tucked up. Though the stench of wet dog was not strong, she planned on ferrying him across the hall for a bath in Edward's tub.
Edward returned downstairs to wait for Carlisle to arrive home—and sulk. Sophie's words reverberated within his skull, antagonistic, patronizing, caustic. The fact that she wanted to leave before her year as a fledgling elapsed added insult to injury. He could not tolerate Esme and Alice talking about interior decorating, so he ditched the living room for the quiet serenity of his piano. Keys exposed, he prodded random notes, hoping the tones would spark a song, a measure, something, anything to occupy is idle hands and mind. Nothing inspired him in this brooding demeanor.
Carlisle returned home from his graveyard shift at dawn, or shortly thereafter. Rather than accost him, Edward allowed Carlisle to unwind; visit with Esme, deposit his things in his office upstairs. It was only when Carlisle retreated to his office to complete leftover paperwork from the night's patients did Edward rise from his position on the piano bench and venture upstairs. He raised his fist to knock on the door.
"Come in." Pushing the door open, he stepped in. Carlisle was seated behind his large, ornate oak desk, blonde head bent over a splayed chart. "Oh, Edward, I wasn't expecting you."
"Can I talk to you?" Edward asked. He always respected Carlisle even when in the throes of angst.
"Of course."
Carlisle gestured to the rich mahogany hued chair angled towards the desk. The one Esme no doubtably curled up in when she spent time with her husband. Edward lowered himself with clenched fists. Without preamble, he delved right into the matter.
"Sophie told me you will allow her to leave when she is no longer a fledgling," he stated. Carlisle glanced up form his papers with a brush of insight in his eyes. Then he resumed, exhibiting behaviors indicating that Edward's outburst did not happen.
"We did discuss the matter, but it is between Sophie and I," Carlisle returned in a cool, calm tone.
Not for long… The telepathic vampire said, begrudged like a spiteful, revenge-fueled teenager. I will know everything. Even though he vowed to respect his family thoughts, often times he broke it when he was curious about certain matters.
"Why did you tell her that? I changed Sophie; she is my responsibility. Only I should be the one who can tell her when she is allowed to leave." His voice simmered with anger. A soft puff of air escaped Carlisle's parted lips, and he set his pen down to face his son.
"First, we are not responsible for who we turn vampire. It is the responsible thing to do, to see to their well-being and mentoring the first few years or so. The maker has no influence over their creation, as so many popular novels depict. To address why I allow Sophie to leave at her discretion, I am the elder of this household. I am in command, I have the final say. Though I only want my exercise in authority to be a last resort." Carlisle leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers laced together. "If you're so concerned about keeping Sophie around, why don't you make an effort to win her over? One of the reasons why she wants to leave is because she has no one. Everything she once had was taken away. Sophie needs someone to be there for her, someone who will not leave her under any condition, and who better than the person who turned her."
Edward took a moment to digest the information. No wonder she had been so withdrawn for almost two months. While human, she had support of two best friends, and that culled the suffering. Sophie had no one to talk to, discuss the transition, voice legitimate and rhetorical questions. A bolt of guilt and self-loathing forked through him. He vowed to become as good a mentor as Carlisle had been. Good was operative, seeing how it was impossible to reach the sainthood of Carlisle. And friend. When Sophie chose to leave, at least he would be able to check in on his protégé periodically. Though he still banked on the fact that she would develop a relationship with someone (Alice was the frontrunner); ten months was adequate time for an irrevocable attachment to form.
Then Carlisle leaned back, hands apart, with a smirk curving his pale lips.
"Why are you suddenly so interested in whether or not Sophie stays? You've been apathetic since her arrival. She is nothing more than a necessary responsibility, like school." Carlisle didn't need empathy, telepathy, or clairvoyance to be intuitive, and more startling, accurate. "Are you growing attached?"
Edward's hands, which had relaxed during the conversation, clenched in frustration once more. Could he confute Carlisle's claim? The emotions elicited from Sophie's revelation were undeniable, and source less. And was he not reacting in an irrational manner to the news? His obligation was for a year. Afterwards, Sophie was accountable for herself—even if she stayed.
"By attached, you mean plutonic, like I have with my siblings, then yes. Any other form of attachment in not feasible," Edward answered after a stretch of silence. With hands at his sides, Edward rose from the chair to leave.
In the doorway, Carlisle's voice caught him. "If it's any consolation, we are still human at heart, and inclined to our social needs. We are the only ones of our kind Sophie knows of."
He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and shut the door behind him. After trekking upstairs to the third floor, Edward paused before the closed door separating Sophie's room from the rest of the house. He stared at the door, detached from the world around him.
Carlisle's question echoed in his ear.
This time, he had no answer.
Featured Song: "Six Feet Under The Stars" by All Time Low