From Chapter 25:

Edward! What have you done?

CPOV

He raised an eyebrow as he continued to dig through the pack, finding Esme's teapot and unwrapping it carefully. Either he thought the answer was obvious, or he thought it didn't concern me, which only made me angrier. Had he killed Charles? Had he drunk from Charles?

Edward glared at me pointedly, his golden eyes narrow. No, of course he hadn't drunk from Charles. But he had something to do with his death, despite what the newspaper said. Despite my rules.

"You know what he was, what he did to her," Edward whispered harshly.

I swallowed. Of course I did. Perhaps not so thoroughly or viscerally as Edward knew, but I'd heard sufficient details to be driven nearly mad, and he was well aware of it. He had seen enough of my time alone with Esme to know what she'd told me, and how I'd reacted. And he knew I'd had the same urge: I'd wanted to tear Charles limb from limb.

"A little hypocritical of you to chastise me, then, don't you think?" he hissed.

For a fraction of a second I wondered if he had torn Charles apart, and if it had been satisfying, and I was actually envious that he'd been the one to do it when I should have... but I quickly stomped that feeling down, ashamed he'd seen such desire in me.

Thinking something and acting on it are two very different things, Edward. We are not monsters, despite our race. We are civilized, and…

"He wasn't. Civilized men don't rape their wives."

His blunt words stung me, as did the passion behind them. And he was right; Charles was not civilized. But murder… it went even beyond an eye for an eye. And Charles was no threat to us in Columbus. Why pursue him? I knew I'd shown the same desire for vengeance, but violence was no way forward, no example to set. Even now, I could hear Esme in the kitchen, moving the kettle onto the stove and lighting it, happy and safe. That was the way forward: keeping her safe, making her understand that I would do anything for her happiness.

He scowled and shook his head in clear disgust. "What do you think I was doing?" he whispered harshly.

You think killing Charles was necessary for Esme's happiness? I think it's more likely that you just wanted to exact revenge after everything you've been forced to witness. I even understand the desire, Edward, but I can't condone-

"You understand nothing!"

"What's going on?" Esme's voice cut across our thoughts, and we both looked at her sheepishly. "Are you arguing?"

"N-"

"Yes," Edward's voice was louder than mine.

"But you two never fight."

So you can hear us, I thought, and Edward looked sideways at me and smirked in spite of himself. He resumed unwrapping Esme's teapot.

"What can you possibly have to argue about? Edward just got home!"

Neither of us spoke, but it was more obvious in my case since Edward's hands were busy and his eyes were down, whereas I was just standing, looking like a child caught where he shouldn't be. My hands opened slightly, conciliatorily, as I fumbled for something to say.

"Is it about me? Is that why you're so quiet? Is it something to do with me?"

"N-" I started.

"Yes," Edward shot me a look.

Esme put her hands on her hips and glared at us both. "You can't hide things from me, you know. I may not have Edward's gift, but I'll figure it out. And you shouldn't anyway. I'm not a child, or even a newborn, and I'm not a patient," she said pointedly to me. "I deserve to know what's going on."

I sighed, scrubbing my hand over my face. She was right, I supposed. I wanted to protect her from any and every potential source of pain, especially relating to even the mention of Charles, but she was a modern woman. She wouldn't like being treated the way… well the way I'd seen women treated for over 200 years. That would take some getting used to.

"We aren't fighting about you, Esme, but we are… discussing… something that relates to you."

I handed her the newspaper, and her eyes widened when she saw the name on the obituary. As she read, I wished I had Edward's gift and could hear her reaction as she read. He set down the teapot in anticipation of her reaction, his face grim as her brow furrowed...

"He's dead?" she whispered, looking up at Edward.

He gave her a small nod. "You're a widow now, Esme — in truth this time, not just in spirit."

Her eyes closed and she let her head drop back, almost as though she were overwhelmed with the knowledge, but there was no mistaking the relief that washed through her expression. And then, almost faster than I could see, her arms were around Edward's neck, and she was speaking softly.

"Did you… no, don't answer that. I don't want to know." She took several breaths, her eyes squeezed tight. "Thank you for bringing this."

His eyes darted to me for just a moment as he answered her, "He had more enemies than just me, Esme. He was not a good man, and now you are free of him, utterly and completely."

She pulled back and searched his face, as if trying to see what he wasn't telling her. "So, those four men…"

"As it says, he was seen forcibly leaving the bar with them, and he was found dead in the adjacent alley the next morning."

"And no one heard anything?"

Edward cocked his head, answering carefully. "No one who was willing to help him."

She hugged him again, tightly. So many emotions were playing across her face that I could hardly recognize them: relief, certainly, but pain, concern and love were also there. She took a shuddering breath and whispered, "I'm sorry you ever had to know about him, but thank you."

His arms slid around her back and he returned her embrace firmly and then dropped his arms. The kettle started to whistle in the kitchen.

Esme stepped back from him, keeping her hands on his shoulders and giving them an affectionate squeeze. Edward smiled and handed her the teapot while she wiped her face as if there were tears. She started to turn toward the kitchen when Edward said, " I saw one other person while there, Esme."

She turned to give him a questioning look.

"Rachel Carmichael."

The teapot slipped from her hands and Edward lunged to catch it.

"I have got to stop doing that," he muttered under his breath.

"Rachel?"

He nodded. "I visited her early one morning. I didn't want her to wonder her whole life if you were okay. I didn't tell her much: just that you were safe and happy… well, and about Colin." He paused for a moment, digging through the pack again. "She wrote you a letter," he said, handing it to her.

She took it, slowly, silently, and then crushed it to her chest, looking at Edward as if he were Father Christmas. And now I truly was jealous, that he could put that look on her face, but I was also humbled. Edward was focused on Esme's happiness; that letter, however risky procuring it might have been, was proof of that. And Esme's response to hearing of Charles's death wasn't what I'd expected either. However much I may disagree with his decisions, it appeared there was some wisdom behind them. I could only hope the price wouldn't be too high.

"I'm going to go read this," Esme said breathlessly.

"We'll take care of the kettle," Edward said as she disappeared outside in the direction of her tree. He headed to the kitchen, and I followed, my mind spinning with the implications of everything I'd seen.

"Edward?" I asked quietly enough that our conversation wouldn't carry to Esme.

He removed the kettle from the heat and braced himself against the counter, not turning to face me.

"Carlisle," he said, wary and weary.

"Did you kill Charles Evenson?"

He sighed. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! How could it not?"

He turned and glared at me, posture stiff. "I went there with the intent to kill him. Does it really matter whether or not someone else beat me to it?"

"So you didn't kill him?"

"I don't think I should tell you. I don't have to tell you everything, Carlisle. You're not my father. I understand your point of view. I just disagree, in this instance. And technically, I didn't break your rules. You say we can't drink from humans; we can't kill innocents. I did neither."

It was the weakest, most pathetic attempt to misconstrue my rules I'd ever heard, and it made me furious.

"And you can't deny this benefits you," he said before I could argue.

What? "You can't possibly claim that you did this for me. Not after you snuck off to do it."

"No. I did it for her," he pointed outside, "but it certainly doesn't hurt your cause if Esme thinks of herself as no longer married."

I froze. She'd considered herself still married to him? That monster who had mistreated her.

"You're always telling us we aren't dead, Carlisle. How exactly was she to be released from her vows?"

Rage bubbled up inexplicably, not toward Edward, but at the…world. And Edward's posture softened.

"I couldn't stand it, Carlisle. I understand your rules and I agree… most of the time. But not when it's him. Not with him still hurting her from a distance, despite the safety we try to provide." He looked away. "I'm not going to try to say I wasn't motivated at all by revenge, but I could have let it go, if she could have."

I looked at the ceiling, wishing I couldn't see his perspective. I let out a long steadying breath and looked at him, still a picture of defiance, practically daring me to tell him I disagreed. "Edward, the rules aren't just to protect humans; the rules are to protect you."

"From what, exactly?"

"The darkening of your soul."

"I don't have a soul."

I scrubbed my face. This was an old argument; I wished I hadn't brought it up. "Your psyche, then. Killing another being affects you. I should know; I've been forced to kill my own kind numerous times. The point is, each time you take a life, the next one becomes easier, until you end up like Aro, disregarding all life but your own and the few you value."

His expression darkened. "Trust me, Carlisle, my psyche is fine. I know more about Charles Evenson now than I ever learned from Esme, and I'm confident I did the world a favor. She was not his only victim. Seeing it through her memories was disturbing and surreal, but seeing it through his was just sickening. Anyway, it's not like I intend to make this a habit. And I didn't drink from him."

"But you did kill him?"

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, clearly trying to decide whether to tell me. "You really shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Carlisle."

"But I do want to know." My voice had become softer, and I could feel his defensiveness ease. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall, trying to be patient as he looked out the window and decided what to do. When he turned to me again, I nodded encouragingly.

"Everything in the obituary is accurate; it's just incomplete. Those men beat him. I watched from the darkness. When he was left for dead in the alley, Charles and I had a… conversation, part of which was physical. I stayed to make sure he died."

By bleeding out, slowly, I finished in my mind. It must have taken all of Edward's control not to drink.

"It was surprisingly easy, once I got over the initial shock of the scent. I just remembered who he was, and what he'd done. I didn't want him inside me. And I needed to stay in control, I needed him to understand."

Understand what?

"That he hadn't broken her. That she was thriving, happy, and he was the broken one."

I tried to imagine that exchange, and had to admit I felt some satisfaction from it, in spite of myself. I rubbed my brow, trying to collect my myriad thoughts and emotions and put them in some sort of order. Edward's control and focus on Esme had been exemplary, and made me proud, despite the horrible circumstances. And I had to acknowledge that his interference seemed to help Esme, whether I wished it so or not. Still, I hated what it might have meant for his innocence.

"Do you think he would have died if you hadn't been there?"

He shrugged. "Not as painfully as he should have," he muttered under his breath. "And we wouldn't have known. It wouldn't have helped Esme, or..."

My cause, I finished, and felt ashamed he'd seen as much of my feelings as he clearly had. My role as her mentor was becoming blurred as she grew out of her newborn stage and I found myself living with a lovely, creative, inquisitive, passionate…

"Okay, okay," he interrupted. "You need to get her through her blood training and combat before any more… like that…" he waved his hands, uncomfortable articulating what was in my mind. Just as well.

"You're right. We should start soon."

We went back to the living room and finished unpacking his purchases. Esme returned after an hour seeming more grounded than I'd ever seen her. She didn't share the contents of the letter, but she was serene now, and went through the items Edward brought for her. We found a place of honor in the library for her tea set, and she brewed herself a pot of Earl Grey, filling the house with the aromas of bergamot and pungent black tea. Seeing her so contented made me actually enjoy the scents.

When she came across the sketches Edward had brought from her attic, she gasped, and I moved to look over her shoulder.

"Is that…"

"Rachel," she finished. "And me, of course." She floated her hand over Rachel's face, emotion pouring off her body in waves. "I haven't been able to draw her. The details of her face are never right. Even when I was human and first moved here, I couldn't get her right, and now…"

"The faces fade first," I said, admiring the drawing.

"That's true," Edward added. "The same thing happened to me."

"We should frame this and hang it in the library, unless you'd rather have it in your bedroom."

"Really?" Esme looked at me with bright eyes.

"Of course. This is important, Esme. She was your friend. I'll make the frame myself, if you like. I'll bring some woods home tomorrow for you to choose from."

Edward looked at me fondly, and I smiled, remembering when I taught him to make the frames for his keepsakes. I was sad that Esme would have only the one.

"She belongs in the library, I think," Esme said, tracing her fingers along the paper. "I don't want her hidden away."

"I gave one to Rachel, too. The one of the two of you at the table with the flowers. She had it propped up on her desk when I left her. I thought it was important that you have this one. Her eyes look so warm. It's a good likeness, Esme. She still looks like that."

Esme beamed, and Edward gave her a quick one-armed hug, and then took his new sheet music to the piano. Soon music filled the house.

The autumn leaves reached their peak, and then began to fade and fall as we started Esme's training. She was a natural at combat. Climbing trees since childhood had given her a nimbleness and grace that were only heightened by her vampiric reflexes. And she was very keen to learn how to deflect an attack. However, none of that meant that it was easy or going well. One problem was me; where I'd had no problem attacking Edward during his training, I found it difficult to overcome my desire to protect Esme from Edward, much less attack her myself. And it didn't help that when I pinned her for the first time during training, she became nearly hysterical, harkening back to her first days with us as we trained her to hunt. She did not like being pinned or restrained, but especially when it was me looming over her. I quickly pulled her to standing and raised my hands in surrender, staying close but no longer touching her. After a second she walked toward me and buried her face in my chest, and my arms wrapped easily around her. I didn't need Edward's gift to realize what had been triggered.

"I'm sorry. I know this is important, but I don't like it when you attack me," she whispered in a faltering voice.

I stroked her hair. "I don't like it much either," I whispered into the top of her head, trying to sooth her. "I always enjoyed attacking Edward; it was satisfying trying to wipe that smirk off his face." She laughed into my chest and tightened her arms around me. "You are far too sweet for me to enjoy fighting with, Esme, but someday we may meet with someone who wants to take you from us, and I would feel much better knowing I'd done everything I could to protect you, and allow you to protect yourself." I pulled away from her so I could see her face, cupping it with both my hands as her hands fell to my waist. "Esme, I know you can do this. You have this… this passion, this fire that shows in so much of what you do. I'm sure you will make a fierce and glorious warrior, if you put your mind to it. I do not want to attack you, but I do want you protected, and sometimes with our kind, it comes down to a fight."

"Not just our kind."

"No," I admitted, "not just our kind. But with our kind, fights are often to the death. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

She looked into my eyes for a moment and then nodded, determination forming in her amber eyes.

"Ready to try again?"

She stepped back and dropped into a defensive crouch. I saw just the flash of her dimple and then she growled at me, making me smile momentarily before she pounced, and things quickly grew serious again. And though I couldn't say I pushed as hard as quickly as I had during Edward's training, I was able to teach her.

Edward had no such compunction about pushing Esme's limits, or encouraging her to push mine. He spurred her on, teasing her with comments about secrets he would tell if she didn't at least try to pin him to the ground. When he still didn't like the force of her attempts he took it out on me, disavowing her of the idea of holding back with a surprise attack that sent me sprawling through the air and against a tree. Esme let out a startled laugh, which was quickly extinguished when I launched a counter attack that made Edward's eyes grow wide as a "shit" escaped his mouth. Soon we were sparring the way we had during his training as Esme watched in awe. Then Edward gave her some sort of signal, glaring at her and nodding when she asked a silent question, and suddenly I was fighting them both off.

"Considering his gift, I think this might be more fair if it were Esme and me against Edward," I said as I struggled to keep them both at bay. Edward smirked but slowly withdrew from the fight, until Esme and I were sparring alone, much more ferociously than we ever had before. Edward merely called out suggestions from the sidelines as she tried to pin me.

And I was right; she was glorious in her fierceness. A bit clumsy in her attack still — it would be weeks or months before she could smoothly direct attacks that weren't obvious or easy to deflect — but her passion! She was like Medbh, the warrior queen of old, terrible in her beauty, lethal and intoxicating in her charm.

If combat training was going reasonably well, the same could not be said of blood training. We did it in a small clearing by the house; with Edward there to monitor her thoughts, it wasn't necessary to lock us all in a barn, as we'd done with his training. After discussing with her at length what was entailed, I started coming home from work once or twice a week with blood-soaked cloths. I just let Edward know mentally on the drive home whether I had one with me, and he had Esme waiting in the clearing.

The first time she had me pinned as was going for my throat within a second. Edward wrestled her off of me and held her back to his chest until the scent had faded enough for her mind to return to itself. We sat in the grass, huddled together as her throat burned. And though I knew it was necessary, I hated the pain it caused her. By the end of several weeks, she was pinning me and sniffing my neck, but retaining enough of her faculties that she did not try to bite me. However, progress seemed to plateau at this point. She was never able to resist advancing on me.

I was sitting in my chair by the fire on a pale October afternoon thinking about the troubles at work and trying not to look for glimpses of Esme's auburn hair as she sat in her tree, painting. Edward approached silently and watched me for a moment.

"This isn't working."

I turned to him, shock and worry building in my mind. Do you want to be more specific?

"Esme's training. I think I should be the one to hold the blood from now on."

We'd been over this. "She could hurt you, Edward. It's my responsibility; I should be the one shouldering the risk."

"But neither of you wants her to succeed."

What? Of course I want her to succeed…

"But you don't mind when she's hovering over your prone body," he said, a gentle accusation.

I might have blushed if it were still possible. I knew better than try to deny it… much. I didn't mind it when you pinned me either. It's all part of the training.

He snorted. "Nice try, Carlisle. I'd let the two of you flounder around, but it's starting to affect her confidence and self esteem that she can't manage to resist the blood after nearly two months. I suspect she's getting some other scents that wouldn't be present if she were really threatening a human. Why don't we try it with me as the human, and see if she can't do better?" The smirk on his face made me want to resist this new plan, but his eyes conveyed real concern. If my… attraction were causing me to emit scents that were compounding the draw of the blood, that was wholly unfair to Esme. And I couldn't really deny the likely truth of Edward's assertion. As much as I tried to control my thoughts when I was at home, there were other more visceral and subtle signs of my attraction that could not be controlled.

"I won't be able to respond as quickly if she lunges for you," I warned, knowing that his gift had spared me several bites.

"I'll manage."

"Just, don't run. If she gives chase, a whole other set of instincts come into play. You have to be docile—"

"—I know, Carlisle. I am a vampire, too, you know," he said, smiling.

I looked back at the paper that I'd abandoned reading a half hour ago. "I'd heard something to that effect. Okay. We'll try your suggestion. A change is often helpful, anyway. I'll bring some blood tomorrow in a sealed tube and you can soak a cloth in it once we're settled in the clearing."

He nodded, accepting the plan, and followed my thoughts as I deliberated on how to secure a vial for the blood when supplies were being watched so carefully. That thought led to the argument I'd had with Dr. Jones yesterday, and that thought led to remembering that Michael had been demoted last week for something that hadn't been his fault.

"It's getting worse," Edward said quietly.

I ran my hand over my face, trying to cleanse the thoughts from my mind as I might wash my face. I met his eyes, and knew he could see the weariness in mine. "It is. When it's finally time to leave this place, I'll be ready. I'm grateful it brought Esme into our lives, but the hospital is growing unbearable. The administration —"

Edward held up his hand abruptly, turning his head to the east.

"Esme, come inside the house, quickly!" he called.

"Edward?"

"Someone's coming."

"A human?" Esme asked as she entered the house. She took a deep breath and held it, waiting for his answer.

Edward was silent as the tension mounted in the room. Esme moved toward me as we both watched him stare out the window.

His eyes flickered to mine. "Not human. Like us. Well, a bit like us."

Human-drinkers, then. "How many?" I asked, alarm building in my mind as I looked at Esme, all paint splattered and lovely. We were not ready for this. Nowhere near ready for this.

"Just one. He — I think it's he — is confused by our scents, but he's making his way here."

"Do we know him?"

"I don't know him, and I don't recognize him from your memories. He doesn't recognize your scent."

"Do we have time to get positioned to meet him away from the house?"

Edward turned away again, concentrating, and then shook his head grimly.

"We'll make a united front on the porch, then. Show our strength in numbers, meet him from an elevated position." My head was spinning with tactics as I grabbed both their wrists and dragged them through the front door. From the porch I could smell him — definitely him — and something raged inside of me. Edward looked at me, worried. I could hear his steps on the brittle leaves of the surrounding forest. He wasn't hiding his approach, which either meant he did not want to be perceived as a threat, or he was supremely confident. I wouldn't know until I talked to him, assuming I was given that chance.

"Get behind me a bit," I whispered, maneuvering them close behind me on either side, Edward a bit more forward than Esme. It was important that this stranger understood that I was the one who spoke for our family, but I wanted Edward clearly visible, too. I would need his help, if this turned into a battle. I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye.

"He knows we're here," Edward whispered.

I released their wrists and tried to make myself taller — physically embody all the authority I could. Almost directly next to me, Edward crossed his arms over his chest. His face held less concern than concentration as he tried to understand our visitor. I felt Esme come closer, the front of her right shoulder touching the back of my left arm. It felt good to know exactly where she was without looking. The three of us watched and listened as the footsteps grew nearer. We could see movement now in the leaves and branches at the forest's edge. Esme's hand wrapped around my wrist, and I took it in my hand just as the stranger stepped into the clearing, taking a few steps beyond the trees.

He stopped abruptly and stared at us with bold, ruby eyes.

AN: Thanks to my beta, Coleen561, for her comments. Thank you so much for reading.