Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight :)


"Summer ends,

and Autumn comes,

and he who would have it otherwise

would have high tide always

and a full moon every night."

- Hal Borland -


Boundaries

BPOV

"What did you expect me to do?" Emmett thundered. "Just stand still and say nothing?"

Rosalie's sigh was accompanied with a quiet sneer, and she briefly tightened her hold of Emmett's huge arm. The small movement held both desperation and contentment, and I knew she was beyond happy to have him back home, safe and sound.

"Not truly," Carlisle admitted, shaking his head. Patience exuded from him as he once more requested Emmett and the others to repeat what had happened with the Volturi.

The three Denali sisters, Eleazar, Jasper and Emmett had arrived a few moments ago. Even though Alice had assured that they would get back home safely and without any problems, I hadn't really believed it until I had seen them with my own eyes.

Relief had flooded over me as I had layed my eyes on them. They all looked more or less disheveld and draggled, but otherwise they seemed to be fine. One exception was Emmett; the back of his right hand was covered with scars. Someone's venomous teeth had torn the former chalky and smooth skin, leaving a permanent reminder in its wake.

I shivered, and then wondered who had given him those scars. Was it some of the Volturi, or someone of Victoria's minions?

I noticed Jasper glancing at me briefly, and then he suggested that we move indoors to speak. We were still standing in the front yard where the brief and tumultuous reunion had taken place a few moments ago. It had been a disarray of emotions. On everyone's faces I could see relief and happiness for seeing their loved ones again, but also dissatisfaction was heavy in the air because of the situation.

It was peculiar how differently they all showed it. Tanya, Kate and Irina settled for grinding their teeth and crossing their arms, whereas Emmett was downright fuming. Only Rosalie's delicate hand around his arm prevented him from running through a wall or something like that.

After the scruffy group had emerged from the huge, green jeep I had never seen before, Eleazar had walked over to Carlisle and me. He had observed me for a moment or two, seeming unsure how to approach me. Eventually he had smiled briefly and simply shaken my hand. Then he had turned to Carlisle, and the two men had held each other's gazes for so long that I had started to worry. Something had passed between those two, and I didn't know if it had been a wordless conversation or something else.

Jasper had been... very Jasper. He was very reserved as always, and something in his posture made me remember his human past as a soldier. He had nodded at me briefly and even given me a small smile as they had arrived, and it made me realize that it had been months since I had seen him. And it had been even longer since I had seen Eleazar and the three Denali sisters.

Words of gratitude played on my tongue. I was nearly a stranger to these people, to Eleazar and the other Denalis, and still they had sacrificed months of their time to search me. And they had sacrified much more than their time. They had endangered their lives.

We moved inside swiftly. The night had already fallen, and the living room where Carlisle led the large group was dim. Alice and Carmen started to light up candles as everyone took their seats. Even though we could see perfectly clearly in the dark room, the light the candles provided was welcome.

Emmett stained the surface of the cream-coloured couch as he sat on it, so messy he was. But no one noticed, not even Alice. She was too busy to curl up in Jasper's lap to reproach him.

"So," Carlisle began, drawing me closer to his side. There was something guarding in that small action, as if he couldn't allow me to be too far from his reach. "Tell me from the start. What exactly happened?"

Emmet crossed his arms and started to mope.

"Very little happened," Jasper stated quietly. His tone was disgruntled, and a flash of regret was visible in his eyes. I wondered what he regretted.

Eleazar cleared his throat, probably out of habit. He leaned slightly forward on the couch after touching Carmen's cheek.

"I'm not aware how much you know," he started, glancing at Alice.

"I could only see you and one of the Volturi guards having a disagreement," she answered, "after Jasper had found a trace to follow."

Eleazar nodded, turning his gaze to Carlisle. "Jasper found two trails. One belonged to Victoria and Laurent," he stated, "and the other scent resembled one of those vampires who helped Victoria. The terrain out there was quite challenging, and it seemed that they had decided to split to complicate our search even more. "

"What of the other two men?" Carlisle asked suddenly.

Jasper shook his head. "No sign of them," he answered. "Alice told me on the phone that you couldn't find anyone from the island where Bella was being held."

"That is correct," Carlisle answered. "They most likely escaped before our arrival. To be honest, I expected them to find Victoria and reunite with her, but I'm not sure how loyal they were to her in the first place."

My mind was suddenly engulfed by the image of the storm raging above our heads. I still remembered the feel of the cold raindrops beating my skin, the water burning in my lungs... It seemed like years since all that had happened, but it had only been a few days. I didn't know why my sense of time was so distorted all the time. Maybe it was some sort of a defense mechanism my mind had created.

"It's possible that they have gone on their own ways," Tanya suggested.

"Anything is possible," Jasper agreed. "But we can't make any assumptions. They have been under Victoria's mastery all these years. It seems unlikely that they would abandon her now."

Eleazar glanced at Alice. She was clinging to Jasper's shoulder, looking like she might never let him go ever again.

"Have you seen anything?" he asked from her. "Can you tell us will those two return to Victoria?"

Alice shook her head. "I haven't seen it," she answered. "But it doesn't mean anything. I stopped seeing Victoria several days ago. She's put someone else in charge, but it's not Laurent. It's someone I don't know."

"But the trace Jasper found had only Laurent's and Victoria's scents in it," Carlisle pointed out. "That indicates that they are moving together - by themselves. Either of them has to make some decision at some point."

Alice shook her head, looking hopeless and confused. "I don't know what to tell you," she said, sounding apologetic. "I can't see Victoria, nor Laurent."

Eleazar continued his story quietly. He told that one of the Volturi guards had insisted on following Victoria's and Laurent's trace, and then Jasper had suggested that they should divide their groups to equal numbers to make sure the situation was unbiased.

"I thought it would be the best if each group consisted both of the Volturi and some of us," Jasper explained. "Santiago - that was the guard's name - "

"Little piece of..." Emmett mumbled under his breath, letting his words die away.

" - wasn't pleased about my suggestion," Jasper finished without paying attention to Emmett.

"Before we could discuss it, Demetri and Alec stepped forward and said that they have new orders to continue on their own," Eleazar continued. His tone was dissatisfied, maybe even a little disappointed. I wondered if the situation disappointed him, or was it the Volturi. Maybe both - after all, Eleazar had worked alongside with them even before this. Even though he had walked away all those decades ago, there must have been some trust between them. Until now.

Emmett cursed so heavily that Carlisle quirked his eyebrow at him. Then he nodded leisurely at Eleazar's words. I tried to read his expression, but his eyes gave away nothing. I thought it was more worrying than the simmering anger he had tried to hide from me for the past days.

"You made the right decision when you returned here," he said finally. "Alice can confirm that it would have led to a worse conflict if you had started to argue about it."

Jasper gave a pointed look to Emmett. The latter shrugged listlessly, lifting his right fist to observe the crescent-shaped scars on the surface of his hand. A flash of contentment lighted up his face, and I realized that he carried those scars like a some sort of a prize. Again I wondered what had occurred, although it didn't surprise me that Emmett had lost his temper when Jasper, Eleazar and the Denali sisters had been able to keep their heads cool.

"What do we do now?" Tanya asked, voicing out the question in everyone's minds.

Everyone's gazes fell on Carlisle - it was almost involuntary. But it was as though he didn't even notice our glances. His golden eyes were studying the dark hardwood floor, and once again it made me troubled not being able to know what was going on in his mind. He was expressionless - I had rarely seen him like that.

Diligent speculation began. Carlisle was awfully silent for several minutes before joining the conversation, and when he finally did, he seemed to be miles away. I wondered what he was scheming, and suddenly I had an awful feeling that he was going to do something foolish. Something similar he had planned yesterday.

A torrent of emotions had burned me when he had told me that he was about to leave to hunt Victoria. It was flagrantly obvious how relieved I was when we had found out that the others were coming home, and he wouldn't have to leave. But something came from that moment of fright; something that I had perhaps known, but it wasn't until now when I fully comprehended it.

I knew it now. If he had left, I'd have gone with him. There was no chance that I would have simply sat here while he was out there chasing a group of vampires who were a threat to us all. And whatever he was planning on now, I wouldn't let him do it by himself. It wasn't an option for me.

"I will be very thorough." The memory of Victoria's smooth voice was quiet, but it echoed loudly in my ears. "I'll save your beloved Carlisle for last."

Venom pooled into my mouth.

Alice gave me a curious glance from across the room. Her lips opened, and perhaps she was about to say something to me, but then Eleazar's voice filled the room.

"We need more facts in order to proceed," he stated. "Information."

"Of who?" Emmett asked, sounding frustrated. "Of what?"

"Anything can be useful," Jasper mused.

"I'd like to know more about those vampires who are allies with Victoria," Kate murmured. "They didn't show any particular gifts when we chased them, but who knows."

It took a while for me to realize that now everone were staring at me. Carlisle's arm tightened around my shoulder, and suddenly his face was full of life again. The blank expression disappeared, and his eyes were suddenly warning.

"Perhaps now it's not the time to discuss this," he said politely but firmly.

"It's okay," I protested weakly. It would have been so easy to let Carlisle speak and tell everyone to leave me be. So easy, and so tempting.

"Bella," Carlisle whispered. "We have no right to ask you about this matter. If you do not wish to speak of it now - "

"If I can help somehow, I will," I cut him off before I would change my mind.

Carlisle looked at me for a long time. Then he consented quietly, nodding and turning his head towards Kate. But it was Jasper who spoke, his voice calm and kind.

"Can you give us any names?" he asked. "Is there anything that caught your interest, something Victoria might have said, or...?"

I was unconsciously holding my breath. I didn't even realize it until it started to feel uncomfortable. Carlisle's arm tightened around me again, and I lowered my gaze to see the bracelet around my wrist.

"I didn't see her that often," I answered eventually. "Not at the beginning, at least. One of the men was called Evan, and I think that at one point he was the one making the decisions."

"How do you know?" Eleazar asked.

"We were... moving to somewhere at some point," I explained. "One of the men asked where we were going, and Victoria said that only Evan knows."

"It must have been during the time when you were in Mexico," Eleazar mused.

I raised my brow in surprise. "Mexico?" I asked.

Carlisle's squeezed my shoulder. "I take it you didn't know where you were at first?"

I shook my head. "They didn't tell me. And they kept my eyes covered so I couldn't see."

I made the mistake of glancing at the vampires scattered around the room. There was pity in their eyes, and I looked away - I didn't want that, their pity.

Eleazar cleared his throat, throwing a glance at my right. I was tempted to look at Carlisle, wondering if there was the same pitying expression on his face. But I didn't look.

Because I didn't want his pity, either.

"Can you tell us any other names?" Eleazar asked.

"Alice could only mention us the names Evan and Milo," Jasper added to me. "She kept hearing them in her visions."

I shook my head. "Then you know as much as I do," I answered, trying to keep my voice stable and strong. Weakness was something they wouldn't witness from me. "I only knew the names of those two."

Carlisle drew in a breath beside me. His hand left my shoulder to brush a lock of hair behind my ear.

"How many were there?" he asked. "When you disappeared, we found four separate scents from the mountains."

I swallowed. Something told me that I shouldn't go back there. Go back to those dark days that I hated. Something told me that they shouldn't exist to me any longer. The childish part of me wanted to believe that it had all been just a nightmare. That nothing had really happened.

I had lost so much time to them. Had I lost myself as well? Had they taken everything from me?

I glanced at Carlisle, realizing that my silence wouldn't probably soothe him. If he thought that this discussion was something I couldn't handle, there was no doubt that he wouldn't whisk me away and forbib the others from asking anything else.

And my silence wouldn't help anyone. Not even me. So why shouldn't I speak and get the chance to be helpful in the process?

"I'm not sure how many," I answered eventually after considering it a while. Although, I wasn't really sure if I thoroughly considered it - a part of me didn't want to remember. "I never saw them all together at the same time. There were usually one or two keeping an eye on me."

"Can you describe them?" Eleazar asked.

"Uh..." I closed my eyes, knowing that I wouldn't have any difficulty to remember them very clearly if I wanted to. But I didn't want to.

But I had to.

"Milo," I began. "He was tall and he had very dark hair." I knew that my words were vague and probably wouldn't be much of a help.

"What about that other one?" Jasper said. "Evan?"

I shook my head, keeping my gaze on the floor. Carlisle was very still next to me, as he had been during the whole discussion.

"I can't link the name to anyone," I answered. "I only know that one of them was called Evan."

Jasper nodded. I could see that he was trying to hide his disappointment.

"Two of them were also dark, but not so tall," I told, trying to give him something useful. "And there was one man who was more fair. He had the shortest hair."

Eleazar and Jasper glanced at each other.

"He's the one who Jasper took down," Irina said, speaking now for the first time.

It surprised me a bit that Jasper had been the one to kill that vampire, although it probably shouldn't have.

"How did you do it, by the way?" I asked, surprising myself by asking a question. "How did you manage to kill him when you couldn't catch the rest of the group?"

Jasper sighed, seeming displeased. "It was a calculated move," he said. "From them, I mean. He dropped behind to slow us down while Victoria ran. The Volturi continued to chase her and Laurent while Eleazar and myself stayed behind. It was just before Emmett reached us."

It was now Emmett who was displeased. "You could have waited for me," he grumbled, without a doubt chagrined because he had missed the action. I couldn't help but wonder his strange attitude towards the situation. He seemed to take this all very seriously, but at the same time it seemed to be some form of entertainment for him. But when I thought of it again, it didn't make me wonder. It was very Emmett to relate to the matter such way.

Irina cleared her throat quietly. She glanced at Carlisle as if to ask a permission. Or maybe it was hesitation.

"Did you ever see Laurent?" she asked from me.

"No," I shook my head. It was my turn to hesitate. "But Victoria mentioned him once," I said cautiously. I wondered how mad Irina was. It couldn't be easy to know that the man she was in love with had gotten himself involved in something like this.

But it seemed that Irina had already gotten used to the situation. But she hadn't made peace with it, I could tell. She nodded at me once, not even a hint of regret in her golden eyes. The woman I had come to known as quiet and reserved was suddenly gone.

She sneered quietly, smiling the smallest of smile I had ever seen. "I have a bone to pick with him," she murmured. "I just can't wait until I see him again." Even though her voice was rather smooth and innocent, it wasn't difficult to hear the threat hidden in her sentence.

Tanya and Kate threw glances at her. Both of their jaws were clenched and their postures were stiff. It seemed that Irina wasn't the only one suffering from Laurent's betrayal.

"How did that happen, by the way?" I asked, managing to surprise myself again. I hadn't been prepared to be this open and ask so straight questions, and I had done it twice. Maybe it was the situation and the frustration caused by it that made me so outright. "When did Laurent suddenly become a defector?"

I held my breath, wondering if I had gone too far. I studied the Denalis' expressions worriedly. Laurent had been a part of their family for years, after all.

But they weren't offended by my question. I only saw the same sting of betrayal in their golden eyes.

"Laurent disappeared from Alaska right before you went missing," Carlisle explained. "We knew that it couldn't be a coincidence, and we started to track him soon after."

I nodded, remembering his short narration about their search.

"What should we do now?" Rosalie asked. "The Volturi just can't exclude us like this. They are breaking their own rules - there must be something we can do!"

"There is," Emmett stated, giving Rosalie an affectionate but stern look, as if to say to her that he was going to make sure that she wouldn't get to be anywhere near the action and possible dangers. "The Volturi want Victoria, but I don't think that they care about Laurent and those three other dopes." Emmett waited until everyone's attention was on him before he continued, sounding endlessly energetic. He had been back home only for a few moments, and already he was ready to head back, as if staying still was physically agonizing for him.

Carlisle shifted beside me, and I thought that maybe Emmett wasn't the only one.

"What do you suggest?" Jasper asked, sounding like he already knew about Emmett's intentions. It wasn't so hard to guess, and I involuntarily clung to Carlisle's hand as if that small touch would prevent him from leaving.

"Well," Emmett shrugged, looking surprisingly careless. "I say that we find Laurent and Victoria's three remaining pawns, and then... how should I put this?" he mock contemplated. His sense of humor had obviously received some sarcastic features during my absence.

"We teach them a lesson," he finished, sounding oddly official.

"You forget that we can't be exactly sure how many pawns she actually has," Jasper pointed out. "So far we have only assumed that there are four, but Bella can't confirm the number. There could be more than we are even aware of. We could be outnumbered now when the Volturi aren't supporting us." He turned to Carlisle, giving him a questioning look. "When we were in Italy, didn't Aro say that they weren't sure how many of the newborns got away nearly five years ago?"

Carlisle nodded, frowning. "That is true," he said. "I suppose we've made assumptions, since there were only four traces on the mountains when Bella disappeared. So far we haven't had any reasons to believe the number to be otherwise."

"That's true," Jasper admitted, "but we can't assume anything."

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, thinking hard. Why was it so difficult for me to be sure of the number? My vampire memory was supposed to be infallible. But everything was such a mess - the memory of their malicious faces swarmed in my mind until they blended together, forming a chaotic mess of red eyes and sharp teeth...

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. Carlisle's bright presence flickered against my awareness, and the nine other quivering forms touched the edges of my consciousness. The mental shield I still couldn't quite control was suddenly active without me even trying.

My eyes snapped open - why hadn't I thought of it before?

"Four," I said suddenly. Emmett had been rambling on about something, but he stopped speaking, his mouth staying open as his sentense was left unfinished.

"I'm sure now," I nodded, glancing at Carlisle. He studied me with narrowed eyes, a small frown on his face. I turned to Jasper and Eleazar. Jasper looked dubious.

"How can you be sure?" he asked. "Earlier you couldn't be positive about it."

"I wasn't thinking clearly enough," I explained, not wanting to confess how distasteful it was for me to return to those memories. I didn't want to admit how much remembering those desperate moments really bothered me. "But I remember now. When they moved me from Mexico to somewhere else, I kept my eyes closed most of the time." Ignoring the sad glances casted on me, I kept talking, making sure to keep my voice stable and strong.

"I remember I was using my shield," I continued, "and there were five presences in my vicinity. Victoria, and four others. No more than that."

Jasper looked brooding. He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms.

Emmett looked even more determined after hearing my words. "So are we on then?" he asked. "One of them is dead, and that leaves only three plus Laurent. It's a cakewalk."

Eleazar looked pondering, Jasper looked disapproving, and Carlisle was still disturbingly inexpressive. Everyone else looked curious, waiting for someone to make a decision.

"It still may not be the best way to proceed, in any case," Carlisle spoke eventually. His voice was oddy calm, although I didn't need Jasper's abilities to tell that he was frustrated. "For all we know they could be planning to reunite with Victoria at some point," he continued. "And if we happen to run into the Volturi, it will cause difficulties."

"The Volturi can't be ignored," Jasper agreed. "And even if we did manage to take down Laurent and those three others, Victoria would still be free. Assuming that the Volturi haven't been able to find her, of course, and it's very unlikely that they do."

"If the Volturi find out and start ranting about it, we can say that it was self-defence," Emmett suggested. "They can't condemn us about protecting ourselves. We can say that they attacked us. And the same goes to Victoria when we find her. And we will find her."

"And what if Aro decides to appear?" Jasper asked, sounding stern. "He only needs to touch one of us, and he'll find out that we are lying about it."

"It wouldn't be lying," Emmett argued. "It is self-defence."

"I meant your earlier suggestion - that we should say that they attacked us," Jasper explained. "Aro will find out if we lie about it. He'll see from our memories that we chased them down without their approval. It's not wise to go against them like that. They don't need much provocation to start convicting."

Carlisle got up beside me and started to pace around the room. He looked like he wasn't even aware of doing that.

It was silent for several moments. The impossibility of the situation had been quite obvious for the whole time, but now when everything had been put to words, it seemed even more difficult.

"What is there to do?" Kate asked eventually, sounding defeated.

Carmen was to offer the first words of consolation, although I wasn't sure if they had the desired effect.

"Maybe we should keep a low profile for a while," she said, "and see how the situation starts to unfold. It's possible that Victoria signs her own death-sentence in the end by refusing the Volturi."

No one said aloud what was already known. No one said that the Volturi weren't chasing Victoria to ask her nicely about joining their guard. No one said that the Volturi had the means to get her in their guard and keep her there if they wanted to.

No one said that if the Volturi couldn't catch Victoria, it was unlikely that anyone could.

By the window, Carlisle raked his fingers through his hair and sighed.


Endless amounts of cracks and crevices, weals and cavities. I stared at the ugly imperfections over my shoulder, pretending that it wasn't a mirror I was looking at. Pretending that it wasn't my reflection blemishing the shiny surface of it.

My fingers reached out to touch the bite marks covering the skin of my back. The girl in the mirror mimiced my movements. The tips of her fingers brushed one of the scars, the largest and ugliest one, and I still refused to admit that the girl in the mirror was me.

It couldn't be me. I didn't look like that. I didn't want to look like that.

Some cruel part of my brain started to count the marks. I wanted to stop myself; I didn't want to know how many there were. But I counted. And I kept counting until I forgot the task itself, until I forgot myself amongst the scars. Until I couldn't see anything else besides those repulsive fissures covering my skin. I forgot the world around me, I forgot the shirt that dropped from my other hand and pooled down next to my jeans-covered ankles.

And I could only stare. Only the crescent-shaped deformities covering my back had my attention. Only the nauseated feeling caused by that sight had my attention. The disgusted feeling bubbled in the pit of my stomach, and for the first time as a vampire I felt physically sick.

My mind was so preoccupied by the sight and the feelings caused by it that I couldn't hear the soft steps before it was too late.

There was a quiet knock on the bathroom door, and a voice called out my name. I snapped out of my numb state of mind just as the door cracked open.

"No, don't come in - " The rest of the sentence was drowned in the eyes of purest gold.

I turned away, fumbling for the shirt on the floor and wrapping it around my bare shoulders quickly. And I didn't look at him - surely he couldn't look at me, either.

Because why would he? Why would he want to?

The door closed behind me, and I knew he had gone away. I knew he couldn't stay and see the rest of what was to be seen. I was partly relieved, but mostly ashamed and sad. Gut-wrenchingly sad.

I lifted my eyes to the mirror again. But the girl on the shiny surface of it wasn't alone.

Carlisle's steps were soundless as he neared. A part of me wanted to see his eyes reflected from the mirror, but I didn't look. I didn't want to see what I surely would see if I decided to look. I didn't want to know what the reflection of his eyes would surely reveal.

He was closer now, but he didn't come to me. It didn't surprise me. He walked past me slowly, lowering himself on the edge of the bathtub that rested under the mirror. He was facing me, but I wasn't facing him. I couldn't.

I gazed at the floor until I was sure that my eyes were petrified towards that blank sight for good. But my lips weren't petrified - they were numb, but not petrified.

"Go away," I asked. Told, ordered, begged.

He didn't.

"Why?"

His tone was laced with dozens of different emotions. I couldn't hear any of them. I couldn't feel any of them.

My fingers clutched the shirt around my bare torso. The coarse fabric made the scars burn.

I sensed movement somewhere near, but I didn't look. I began to hope that he would leave me be. That he would leave me alone. But of course he didn't; after two soft steps, warm fingers were tilting my chin but I resisted. I wouldn't look at him. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want him here, looking at me.

The warm touch left my chin as he gave up.

Like he always did. Because he never pushed me too far. He always took a step back, always retreated when he saw that I wasn't willing. He always gave me space, always left me enough air so I could breathe. He always did that, even during those times when we both knew that it wasn't good for us in the end. He wouldn't cross that invisible line, because he didn't dare.

I waited for him to take that retreating step he always took, but it didn't come.

Instead, I felt his fingers curling around the coarse fabric of the shirt. The material shifted before I had the chance to prevent it. His fingers pried away the veil covering my skin. It left me bare and unsafe.

I flinched like someone had lashed my sensitive skin with a whip. My own fingernails dug to my palms, and it took me a moment to realize that the waves of sounds echoing from the walls were my tearless sobs. Bitter sobs.

Warm fingers brushed away the long locks of hair from my back. And I knew it was his gaze burning me, his beautiful eyes seeing those revolting marks, his eyesight that was corroded by the ugliness of my skin. He had seen me now, and I hadn't wanted him to.

I didn't want him here.

The tips of his fingers brushed one of the scars, then the other. A shudder wavered my body, the loud chattering of my teeth echoing in my ears.

The light touch of his fingers left.

And I knew it. He couldn't touch me - surely he didn't want to. Not anymore. Not when I looked like this.

A warm breath on my shoulder made me squeeze my eyes closed. The touch was back again, but it was different this time. I could feel the difference, even if I couldn't see.

Rare things in this world were softer than Carlisle's lips. But now they were even softer than ever before, if possible. The touch of his mouth was light, like a brush of a feather, like the lightest of breeze. I barely felt it, and yet I fully did.

His lips caressed one scar, then the other. Then the third and the fourth... Kiss after kiss after kiss he continued, as if the tender touch of his lips would make the marks go away.

He caressed each scar with his lips, leaving none of them ignored. I knew it, because I had those imperfections memorized; my skin had them memorized. And where I usually could feel stabbing pain everytime I even thought of their locations or their exitence in general, I now only felt the gentleness of Carlisle's lips as he gave each scar the same tender treatment. Like he wasn't at all repulsed by the sight of them.

The tremors of my body quieted with the sobs. The kisses didn't cease; they grew even more softer, more tender. More loving. A quiet voice somewhere inside of my mind but outside of my heart, the one equipped with horns and sharp talons, whispered words into my ear; vampires should be flawless, without a blemishing mark to ruin the entirety.

I wasn't flawless, nor an entirety; not even to begin with.

And yet, I felt another kiss of Carlisle's lips on my tainted skin. Like my flaws and insufficiency wouldn't matter to him.

My eyes moved to gaze at the mirror, even though I hadn't given myself the permission to open my eyes. But my self-willed eyesight stole a glance, and then stole another.

And as I saw, I started to feel more. More of those things that had gone unnoticed by me. The warmth of his body behind my own as he had bended his knees and partly lowered himself on the floor, the way his fingers hadn't left my skin like I had thought earlier; they were resting on the curve of my hips, stroking the undamaged skin every once in a while. And his lips pressed against another scar again, as if to heal and mend.

I kept staring at the image on the surface of the mirror. I kept staring at the golden, confused eyes that I didn't recognize as my own. I kept staring at the sadness in their depths, and I knew that sadness, but yet I dismissed it. I kept staring at the angelic creature kneeling on the floor, and I kept staring at the pale red lips pressing over another permanent wound.

The unfolding scene in the mirror was the only thing I saw. I watched that scene with open bewilderment - I watched it and I saw it, but yet, I couldn't quite absorb it.

The golden-haired angel in the mirror pressed one more kiss against the broken skin, and then he slowly got up. His lean figure straightened, and his eyes were fixed upon the girl standing next to him. The girl in the mirror didn't answer to his gaze, to that gaze that studied her so closely. There was warmth in that gaze - warmth, and something else that someone might recognize as pity.

I wondered if it was pity, or was it compassion. Maybe it was something between those two. Maybe it was sadness. Maybe it was love.

The golden-haired angel payed no attention to the mirror. His eyes were on the girl, and he waited until he would have her attention. He waited until she would forgot the mirror as well.

She did, eventually. And when she - when I - turned, not to face him, but to acknowledge him, he leaned down to caress my skin with his lips one more time. His soft mouth pressed over my bare chest above my silent heart. Above the largest scar, the one that was the least visible but the most inflamed.

His arms were warm against my bare skin as they enfolded me in his embrace.

I breathed him in as his fingers stroked the broken skin again. My body didn't flinch at his touch anymore, nor did it shake with tearless sobs. Those physical reactions were gone now, only leaving behind the hollow feeling of nothingness.

"I hate it," I murmured against Carlisle's chest.

His fingers moved to stroke my shoulder. The touch was calm and composed, but he wasn't. He swallowed thickly, his whisper both confused and knowing.

"What do you hate?" he asked, his whisper more quiet than a silent breath.

At first I didn't answer, not nearly even when he pulled back to gaze at me with worried eyes.

"Everything," I whispered, gesturing towards the mirror, and I was unsure which one to avoid; the revealing, shiny surface of it or Carlisle's eyes. Neither of them would hide things, and neither of them would lie.

So I avoided both, fearing to know what I would discover if I gazed at either.

The tips of his fingers ghosted above one scar again. My eyes started to search the floor for my shirt. The shelter it provided brought me the false feel of stability. It'd be easy to hide under the garment. Easy to pretend that under it I was as flawless as the rest of them. As flawless as he was.

"Why do you hate?" Carlisle asked, drawing me closer again. His chin pressed against the top of my head. His fingers brushed against the group of scars again.

"Because," I murmured against his chest. "It's repulsive. It makes me ugly. I don't understand how you can even look at me."

For a short moment Carlisle was very still. Then he pulled away slowly, and his fingers left the skin of my back to rise to the sides of my face, forcing me to look up at him. I resisted his gentle hands that were tilting my head, and I avoided his gaze until his silence compelled me to meet his eyes.

Carlisle's golden eyes flamed, and I couldn't be sure if it was affection or anger simmering in their depths.

"Isabella Marie Swan," he said very slowly. "Do not ever say such things again. Never. Do you understand?"

I wanted to argue as much as I wanted to apologize. But even more I wanted to hide. My eyes searched the dark fabric of my shirt again, and I hoped that I hadn't taken it off in the first place.

But Carlisle didn't let me off the hook that easily. He released his hold of me reluctantly, grasping my hand with a quiet sigh.

"Come sit down with me," he requested.

I allowed him to lead me across the bathroom after I had grabbed the black shirt from the floor. He didn't stop me as I pulled the garment over my head.

The blue bedroom on the other side of the door was dark. The bed was soft as Carlisle pulled me to sit down next to him. His tender kiss on my cheek lasted a moment or two longer than usually. His gentle grip around my hand was tighter than I was accustomed to.

He studied me closely for a while before starting to speak.

"What causes you to be so bothered by them?" he asked with a whisper. "By the scars?"

My shoulders lifted to a shrug.

He waited patiently until I found at least a few honest words to offer.

"It... it troubles me if you're bothered by them," I answered eventually.

Again, he waited until I turned to see his eyes. Those eyes that hid nothing, and revealed everything.

"Bella," he whispered. He opened his mouth to continue, but then it was his turn to avoid my gaze. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and face as if he were tired. Exceedingly tired.

"Are you?" I asked. "Do they repulse you?"

Carlisle lifted his head, and he studied me closely again. His silence lasted so long that I almost didn't know what to do. What to expect.

"Bella," he tried again, stroking my shoulder with his hand. "My only distress is caused by the knowledge that you have been hurt," he answered, holding my gaze. He waited for a while, making sure that his words had sunk in.

"But..." I murmured, shivering when Carlisle's fingers brushed against my back again. "Don't you care... Doesn't it revolt you that I look like that?"

"It revolts me that I couldn't help you - that I couldn't prevent those awful things from happening to you." His golden eyes bore into mine, and for a moment I felt exposed in front of him. "But Bella," he said again. "You have to know, that there is no part of you that I wouldn't adore. Every inch of you I love and cherish with my whole heart. There's nothing I would change about you. But if I possessed the power to turn back time, I would protect you better, and I would guard you from the harm you've had to endure. I would see to it that you didn't have to endure those things."

I looked into his eyes of pure golden. There was no part of him I would change, either.

"Do you believe me?" he asked, a shade of something familiar in his eyes. It was the same feeling that had the tendency of conquering me. It was uncertainty.

I nodded leisurely, wishing I had those verbal expression to make. Wishing I could make him feel as secure as he made me feel.

Warm lips pressed against my cheek, and I was very secure. Secure, and so very warm.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I didn't mean to freak out. It tells more about my superficiality than yours," I admitted.

Carlisle's fingers brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. I knew he was looking at me again, even if I couldn't see. He drew in a breath to speak, his words cautious and prudent.

"Is that what worried you the most?" he asked. "That I might be upset because of them?"

I shrugged again. "They disgust me," I explained quietly. "And I thought that they might disgust you, too." I realized that it wasn't just about the superficiality. It wasn't just about the way they looked. It was about what those marks on my skin represented.

Control was something I had always pursued. Not over someone else, not over the people around me, but over myself. The knowledge that I was in control of myself was liberating, as silly as it sounded. But when someone strips you from that control and takes over the situation to humiliate you, the loss of that meager self-mastery burns like a naked flame.

I hadn't been in control. And some twisted part of my mind blamed me for that. For allowing everything to happen.

"Is there something wrong with your drink?"

"Stay still and be quiet."

"If you drink now, this will be the last human I kill."

"Enjoy."

Palms pressed over my ears, and I hadn't even realized that I had attempted to block out the voices. But it was impossible to block them - they woudn't disappear. They would exist as long as I did. The sharp memory I possessed ensured that.

It took a moment for me to sense that something was different. My skin noticed the difference first. The air around me was colder, and I turned to Carlisle to see that he wasn't soothing me with his touches anymore.

But he was watching me closely, his golden eyes shaded with worry.

"Maybe you should talk about this with someone," he whispered. "If you don't wish to share your thoughts with me, then maybe you should do it with someone else." He paused for a moment. "Rosalie, perhaps," he suggested cautiously.

Words escaped from my lips without my approval.

"It doesn't change anything," I whispered. "Talking about it doesn't make it different."

Carlisle looked ruminative as he reached out with his hand again. His forefinger caressed my cheek.

"It may be so," he agreed. "But talking about it could make you feel better."

I snorted quietly without any humor.

"Perhaps not at first," he admitted. "But in time."

"Maybe," I consented quietly without any eagerness. "But it doesn't make it easy."

Carlisle nodded, a sorrowful frown furrowing his brow.

"I know," he said, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders. "I'm sure it doesn't."

It was only then when something in his earlier words caught my attention. I drew back slightly so see his face.

"Why did you say that I should talk to Rosalie about it?" I asked. There was something behind his words that I couldn't quite comprehend.

Carlisle wetted his lips quickly. His eyes were wary as he gazed around the room before looking into my eyes again.

"I'm only wondering if... she can understand you better than I can," he explained with that same caution in his tone. "Because of her own experiences."

I searched the hidden fear and worry in his eyes for a moment, and it was only then when I realized what he had been implying. What he was fearing. A wave of guilt washed over me when I understood that maybe he had been mulling over this for a long time, and I had clammed up and made him even more worried.

"It wasn't like that with me," I breathed, willing to reveal almost anything to make his mind at ease. "It wasn't that...bad. Not like what happened to Rosalie."

Carlisle looked at me for a second or two, and I didn't know if it was my openness or direct words that made him halt that way. There was doubt in his gaze, and that same worry and uncertainty that had been there for the past days.

Then he closed his eyes and drew his arm from my shoulder, lowering his head in his hands.

He was very still for a long time.

"You okay?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

He drew in a deep breath against his palms, and then he let it out. The sound reminded me of a relief valve releasing pressure. Then he lifted his head again, and I couldn't see his expression because I was suddenly enfolded in his embrace. Soft words were muttered near my ear, but I couldn't quite catch them. Maybe they weren't meant for my ears at all.

I leaned into his embrace, silently enjoying the proximity. His soft whipers continued, and soon I was able to catch the words.

"Thank God," he whispered, murmuring the short sentence repeatedly. His lips pressed against my neck, and then he withdrew to gaze at me. "You're not only saying this for my benefit?" he asked, still the same uncertainty in him. His fingers brushed the hair away from my face, and I nearly missed the tremble of his hands as he layed them on my shoulders.

I shook my head. "I though that you knew - that Alice would have told you."

A small frown furrowed his brow then. "I did ask about it," he confessed. "But she couldn't be certain. Her visions only revealed bits and pieces, and there were times when she monitored either Laurent or Victoria and couldn't be sure what had passed with you during those times." He paused for a moment, a chagrined expression apprearing to his face, but it was gone in a blink. "And I had no knowledge of the scars, either," he continued. "I learned about them as I saw them. Alice didn't tell me about how badly they were treating you. I was quite upset with her, actually."

For a moment I wondered why Alice hadn't told Carlisle about it. After all, she had revealed to him that I would have drank the blood of that human before long. Before any questions left my lips, Carlisle explained.

"She didn't want me to worry," he murmured, frowning. A humorless chuckle left his lips. "She worried that it would dissolve my focus."

I nodded, licking my lips quickly and wondering how to put my feelings to words. I hadn't had much will to do that earlier, and I hadn't even tried. But if it soothed Carlisle's mind, now I had to at least try.

"I'm sorry that I've been so..." I shook my head, pausing, "heartless."

Carlisle's fingers grasped my own. "You haven't been heartless," he disagreed.

"You know what I mean," I shrugged. "I didn't mean to make you worry, but I have." I swallowed, turning my wrist to see the black string tied around it. The small piece of my sanity gleamed lightly in the dim room. "Sometimes I just can't believe that I'm here," I confessed. "That I don't have to go back anymore."

Carlisle's fingers tightened around my hand, and his other one rose to swipe a lock of hair behind my ear.

"You're here," he whispered, pressing his lips against my temple. I felt the contours of his cheekbone as he leaned his head against my own. "And you don't ever have to go back. Not ever."

I believed his words, but doubted my own intentions. I thought about his earlier decision to leave after Victoria, and my later realization that I wouldn't have let him go alone.

And it made me think, that even when Carlisle promised - vowed - that I wouldn't have to go back, that I wouldn't have to face those malicious vampires ever again... Even though he would surely do anything to keep me safe, I knew the truth about the matter myself.

I knew it. When the time came, I wouldn't stay idle and let the others put their lives at risk. And there was something else I knew as well; I wasn't afraid of Victoria. I was afraid of her intentions and what she could do, but I wasn't afraid of her. I had only anger towards that woman, but I would give no other emotions to her. Pure hatred, that's what she was going to receive from me.

Carlisle's soft words made my moment of intrepidity disappear.

"You said that... what happened to you wasn't as bad as what happened to Rosalie," he began. His voice was hesitant and apologizing, and for a moment I hoped that the hesitance would overcome him. That he wouldn't continue.

I shook my head, trying to both silence and reassure him with my answer. "It wasn't that bad. It didn't go that far."

His fingers kneaded my shoulders, and I realized that I had stiffened without even noticing.

"How far did it go, then?" Carlisle asked straight. Even though his tone was gentle and still apologetic, I wasn't used to him being so outright. He was always so cautious around me, even when we discussed matters that weren't so serious. "I know it's not right of me to force you to speak," he apologized. "I only worry about you, so very much."

He wasn't forcing me to do anything, not really. But I wondered if he saw it as forcing, or was he afraid that I might think it as forcing. In that case I had to admit that the term was quite loose, at least for him. Because I knew that if I refused to talk about it now, he would take a step back.

His earlier promise echoed in my mind.

"You don't ever have to go back," he had said. "Not ever."

He had meant that I wouldn't have to face those vampires ever again. In that promise, he had assured me that he would keep me safe and unharmed. But he didn't know how many other things that simple promise carried. And he didn't know that I had to break that promise by myself someday.

He didn't know that going back was more than having physically to go back - to be a prisoner. He didn't know that I had to go back. He didn't know that it wasn't him forcing me to do that, but it was my own mind doing it instead.

He didn't know that perhaps I hadn't left that place behind at all.

Because everytime I closed my eyes, I was back there again, and I couldn't decide what was the worst. Was it the sharp teeth, was it the suffocating darkness, was it the rough fingers fisting in my hair, was it the red blood pooling on the floor...

Gentle fingers brushed against my cheek. I flinched at the touch, and the gentle hand left my skin immediately.

I opened my eyes. The light of the moon reflected from the dark hardwood floor.

Carlisle was watching me closely, and I noticed that he had distanced himself away from me, fearing that his proximity would cause me more distress. I hadn't wanted him to feel that way - I didn't want him to think that it was his touch that made my skin burn and ache.

He did what I had expected him to do all along. He took that receding step back like he always did. That invisible line I had created, not on purpose perhaps, but I had created it nonetheless; that line he didn't dare to cross was back again. It didn't make him a coward, but instead it made me one. Because I let him do it. I allowed him to take that step back instead of encouraging him to take one forward, to stretch the boundaries I had created.

The rest of that earlier intrepidity I had felt was gone again.

Because I didn't want to go back.