Sealing the Wounds

Chapter 59 from Carlisle's point of view.

He never quite figured out why she looked so beautiful when she was nervous.

Maybe it had something to do with the way she held herself, still inhumanly graceful in her cautiousness. She set one foot in front of the other, as if she were balancing on an invisible beam as she walked along her path. Her eyes darted from here to there, taking in every detail of her surroundings, measuring and calculating everything to be sure she was still safe.

All he wanted to do was comfort her, to show her that nothing would harm her and everything would be fine. The most he could do was drape an arm around her and guide her wherever she walked. She did not have to be alone when she walked in this world. Now it was in his power to walk with her.

"You're doing wonderfully so far, darling," he whispered to her in the dark as they came closer to the familiar buildings in the town. One could tell just from looking at Esme's face that she was seeing those buildings for the first time. Carlisle tried to see them through her eyes, the grandeur of a new scene unfolding before her in the darkness. He saw those buildings through the eyes of an appreciating artist and architect, and they never looked more beautiful to him.

She became tense as they started walking on the road, but he held her tighter and encouraged her to keep moving forward at a steady pace. Edward, however, was not so willing to be slow and steady. "The library is just around this corner, Esme. Follow me!"

Carlisle chided his son through his thoughts for being impatient, though he knew Edward's intentions were completely innocent. When Esme tried to lunge ahead, Carlisle gripped her around the waist and pulled her back against him. "Take your time. He'll wait for us."

He suppressed a small smile, knowing Edward had no other choice.

Esme seemed less reluctant to slow down than he'd expected. She let him hold her hand and took small steps up the sidewalk toward the edge of the towering buildings. Carlisle watched her fascinated expressions, vicariously soaking in her private wonder over things she had not seen with her vampire eyes. Her world had been limited to art and nature, a simple yet lavish existence that covered a few miles of grass, lake, and forest. For nearly a year, she witnessed no evidence of civilization. She had no contact with the human race beyond the one she had attacked in the woods, and no sense of community with anyone other than her own two male companions.

It wasn't until Esme stood on the street, staring up at the public library as if it were the Tower of Babel that Carlisle realized how significant this experience really was for her.

"Can we go inside the library?" she asked him, her eyes painfully bright. She may as well have been asking him to climb the very stairs to heaven. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Of course we're going inside," Edward answered for him.

Carlisle found it amusing how Edward had planned a secret back entrance solely for the purpose of making Esme feel more adventurous. They stuffed themselves into the cramp little staircase in the back hall of the library, shuffling awkwardly on their way up to the third floor. It was gloriously entertaining to watch Esme's expression change as soon as she reached the top of those stairs.

"Isn't it great?" Edward confirmed her thoughts, gesturing over the grand balcony to the floor far below.

Esme nodded breathlessly as her eyes wandered over the large windows and endless walls of books. She looked as if she could devour the entire room with just her eyes. Carlisle's smile widened.

He kept firm hold of her hand as she darted excitedly over to the books. She glided through the aisles with her free hand outstretched, feeling the spines of books as she went along. She peeked between the shelves and around corners as if she were exploring a dark Egyptian tomb. "This is amazing."

He smiled in secret, knowing they both found it amazing for different reasons.

She started to move more quickly when she found evidence of human presence. Around the corner was a table where humans would sit down and read or study together. In the center of the table was an oil lamp, which beckoned her fingers to reach out and touch it.

"It's almost like I had forgotten that humans still existed out here somewhere," she said. "The world seems so much more real to me now."

Carlisle's heart ached with familiarity, comparing her experience to his own when he rejoined the world. "It does make you feel more complete, doesn't it?" He captured her hand in his and pulled it away from the lamp.

Her head nestled against his neck in contentment. "All I need is you to feel complete, Carlisle."

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off the ground and carry her the rest of the way through the library.

Edward cut in before Carlisle could consider his change of plans. "Carlisle, you have to show Esme these paintings."

Esme's head collided with Carlisle's chin in her excitement to see the paintings Edward had mentioned. It was a challenge for Carlisle to keep hold of her hand this time. She was in danger of crumbling down walls when it came to seeing art.

When she finally stood in front of the four paintings, Esme managed to break away from Carlisle to take a closer look at the canvas with the white horse. He almost whimpered at the loss of contact, but a comforting stare from Edward calmed him down enough to give her some space. He could last a few seconds without holding her.

But damn, it was harder than he thought.

Edward stared at Esme while she stared at the painting, and as his smile grew, Carlisle recognized that whatever she was thinking of must have instigated that smile on his son's face. It tempted Carlisle endlessly to know what went on inside her mind, too. Feeling left out, Carlisle quickly made his way back over to his fiancée and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I'd love to take you to the museum, Esme." Hoping he could tempt her with descriptions of the place, he murmured into her ear, "Imagine all the art we could see together. There are paintings covering every wall, and countless sculptures in every room..."

It was instant inspiration. "Can we go there next?"

Carlisle voiced his concern through his thoughts, looking to Edward for confirmation. It's a long walk there, Edward. Can she handle it?

Edward shrugged cheerfully. "She's done fine so far. I'll be able to tell if there's someone within at least ten blocks of us." He quickly looked out the window to see if the coast was clear. "It's up to you."

With such a weighty decision resting on his shoulders, Carlisle's judgment was impaired by Esme's imploring eyes.

"Yes, we can go there tonight."

He was no better than a parent who spoiled his child.

Esme squealed in delight and made a dash for the stairs. Her fascination with the library was replaced by a ravishing hunger for more mysterious territory. Although he was frustrated by her breaking away from him yet again, her enthusiasm tickled him.

"Wait for us," he gently admonished her with a laugh as he finally caught up with her at the door.

Edward sniggered. "You looked like you were about to break this door down."

"I was not," Esme defended hotly.

One sour exchange seemed to have thrown her concentration off. Carlisle tried to keep her steady as they walked through the streets, but he could feel a distinct shift in her balance, a growing tension in her gait.

"You two didn't tell me the museum was all the way on the other side of town."

Carlisle felt like cowering when he heard the haunting bite of disappointment in her voice. The last thing he wanted was for this night not to live up to her expectations.

Apparently Edward wasn't as concerned about that. He whipped his head around in mild annoyance. "Enjoying the exercise?"

Carlisle attempted to soothe the situation by rubbing Esme's shoulders. Her breathing slowed, but only slightly. "Are we close?" she asked, a strain in her voice.

"Hold back for a few minutes. I think there may be someone..." Edward's uncertainty was unnerving.

Carlisle couldn't help the tone of fear that shuddered in his voice as he hissed his son's name in the dark. "Edward?"

He met Edward's eyes in a frightening flash, knowing there was something more serious just around the corner. "They're closer than I thought. Let's just get out of here."

Carlisle was seconds away from hoisting Esme over his shoulder when she started to lunge in the opposite direction. The scent of blood was faint for him, but it was sweet enough to drive her into a frenzy.

When he first saw that cloud of confusion cover her lovely eyes, he felt like he could have fallen to his knees and sobbed. Had he been such a fool, thinking she would make it through the night without a hitch on her first time? Had his expectations of her been too great?

His heart began to sink fast. No matter how loudly he called her name or how hard he tugged on her arms, she would not respond to him.

Strength did not come back to him immediately. He had to pray, and breathe deeply, and struggle to regain his power. Edward made valiant efforts to help him, but it was not without argument that they were able to work together to bring Esme back to a safe place.

She was still incredibly strong, but she did not fight their hold as harshly as she had the last time they had to restrain her. Carlisle could feel those tiny weaknesses now as she struggled. The thrashing of her arms was less powerful, the growls that formed in her throat were softer, and her fingers did not claw at him like they did before. He could almost see those concealed emotions in her gaze when she looked at him. There was a desperation there, a desperation to come back to the world.

As always, it broke his heart to see Esme so afraid of herself. But with every step they took farther away from town, she came closer to consciousness. He wished he could tell her how brave she was, how proud he was of her for trying even when everything seemed hopeless. But he knew she wouldn't understand. As long as she considered her efforts a failure, she would not listen to him when he praised her for what little progress she had made.

"Stay with us, Esme!" Edward said frantically as he worked to pull Esme up the hill. She still resisted, but her strength was surely waning as she lost track of the scents behind them.

Carlisle marveled at his son's voice, at how confident Edward sounded, even in his urgency. Carlisle wished he could say something to Esme, too, but his voice died before it even left his lips. He was so sure she wouldn't even hear him.

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he felt Esme's skin break beneath his nails. The last time he and Edward had dragged her away from a bleeding human, she hadn't been injured at all. Her skin was still hard as diamonds back then. The softening of her skin was one downfall of her maturation as a vampire. Carlisle hated that he could do nothing about the scratches he and Edward left on her arms and shoulders and neck. It was a necessary sacrifice until they at least reached the car.

To their surprise, Esme came to her senses much sooner than they'd expected.

At the top of the hill, she suddenly collapsed in their arms, and for an irrational second, Carlisle worried that she had actually died. He berated himself mentally for such a foolish thought, but took comfort in knowing it was natural to be concerned for the love of his life.

He knelt beside her in the grass, holding her hand tightly as he waited for any sign that she was alright. Just as he was beginning to panic, her pupils shrank to their normal size. She blinked once and sucked in a deep, clean breath, realizing the air was clear around her.

"What happened?" she cried, staring in horror down at her arm. Carlisle snatched her fingers before she could touch her wounded skin.

"There was...a struggle." He didn't know how else to explain it. He trusted she was smart enough to figure out the truth, but he hated that she still looked so frightened. She even jumped when Edward started the car.

"Try not to move too much, Esme," Carlisle said, trying desperately to regain some authority over the situation. "You'll be alright."

He lifted her off the ground, hoping she would let him carry her into the car, but she seemed able enough to walk on her own. The dark interior of the car was more welcoming than ever as he gave her a gentle push inside, while being mindful of her wounded flesh.

Once they were stuffed safely inside the back seat, Carlisle slammed the door shut behind them. Whimpering more from fear and uncertainty than pain, Esme fell into him, as if unable to support herself on her own. Carlisle immediately covered her with a protective arm and met his son's eyes in the rear view mirror.

Go as quickly as you can, Edward. Risk any damage to the car, if you must.

Edward's eyes lit up at his father's permission to break the speed limits. Carlisle wondered if the tires left trails of fire behind them as Edward drove. He only prayed that no one else would be driving this late at night.

Carlisle ran his fingers repeatedly through Esme's hair, whispering strings of reassurances all the way home. When Edward finally parked the car outside their house, Carlisle was surprised to see Esme looking much more balanced when she sat up.

"Are you hurting very much, Esme?" Edward asked before she even got out of the car. In a most uncharacteristic gesture, he carelessly dropped the ignition key onto the ground. Carlisle couldn't help but be mildly pleased at how concerned he was.

"She'll be alright, Edward," he assured his son, gleaning confidence from another man's worry. Without another word, Carlisle covered Esme's shoulders with his hands and began to steer her in the direction of the house.

Titillating masculine excitement stirred in his chest as he guided his helpless fiancée into his study. It reminded him a little of being back in the hospital; that feeling of restlessness that preceded a large surgery. In the face of mounting preparations, he was filled with a fluttery eagerness to immediately fix what was broken.

The first thing he did was turn on the lamp. A candle would have been nice, but that would have wasted time. Esme was frightened, and she was waiting for him to heal her.

He gently encouraged her to stand under the beam of warm lamplight as he studied her damaged skin. First he looked over her arm – soft, snow white and slender – covered in tiny nicks and scratches where her venom was pooling like iridescent purple paint. As he twisted her arm slowly around, his stomach churned when he saw the gashes on the even more delicate skin underneath. She shivered slightly when he ran his fingers over the scrapes.

"You're fine, darling," he whispered once, and tucked her hand inside of his own.

Before he took her outside, he reached into his desk drawer for his stethoscope. For some reason he felt the need to smuggle it out, as if he were stealing something that did not belong to him. It was not inappropriate for Esme to see, though he felt sheepish at the prospect of her recognizing it. He both dreaded and longed for the moment when her clever eyes would catch the sight of that stethoscope, half-hidden in his hand.

He knew she would be bound to notice it the moment he lifted her to sit upon the balustrade. She twitched when she felt it on her hip, and he defended himself by putting it on properly. The weight of the instrument fell with a comfortable thump around his neck. Like a soldier's best armor, it offered him a kind of protection and made him feel more powerful.

Esme's eyes glanced from his face to the stethoscope in confusion, but the smallest smile on her lips convinced him that she was just as fond of it as he was.

"For sentimental reasons," he explained, causing her smile to spread.

In removing his tie and unbuttoning his sweater vest, he hoped that his efforts were sage. Esme watched his hands intently, but he never took his eyes off her face. He saw the way her eyes sparkled dimly when he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. The night air was suddenly stifling, and he needed to free as much skin as possible to cool down the fire inside of him.

It didn't help at first. Esme looked up at him like the willing patient he had always fantasized her to be, the faint light from the lamp inside his study making her glow like a mirage. The raised welts on her skin were the only imperfection that distracted him. Clinical focus stripped him of his fantasies for a short while as he concentrated on her injured arms.

"Did I do this?" she suddenly asked, clearly worried for his answer.

"No," he said at once. He grazed his thumb over a long gash on her elbow as he spoke. "You resisted us when we tried to pull you back... It was unavoidable."

He knew deep down she would doubt his words, but he could only hope that his voice and touch could prove to her that he spoke the truth. He did not believe she was at fault for anything that had happened. But she certainly did, and she took it upon herself to sit before him in guilt-ridden tension while staring hopelessly at his face.

He could take it no more. Raising his eyes to hers, he knew looked just as guilty as she felt. "I'm sorry," he murmured. The pressure of his fingers lifted on her arm, and he just wanted to stoop down and kiss her all over her face.

She shook her head, politely refusing his apology. "You were only protecting me."

The urge to kiss her was replaced by an urge to comfort her with words, but he was at a loss for what to say. The situation was too delicate to risk handling when she was in such a state. There was work yet to be done.

"They burn," she reminded him with a shaky voice, her arm trembling as she looked down at the garish cuts and scrapes.

A quiet sense of empowerment came over Carlisle as he remembered his intentions. "Not for long."

Taking her slender arm in his hand, he lifted her sweet skin to his mouth and traced one jagged cut with his tongue. There was no feeling more satisfying than knowing he was taking pain away from Esme's body. The slick tickling sensation on the tip of his tongue as his venom mixed with hers made it even more pleasurable. Pride swelled inside of him as he released her newly healed arm, and she gaped at the flawless spot of skin.

"That's amazing," she said breathlessly.

He smiled at her. "Your own venom would have done the job just as well, but waiting out several hours of natural healing isn't very pleasant. Since it was my venom that created you, I have the power to seal your wounds instantaneously."

The pure wonder in Esme's eyes more closely resembled worship in that moment. He could have sworn by the way she lifted her shoulder, she had intended for her sleeve to drop off to the side. With her enchanting wiles, she had him wrapped around her little finger. Luckily for Esme, Carlisle didn't mind being her victim if it meant he could play the healer.

"Thank goodness we were already engaged when this happened, or else I might have burst," she sighed. Her body trembled as his tongue danced against the underside of her jaw, and he moaned happily in response. If he didn't keep himself in check, he was likely to start chewing on her poor neck at any moment. He couldn't bear to continue with just the tip of his tongue when his lips had so much more to offer. As an outlet for his passion, he indulged himself in slyly kissing her neck.

His ear tingled under her soft breath as she whispered, "But then I wonder, would you have offered me this same 'treatment' had I not been your fiancée?"

He pulled away so he could stare at her, so she could see the fire of sincerity in his eyes. "Esme, I would have offered you this treatment when you were still a homely human girl."

She gasped as if in shock. "Don't say things like that!" But he could feel her ankles softly digging into the backs of his knees as she said it.

He buried his face back into the side of her neck to hide his smile as he murmured, "It is the truth." Before he could kiss her again, he felt her small hands tugging gently at his hair. He lifted his head to look at her, stunned by her beauty and utter openness.

"All my wounds are gone, Carlisle."

Her words invigorated him all the more because he knew they were untrue. "I've not finished healing you quite yet," he said with conviction. The rest of her wounds, they both knew, were not visible to the naked eye. But they still ached for his attention, and he had promised to give everything of himself to help heal them.

She surrendered to his touch, allowing his hands to roam her body and his lips to bathe her skin. She was right about one thing. The wounds on her skin had all since disappeared... But he still licked away at her as if she were coated in honey.

So lost in his trance, Carlisle took a few seconds to realize that his hand had gone far off its intended course. Three fingers floated past Esme's neckline, and came into brief contact with the edge of her breast. He felt the strangest combination of feelings then – a surge of hatred for those three fingers for their audacity to violate her without her permission, but also an enthralling bravado in the hot pit of his stomach for taking initiative to explore past that unspoken boundary.

He was so overwhelmed by the mishap, that the touch itself was forgotten. Esme's reaction was now his only concern.

"Esme..." he cooed her name, his voice sweetened by desire. He waited for her admonishment, but it never came. Either she had never felt his deviant touch, or she had forgiven him the instant it happened.

It didn't matter. As he felt her weakening under his ministrations, he could not help but take advantage of the power she had given him. His fingers traced the smooth skin of her arm in awe, admiring his work of sealing her wounds. No evidence remained of her struggle, and that was how he would keep it.

He began to see stars dance before his eyes as he let his touch roam the curves and corners of her arms and shoulders. It was hard to believe there were so many places on her body he had yet to touch, and as he stared at her in the dusky blue light, all of those places seemed twice as tempting. One of her legs was fully exposed up to the middle of her thigh, and his eyes could not look away from it. His fingers continued swirling along her arms, but in his heated mind, he imagined he was really touching that leg. To make matters worse, it was her right leg – the leg she had broken as a human.

Though he sometimes fancied a permanent crookedness to her right leg, at this moment it looked nothing less than perfectly straight in his eyes. Her thigh looked slightly wider, pressed against the stone wall where she sat, but her knee looked even smaller than usual, round and stiff as it merged into her graceful calf. Then there was the plump spot of her ankle, and the dainty curve of her foot, her toes curled to a point on the very end. He licked his lips.

What he wouldn't give to have that leg wrapped fiercely around his waist. He imagined how her ankles would feel digging into his back instead of the backs of his knees. He nearly lost himself when he thought of how her soft thighs would cradle his firm hips as he pressed into her...

As he leaned over her in his fantasy, Esme suddenly fell to the arms of gravity. Carlisle caught his breath in alarm as he nearly lost his grip on her. Her breathing matched his, hard and shaky, as she stared into his darkening eyes.

Regaining his composure, he straightened up and summoned his breathing to slow. His hand covered the growing flames in his abdomen, protecting them from Esme's gaze, which he feared would fan them to an unbearable heat.

"The pain is gone now," she said, touching the spots on her neck where he had just kissed her.

He bent one finger and followed the line of her touch. "Good," he whispered.

"If it happens again..."

He firmly interrupted her. "It won't."

"But if it does, I want this again." She leaned into the wind and closed her eyes, wrapped in the arms of some unseen daydream. The splendor of her contentment and beauty captured Carlisle's heart. From the look on her face as she said this, he supposed he had done his job well.

"You don't need to be injured for this to happen again," he promised, his voice rough in a way that could no longer be helped. He would only ever want Esme to hear his voice this way. If anyone else, even Edward were to hear him speaking this way, Carlisle decided he would have to bury himself alive.

The flames inside of him rose to his chest, engulfing his fragile heart. He tried to steady himself, pressing one hand against Esme's hip. Her dress rustled coyly at his fingers' intrusion, and it awakened him to the danger of their closeness. So he backed away from her.

But he could still see the raging want in her amber eyes. He could still see the way her skin glistened in the soft lights, still moist from his excessive licking. She could have been standing out in the rain, and he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

Her lips parted, lovely and lush, but she said nothing. Instead she spoke with one extended hand, trailing her warm fingers up the side of his cheek. One day those warm fingers would journey to places they had never dreamed of before. One day, Esme would touch him everywhere.

"How I want you..." The words spilled from his lips, and before he could remind her of his promised abstinence, she captured him in her arms and kissed him passionately.

Her kiss was unexpected, but most certainly not unwelcome. What was more, he did not feel guilty to receive such a kiss before he'd made her his wife, as he worried he would. Perhaps kisses were necessary to purge the passion that plagued him from time to time. Whatever the case, wounded pride had never felt so good.

He grasped her hand as her lips released him, and he watched her eyes lower, mysteriously withdrawn. After a long, tense minute of watching her emotions surge over in silence, Carlisle welcomed Esme's arms as she reached up to him in a trembling embrace.

He wondered desperately what she was thinking of until she finally whispered her first hint, "It turns my stomach to knots."

He flinched. "What does?"

Her fingers clutched his shoulders. "What happened back there..."

"Do not dwell on it," he told her as he pulled her closer. "It is over now." If there was one thing Esme still needed to learn, it was to put the past behind her.

"I think it was more my anger that caused it than anything else," she began to explain, sounding rueful. "I was so desperate to prove to you and Edward that I could handle myself. When Edward said we needed to leave before I'd even had a chance, I became frustrated and I lost my composure."

Carlisle nodded in understanding, acknowledging her legitimate regret. "You will have your chance, Esme. But in the meantime, we do need to take all the precautions we see fit. Edward was only judging the situation based on what he thought you would be able to handle."

She sighed heavily and let her hands fall to her sides. "I know that. And I am so sorry I reacted that way. But I'm afraid I'll never be able to control my reactions. There are times when I want to be so...violent." She hissed the word under her breath as if it were blasphemy.

Carlisle had to smile a little at her insecurity. "That is completely natural for a vampire of your age, Esme."

"But shouldn't all of that have changed by now? I'm hardly a newborn anymore, Carlisle." Her impatience, as much as it killed him inside, was also terribly endearing.

"That may be true, but you are still a very young vampire," he pointed out. "Your emotional responses can be very powerful and uncontrollable, especially when you are facing a period of extreme change." He twirled one tendril of her hair around his finger and released it, watching as it coiled into a curl.

"Change like learning to be around humans?" she asked, her eyes distant. "Or like...marrying you?" She looked up at him, straight into his eyes, and he savored the feeling of being the center of her universe for a brief, precious moment.

"Perhaps a bit of both," he reasoned. "You have a lot on your mind these days, Esme. It can be challenging to take everything in at once."

Her lips turned down in a pout, and his fingers twitched with the need to touch them. "I just wish I had the patience to overcome my weaknesses," she said.

"You will acquire the patience, Esme. Some things don't happen overnight." He could have laughed at the irony of his words. "Actually, most things don't." Thinking back on how they fell in love, indeed. But his heart sank when he saw that she still wasn't convinced.

"Esme, did you swim often when you were human?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow, wondering where he was leading her now. "Yes..."

"Can you think back to a time when keeping your head above water required persistent effort, or else you would drown?"

He instantly imagined her swimming in a river as a rebellious teenager, and he had to hold back his grin. She nodded. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, imagine you are a human again, and you're treading water in the middle of a lake. You can hardly expect to keep your head above water all of the time. Sometimes you need to hold your breath and let yourself fall under for a few moments," he gestured, animating his metaphor in a way that would grab her attention. "If you try too hard to stay above the surface for too long, you'll only end up sinking. And I certainly don't want to see my fiancée lying at the bottom of the lake..."

His final line coaxed a helpless smile to her face, and he rejoiced at his victory.

"Lessons in buoyancy from Doctor Cullen," she quipped, a flirtatious glimmer in her eye.

"Take it from a man who swam the English Channel," he teased back.

He felt ten times taller when she placed her hands on his chest and whispered, "I'll take anything from that man."

And Carlisle hoped she meant it, because he had an endless list of things he wanted to give her.

-}0{-

Two days afterward, Carlisle went to church and prayed for Esme to see the light, to find the strength she sought to resist what frightened her in the world. Carlisle was used to waiting centuries for his prayers to be answered, so it came as quite a surprise when his prayers were answered almost overnight.

And so, in the end he had to swallow his own words of wisdom, but he thought they tasted rather sweet.

After her first successful day meeting humans in the town, he took her hand in his and walked with her, and he thought vividly in his mind that this could actually be real. She could be his wife, and he could be her husband. This was going to happen.

"Carlisle, You know what this means..."

He touched the ring on her finger as she whispered the fateful words, and no notion had ever given him so much hope.

"I can finally make you my wife."