NOTE: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters. The material is the intellectual property of its creator!

AN: Kleenex alert!

Oh and FYI, in case you don't visit my profile page when you get email alerts: The Cullen Bunch has been nominated for the Energize W.I.P Award for Most promising Twilight Fan Fic canon Thank you, to whoever nominated me :)

Chapter 25

Esme:

We stopped by Mike's office before leaving the building. I took Carlisle's pep-talk about courage to heart and reviled to Mike what was going on. To say that he was shocked was an understatement. When Carlisle told him that he was taking me to meet with a lawyer and then down to the police station to file a report, he seemed relieved.

"Don't worry about the girls, Esme," Mike assured me, "You take care of this, Jess and I will look after them. They're welcome to stay with us if you think Charles is watching the house."

"I'll let you know," I told him.

As we walked past the reception desk, Abigail flashed us a knowing smile then winked at me. The fastest way to spread a rumor around our office was to tell Aunt Abby; I was destined to be the subject of office gossip for sure now. Oh well, I thought as we entered the elevator, at least he was worth chattering about.

We exited the elevator on the garage level, stepping out into the subterranean world of concrete and parked cars. I instantly became nervous and froze in my tracks. When I arrived in Atlanta thirteen years ago, I spent the first year and a half constantly peering into shadows and looking over my shoulder just on the off chance that Charles might be there … waiting. The threats he made during our divorce were chilling, and I knew that he was more than capable of following through on them. I couldn't really say when I finally relaxed and accepted the possibility of a normal life, but that was over now.

"What is it," Carlisle insisted when I stopped dead in my tracks just outside the elevator doors.

The garage was quiet except for the constant hum of the ventilation fans, "What if he's down here … waiting?"

"I tend to doubt that," he dismissed, "But if he is, we should get to the car." He pointed to where his Mercedes was parked just a few yards away.

I felt much safer once we were in Carlisle's car. After checking his pone for the address of Aro's lawyer and plugging it into the GPS, we were on our way. Once out of the parking garage he made a brief call to the hospital to let them know an emergency had come up.

"I'm sorry for my heavy handed behavior earlier," he apologized, "I didn't mean to make you cry." He paused and sighed, "I'm rather new to … well that is, after Rebecca died I never thought … it's been quite a while since I've been in a relationship Esme."

"That makes two of us," I offered, "quite a steep learning curve isn't it?" When he chuckled I relaxed. "Uhm … you know, it wasn't you … that made me cry I mean."

He glanced over at me briefly and sadness clouded his sky blue eyes. "As I told you earlier, I see firsthand the tragic consequences of domestic violence. I can mend their broken bodies; that's the easy part. The brokenness on the inside, however … mending that …" he paused and griped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"I didn't realize that there was anything left to mend," I replied shaking my head. "I thought my life was pretty normal; great kids, a great job, a nice home in a quiet suburban neighborhood. I'd relegated Charles to a locked room in a dark dusty corner of my mental attic. But now he's back and … and it's like finding out your nice well-kept home is infested with termites."

Carlisle chuckled at my analogy and I found his laughter soothing. When Charles laughed like that at my comments, it was intended to be demeaning. It amazed me how different these two men were; why couldn't I have met a man like Carlisle instead of a brut.

Carlisle followed the complex set of directions given by the GPS until we were on the downtown connector headed north towards Ga.400. The lawyer's office was a little out of the way, he told me as we entered the express way, but he assured me that if Aro kept the man on retainer, then he was top notch. How I was supposed to afford a top notch attorney was beyond me, but I wasn't in the mood to argue the matter.

"Uhm, Esme," he began after driving in silence for a time. Carlisle had been thinking, I could tell from the look of extreme concentration I saw on his face every time I glanced over at him. "I, uhm …. Well, I … That is, I …" He was struggling for words to ask me a question and I felt sorry for him. "I realize that your life with Charles likely represents a painful chapter for you." His thoughts were coalescing, but he didn't look at all comfortable speaking them. "I don't mean to put you on the spot, my love, or dredge up unpleasant memories, but … well …"

"You want me to tell you about Charles," I mercifully supplied for him.

"Well, yes," he sighed. I could tell he was relieved. "But only what you feel comfortable discussing," he added, "I'm not foolish enough to think that you'll want to tell me every single detail of your life with your former husband … and, for that matter, I'm quite certain that I don't wish to know every single detail. But the man is threatening to kill me, and I would like to know a bit more about him."

"Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly, "I really don't like talking about him."

"I know honey," he reached over, took my hand in his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

I nodded and decided to start from the beginning. "Charles and I went to high school together. He played football and we were in the same graduating class, but I really didn't know him back then. He swore that he tried to talk to me, but I don't remember it that way.

"We both ended up going to the same university. He was an Engineering major on a football scholarship and I was studying Architecture on Pell Grant. Anyway, he and I had two classes together; first semester freshman English and American History. Two and a half weeks before midterms, he asked me if I would mind tutoring him … he wasn't doing well academically; he had to pass to play, and he had to play to keep his scholarship. Where I'm from in Ohio, neighbors help one another … so I said yes.

"With my help, he passed all his classes. I continued to tutor him in the spring, but the following fall he got into a few of engineering courses and I couldn't help him with those. By the end of his sophomore year, he was on academic probation. He flunked out the fall semester of his junior year.

"He called me from time to time and he held several different part-time jobs. In the fall of my senior year, his dad had a heart attack. Charles' father owned and operated a general contracting business in our town, and Charles went to work for his dad … you know, to take some of the strain off."

"Of, course," Carlisle replied politely.

"During my senior year, I had an internship with a local architectural firm; after graduation, they hired me full time. And, well … that's when …" I paused and looked uncomfortably at Carlisle.

When I didn't continue speaking he glanced over at me. "I know, sweetheart," he offered sympathetically, "You've done fine thus far, but if your uncomfortable going any further …"

"No it's not that," I interrupted his dismissal. "It's just that things get … complicated from here. They might get difficult for you to hear."

"I'll be fine," he told me, and flashed a reassuring smile to back up his statement. Then he added, "Take your time."

"A few months after I started working full time at the firm," I went on hesitantly, "Charles asked me out and we started dating. He was charming, funny, and kind … there wasn't a single hint of the monster that he would later become. We dated for almost a year before he asked me to marry him. I had no hesitation about saying yes."

I glanced over at him again to judge his reaction, he seemed calm. "Please continue," he urged when I remained silent too long, "if you're comfortable doing so."

"I got my first inkling that something might be … well, off, on our honeymoon. He kept insisting that, when we got back home, I could quit my job and stay home. When I told him I like working, and that I found a senses of personal and professional satisfaction in what I was doing … he became very upset. I didn't quit, of course, and that's when the verbal abuse started. It was stubble at first; cutting remarks in privet and then later on in front of our friends, unfounded complaints about the state of our home, and finally outright insults.

"Five months into our marriage, I became pregnant with our first child … and that's when the physical abuse started."

"He beat you while you were pregnant with Rosalie?" Carlisle voice could barely contain his outrage.

"I wasn't pregnant with Rose," I corrected sadly. Sometimes I still cried when I thought about the baby, so I turned my face to the window in case my emotions betrayed me. "A boy … our son … Christopher … he was still born. The doctors never said why … they told me it happens sometimes. But I knew better, Charles beat me while I carried him … he killed our baby."

"I'm sorry Esme," he whispered reverently as he took my hand again, "I'm so, so, sorry."

When I had my composure again I continued my story. "He was determined after that," my voice trembled as I spoke, "to get me pregnant again. The doctors said to wait a yea,r so my body could recover, but he didn't care. He forced himself on me whenever the mood struck him … whether I was willing and wanted it or not; most often it was not. It wasn't long before I was pregnant with Rose. The abuse didn't stop, but he was more careful when he hit me.

"After Rose was born I insisted on continuing to work when my maternity leave ended. It made Charles furious, he swore no child of his would go to daycare, so my mom stepped up and volunteered to keep Rose. Charles wasn't happy, but he couldn't say no to Grandma Edith. Within a year of Rose's birth I was pregnant with Alice. Nothing changed at home; if anything it got worse. Six months after Alice was born Charles' father died of a massive heart attack … he left his business to Charles. I thought that this would make him happy … finally happy … he was a business owner … he would make more money than his architect wife … he would be somebody. I couldn't have been more wrong.

"As he struggled to run his father's general contracting business, things got worse at home. Then I found out I was pregnant again … with Bella. Charles wanted me to have an abortion, but I refused." I looked over helplessly at Carlisle, "I'd already gone through losing a baby once, Carlisle ... I just couldn't ..."

"Of course not," he soothed gently, "I'm very glad that you didn't. The world is a better place with Bella in it."

His kind words brought a brief smile to my face and gave me the courage to finish my story. "I was just starting my second trimester and I'd come in to see Dr. Keith Green, my OB/GYN for a routine checkup. During the exam, he noticed the bruising from Charles' latest temper tantrum. He took me into his office and asked me about it … I couldn't hold back any longer and I told him everything. He saved my life that day … because of him, I took my girls and left. I went back home to mom and dad and filed for divorce from Charles."

He was silent for what seemed like an eternity and I was afraid that I told him too much. I found out, not long after my divorce, that most people don't really want to hear the sorted details of other folk's misery. But he had asked, I thought.

"Thank you, Esme" he finally said as we pulled into a parking lot in front of the lawyer's office. "It took a lot of courage for you to share your story with me. I know the telling of it wasn't easy; I could hear the anguish in your voice as you spoke." His car glided into a parking space, and he cut the engine before turning to look at me, "One day, if you like, I'll share my story with you."

"Yes, I'd like that," I replied quietly, "if you're comfortable with sharing it."

He smiled at me briefly. "Are you ready for this," he asked after a few minutes.

I shifted my gaze from Carlisle to the structure in front of me; it was a beautiful old classical revival building that, on any other day, I would have gushed over. Today however, it felt cold and imposing.

"I would really rather not do this," I told him honestly.

"I know, my love, but it must be done" he replied gravely.

This time I reached out and took his hand, "You can't let go," I insisted, "please promise me you won't."

"I won't Esme," he answered seriously then he chuckled as he revised his statement, "well, perhaps just long enough to get out of the car and open your door."

AN: This just seemed like the right time for Esme to tell her story to Carlisle. I couldn't remember if SM ever gave Esme's baby a name … so I gave him the name of my own lost child. I don't think she'd mind and I hope ya'll don't.