*deep breath* It's over. A done deal. C'est fini. This is the last chapter, my friends. I don't even know what to say here, so I'll just… do this.

I thank you all dearly from the deepest, darkest chambers of my heart for staying with this fic and supporting it for so long. I honestly can't express my gratitude enough. Sure, it's just a mere fanfiction, but the fact that all of you kept with it so loyally really does make my heart swell. You're all amazing and this fic would have been far from a success if it weren't for all of your support and loyalty.

And Thorfaxic, you know how much I love you, probably because I'm damned into doing so. XD But apart from that, you're amazing also. You're my fantastic beta and best friend, and I can't thank you enough, either. I LOVE YOU!

Okay, okay. Enough of the sappy stuff, until I burst into tears because the fact that this is over will finally sink in. So while I blow through an entire box of tissues, enjoy the final chapter of Dry Ice! :D

Esme Platt

Darkness. Every time I tried to look at what was going on around me or each attempt I made to peel open my eyelids, the world was enveloped in a sea of black and red. The stab wound that penetrated the middle of my abdomen sent a dull yet splitting pain through every nerve of my body, weakening and nearly canceling out every one of my senses – every one except for taste. I could still taste the overwhelming, salty blood that flooded inside my mouth, spilling out of the corners before trickling slowly down my jawline. All of the wavelengths of sound that danced around my ears had faded to a dull buzz, teasing and tricking me into falling deeper beneath the surface and into the jaws of pure hell. Just as I felt that it was over, that I had finally lost the battle, the room suddenly started to shake for a few split seconds as if something had forcefully been shoved into the wall. Once the vibrating had ceased, there was silence – or at least it was silent to me – that fell over the area, the only audible sound was the one of the blood pounding through my ears. The heavy silence seemed to drag itself onward for ages, the pressure of the air feeling as if it were a paperweight pinning me to the floor. I could have sworn that I felt something – another person, maybe – lean in over my crumpled body, sending a tremor of dread through my nerves in fear that the being could be my father. There was a brief, tingling sensation of what felt like breath on the side of my throat, though that could have been my swaying, half-conscious imagination toying with my mind.

Then, burning.

It began in the right side of my neck, the exact spot that the breath had tickled before. At an agonizingly sluggish pace, it began to spread downwards, enveloping my limbs and the whole of my torso in blazing hot fire. Is this hell? I could feel a wail of pain building in my throat and struggled to keep my mouth shut – there was no use in screaming and making a fool of myself for whoever was around in this realm that I had been pulled into. Each breath that I took stung my airways and set my lungs ablaze, so I instead settled for holding my breath as long as I could resist. At last it seemed as though my entire being had gone numb, the fire ceasing to burn in certain obscure areas. I'd finally begun to release the tension in my muscles, but before I could manage to move any of my limbs or even my fingertips, the burning flared up once more, intensified by one hundred. Eventually I gave into the agony, shamefully allowing the piercing scream to rip from my throat and into the ears of whoever was around to hear it – if anyone at all. It felt like my eyelids had pulled open, but nothing greeted my vision on the other side. The environment was devoid of any like of comfort, keeping my attention focused on the thousand degree flames that twisted and lapped through my veins.

Yes, I was definitely in hell.

# #

At last, everything seemed to have finally come to an end. The scorching fire had at last been extinguished, my breathing slowing to a rather normal pattern while my muscles released their pent-up tension. I simply laid on whatever surface I had been placed on for the next few moments, feeling almost afraid of opening my eyelids in fear of what I would find on the other side. Instead I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into the skin of my palms, waiting to feel some sort of pain from the gesture.

Nothing.

I must be dead. I let my fingers fall limp before subtly inhaling a deep breath, preparing to open my eyes to the possibly unfamiliar world before me. At first I only dared to let them open into small slits, shielding my eyes from the early morning light shed throughout the environment. I managed to pull myself into a half-sitting position, noticing that the surface beneath my hands was not the concrete floor of a car garage, but the soft microfiber of a couch cushion in somebody's home. Though my surroundings were dim, my now wide open eyes could pick up absolutely everything. I wasn't sure if it was the way the light hit it, but I could make out every fleck of dust that floated across the room and every stitch in the fabric of the sofa; it was like everything had suddenly been enlarged in hopes that it would finally be noticed. Even the slightest nuisances were breathtaking from this perspective.

"You're awake." To my surprise, I barely flinched as the soft voice suddenly disturbed the silence. In fact, I was much too intent on the clarity of the sound; why was everything all of a sudden so clear, so pure? "That took longer than expected, I was afraid you weren't going to come to."

I turned my head towards the voice, brushing a stray lock of hair from my eyes. He was a silhouette against the light, his lean form standing at least a head taller than my own. I couldn't quite decipher his appearance yet despite my oddly renewed vision, but his build and mannerisms seemed strangely familiar. "How long was I out?"

"Since Thursday," the voice replied.

"And today is…?"

"It's about six AM on Monday." Three days? I'd been unconscious for three entire days?

"I was out for that long? Why?" I inquired, swinging my legs off the sofa to straighten my posture.

"You were." He finally stepped away from the window, allowing a small amount of light to be shed on his face. "The reason might… take quite a bit of explaining."

"Well," I began, folding my hands in my lap, "I'm not going anywhere." The man nimbly ran his fingers through his hair before taking a seat beside me, keeping a few inches radius between our bodies. For a few moments, I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, examining the elaborate patterns in the smooth finish of the wood. It wasn't until he touched my arm that I finally looked over at the being next to me, mentally kicking myself for failing to recognize him sooner. My expression must have been quite a sight, because a small smile slowly spread across his face upon looking me straight in the eyes.

"Long time, no see," he murmured, neglecting to remove his hand from my arm. Dumbfounded, I said nothing within the several minutes to come, letting his touch linger on my skin. Once again, he'd simply appeared – where was he a few weeks, a few months ago? Where was he during the time that I really needed him?

"Where have you been, Carlisle?" My low yet cutting tone immediately dissipated the smile that had overtaken his face, his features remolding into a forehead lined with concern and eyebrows furrowed in what looked quite like confusion.

"That, um…" he let the sentence trail off as his eyes flickered away from mine for a minute, suddenly becoming enthralled in the newspaper that was scattered across the coffee table. "… that's all part of the entire explanation." I gave him the signal to begin explaining in the form of a nod, gently leaning my back against the sofa cushion. Carlisle pulled his hand back from my skin, clasping his fingers together while he inhaled deeply, hesitating before he began.

I sat and waited for his voice to break the silence for what felt like hours, my gaze fixed on his body while his eyes were glued to his hands. I was just about to speak myself when his faint voice suddenly interrupted, "May I first ask you why exactly you met your father at that garage? Surely you know that he could have killed you, Esme." Now it was my turn to look away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I was aware of that, yes," I whispered in response, "I'd just rather that I go than Alice. I know that she would have, so I had to make sure that she was safe first."

"That's understandable." I looked up at him as he said this, hopeful that he wouldn't join my younger sister in scolding me for my act of stupidity. He cracked a slight smile as he noticed my gaze, but it disappeared a moment later. "But didn't you think to just run instead?" I nodded in response, somehow finding the courage to keep my eyes off of the floor.

"Yeah. I did, but then I reconsidered – as terrible as he is, my father isn't a stupid man. I know that he'd be able to find us anyway." I paused, giving in and letting my eyes slip away from his. "I know, it would have been safer to run for all… three… of us." Absentmindedly, my palm placed itself on my lower abdomen, the sudden flatness going unnoticed for a few split seconds. It took a few seconds before it hit me that, for one, I'd neglected to ever mention to Carlisle that I'd been carrying his child, and two, that it looked and felt like said child was no longer inside of me. My other hand joined the first on top of my stomach, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?" My voice was barely above a whisper in an attempt to keep my sudden trepidation hidden.

"Are you all right?" Carlisle's voice managed to soothe my consternation ever so slightly as his hand laid gently on my shoulder, his fingers gently massaging the area. Drawing in a shaky breath, I responded with a curt nod, unsure of whether or not I still had the ability to speak at this point. "You're sure?"

"You knew, didn't you?" It wasn't much of a question, but a statement. My fingers abandoned their place to twine themselves together in my lap as I stared at his face, waiting for a reply.

"Did I know about what?" I couldn't quite decipher whether or not he was being honest playing dumb – the true glint of puzzlement in his eyes seemed much too believable.

"Don't play games with me, Carlisle. You had to know. If you really found me three days ago like you said, it was blatantly obvious that I am – was – pregnant." I hesitated, my fingers kneading into my palms. "What happened?" It was then that I defeated him, his shoulders slouching down as he stifled a short sigh.

"Fine, you were right. I did know, but not for long. I only figured it out shortly before it was, well… you know, gone." He reached toward my hand, laying his fingers over my tightly clasped ones once he figured that he wouldn't be able to separate them. "Now, before you say anything, I want to point out that there was nothing I could –

"There was nothing you could do. Of course there wasn't. That's what they all say." He opened his mouth to reply, but I continued to speak anyways. "You didn't even try?"

Before I could say anything more, he laid his other hand on the side of my face, his fingers threaded through my hair. "Esme, hear me out. Please." When he was assured that I was going to stay quiet, he inhaled slowly and began to speak once more. "I wouldn't lie to you. I honestly admit that there was nothing I could possibly do. It was over less than a minute before I was even aware of it. The only reason I did what I did was because I knew that there wasn't anything for me to do to help."

Puzzled, I raised one eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'did what you did'? What did you do?" The corner of his mouth curved upwards in a tiny smile for a split second before he noticed my rather demanding expression.

"Surely you feel at least a little bit different from three days ago," he replied, his hand gently removing itself from its place on my cheek.

"No shit, Sherlock." My voice was acidic, so much that I almost made myself flinch.

"That's not what I meant, Esme." He gave me a knowing look, almost silently scolding me for failing to recognize his point. "Here, come with me." Pulling himself to a standing position, he held out his hand for mine. I completely disregarded his offer and stood up as well, stuffing both my hands in the pockets of my jeans. He simply shrugged it off, his fingers lightly grazing the bare skin of my arm as he led me towards a small, framed mirror on the opposite side of the room. Gesturing towards the reflective surface, he stepped aside to let me forward, setting his hand on my shoulder once more. I huffed, rolling my eyes before skeptically gazing back at the reflection staring me straight in the face.

I could have sworn that the expression worn on my face was one of vexation, but the face that greeted me on the other side said much different. The skin that stretched over her bones was a ghastly shade of white, not a blemish to be found. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, a brilliant shade of caramel that could only be suitable for a fairy tale – but the sight was barely able to be considered a happy-ending fantasy. The reflection's irises were a deep, menacing shade of scarlet, the vibrant colour only peeking around the edges of the pupils dilated to five times their size. She simply stared back at me, mirroring every blink of my eyes and every twitch of my muscles.

This was not my reflection. This was the face of a monster.

"What did you do to me?" I repeated lowly, the lips of the monster in the mirror in perfect synchronization with my own. Carlisle's hand slipped off my shoulder, falling limply at his side.

"I-I…" he stammered, obviously at a loss for some sort of rational explanation. "You were going to die, Esme, I couldn't… I couldn't let that happen."

"You didn't answer my question. What did you do?" I turned around to face him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "You could 'help' me but not our baby? That was our child, Carlisle, our own flesh and blood. Why would you choose me, just a person you know, over that?"

"The child was gone before I could have done anything in the first place," he replied softly. "The damage was done. He or she was broken beyond repair." He apprehensively ran his fingers through his rather tousled hair before leaning against the back of the couch, chewing on his bottom lip. "But to answer your question, I'm just going to put it bluntly rather than jumping around it with my words: vampires."

"Seriously?" I retorted sarcastically. "What are you smoking?"

Carlisle blinked and shook his head sadly, probably internally rolling his eyes. "Nothing, Esme. I'm not smoking anything. I'm telling you the truth. Look at yourself; look at me. Do we honestly look like regular human beings to you?" I glanced over my shoulder at the mirror once more, the deep yet vibrant shade of scarlet glinting in the reflected light. I then looked back at Carlisle, whose eyes, I now noticed for the first time, were a fierce shade of ocher – only a few shades darker than his head of brilliant blonde hair. He caught sight of my curious gaze and forced a small smile, shrugging his shoulders in a sort of 'I told you so' manner. I then lowered my head to examine the skin of my arm; I'd always been quite pale my entire life, but never this pale.

"This has to be some kind of joke," I muttered, exhaling heavily from my nose. "This is ridiculous, Carlisle. This is all just some prank – admit it. It's one hell of a good one, I'll give you that, but there's no way that it's anything but a sham." He had no reply, simply staring incredulously at me before taking my hand in his to lead me into the kitchen. I had to admit that the long lost sensation of his fingers wrapped around mine was a nice one to finally revisit, but it ended abruptly a moment later when he dropped my hand to sift through the drawers.

"What must I do to make you believe me, Esme?" he murmured rhetorically, finally finding what he had been looking for. I peered around his shoulder to attempt to make out what the object was, catching sight of a fragment of light that glinted off of the silver. His eyes swept over what I assumed was a blade for a minute before he turned to face me, holding the object that I now recognized to be a large knife out for me to see.

"What do you plan on doing with that?" I inquired, sizing up the deadly blade.

"I'm going to prove to you that what I'm saying is true," he responded matter-of-factly, pushing the sleeve of his shirt a little further up his arm, exposing the skin. He gripped the handle of the knife in his opposite hand as he pressed the edge onto the pale skin of his forearm, his muscles hardening with the amount of force he applied. "Now, I want you to take the knife and drag it across my arm." I curtly shook my head 'no' and took a step back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"No," I said, my voice trembling. My eyes were fixed on the glistening blade, but my mind forced me back into the past, to those five years ago in the town park. Carlisle and I, alone by the picnic table, our first kiss interrupted by an unwelcome visitor and the crack of a gun. His blood staining my hand and soaking through his hair, the endless months spent in the hospital by his bedside. No, I couldn't hurt him again. I couldn't bear to see his blood.

"Esme, you're not going to hurt me. That's what I'm trying to show you," he assured me softly, gesturing for me to step forward. "Please. I promise." I hesitated for a couple of seconds before tentatively stepping forward, extending my arm to take a grip on the handle. I placed my hand on top of his, wrapping my fingers around it as tightly as I could manage. Slowly, I began pulling the knife towards myself, dragging the razor-sharp blade across his skin. I had squeezed my eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to keep his blood from clouding my vision as I pulled, nearly chewing through my bottom lip in the process. "Open your eyes," Carlisle's faint voice instructed, "you need to see this." Hesitantly, I peeled open my eyelids, setting my gaze on the blade that hadn't even made a mark on his skin. I applied more force to the knife, pressing it as hard as I could manage against his arm, and strangely enough, I didn't even grimace in effort as my fingers gripped the handle harder than what I would have thought possible. My mouth needlessly grimaced in effort as I tried to make even the slightest mark in his arm, but suddenly, the plastic handle of the knife crumbled in my hands, pieces crumbling into dust while other strips of plastic and metal drifted to the floor. I watched the pieces as they settled on the linoleum before prying open my fingers, letting the dust slip out of my palm and pile on top of the other remaining remnants. It felt as if my jaw dropped to the floor as I stared at my hand, flexing my fingers in and out of a fist. I then looked back at Carlisle to find him staring back at me with a small smile plastered across his face, his bare arm still held out for me to see.

"What just happened?" I asked plainly, gesturing towards the pile of dust with my eyes. Carlisle pulled his sleeve back down and stepped forward, bending down to scoop some of the dust into his hand.

"You broke it," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "With sheer strength. It's part of what we are; super strength and invincibility to an extent. That's also why my arm isn't even scathed in the slightest." He took a few steps forward and extended his hands towards the metal door handle of the refrigerator, extending his hands towards it to wrap his fingers around the chrome bar. He slowly twisted his wrist to the side, the metal straining against his grip as it bent to the side before eventually breaking off with a snap, a couple small shards of chrome falling to the floor a couple feet away from the knife's dust pile. Carlisle turned around to face me, leaning his back against the fridge.

"Do you have any inkling of belief in this now?" he questioned, twirling the fridge handle effortlessly between his fingers.

"Well, it's definitely out of the ordinary," I responded, my gaze flickering from the fridge handle to the pile of dust. "Not something you see every day, nor does it seem… human. I just – I just can't see how any of this is real, Carlisle. It's insane. I mean, really, vampires? How can that even hold any merit?"

"Would I lie to you, Esme?" He gently set the fridge handle on the counter, keeping his gaze fixed on me as his hand lightly trailed down my arm. I rested my shoulder against the wall, loosely crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'd like to think that you wouldn't." I refused to lift my gaze to his, suddenly becoming fascinated with the patterns on the kitchen floor. "But I'm not sure if I can believe that."

"Why not?"

I inhaled a slightly shaky breath, sliding off the wall as I took a step forward. I reached toward his right hand that rested against his leg, taking it lightly into my own. "Those five years ago, Carlisle, when you left with your father. You said, you promised, that you'd come back as soon as you graduated high school." I paused for a moment, chewing on my lower lip. "And you didn't." He gave my fingers a squeeze, removing his other hand from his pocket to gently take hold of my elbow.

"As much as I'd like to say that it's not my fault, I can't. I know that I hurt you, Esme, and I regret that. I should have come back, but I let myself get too caught up in other things and…" He hesitated for a brief moment, "and I don't want that to ever happen again. That's part of why I decided to change you, to give you this life. I know that by turning you, I could keep you with me; though only if you wish to stay." Both of his hands slid away from their contact with my body, his fingers gripping the counter behind him as he leaned back onto it. "I understand if you don't want to forgive me," he said softly, his irises visibly darkening with emotion. I stood my ground for a second, exhaling briefly through my nose. Stepping over and around the pile of dust, I made my way over to his side, leaning my hip against the edge of the kitchen counter. He looked down at me as I rested my elbow on the rather chilly surface, and I couldn't help but crack a tiny half-smile.

"You know, if Alice were here, she'd tell me not to forgive you," I halfheartedly laughed sarcastically. "But that's Alice, a fourteen year old girl with no idea what love even is. Now that I think of it, she's just like I was. After my mother passed, I never thought I'd ever find the meaning of it, let alone love itself, nor did I think I'd ever know how to forgive. Everything from then on out just enforced those two ideas, and I was positive that I'd die old and alone, surrounded by cats." I smiled briefly again. "Then I met you. I shied away at first; not because I didn't like you, because I was afraid. I was afraid that by acting on what I saw in you, that it would shatter everything I thought I had already assured myself of. I didn't want to suddenly be thrown into some sort of mess, like those scenarios you see in the movies when the girl is sure that she'll never find someone, then she does and everything gets flip-flopped. But then after that night in the forest and the day at the cliff and even everything after that, I realized this said mess had already started a long time ago. It started because I said that I didn't want it, and avoiding it just made it happen. And, you know, Carlisle, you and I both know that we've put ourselves through a lot in these past five or so years, despite whether or not we were even together at the time. Many people would say that they'd change those things if they were in our position, but I can honestly say that I wouldn't. I always told myself that I didn't want the mess that comes with love and relationships, but I guess it took that inevitable mess to make me realize that it's what I needed. I love you, Carlisle. And with love comes forgiveness." I removed my arm from the ledge, straightening my posture as I awaited his response, if he were to even give one at all. For a couple lifelong moments, he just stared at me, his fingers gently kneading his palms. I could detect a hint of a grateful smile at the corner of his mouth, and just as I was about to say something more, he caught me completely off guard as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It started out softly at first, then grew more intense as the moments wore on. Before either of us realized it, my fingers were tangled in his silky hair and his in mine, the two of us bound together as if we were glue. His hands slid downwards to rest around my waist when we finally broke apart, our foreheads tenderly pressing against one another. We both stood in blissful silence for what felt like a golden millennium, angelic smiles gracing our lips as we breathed in each other's air.

"I love you, too," Carlisle murmured, leaning his back against the slab of wall that jutted out behind him. I grinned and pulled my head away from his, resting my cheek on his shoulder. I felt his fingers tracing lazy circles into my back and let my eyes fall shut for a couple seconds, before his soft voice interrupted out peaceful moment. "Esme? May I ask you something?" I lifted my head from his shoulder, giving him a slight nod.

"Of course. Ask away," I replied, casually wrapping my arms around his neck. He shifted his weight onto his right foot, somewhat nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object that I couldn't yet decipher. He placed a soft kiss on my cheek before letting his other hand fall from my waist. I watched and waited in curiosity, my eyes grazing his every move. He gave me a tentative smile before he took both of my hands in his and dropped to one knee.

At that point, I knew in my mind exactly what he planned to ask, and I knew for sure that my answer would be nothing less of a yes.

"Esme Platt," he began, his voice not wavering in the slightest as his soft golden eyes pored into my own. "Will you marry me?"